Settling Day

CHAPTER VI

RODNEY SHAW

Rodney Shaw was the wealthiest squatter round Swamp Creek. He inherited the property from his father, and had taken no share in amassing the very large sum of money he found himself in possession of at an early age.

He was only two-and-twenty when he found himself his own master, and soon after his father's death he left his property in the hands of a manager and went to Sydney, where he remained for some time before he took his departure for London. The name of his station was Cudgegong, and it comprised an area of about thirty to forty square miles. In addition to this he held big shares in several mines in the western district, most of which paid good dividends. On his return from England he went straight to Cudgegong, 'to put things in order,' he said, although everything had gone on well during his prolonged absence.

As a lad he was not liked in the district, and as he grew older he became domineering and somewhat vicious in his habits.

He had the usual love of horses which seems bred in all Australians, and before he was of age he owned race horses.

He was a younger man than Jim Dennis by several years, but the two men had not been bad friends, in fact Rodney Shaw got on better with the owner of Wanabeen than with anyone else.

Jim Dennis was surprised to hear of his return, and asked Doonan if he was sure his news was true.

'Certain of it,' said the constable.

'I had it from Dr Tom, and he knows everything that goes on in these parts.'

'There's not much escapes him, I grant you,' laughed Jim; 'but I hardly think he is correct this time.'

'Why not ride over and see?' said Doonan. 'You were always welcome at Cudgegong, I hear.'

'I think I will,' replied Jim, 'as soon as the weather takes up. Perhaps I can be of use to him as he has been away so long.'

Constable Doonan remained at Wanabeen for the night, and had a long talk with Willie. The lad loved to hear of his exploits, and how he had captured bushrangers in Victoria, and Queensland, before he came into New South Wales.

When Doonan described the races he had seen in Melbourne the lad's eyes glistened, and he became quite excited.

'I'd like to ride in a real race,' he said.

'You're just cut out for a jockey,' laughed Doonan.

'Am I? Then I'll be one if dad will let me.'

'Do you hear that, Jim?' said the constable. 'Your boy wants to be a jockey.'

'Does he?' said Jim, as he entered the room. 'That's strange. I was only thinking the other day what a good one he would make.'

'Wait until I am strong and old enough, and I shall ride some winners,' said Willie.

'Hullo, there's the coach coming,' said Jim. 'I forgot it was Ned's day. Ned will be glad of this rain, for he has had a rough time of it lately.'

Ned Glenn pulled up at Wanabeen as usual, and, leaving a couple of passengers to grumble on the top of the coach, came inside for his accustomed chat.

'Mind no one runs away with the mails,' said Doonan, laughing.

'No fear of that near Wanabeen,' said Ned. 'I shouldn't mind if someone would take those two male passengers, though, and leave them somewhere.'

'Not very sociable, are they?' asked Jim.

'Regular bears. They have been growling all the way.'

'Put 'em inside,' said Doonan.

'No such luck. I'm glad they are fairly wet outside, but they must be precious dry inside.'

'I'll give them a quencher,' said Jim, good-naturedly.

'Don't be a fool; it would be wasted on them,' replied Ned. 'I can do with their share.'

Ned Glenn sat down and caught sight of one of the passengers looking at the house, evidently in search of him, and in hopes of a speedy departure.

'You keep calm, my friend,' said Ned, shaking his fist. 'It will do you good to cool in the rain a bit.'

'Any news?' asked Jim, when he had attended to Ned's want.

'Yes. Rodney Shaw has come back to Cudgegong. I don't know whether that can be reckoned as good news or bad, but it's true,' said Ned.

'It is a long time since he went away,' said Jim.

'Nigh on seven or eight years, I should think, maybe not quite so long.'

'He'll find his property all right. Benjamin Nix is a good manager,' said Jim.

'And a good fellow too,' answered Ned. 'Better than his boss, I reckon.'

Turning to Doonan, he said, 'There's likely to be trouble in this district before long, I hear.'

'How's that?'

'Horse thieves about again,' said Ned.

Jim Dennis thought of the strange stallion boxed in his yard, and glanced at Constable Doonan. Was there more rumour and suspicion to surround him?

'It's a rum go too,' said Ned. 'Rodney Shaw bought a fine stallion in Sydney, a thoroughbred, and sent him up to Cudgegong. The man in charge of him complains that someone either stole him or let him loose while he was resting at Potter's. There'll be a deuce of a row at Cudgegong about it.'

'That's queer,' said Jim. 'A strange horse galloped into the yard with my mob yesterday during the storm. I wonder if he belongs to Mr Shaw.'

'You don't say so!' exclaimed Ned.

'Yes, I do; and, what's more, the brute would have made short work of me had not Fred Doonan arrived in time.'

He then explained to Ned what had happened.

