Reconciliation
IT SO HAPPENED on the day after the departure of Mrs Thomas that Jack Withers, feeling unwell, did not accompany the half-caste to their daily work. On most days the two men rode to and from their work, but the day Bony worked alone he walked and carried his noonday lunch with him.
Throughout the day his mind was continuously revolving the visit made by Mrs Thomas and the mystery that lay behind her departure in a hired car. It wanted but two days to Christmas, and it was peculiar, if Mrs Thomas was a welcome guest, that she should not have stayed over the holidays.
At half-past four, when he ceased his labours, after rolling a cigarette he picked up his billy-can and lunch-bag and started his mile-long walk to the homestead. It had been a windless day, and hot. Widely separated, deep thunderclouds lay almost motionless in the sky like aerial icebergs. Birds were stirring from their daylong drowse, and a party of crows settled about the place where Bony had eaten his lunch.
Pensively smoking, he walked along a bank of the dry creek, welcoming the shade cast by the box-trees and trying to decide whether he would wait longer for Time to aid him or whether he would act without Time’s aid. His investigations had reached a point where they might be materially forwarded if he stirred up the human factor by ordering the arrest of Dot and Dash, or even by ordering the detention of Mrs Thomas. Something, certainly, should follow either step.
He walked with his head bent, his eyes noting sub-consciously the tracks of animals and insects which he crossed. He failed to see Marion Stanton riding Grey Cloud, and, because her mind was occupied with Mrs Thomas, she failed to notice him until they were so close that, when recognition was mutual, Bony swept off his hat and she reined in her magnificent steed. It was a meeting for which Bony had long hoped, and he said gravely:
“Good afternoon, Miss Stanton.”
Instead of replying, Marion regarded him steadily for several moments. In her eyes Bony saw the temptation to ride away without uttering a word, and he recognized that here was the opportunity to discover the reason of her displeasure.
“I fear that in some way I have offended you,” he told her un-smilingly. “If I have done so it has been done unwittingly, I earnestly assure you. Perhaps I could explain.”
“I am not sure that I would be interested in an explanation,”came the coolly spoken reply. He was struck by the immobility of her face, the different shade of beauty her displeasure created. The eyebrows now were straight and the eyes shone with the ice-cold gleam of-sapphires. She saw how easily he stood, with deference but without servility. She saw, too, a very faint hint of amusement in his dark eyes which aroused at once her antagonism. Seated still on the immovable grey gelding, she said sharply:
“You remember, do you not, that once you told me of your wife and your boys in Queensland?”
Bony nodded.
“You described to me what a wonderful woman is your wife, and how proud you both are of your sons. You interested me in them, and also you interested me in yourself and in your philosophy. You led me to think that you possessed the instincts as well as the education of a gentleman. Explain, therefore, why you made love to a gin named Runta!”
The surprise of the accusation figuratively stunned Bony. Having made up his mind that her coldness was the effect of suspicion that he was connected in some way with thepolice, the real cause was so unexpected that he wanted badly to sigh with relief. Nevertheless, he could not render the true explanation. Without the slightest hesitation he invented an explanation which possessed, at least, the saving grace of a grain of truth.
“Possibly my making love to Runta is inexcusable, Miss Stanton. Yet I remember that even worse sins have been committed by scientists in search of truth. Before the blacks returned from their walkabout, I discovered one evening a low hill of ironstone near the creek below the homestead. The top of the hillock is flat, and I saw that it had been used for centuries by the blacks in connection with some mystic ritual.
“I have always been interested in the aboriginals, their folklore, ceremonials, and ways of life, and intend to write a book when I have sufficient data. As you know, I am a stranger to the blacks here. Being a half-caste, I am looked down on by the blacks, justjust as a half-caste is looked down on by white people. Moongalliti and the members of his tribe at first regarded me with suspicion, and, in order to gain their confidence, I made harmless love to Runta, knowing that she was not matrimonially attached at the time.”
“Even so, I can see no excuse for such conduct. What is worse, Bony, is the manner in which you drove her away.”
Now Bony did sigh audibly. He tried hard not to smile, and she saw it.
