Виктория Холт - The Pride of the Peacock

As the song finished there was a deep silence in the company. They were in no mood to sing more for a while. They wanted to think of the people they had left at home; perhaps some of them longed to return and knew they never would.

The silence was broken by the sound of horse’s hoofs and a man came riding up. The tension was relaxed. He cried: “Is Mr. Madden here? I must see Mr. Madden. Joss rose and went over to the rider who was surrounded by a group of people.

“Oh, Mr. Madden, sir.” I heard him say, “Mrs. Bannock has sent me to find you. She says to tell you, sir, that Mr. Bannock has not been home all last night and not through the day and now his horse has come back without him. She’s worried and says would you go over to the homestead.”

I heard Joss say: “Go back at once, Tim. Tell her I’m coming over right away. like as not I’ll be there before you.”

He walked off and left me standing there. I felt sick with rage and anger. She only had to send for him and he forgot my existence. Then I thought of Ezra and was ashamed. What could have happened to him? I made my way to the blacksmith where Wattle was patiently waiting for me. Someone was already there. It was Jimson.

“I’m to take you back to Peacocks, Mr. Madden says,” he told me.

"Thank you", Jimson I answered.

“Lets go."

So I rode back to Peacocks with Jimson, all my pleasure in the evening departed and a terrible anxiety about Ezra beginning to disturb me.

I went to my room and took off my riding habit, put on my trousseau dressing-gown and loosened my hair.

I sat up waiting. It was midnight when Joss returned. He came straight to my room as I had hoped he would.

"Jimson brought you home all right? ” he said.

"Yes. What of Ezra? “

Joss looked tired and very anxious.

"I can’t think what’s happened. He’s missing. I don’t like it. There must have been some accident. His horse coming back without him. I’ll send out search parties tomorrow.

Isa will let me know if he turns up. “

“You’ve said so often that people can get lost in the Bush,” I said.

“Not a man like Ezra. He could only have been going between the homestead and the town. He knows his way around blindfolded.”

“You don’t think he’s gone…”

“Gone?”

“He might have been tired of being Isa’s husband.”

Joss looked at me incredulously.

“What about his horse’s coming back like that?”

“He might have wanted to make it look like an accident…”

Joss shook his head and then his eyes dwelt on me almost tenderly.

“It was a bad ending to your first Saturday night.”

“I do hope Ezra’s all right. I like him so much. He was very nice to me.”

He laid his hand on my shoulder lightly and pressed it.

“I didn’t want to disturb you but I thought you might be awake and wanting to know.” Thank you,” I said.

He smiled, hesitated, and I thought he was going to say something, but he seemed to change his mind.

“Good night,” he said and left me.

Rumours regarding Ezra’s disappearance grew as the days passed. Some of the stories were quite horrific. He had tempted fate in some way.

He had always been a man who had laughed at legend. He had never minded going past Grover’s Gully after sundown. He had been heard to say that Grover was an old fool and should have taken better care of his money.

The favourite story was that he was the one who had stolen the Green Flash, because in spite of Joss’s desire to keep the theft secret the news of it had spread like news of a lucky strike. It was dear, said rumour, that Ezra had found it and stolen it and the bad luck of the stone was pursuing him.

Anything could, therefore, have happened to him.

Joss did not express his usual anger at the revival of the stories about the ill luck of the opal. He seemed very subdued. I supposed he could only think of what this meant to Isa.

Search parties had gone out in all directions, but there was no sign of Ezra. Some people said he had made off with the Green Flash and left that wife of his who was not all she should be.

Three days passed while there was talk of nothing but Ezra’s disappearance.

I rode out on my own one late afternoon and as usual Wattle turned her face towards the gap in the hills leading to Graver’s Gully and the road to the Bannock homestead.

It was a hot day and the wind was blowing from the north. It grew stronger and started stirring up dust. It would be very uncomfortable later, but at the moment it was not unpleasant hot, dry, and smelling of the desert.

I rode through the gap and looked about me uneasily. The place looked desolate. Little eddies of dust swirled just above the ground, and I thought: The wind is certainly rising; I’d better get back soon.