'If he's such a savage horse,' said Ned, 'I shouldn't be at all surprised if the man did not let him go through sheer fright and now wants to cast the blame on someone.'

'That's probable,' said Constable Doonan. 'I'm going round by Potter's and will make inquiries. In the meantime, Jim, I would ride over to Cudgegong and let Mr Shaw know about it.'

'I'll go to-morrow,' said Jim.

Doonan took his departure, and soon afterwards Ned, much to the relief of his two passengers, clambered into the box seat and continued his journey.

Next morning it was still raining, but Jim Dennis cared little for this, in fact was glad of it. He saddled Bess and rode over to Cudgegong, a distance of about fifteen miles.

The mare revelled in the good going, and the already green grass gave way beneath her feet. It was a luxury that had not befallen her for many a day, to gallop on yielding ground.

Midway between the two stations he saw a couple of mounted police, and recognised Sergeant Machinson and another constable he did not know.

'Wonder what brings him round here. Perhaps he has been to pay his respects to Rodney Shaw.'

Then he thought:

'If he has, he'll have heard of the loss of his horse. He's such a suspicious beggar, he might think I had a hand in "lifting" it. If the stallion in my place is the missing one, Machinson would be only too pleased to get me into trouble, though why I don't know. It's sheer spite because of that Potter's affair, and poor spite it is too. They have seen me, so I may as well ride over to them.'

He was passing them with a casual remark about the rain when Sergeant Machinson said, —

'We have just been over to Cudgegong. Mr Shaw has returned from England. He bought a valuable stallion in Sydney, which has been stolen. The man in charge of it says it was taken from Potter's. Have you seen anything of it yet?'

Jim Dennis did not hesitate to tell the story of how he found a stray stallion in his mob, and also said that Constable Doonan arrived at an opportune moment to rescue him.

'I was just riding over to Mr Shaw's to tell him about it,' said Jim. 'I heard from Doonan, and Ned Glenn, that he had lost a thoroughbred stallion.'

A suspicious, sneering smile came over Sergeant Machinson's face. 'Then you do not know who is the owner of this horse? It is not often you find stray thoroughbreds running about the country, I suppose?'

'No, do you?' asked Jim, who was not afraid of half-a-dozen Sergeant Machinsons.

'It is part of my duty to find them when they have been stolen,' said the sergeant.

'So I believe,' replied Jim; 'but if this horse I have is Mr Shaw's, it will save you any trouble in that line.'

'Except to catch the thief,' said the sergeant.

'Always provided the horse was stolen,' said Jim.

'Of course it was stolen; the man says so.'

'Then how did it come to be running about with my mob?' asked Jim.

'That's what I'd like to know,' was the suggestive and uncalled-for reply.

'What do you mean to infer by that?' asked Jim, hotly.

'Anything you please. Don't you think it needs some explanation?'

'I have told you what happened.'

'But you omitted to state how the horse came to be amongst your lot.'

'That is what I should like to find out. Perhaps you can help me,' said Jim.

'I shall do all in my power to apprehend the thief. There is too much of this sort of thing going on round here.'

'Yes, there is,' said Jim; 'and it is partly your fault, because you never catch the thieves. Why don't you try Dalton's gang?'

'That's my business,' said the sergeant, angrily. 'Remember I can make you account for having that horse on your premises.'

'I have accounted for it.'

'Shall you tell that story to Mr Shaw?'

'Certainly; that is what I am going over for.'

'Then we will ride back with you.'

'As you please,' said Jim; 'but I should prefer your room to your company.'

Sergeant Machinson bit his lip, but made no reply. He knew in his heart Jim Dennis's story to be true, yet this only aggravated him the more. Such is the nature of some men, but Jim Dennis was not of them. When they arrived at Cudgegong station they were received, after a brief delay, by Rodney Shaw.

'I am glad to see you back, Mr Shaw,' said Jim, holding out his hand, and looking him straight in the face.

Rodney Shaw took his hand in a half-hearted way and said hesitatingly, —

'I have been away such a long time I have almost forgotten all my old friends, but you are none the less welcome for all that.'

'How he has altered,' thought Jim. 'I should not have recognised him had he been anywhere but at Cudgegong.'

'So you returned with Dennis?' said Shaw to the sergeant.

'Yes. I fancy he has your horse,' said Sergeant Machinson.

'Let me tell you the story,' said Jim, 'or it may be misrepresented.'

He then gave Rodney Shaw an account of what had happened.

'It is very strange,' was his comment. 'I wonder how the horse got into your paddocks. My man says it was stolen.'

'I am as ignorant as yourself,' replied Jim, 'how the horse came there. If he is your horse, you can have him back by sending for him.'

Jim Dennis did not like the tone in which Rodney Shaw spoke; it seemed to imply a doubt about his story.

'Of course I will send for him. One of my men shall return with you.'

