Nothing Lasts Forever Page 10

  Sergeant Green and Mel rushed out with a lantern. Mel was concerned for Joe when he heard the first shot, panicked when he heard the second. It had taken a few minutes to light the lantern with shaking hands. He had hoped to capture the robbers with no bloodshed and fears for his friend were consuming him.

  Joe appeared out of the night, and Mel was so relieved to see him unharmed he threw his arms around him. “God, I thought they’d shot you.”

  “No shoot me, shoot his own toe off!” Joe said with distain. “Other one have bad headache, me thinkum.”

  Sergeant Green was very pleased with the outcome. With one robber out cold, the other one trussed with a missing toe, their capture was like a miracle. He didn’t even have to risk his own life in the exercise. It was all accomplished by Joe, the friendly aboriginal. And the unseen ghost.

  The ropes Joe had laid as a trap had done minimal damage; just a few pickets were broken in the side fence, and the stumps of the building had stood firm.

  Chapter Ten

  Mel was just a little perturbed. Mia was often at the store now, for no obvious reason. Leonardo often reproached her for failing in her duties at home.

  “Mama needs your help back at the farm. You’ve got to face up to your responsibilities with the family.”

  “Oh shut up and mind your own business, bossy brother,” she would retaliate.

  “Why are you hanging around here and always in the way, girl?” Leonardo could not fathom the thinking of his wayward sister.

  “I want to work in the store and meet people,” Mia pouted. “It’s so boring stuck on the farm.”

  Mel overheard the conversation, and decided to step in. “I have no work for you, Mia. Anyhow, I cannot employ you without your father’s permission. You’re only sixteen. You should show loyalty to your parents.”

  Mia’s face reddened. She didn’t want to be offside with the handsome store owner. She had other plans for him in her life. “I would be loyal to you, Mel,” she blurted.

  Mel suddenly understood. Obviously she had a bit of a crush on him, but it wasn’t good for her to be hanging around the store. She was only a child.

  That evening, after supper, Mel saddled Baylord and paid an unexpected visit to the Giavano homestead. He noted the well kept gardens and the trimmed grass. A hand painted sign on the gate read ‘experienced seamstress’. Mia ran out to greet him first.

  “Have you come to see me, Mel?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “Actually, I’ve come to talk to your father,” Mel answered, his tone cold.

  Mia felt a moment of discontent. Mel had never encouraged her friendship, but he’d never been so cold to her before. If Mel complained about her to her father, she could be in trouble…big trouble. Didn’t they understand that Mel was her destiny? She was meant to be his woman, a grand, rich lady. She daydreamed about the social events she would attend at Mel’s side, dressed to the nines. Everyone would talk about her beautiful gowns and the amazing jewelry her man would bestow on her. Maybe it would take a few years for that to happen, but in the meantime she had to make sure there was no-one else in his life.

  Mia ran to her room, out of the firing line. Mel watched her go, his eyes troubled.

  “Good evening, Mel,” Albert’s booming voice cut into Mel’s thoughts. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

  Mel felt unsure that this visit would be without some animosity, but hell, he had to voice his concern.

  “Just a friendly call,” Mel said with a winning smile.

  “Come into the sitting room, and I’ll get us a drink,” Albert put an arm around Mel’s shoulders and led him inside.

  As they walked down the short hallway to the sitting room, a young woman approached. “Is everything all right, papa?” she asked in a low lilting voice that set Mel agog. He’d never seen such a beautiful creature.

  Her skin was the colour of coffee and cream, and her hair, long and black and lustrous, bounced around her perfect shoulders in tantalizing spirals. Her eyes were dark, rimmed with thick lashes. There was a warmth in her eyes as she glanced at Mel. His heart melted.

  “Mr. Milo, I’d like to introduce my firstborn, the beautiful Angelina.”

  Mel swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn’t let him down. It was the perfect name for such a perfect angel. He held out a hand. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Angelina Giavano.”

