Shrouded Passions Read online

  “He can tell the authorities that we never found gold in Ballarat, yet we could somehow finance a trip to Queensland with enough gold to fill a stagecoach,” George explained. “He can draw attention to us. Attention we don’t need at the moment.”

  “What are we going to do?” Jack asked, undeniably frightened. “I killed the driver of that coach, George. If the police find me, they’ll hang me for sure. I don’t want to die.”

  * * * *

  That evening, after they had eaten, David turned to Walter. “I’ve heard there are townships forming further north, sir. Townships shifting away from cattle and more toward agriculture.”

  The older man nodded as he smoked his pipe. “There has been talk of a crop more suited to the damned heat up north. Sugar cane, I think they called it. Said to be plenty of money in it too. A chap I knew from back in England has been building mills for the stuff in a place called Mackay.”

  “Would you know how to get to this town?” David asked.

  George grabbed his brother’s arm hard, pulling him away to a secluded corner. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice quiet, yet threatening.

  David pulled his arm free. “Getting us away from anyone who may remember us or our pasts.”

  “I told you I’d take care of it,” George reminded him, grabbing his arm again, harder this time.

  “By killing another man?” David spat at his brother, his voice also soft, yet equally as threatening. Pulling his arm free from his brother’s hold for the last time, David stood against his brother. “How do you expect Jack to survive down here, forever looking over his shoulder? Besides, how is a man as weak built as he expected to run a cattle station?”

  “Jack will do as I tell him to!” George insisted.

  “He might, dear brother, but I guarantee you I shall not.”

  David turned his attention back to Walter then, stepping a short distance away from his brother and going to sit beside the older man.

  “Do you know of a way to get to this town you called Mackay?”

  George watched as Walter puffed on his pipe as if deep in thought. Stepping closer, he listened in as the older man spoke.

  “There’s an aboriginal man who works for me that I call Peter who may be able to help you,” Walter said. “Reckon he has family up that way. As far as I know, you’d just follow the coast line, because there’s nowhere else to go in this godforsaken country.”

  George hadn’t agreed to the trip at first, but after another person recognized the trio as ex-companions from the gold fields in Victoria, George admitted they had little choice but to try the trek northward.

  So, leaving their wives and children again in the care of Walter Jeffers and his wife, the three men began their journey.

  With the guidance of the aboriginal man, Peter, whom Walter had loaned to them, Jack, George, and David started their adventure along the coast of Queensland to find the new township they had heard talk of.

  The long haul through the Queensland bushlands was hard, and the weather was cruel in its growing humidity. When they arrived in Mackay, all three men were astounded by the progression of this town.

  “I think we’ve earned a drink, gentlemen,” George said, pointing at the tavern.

  “I can’t go in there,” Peter remarked. “Black men aren’t welcomed in bars.”

  “Then you can wait out here and watch the horses,” George told him as he dismounted from his horse.

  Walking with David and Jack to the tavern, each man sat down and ordered a well-earned drink.

  “You men just traveling through on your way to Pioneer?” the bartender asked them.

  “Pioneer?” David asked.

  The bartender poured their drinks. “Yes, sir. The chap who established the sugar mills around here is moving north through Inkerman and out to Pioneer and Brandon to build more of them. Said they’d be looking for workers and investors along the way.”

  Nodding his thanks for both the drink and the information, David waited for the bartender to go back about his business before turning to his companions.

  “I’m going further on, to this place they call Inkerman.”

  “What?” George asked.

  “You heard the bartender. They’re looking for investors up there for these sugar mills they’re building.”

  “You can’t be serious!” George continued.

  “I can build a good life for my family up there, an honest life.”

  “Honest?” George laughed at his brother. “An honest life bought with stolen gold.”

  “D-David’s right,” Jack finally spoke up.

  “What did you say?” George turned to him.

  Jack downed the last of his drink. “David’s right. We could all build ourselves an honest life further north where no one has even heard of Victoria. We can be whoever we want to be up there without living in fear that the noose will find us. Our wives will be respectable women, never needing to learn of the law-breaking bastards their husbands have become.”

  George glared at both men, his annoyance with each of them obvious. “It seems you two have already decided our futures then.”

  David shook his head. “I’ve decided my own future, brother. I don’t need you following me. I’ll take my share of the gold and you needn’t hear from me ever again.”

  “Have you forgotten your little native trollop back in Victoria, the one claiming to be carrying your child?” George reminded his brother. “What shall you tell your wife about her? How will you explain fathering other children to another woman?”

  David emptied his glass of liquor before standing up from his seat. “I’m going north, I’ll send for my children once I’m settled. Patrick and Lotte can either travel with their mother or their governess.”

  “You don’t expect your wife to join you?” Jack asked.

  David shrugged. “I imagine she will want to stay in Brisbane and keep whoring herself to my brother here.”

  Leaving the tavern, David went over to where Peter was standing in the shade of a gum tree with the horses.

  “I need your help, Peter. I need you to send word to a young aboriginal woman back in Victoria. Her name is Grace, and her father was an elder of the tribe in Ballarat. Tell her I’ll wire her money to journey up this way and meet me in a township just north of here.”