'I think you had better send two,' replied Jim, smiling.

'Is the horse as dangerous as that?'

'He was, but Doonan and myself tamed him down. Still, I think it would be safer to have two men.'

'Will you bring him over?'

'If you wish it,' said Jim, 'but I had rather your own men did it. He might get lost on the way again.' This with a glance at the sergeant.

'Perhaps it would be better to send your own men,' said that worthy guardian of law and order.

Jim Dennis rose to go. He had not received a hospitable reception, and he was not a man to remain where he saw he was not wanted.

'I hope I shall see you again soon,' said Rodney Shaw, who seemed suddenly to think he had been too frigid.

'You may if I am riding this way,' was the quiet answer.

Although Rodney Shaw was wealthy, Jim Dennis considered himself his equal as a man, and so he was.

CHAPTER VII

OUTWITTED

Dennis waited a short time to see if Rodney Shaw's men would return with him to Wanabeen, and as they did not appear he took his departure.

As he rode back he thought of the strange change that had taken place in Rodney Shaw.

'I suppose living in England has done it,' thought Jim; 'but I had no idea it would make such an alteration in a man. He looks so much older, and speaks differently. There's something about him I can't make out. He has such a shifty look, and might have done some great wrong, he has that half-frightened glance as though he feared detection. It is quite evident he does not mean us to be on our old footing. That will not trouble me, I'm as good as he any day. Strange how a few years can alter a man. He never was a friendly fellow, but he seems a regular bear now.'

'If he prefers such men as Machinson, he's welcome to him. I'll get even with the sergeant one of these days. They say he is none too straight, and is not above accepting a tip now and again. If he lets me alone I'll let him alone, but I'm hanged if he shall meddle in my affairs without any cause. Doonan ought to be in his place, he's a man anyway.'

The rain was still coming down, but it did not interfere with Jim's meditations. He wished it would keep on for a fortnight, but there were already signs of a break in the sky.

The reins hung loosely on the mare's neck, for he knew he could trust her not to stumble over any of the numerous rabbit holes, and she would make straight for Wanabeen.

In due course he arrived home.

'Two men have been here,' said Sal.

'What did they come for? Who were they?'

'I have not seen them before, but they said they had come for the horse they had lost a few days ago, and that had been seen on your run,' said Sal.

Jim stared; he could hardly believe what she said. Then it dawned upon him that the men who had stolen Mr Shaw's horse must have lost him again and tracked him on to Wanabeen; they were clever at such work, and only one set of men could do it, Abe Dalton's gang.

'Did they take it away?'

'Yes, and it went quietly enough,' said Sal. 'I think you took it all out of him.'

Jim smiled. He thought it very probable such was the case.

'How long have they been gone?'

'A couple of hours, or more.'

'I must go after them,' said Jim.

'Be careful, dad,' said Willie; 'they may belong to Dalton's gang.'

'I have something here that will settle half-a-dozen of Dalton's men,' he said, as he took a six-chambered revolver out of a cupboard and loaded it, putting more cartridges in his pouch. It was an old-fashioned weapon, or would be considered so now, but it was apt to be dangerous when handled by Jim Dennis. He kissed the boy and went out, saying he would return as speedily as possible.

'Poor old dad, he's always in trouble over something,' said Willie. 'I wonder why it is, when he is so good to you, and me, and everybody.'

'There's men about here as hate him 'cause he's honest,' said Sal; 'but don't you be feared for him, Willie, he's a good man and he'll come to no harm.'

'I wish I were a man,' said the lad. 'You'd see what I'd do.'

'What would you do?' she asked, smiling.

'Stick up for him. Back Dr Tom up when he stuck up for him, and Fred Doonan too. They're fond of dad, aren't they, Sal?'

'Yes, very fond of him.'

'And Fred Doonan's fond of someone else here,' said the lad.

'You, Willie? He's very fond of you,' she said.

'And he's fond of you, Sal. He said you are a real good sort, a regular white woman, even if you had dark blood in you. Oh, yes, he's fond of you, Sal.'

The half-caste's eyes gleamed with pleasurable pride, and her whole face changed. She was a comely woman, a very comely woman, with a heart and nature that would love fiercely, half savagely, if such a sentiment were roused within her.

'He said that about me?' she asked in a low voice. She could hardly believe it, so few, very few men had been kind to her, and none of her own sex. The black gins had hated her because of their ugliness and her good looks – they were not so very unlike their white sisters after all. Even in this almost deserted land there was love and hate, sorrow and joy, comedy and tragedy.

'Yes, he said that and more.'

'More! More, Willie?'

'He said you were like a mother to me, and you have been, Sal. I never had a real mother that I knew of; dad says she died when I was a baby.'

The woman stroked the child's hair and said, —

'I will always be your mother. I love you, and your father has been kinder to me than any man in the world.'