  Her hand was cool and soft in his…he never wanted to let go, but she gently pulled her hand free while looking into his eyes with the most beautiful smile on her face. It was the smile of an angel.

  “We have a few things to discuss, my dear. We’ll be in the sitting room with a drink or two,” Albert told her, squeezing her shoulder as he passed her by.

  “I’ll get water and ice,” Angelina said, looking at her father with such love. If only she would look at me that way, Mel thought.

  What’s happening to me? He thought. Where has all logical thought gone? I’ve only just met her. Where has the brave Samoan warrior gone? The warrior blood had seemingly just turned to water.

  Albert poured them both a drink after Angelina delivered water and ice with a smile on her perfect features.

  “She is so beautiful,” Mel said, then shook his head in self disgust. Why did he have to say that?

  Albert leaned back in his armchair. “Yes, she is that. And like her mother, also a fine seamstress. She makes most of the family clothes.” Albert drew a deep breath, his brows drawn together in a frown. “The love of her life, Alan Fletcher, left her twelve months ago to make his fortune in the gold fields. They had planned a wedding and a good life together with the promised fortune, but we haven’t heard from Alan in more than six months now. We are concerned that maybe he’s lost to us. One hears of all the problems the gold diggers face…murder and thievery…all in the name of money.”

  Mel listened with rapt attention. So she was betrothed…out of his reach. But maybe not, if Alan had met with foul play or had had a disastrous accident…He shook his head to clear such shocking thoughts. What was he thinking? The poor girl must be living a life of hell; wondering, hoping.

  Mel asked about the gold strike Alan had set out for, for he’d heard that the ‘strike’ days were over years ago, and the late comers were getting only lean pickings. He decided to use his contacts with the coach drivers and whoever else he could influence, to try to find Alan Fletcher.

  The conversation turned to horses and buggies after a few more drinks, and Mel made the momentous decision to acquire the transport of the well-heeled businessman. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He could visualize Angelina sitting beside him, picnic basket in the back, her warm smile, her hand on his arm. Hell, he was putting the cart before the horse, but his vision made him feel so warm and fuzzy.

  Good God, he thought, how many drinks had he had? Albert had switched to Galliano, and Mel was not accustomed to it or the mix. He needed to speak of Mia before he was too intoxicated to know what he was saying.

  “My good friend Albert,” Mel said, then drew a deep breath. Good God, he was drunk. “I think we have a little problem with your daughter.”

  Albert drew his brows together again. “Angelina?”

  Mel shook his head to clear the fuzziness. “No. Mia.”

  Albert stared at Mel, his eyes dark and hard. “What’s on your mind, Mel?”

  “I…I think she has a teenage crush on me, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  “What makes you think that, Mel?”

  “Well…she spends a lot of time at the store, following me around. I’m sure she has chores to do at home, but Leonardo and I can’t get through to her. She insists she wants to work in the store, but I don’t think that’s a good idea, under the circumstances.”

  “We wondered where she was sneaking off to. Leonardo would never tell on her. She won’t
talk to us about it; she just disappears for hours at a time. She’s very headstrong, that one. Let me ask Mamma for coffee, and we’ll put it to her. She understands female minds better than we ever will.”

  Mel was hoping the lovely Angelina would sit in on the discussion, but she didn’t intrude. After a couple of cups of rich black coffee poured by Bella, Albert’s wife, Mel’s head was clearing slightly. The decision was made to talk to Mia, tell her she was only a child, and impress on her that her responsibilities lay with her family, and she should stop making a fool of herself.

  Mia was crouched in the garden outside the window in her night attire. She had been there most of the time to listen to her future husband’s melodious voice. Oh how she loved him, and she couldn’t wait to show him just how much. But when the conversation turned to her, her face burned in fury. They were speaking of her as though she were a petulant child. How dare they! She crept off to bed, furious with them all.

