standing bravely in the sun, and a man’s face—a face warm and brown from hours spent in the sun, strong and solid with the mark of authority, his clear gaze and the crinkle lines of laughter just touching his eyes. The face of a man a woman could trust, a woman could come to love.
No. Love didn’t come so quickly. Did it?
She shook her shoulders, quietly set back the tent flap then picked up the billy and set off to fetch water for breakfast. The morning was far too beautiful for wasted wishes.
“You be wanting clean water?” came the cheerful call from a woman coming down the hill.
It was their new neighbour, briefly met last night. Nessa nodded and smiled a welcome.
“You come with me then. There’s so much a doing down by the lakefront these days, you don’t want to use that for nought but washing. For drinking, now, there still be a sweet wee stream round the bay. It’s a bit of a walk, but the sun’s shining and it’s a lovely morning for a chin wag. My name’s Maggie.”
“Nessa. Nessa Ward.”
“New to this place, but not to the fields?” asked Maggie. Her eyes summed up Nessa’s hardy boots, calico gown and plain cloth bonnet.
“No. We came in from the Arrow last night.”
The woman nodded, satisfied, then proceeded to interrogate Nessa so efficiently that soon she had her entire life story out of her. Even their friendship with John Reid. All Nessa kept back was the secret buried in her heart. How she felt about the big strong farmer was her business alone.
“He’s been a good friend to many a miner,” agreed Maggie. “Getting the packers to take you under their protection was a real kindness on his part. If it wasn’t for Jean-Claud and his like, many a man would lose his stake.”
“How so?”
“It’s like this, see,” said Maggie, settling in for a comfortable cose. “Even with all the supplies coming in to the fields now and the prices coming down, the packers and their horses are the only way to get goods into places out of the common way. Without the packers, a body either starves or must come to town to pick up supplies … and has to hide his gold or bring it with him. Dangerous that. There are still claim jumpers, and worse. More than one man’s been lost down the Molyneux and Shotover for the gold he carries. I’ll put the word round you’re to be kept safe.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Think nothing of it. We women folk have to stick together in this place. Now, here’s the stream. Fill up your billy and we’d better get back. My man will be back for his breakfast soon, and none but hungry weans to greet him.”
Nessa copied the woman, dipping down to fill her pan from the fast-running water away from the stream’s edge, then helped Maggie carry the larger of her two pots on the way back. By the time they returned to camp, a firm friendship had been struck, and Nessa was feeling more at home. She had made herself a business in Arrowtown. She could do the same here.
By day’s end, she was well on her way to succeeding. A general store keeper had agreed to lease her an area in his shop, telling her anything to bring in the customers was good for him. There was already a printing business in the township, and with part of the money she had saved in the Arrow, she arranged for the printing of handbills to put up around the town.
Yet it was a rough place still, and Philip stayed with her through the day. Nessa could almost see in his face the impatience to be setting off for the diggings. She looked at the crowds filling the streets and saw other women safely walking unescorted. Women in sensible calico like her, not the glittering costumes of those who worked in the bars and saloons that littered the goldfield towns. They must be wives and mothers, here to look after their families as was she. She was no longer as conspicuous as she had been at the Arrow diggings, so Philip could leave her here. But the Arrow had also taught her that safety could
No. Love didn’t come so quickly. Did it?
She shook her shoulders, quietly set back the tent flap then picked up the billy and set off to fetch water for breakfast. The morning was far too beautiful for wasted wishes.
“You be wanting clean water?” came the cheerful call from a woman coming down the hill.
It was their new neighbour, briefly met last night. Nessa nodded and smiled a welcome.
“You come with me then. There’s so much a doing down by the lakefront these days, you don’t want to use that for nought but washing. For drinking, now, there still be a sweet wee stream round the bay. It’s a bit of a walk, but the sun’s shining and it’s a lovely morning for a chin wag. My name’s Maggie.”
“Nessa. Nessa Ward.”
“New to this place, but not to the fields?” asked Maggie. Her eyes summed up Nessa’s hardy boots, calico gown and plain cloth bonnet.
“No. We came in from the Arrow last night.”
The woman nodded, satisfied, then proceeded to interrogate Nessa so efficiently that soon she had her entire life story out of her. Even their friendship with John Reid. All Nessa kept back was the secret buried in her heart. How she felt about the big strong farmer was her business alone.
“He’s been a good friend to many a miner,” agreed Maggie. “Getting the packers to take you under their protection was a real kindness on his part. If it wasn’t for Jean-Claud and his like, many a man would lose his stake.”
“How so?”
“It’s like this, see,” said Maggie, settling in for a comfortable cose. “Even with all the supplies coming in to the fields now and the prices coming down, the packers and their horses are the only way to get goods into places out of the common way. Without the packers, a body either starves or must come to town to pick up supplies … and has to hide his gold or bring it with him. Dangerous that. There are still claim jumpers, and worse. More than one man’s been lost down the Molyneux and Shotover for the gold he carries. I’ll put the word round you’re to be kept safe.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Think nothing of it. We women folk have to stick together in this place. Now, here’s the stream. Fill up your billy and we’d better get back. My man will be back for his breakfast soon, and none but hungry weans to greet him.”
Nessa copied the woman, dipping down to fill her pan from the fast-running water away from the stream’s edge, then helped Maggie carry the larger of her two pots on the way back. By the time they returned to camp, a firm friendship had been struck, and Nessa was feeling more at home. She had made herself a business in Arrowtown. She could do the same here.
By day’s end, she was well on her way to succeeding. A general store keeper had agreed to lease her an area in his shop, telling her anything to bring in the customers was good for him. There was already a printing business in the township, and with part of the money she had saved in the Arrow, she arranged for the printing of handbills to put up around the town.
Yet it was a rough place still, and Philip stayed with her through the day. Nessa could almost see in his face the impatience to be setting off for the diggings. She looked at the crowds filling the streets and saw other women safely walking unescorted. Women in sensible calico like her, not the glittering costumes of those who worked in the bars and saloons that littered the goldfield towns. They must be wives and mothers, here to look after their families as was she. She was no longer as conspicuous as she had been at the Arrow diggings, so Philip could leave her here. But the Arrow had also taught her that safety could
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