  Peter stalled, eying him suspiciously. “A girl from a southern tribe may not be welcomed this far north, sir. If you’re after a serving girl, there will be plenty where you’re headed.”

  David shuffled his feet nervously. “She isn’t my servant. Grace is the mother of my children.”

  “Your children?” Peter asked, his shock obvious.

  David nodded. “I know. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I love Grace and I won’t abandon her.”

  Chapter 1

  Brandon, Queensland, Australia, 1885

  Devon Munroy studied his father. “You can’t be serious!”

  Jack Munroy was annoyed by his son’s obvious disbelief. “Of course I’m serious, you stupid boy. George Fanti and I discussed the matter last night.”

  Jack could tell Devon was struggling to understand what he was hearing. “Let me get this straight, Father. You’ve arranged an engagement for me? A marriage?”

  The old lord nodded. “Is that so hard to understand?”

  Jack noticed his son’s growing frustration. “Yes, it is, damn it! Especially when I’m thirty years old and don’t even know the damn chit!”

  “Don’t you raise your voice at me!” Jack Munroy shouted. “George and I decided, and your engagement to his daughter is arranged!”

  Devon glared at his father. “You mean George Fanti decided.”

  “W-what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jack asked.

  “George speaks and you jump, is what I mean. He said we had to leave Brisbane, so we did. He said we needed to settle here in Brandon, so we did. Now he says I must marry his daughter—”

  “You will marry
his daughter and that’s final!”

  “No, damn it,” Devon continued to fight his father. “It’s not final. I don’t want this!”

  The old lord didn’t try to hide his irritation. “It’s not about what you want, Devon. It’s about what’s best for this family, and what is best is an engagement to Elizabeth Fanti. I shan’t hear another word about it either.”

  Devon stared at the older man. “You want her in the family so much, Father, then maybe you should marry her!”

  Ignoring his senior’s attempted babbling rebuttal, Devon stormed out of the estate house.

  “Damn and blast!” Jack cursed as he walked to the door, calling for his carriage. “Take me to the Fanti estate,” he ordered the driver.

  Arriving at George Fanti’s estate, Jack was met outside.

  “I told you never to come here uninvited,” George said as Jack stepped from the carriage.

  “I-I need to talk to you about the engagement…about Devon.”

  “There is nothing to talk about. The engagement is set and final.”

  Jack stopped in his approach. “Devon doesn’t want the engagement, and I don’t want my only son to have to marry a woman he doesn’t love.”

  “Love?” George asked. “What the hell does love have to do with it?”

  Jack’s breathing was ragged. “I-I’m telling Devon the engagement to Elizabeth is off. I’ll say I changed my mind. That he’s free to marry whomever he wishes.”

  George’s steps toward Jack were measured. “You changed your mind?”

  Jack nodded nervously.

  George stopped in front of the trembling man. Lifting his hand, the back of his palm struck Jack hard across the face.

  “You don’t change your mind unless I tell you too, you sniffling little bastard!”

  Jack held his stinging cheek. “B-but George—”

  George’s hand went around the other man’s throat, his fingers squeezing until Jack was struggling for breath.

  “But nothing!” George spat at him. “The engagement between Elizabeth and Devon stands. And if I hear you’ve told anyone otherwise, let’s just say the man responsible for that stagecoach robbery in Victoria and the death of those two men will suddenly be found here in Brandon.”

  Jack grabbed at his assailant’s hands, begging to be released. “Y-you c-can’t.”

  George threw Jack back against the carriage door, releasing him. “I will, Jack.”

  Jack crumbled to the ground, gasping for breath. “H-he’s my only son.”

  “You will do as you’re told, Jack. And so will your boy if he knows what’s best for him.”­

  * * * *

  Devon walked away from his family’s estate, his frustrations mounting. He didn’t want to marry Elizabeth Fanti, nor did he want any tie to her father, George Fanti. Devon knew his own parent would have had little say in the matter. For as long as he could remember, George Fanti had always held something over his father; something that created a fear in Jack like nothing else could, and in turn made him do whatever George bid of him.

  Devon didn’t know what secrets lay between his father and George. All he knew was it was because of these secrets that his father had been coerced into many business deals and arrangements with George Fanti. Jack’s life had quickly been ripped away from him, his once brown hair now a pure shade of white. His father had never been a strong man, in will or stature, but now, Jack was a mere shadow of a man who didn’t make a move until George Fanti said he could.

  Devon feared if his engagement to Elizabeth Fanti was allowed to go ahead, this was what would become of his life too. Devon didn’t want this. What he wanted was a way out of this engagement and soon. George Fanti may have been able to control his only parent, but Devon would be damned if he would allow the same control over his own life.

  Leaving the estate grounds that belonged to his family, Devon walked toward the waterhole up ahead. He needed to clear his head and find a way out of this situation before it was too late.

  The waterhole didn’t belong to any of the estate holders, rather it acted as a natural division of properties. Since moving to Brandon, Devon had found much solace in the serenity of this place, often retreating here when things seemed to be getting out of his control.