  Albert poured Mel a generous Galliano for the road. Mel scoffed it quickly. He’d better head home while he could. He swayed slightly when he stood, took his leave from Bella, and Albert walked him outside to Baylord. Mel had to concentrate hard to get his foot in the stirrup and swing himself into the saddle. It took three attempts. His head was reeling, but he thanked Albert and relied on his trusty steed to find the way home.

  Mel was slumped in the saddle when Baylord entered the stables. He didn’t remember anything of the ride home, and woke up late the next morning on a bed of hay with a horse rug stretched over him. He opened his eyes slowly, to find Baylord unsaddled and comfortable in his stall, watching him with accusing eyes. It was well past the hour for his run in the paddock.

  “Hello, friend. Thanks for getting me home safe and sound.”

  Joe appeared out of the gloom. “Him good horse get you home one piece. You drink much firewater?”

  Mel grinned and nodded. “Yep. Much firewater. Never again, though. My mouth feels full of sand, and my head full of rocks.”

  “Joe let Baylord out. You go house, kettle on for tea.”

  God bless Joe. His whitefella skills were a godsend.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two weeks later, Mia walked into Mel’s kitchen. Mel and Joe were enjoying cheese and ham sandwiches with tea. Mel found Joe’s effort amusing; the bread was sliced thick and tapered, the cheese much the same, but he appreciated the effort Joe had put into it.

  “Morning, Mia,” Mel said politely, hiding his consternation. What the hell! He’d thought that problem was solved. “Want a sandwich?”

  “I’ll make it,” Mia said. The opportunity was there to impress Mel with her domestic skills. She was determined to win him around, the sooner the better.

  After lunch, Mia tidied the kitchen. “What would you like me to prepare for your supper, Mel?” she asked sweetly.

  “No supper here tonight. I’m being wined and dined by Mr. Farrow, who runs the local coach building business.”

  “I could dress up and go with you,” Mia said, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “I don’t think so, Mia. It’s a business thing.”

  The bell newly attached to the door of the store tinkled, and Mel walked through the adjoining door to see to the customer. He did a double take, and tried desperately to control the overwhelming pleasure the visitor caused his skipping heart.

  He nodded to Angelina. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said softly.

  “Is she here?” Angelina whispered. Mel nodded.

  “What are we to do with her? She causes our parents such distress.”

  Mia walked into the store, fury on her face. “What are you doing here?” she hissed at her sister. “Why are you spying on me?”

  “Your sister is here to talk to me about an idea I’ve been working on. Excuse us, Mia, we have business to discuss.” He realized he’d cut her off cold, but all else failing…

  With a hand stretched across the shoulders of Angelina, he led her to the corner where the glossy magazines on European fashions were displayed. They made a pretense of discussing fashion while they conversed in low whispers.

  “Papa is so furious,” Angelina said. “I thought it was safer for me to come pick her up. She is such a rebellious child. I don’t know what will become of her.”

  “Have you thought of threatening to send her away to boarding school?” Mel asked, hardly believing he was standing here talking to this gorgeous creature.

  Angelina laughed softly. “She’d see through that in a second. Mia knows we don’t have the money for that.”

  Mel noticed Mia walking purposely towards them and winked at Angelina. “Now I was thinking, we could put the second mannequin here with one of your beautiful creations on it, made from my fabrics, of course. We would probably get a few orders for you; I could pass them on to you. It could only increase sales of fabric and trimmings for the store.”

  Even as he said it, plucked out of thin air as it was, the idea seemed a good one. The fact that it gave an excuse for future contact with Angelina was ingenious.

  Angelina tilted her head as she pondered, not daring to say anything for fear it was said only to cover their discussion of Mia. She moved to a new bolt of cotton just arrived. “This is interesting…very beautiful.”