“Unfortunately Runta became very serious,” he said. “I am inclined to think that equally with me she loved my peach pies and toffee.”
“What would your wife say if she knew-knew of your scientific zeal?” Marion asked less coldly.
“No man is a hero in shining armour to his wife. My wife knows her husband very thoroughly. In her last letter to me she said so. At my request she sent me a very resplendent dress for Runta.”
“You told her?”
“Believing that Runta is entitled to compensation, I asked Marie to send me a present for her. It arrived two days ago. I took a peep at it. The background is Chinese yellow and there are large purple spots all over it. I am assured that it is an extra out-size, so it should…”
He broke off to listen to the most delicious laughter he had ever heard. The girl’s head was thrown back and her eyes became half closed. Bony’s face became lit, too, with the ecstasy her beauty created in him, and she saw it and felt glad because of it, and slipped from her horse to stand in front of him.
“Bony, you’re the most extraordinary man I have ever met!” she said, laughter still in her voice. “The two gins helping Mrs Poulton told her about your love affair, and I thought it was one of the common sordid cases. I was disappointed in you, and now I am glad it was so harmless after all. I am glad for another reason. I havebeen wanting to ask your advice. Would you give it?”
“To do so would make me a very proud man.”
“Then let us walk on home.”
Together they turned towards Windee, she with the horse’s reins slipped over her arm, he carrying the blackened billy-can, the horse following softly. For nearly a minute Marion did not speak. Then:
“You were on the truck when Ron brought Mrs Thomas to Windee, weren’t you?”
“Yes. I first saw her in Mr Bumpus’s bar.”
“What did you think of her?”
“I considered that she was a remarkable character.”
“She drinks-horribly.”
“So I observed, and so I was emphatically informed by Mr Bumpus.”
“Did she say why she was coming to Windee?”
“No, but I understood she was seeking employment.”
“It was not that at all,” the girl said sadly. “I wish it had been. I wish I knew. To me she is an utter stranger, yet she knew Fatheryears ago, and taunted him in a veiled sort of way about something which had occurred. She frightened Father. She’s made him positively ill. And the other night when she was drunk-drunk, mind you-she accused father of murdering that man Marks who got lost in the bush four months ago.”
“Mrs Thomas’s departure must be a relief to you,” Bony said softly and reflectively.
“In a way, yes; but Father is still suffering from her beastly accusations and the secret of the past which has so suddenly been flung in his face. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can help him. Would it be wise to urge him to share that secret with me?”
“Most certainly it would,”assented Bony. “If it were but a youthful folly, the sharing will lighten the load. Do you know why Mrs Thomas left so hurriedly?”
“No, Bony, I do not. She and Father had a terrible row the other night. They were in the dining-room with the door shut. Mrs Poulton and I were on the veranda. We could hear the squeak of her voice and then Father’s roar when he shouted, ‘I won’t!’ many times. But-but, Bony, there was despair in his voice.”
“As though, in spite of what he said, he knew he would have to give in to her wishes or demands?”
“Yes-like that.”
For a little while they walked in silence, a silence broken by the girl, who exclaimed: “And I was looking forward to such a happy Christmas. The Fosters are coming, and Father Ryan. Dot and Dash are coming in, and Father is giving all the men a Christmas Dinner.”
The next day was Christmas Eve, and the fact that Dot and Dash were coming into Windee occupied Bony’s mind equally with the fact that Mrs Thomas was making demands on Jeff Stanton. It was almost proof that Jeff Stanton was Joseph North. Was she blackmailing? Did she know something about Marks’s death? It appeared so. Or was the urgency of the demands based on the case of the “Stolen Bride”?
Bony came to believe that the best way to help the girl who had given him her friendship was to force on this Marks case, and the best way to do that was to order the arrest of Dot and Dash. He would settle with Mrs Thomas. Mount Lion was a police-controlledtown, Sergeant Morris could order her to move on.
To Marion Bony said in his gentle way: “That cloud up there is black underneath, yet its middle and top are snow-white. In the morning there probably will be no clouds in the sky. Induce your father to confide in you by all means. A shared load is a lightened load.”
And when Marion gazed into Bony’s smiling face she came to believe it.