“Let’s go home. Wattle,” I said.

Then Wattle behaved in a most extraordinary manner. I urged her to turn so that we could go back through the gap in the hills but she had grown suddenly stubborn and refused to do what I wanted.

What’s wrong. Wattle? ” I asked. She started to move then towards the mine.

“No, Wattle, not that way.”

What had happened to her? She was not going my way but hers.

I pulled on her reins and then Wattle did something which she had never done before. She showed me that I rode her so easily because it was her wish that I should do so. When she changed her mind and decided not to go along with me, I must give way to her. It was a startling discovery.

She began to move forward.

“Wattle!” I cried in a dismayed tone. She ignored me and at that moment I heard two kookaburras laughing. They always seemed to be at hand to witness my discomfiture, but perhaps at other times I heard them without noticing them.

I felt a tingling horror in my spine and that I was in the presence of something uncanny which was quite beyond my powers of understanding.

Very resolutely Wattle was making her way forward.

“Wattle, Wattle,” I coaxed in vain for I could sense her indifference to me. She seemed, indeed, to have forgotten that she carried me on her back. I tried coaxing again and then a little anger; it was no use. She was in control.

What was she going to do? I asked myself. Never before had I been so conscious of the fact that I was a novice with horses. I could ride well enough when all was well, but when this was not so, I was incapable-as Joss had hinted-and at that moment I was at the mercy of Wattle, and I knew that she was aware of something of which I was ignorant. Wasn’t it said that horses and dogs had an extra sense, higher powers of perception in matters which were beyond our comprehension?

I don’t know exactly what I expected, but I should not have been surprised to see the spectre of old Grover rise up from the mine to beckon to Wattle.

I had never been so frightened.

Wattle stopped suddenly; she pawed the ground and started to whinny.

Then she turned from the mine and made her way to the right where the ground was very sandy and a ragged mulga bush was growing.

She pricked up her ears and began wildly pawing at the sand. Then she gave a sudden snort. It was obviously one of distress.

“What’s wrong. Wattle?” I asked.

Then I saw that she had uncovered something. I leaned forward.

“Oh God!” I whispered in horror, for I saw that what she had uncovered was what was left of Ezra Bannock.

He had been shot through the head and someone had thought it safe to bury him there under the mulga bush not far from the mine, where, but for Wattle who had loved him, he might never have been discovered.

There was consternation throughout the community when they brought him in. He was taken to the homestead and the : blacksmith made a coffin for him. Then he was laid to rest in the graveyard on the edge of the town and there was a full day’s holiday so that all might go to the funeral and pay their respects to Ezra.

Joss held a meeting in the Company’s offices which I attended. It was to discuss what had happened and what was to be done about it.

Ezra Bannock had been murdered and his murderer must be discovered.

Crimes of violence must not go unpunished. In a community such as this, certain laws of conduct had to be rigorously observed, so every effort must be made to bring the murderer to justice.

Notices would be printed offering a reward of fifty pounds to anyone who could give information about the murderer. Everyone who had seen Ezra on the day he disappeared was questioned.

It was disclosed that he had ridden over to Peacocks during the morning of that day and he and Joss had been together for an hour or so. Then he had ridden off, presumably to go home. Joss had gone into the town some time later.

A terrible suspicion had come into my mind, for it occurred to me that when Ezra had come over to Peacocks he and Joss might have been quarrelling about Isa. I asked myself whether the true cause of that disagreement they had had some days before in the Company’s offices was indeed about housing one of the gougers and his family. Was it really about Isa and was Ezra putting his foot down at last and saying he would have no more of it? And if so. No, I would not continue with such thoughts. I wished I could stop thinking of Joss and Isa together. I had no doubt that they were lovers. Hadn’t he given her the Harlequin Opal? If she had not been married to Ezra she would have married Joss, and then there would have been no question of his marrying me. They must both have regretted that. Had they decided to do something about it? Isa was free now . but Joss was not. Where were my thoughts leading me?