  Mel picked up one of the magazines and flicked through until he found what he was looking for. “This caught my eye, so I tried to choose a light cotton of similar print. I’d love to see that dress made up and on display. Of course, the fabric as illustrated is quite heavy as necessary for European climate, but I’m convinced that this lighter cotton would drape just as well, and be much more suited to Australian conditions. What do you think, Angelina? Will we give this venture a go?”

  Angelina raised her eyes to his. He seemed quite serious about this, and was showing great excitement for the plan.

  “I’d always dreamed of being able to design and display my own gowns. I never thought in a million years it would happen.” The dreamy look on her face was incredible to Mel. She was truly an angel in his eyes.

  He studied her, and felt a longing to take her in his arms and promise her whatever she wanted just to hold that look on her face; but slow and steady was the safe way. He’d heard no news from the goldfields yet, but he had many feelers out. She needed to know of her betrothed, and he needed to know where he stood with her.

  Mia wandered away, not interested in their conversation, and sat on the front step of the shop. She looked like the little girl she was, legs askew, feeling insecure in her inability to hold a true grown-up conversation with her obsession.

  “Think about my proposition, Angelina. If you think it’s feasible, let’s do it, eh?” He took her hands and gently squeezed them. “If you think it’s a lousy idea, we’ll not talk of it again.”

  Angelina felt fond thoughts towards this coloured man. He was a good person. And she couldn’t blame Mia for being smitten with him. On that note, she took her leave of Mel, got Mia into the wagon and headed for home. She felt better than she’d felt in a long time.

  The gown was beautiful. Mel and Angelina stood back to admire it on the mannequin.

  “It looks so much better than the picture in the catalogue,” Mel said.

  “I changed quite a bit in the designing of it. It wouldn’t do to be accused of stealing someone else’s designs, would it?”

  Mel nodded. He liked the way she thought things through. “It is an Angelina Giavano original. We shall label it as such.”

  Joe, who sometimes met aborigines from different tribes on walkabout outside the town, had been told by a trusted elder that at the gold fields there had been a big disaster just a few months ago. A raging bushfire had consumed much of the camp site of the diggers. There had been a few deaths, as some diggers tried to get into their shacks for the gold they had hidden there. There had been much confusion, with some of the bodies so b
adly burned they remained unrecognizable.

  Mel was appalled at the story, but he needed to know if Alan Fletcher was one of the survivors. At another evening visit with Albert, who was suitably impressed with the new shiny black buggy and jet black horse Mel had purchased, Mel learned that the Fletchers lived at Tamworth. He sent a telegram to the address, and was waiting on a reply. He had been watching the evolvement of the new fangled telephone with much interest. He’d get one as soon as he could, he decided. That would make communication so much easier.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mel was surprised when a passenger arrived on Cobb & Co. and immediately sought him out. The newcomer was here in reply to Mel’s telegram. He was a tall, thin, fine featured young man who introduced himself as Tim Fletcher, Alan Fletcher’s younger brother.

  Over a pot of tea, Tim listened to Mel’s story of the gold fields with a concerned look on his face.

  “And you know for sure this is true?” Tim asked.

  “I have been told by one of the Cobb&Co drivers who does the gold fields run, but he didn’t have the details. The details come from a friend, an aborigine friend, and he got the story from a group on walkabout, who swear the truth in it.” Mel noted Tim’s unease. “This country was theirs for thousands of years before the Europeans took it from them. They know exactly what is happening in their land, and the information is spread by migrating groups. They have no need to make up stories.”

  Joe took that moment to enter Mel’s kitchen. With a spear in one hand and a sugar bag full of lordy knows what in the other, Joe came to a stop.

  “Sorry Mel. Mebbee come back later,” Joe mumbled.

  “Put your spear and tucker bag in the outhouse, Joe, and pour yourself a cup of tea. We have a visitor I’d like you to meet,” Mel said, noting the look of astonishment on Tim’s face. Joe looked very primitive in his skirt of tattered skins hanging from his hips, with chest bare and his black hair dusty and unruly.