'Good-bye,' shouted Jim, and they sent him an answering cry.

'Two hours' start or more. Which way must I go?' thought Jim. 'If it is Dalton's men who have taken him, I know their ropes as well as they do themselves. They'll make for Barker's Creek. I'll chance it.'

Barker's Creek was a small hamlet consisting of half-a-dozen shanties, all occupied by the members of the gang of which Abe Dalton was the head. They were a lawless, licentious lot, blacks and whites living together, regardless of law or order. There were about two dozen white men, and double that number of gins, – old and young, – and black fellows, camped around the wooden structures in humpies.

These blacks were part of King Charlie's tribe, but the old chief had cast them off; savage that he was, he had an instinctive feeling that his people were better than Dalton's men. He cursed them as they threw in their lot with the white men, and his sentence of excommunication was heard by those of the tribe who remained with him, and they carried the tidings into many places far distant. Even these blacks, uncouth and savage, had their laws, and rendered obedience to their old king.

It was a dangerous place was Barker's Creek, and its tenants ought to have been rooted out, but Abe Dalton was a cunning man and had contrived to keep Sergeant Machinson from meddling in his affairs.

Jim Dennis had no intention of riding alone into Barker's Creek. He wanted to catch his men before they arrived there.

He had a fresh horse under him, and he made the most of his mount.

He rode over the plain at a great pace, from time to time pulling up and dismounting to look for tracks. His practised eye soon found them, and sure enough there were three horses going in the direction of Barker's Creek.

'It's all right,' he muttered. 'I only hope I shall come up with them. I feel in a fighting humour, and they will have to stand and deliver, "hands up"; they are used to the sounds, they will know what they mean. It will put me in a bit of a hole if they reach Barker's Creek first. Machinson will swear I had a hand in sending the horse there, and that my ride over to Cudgegong was a ruse to deceive them and get the horse away; any cock-and-bull story would serve his purpose so long as it got me into a hole.'

He galloped on at a fast pace, and towards evening saw his men in the distance. They were in no hurry, and evidently did not fear pursuit. The horse was with them and going quietly.

'I have tamed him at anyrate,' said Jim. 'I'll tame them before I have done with them.'

He rode away to the left, for he knew a track by which he thought he could get ahead, and there wait until they came past.

The country near Barker's Creek was covered with scrub, and there was a considerable amount of shelter, much of it never having been cleared or touched in any way, but just left in its wild condition. He knew it would be a near thing between them, as the round would take him several miles out of his way. It was, however, the only course to pursue, so he sent his horse along at his best pace and hoped for success.

There is scarcely any twilight in the colonies, the sun goes down quickly, and day turns into night rapidly.

When Jim Dennis reached the spot he had ridden for he saw it would be almost dark in an hour, but that would serve his purpose.

If he could get hold of the stallion he knew the horse would gallop readily enough alongside his own.

He waited with the best patience he could muster, for he did not know whether they had passed the place. As the time went by he began to be afraid they had beaten him after all, and he had had his ride for nothing.

Presently, however, his quick ears caught the sound of horses' hoofs, and then he knew he had a chance of success. As they drew nearer he made ready to ride straight at them. Peering through the bushes that concealed him, he saw the two men coming along at a careless pace, evidently unaware there was any danger at hand.

When they were about fifty yards away he rushed up at them, and before they could prepare to meet him he covered one man with his revolver and said, —

'Now, you Dalton fellows, give up that horse. There are six shots here, so you have no chance.'

They knew him, and a volley of oaths came from them.

'He's not your horse,' said one of the men.

'That's my business. He is not yours, and you took him out of my yard. Hand him over.'

'You'll suffer for this, Jim Dennis. Abe Dalton is not the man to forget it.'

'You tell Abe Dalton and the whole of your dirty gang that I am not afraid of any of you. Now hand over the horse.'

He rode forward, still keeping his revolver handy.

The horse was handed over, and the man who had spoken before said, —

'We'll be even with you for this.'

'You are a set of cowards,' said Jim. 'There is not a fair fight in you. I am not afraid of half-a-dozen such as you.'

Then he thought, if they have revolvers it may be awkward, but he knew, after a moment's consideration, that had such been the case they would have risked it and used them.

It was Abe Dalton's plan to often send his men out unarmed, so that there was no danger of any shooting, for he knew when it come to murder it was a serious matter.

Jim rode away with his capture, and a volley of abusive language was sent after him.

He was undecided whether to take the horse to Wanabeen, or go to Cudgegong. He could reach the latter place early in the morning, so he made up his mind to go there. He could wait about until some of the hands were out, and as they were generally up early there would not be a long delay.

He reached Cudgegong about two o'clock, and as there was no one to be seen he tied the horse securely and, having hitched up his own some distance away from the other, he went to see if there was a chair on the verandah he could rest in.