Chapters (53)
- Cover
- About Alison Stuart
- Also by Alison Stuart
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Preview of The Goldminer's Sister
‘Incubation can be up to fourteen days,’ Caleb said. ‘She’s in the early stages, so if you’ve come in to contact with her there’s a low chance of infection, but once we’ve got them out of here, you’re going to have to burn everything in that room.’
Oldroyd swore and rolled his eyes. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’
‘Not your fault, Yorkie. I’m sorry,’ Bowen said. ‘Come, Hunt. Police first and then the magistrates.’
‘Police?’ Oldroyd had gone pale.
‘We’ll have to put a guard on your door, Oldroyd,’ Caleb said. ‘Believe me, this is very serious.’
Outside, it had stopped raining and Caleb turned his face up to the cold, clear night. ‘What a mess, Bowen.’
‘Hopefully we’ve caught it.’ Bowen clapped him on the shoulder. ‘What a blessing you trusted to that instinct, Hunt. I told you it was good.’
Seventeen
Seventeen
12 January 1872
The members of the town council—Messrs Russell, Cowper and Mackie, together with Sergeant Maidment—met with Caleb and Bowen at the police station across the road from the Britannia Hotel.
The men did not need convincing about the seriousness of the situation and they agreed the Murrays had to be moved to a house well away from the town. Maidment knew of an abandoned property in good condition in a valley to the north and the family could be moved there in the morning. The health authorities in Melbourne would need to be advised and sufficient vaccine for the entire town requested. The Britannia would remain in quarantine.
When Caleb and Bowen took the plan to Murray, they found him in a highly agitated state. He refused to listen to them or to countenance any move to anywhere except his own home.
They returned to the committee, who had spent the last hour arguing about the wording of the public notice.
‘Bloody man,’ Cowper said. ‘Doesn’t he understand the risk he’s posing?’
‘No,’ Caleb replied. ‘His only thoughts are for himself and his dying wife. He’s not thinking beyond that.’
‘That leaves us with force,’ Maidment suggested.
‘It may come to that,’ Russell said, his face set in stone.
Cowper glanced at his watch. ‘It’s late, gentlemen, and we’re all tired. I suggest we adjourn this meeting until tomorrow morning, and return with suggestions about how to persuade Murray to move.’
Outside in the cool air, Caleb sighed. His leg ached and he longed for bed, any bed.
‘I suppose I could take a room at the Britannia,’ he said, looking at the now darkened hostelry, where only the glow of a pipe, marking where Constable Prewitt now stood guard by the front door, showed any sign of life.
‘Nonsense. Come with me,’ Bowen said. ‘I’ve a second bed. It’s not much, but it’s yours while you need it.’