  Stopping beside the tall gum tree bordering the waterhole, Devon shut his eyes, taking a deep breath of the cool fresh air. He hoped coming to this place would help to clear his jumble of thoughts and give him some form of perspective of the situation he now found himself in with his father.

  It didn’t.

  “Would you like to join me?” a soft female voice called out, bringing Devon quickly from his musing.

  Opening his eyes, Devon focused in the direction the voice had come from, his gaze settling on the beautiful young woman wading in the crystal blue water.

  She looked so carefree, frolicking in the water in little more than her undergarments. Her long, wet, reddish hair swam in the water around her small frame, and Devon assumed it was long enough to reach near her hips. She looked at him with eyes as crystal clear as the water surrounding her, seemingly unashamed of how he was obviously seeing her.

  She looked to be a few years younger than he, maybe about twenty-eight or so. He couldn’t say he had seen her around before; he was sure it was something he would have remembered. Standing on the banks of the waterhole, Devon knew that, for now, this young woman was a stranger to him, but he couldn’t deny this woman’s beauty was far beyond any other woman he had ever met and he yearned to get to know her better.­

  * * * *

  “Where are you going?” David Higgins asked his daughter, Lotte.

  Lotte tried not to appear like a bear caught in a trap. “I’m going to the waterhole with Sarah to pick water chestnuts, Father.”

  David raised a questioning brow at his daughter. “I doubt a young aboriginal woman needs your help gathering such a thing, Lotte.”

  Lotte smiled. “But you said it would be good for me to learn to live in the environment around me. What better way than for me to learn the ways of the native people?”

  Lotte waited, ready to be reprimanded for her witty tongue. She knew she was pushing her limits as of late with her father, forever venturing off with Sarah or the other aboriginal workers on the estate. Still, she enjoyed their company, and was more than fascinated by the knowledge they had.

  “Just please be careful, Lotte,” her father begged of her. “And be sure to return to the house when Sarah does.”

  Rushing to her father, Lotte kissed his cheek. “I will.” She beamed at him before turning and running in the direction of the waterhole.

  Arriving at the bank near the cool looking water, Lotte started to remove her shoes.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” Sarah yelled out to her from where she was swimming in the water.

  Finishing her partial undressing, Lotte walked into the water to join her friend. “I had to convince father that gathering native food with you would be good for my education.”

  Sarah giggled. “Then you best get over here so I can teach you what to dive for, Lotte. We need quite a few of them, so I’ll definitely need your help if I am to gather them in time for this evening’s meal.”

  Lotte lost track of how much time had passed them by until her friend began walking from the water to the basket that sat on the dry bank.

  “Where are you going, Sarah?” she asked her friend.

  “I need to get these back to the kitchen,” Sarah said, emptying the last of the water chestnuts into her basket.

  “Can’t we just stay out here a little longer?” Lotte asked. “It’s so beautiful here.”

  Pulling on her dry skirt, Sarah turned to her mistress. “The cook is expecting me. I need to get back.”

  Lotte waded out further in the cool water. “You go back, Sarah. I’ll be along shortly.”

  Lotte knew her father would be furious that she’d disobeyed him, but she could honestly see she was doing no harm. Af
ter all, there were no snakes or crocodiles there. There was only the crystal blue calmness surrounding her, reminding her that there was another life far away from the confines of her father’s estate.

  Minutes after watching her young aboriginal friend leave her, Lotte heard a rustle in the leaves behind her. Turning suddenly, she feared whom or what she would find.

  Treading in the water, Lotte smiled as her stare settled on the tall and solid figure of a handsome young man standing next to the gum tree.

  “You’re staring at me,” she remarked playfully, noticing his slightly stubbled chin.

  He nodded slowly, returning her smile. “So it would seem.”

  “Why?” Lotte asked. “Have you never seen a woman swimming before?”

  He shook his head. “Apparently not.”

  Lotte studied the very basic attire of this man before her, unsure if he were a servant or some rich lord. He seemed to be about her own age, maybe a few years older, though quite tall and solidly built for one so young. His black hair sat level with the collar on his shirt, slightly shaggy in its style and not so straight-lined as most his age. Staring into his near black eyes, Lotte found everything about this man a mystery.

  “Now it would appear you are staring at me, madam,” he interrupted her musings.

  Lotte could feel a blushing heat fill her cheeks. “I beg your pardon, sir. Only, I find myself wondering whom or what you are. For the life of me, I can’t find anything to explain if you be a lord or a slave.”

  “Would either matter?” he asked.

  Lotte thought on his question. She knew she shouldn’t be there with this man, with this stranger; not as she was. She should leave immediately and return to the safety of her father’s estate.

  Slowly, Lotte bit her bottom lip. “You could join me.”

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, clearly taken aback by her invitation.

  Lotte tried to smile through her nervousness. “You could join me if you want to. I mean, I’d like you to.”

  “But you don’t know me,” he rebutted.

  Lotte shrugged her shoulders. “I know, but maybe I’d like to change that.”­