Breakaway Creek. Heather GarsideЧитать онлайн книгу.
of a child, born in 1898. If you like, I can order copies of the marriage and birth certificates for you.'
A surge of elation sent Shelley hurrying back to the counter. Perhaps this crazy trip would prove to be fruitful, after all.
'Thank you! That's great. Is there any record of Alexander's birth? I think Emma was a Brisbane girl.'
'Do you know when he was born?'
Shelley shook her head.
'No, but he looks to be in his mid to late twenties here. My guess is sometime between 1870 and 1875.'
'I'll check for you, but births weren't always registered that far back, especially if people lived on remote properties.' She bustled away but was back again in no time. 'I'm sorry, but there's no record of Alexander Baxter's birth.'
What a bummer. Shelley smiled to cover her disappointment. She ordered copies of the available documents, requesting they be posted to her parents' address.
'Thanks for all your help. I appreciate it. My aunt told me Alexander was from Breakaway Creek station. Do you know if it still exists?'
The girl shrugged her thin shoulders.
'I've only been in town a couple of years. Why don't you ask one of the agents? Landmark or Elders know all the properties.'
Shelley stopped at the first stock and station agency she found. The shed-like building was filled with an assortment of rural merchandise which included everything from dog food to elastic-sided boots. Drums of chemicals lined the shelves, along with numerous items whose use was a mystery to a town-reared girl like her.
'Breakaway Creek,' the burly man behind the counter repeated, after greeting her with a jovial affability one seldom encountered in the city. 'I know of it. It's a bit out of the Clermont area now, since the mining towns sprung up. Do you know someone there?'
'I'm tracing my ancestors. My great-great grandfather came from there.'
'Hmm, you could be in luck. I think the family's been there for generations.' His eyes lit up with genuine interest. 'I don't suppose you want a job? I know they're looking for a housekeeper.'
Shelley blinked.
'I don't think housekeeping's quite my thing.' Did she look like a housekeeper, for God's sake? She was on leave at the moment, but her admin job in Brisbane was a far cry from mopping floors.
He shuffled through some papers and produced a tattered sheet.
'Here's the job description. "Housekeeper required for central Queensland cattle station: cooking and general house duties for two single males".'
An image of a pair of desperate and dateless types from the back blocks flashed into Shelley's mind.
She winced.
'Sounds scary.'
The man grinned.
'The brothers are decent blokes. One of them was married, but the gossip is his wife left him a few months ago. They must be sick of fending for themselves.'
'Well, I'll pass, thanks. I just want to visit, ask them some questions.'
'I'd ring ahead if I were you. You can try now, but your chances of catching anyone in the house during the day are pretty slim.'
He gave her the telephone number and Shelley returned to her car to use her mobile phone. As the agent had predicted, no one appeared to be at home, but finally an answering machine clicked in with a male voice: "This is Luke Sherman here. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."
Shelley left her contact details but didn't elaborate on the purpose of her call. If she didn't hear from him, she'd try again tonight.
She glanced at her watch. Two o'clock, and the gnawing sensation in her stomach reminded her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She started the car and drove to the main street, where she found a café and ordered a steak burger. When in cattle country, she thought. She sat at a corner table and wondered what to do next.
If she couldn't contact these Shermans before dark, it looked like she was staying in Clermont for the night. Hopefully even one of the brothers would be able to see her in the morning. In the meantime, she could explore the town. It wasn't like that would take her long.
The steak burger turned out to be delicious, with real salad and beetroot. She then braved the sun to walk the main street, starting at the top where brightly-painted murals decorated a set of coal wagons. At the other end she stopped to rest on a shady seat, watching ducks and geese swim on a sparkling lagoon amongst purple waterlilies. It was definitely the best spot in town.
She tried the Sherman's number again, but still there was no answer. It looked like finding a motel for the night was in order.
****
Shelley shut the door to her motel room and headed for the adjoining restaurant. She fished in her bag for her ringing phone.
'Hello, Shelley Blake speaking.'
'Luke Sherman. I'm returning your call.'
'Oh, thanks. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to find some information on my great-great-grandfather.' She realised she was rushing and took a deep breath to slow down. 'His name was Alexander Baxter and he once lived at Breakaway Creek. That was about 1898.'
'Well, 1898 was a bit before my time.' The masculine voice sounded vaguely amused and not at all like the bashful bachelor she'd been expecting. 'But he was probably some relation. My mother was a Baxter and the family have been here since the 1870s. She inherited the property from her father, John Baxter.'
'Oh, that's excellent. Do you have any family records I could look at?'
The line went silent for a moment.
'There's a family bible and a box of old photos. You're welcome to go through them. I don't know what else we might have. My mother's overseas at the moment, or I'd ask her.'
Shelley took another deep breath.
'Would it be all right if I visited you tomorrow? To have a look through the papers, I mean. Besides, if my family came from there, I'd love to see the property.'
'Of course. So you're in Clermont now?'
At her affirmative, he gave her directions.
'It's over an hour's drive. What time do you plan to leave?'
'I'll get away about seven in the morning, if that suits you?' as an afterthought she added: 'what's the road like?'
'It's pretty good. A lot of bitumen now.'
What did that mean? If it wasn't all bitumen, Shelley thought, how good could it be?
****
As she showered and dressed the next morning, Shelley tried to picture this Luke Sherman, who was possibly a distant relative. He'd sounded much younger than the old, crusty bushie she'd envisaged. Was he the one with the absent wife, or was that his brother? Not that it mattered; she wasn't interested in guys these days, least of all some cowboy.
She pulled on a pair of snug hipster jeans and a knit top with shoestring straps, knowing the outfit flattered her long legs and slim figure. Leaving her dark hair hanging loose about her face, she applied a touch of make-up. Just because she wasn't in the market, didn't mean she shouldn't look her best.
After an early breakfast in her room, Shelley set off in her little blue Mazda. After fifteen kilometres, she turned off the main highway - such as it was - onto a narrow bitumen road. Assuming that was as bad as it would get, Shelley relaxed into the drive just hoping she wouldn't have to pass any trucks. But a few kilometres further on, her relief turned to dismay as the bitumen ran into gravel and her low car scraped on the higher centre of the road. She winced every time the many stones rattled against her tyres.
A four-wheel drive tore past in the opposite direction, enveloping her in dust. What if she got a flat tyre out here, in the middle of nowhere? There was not much chance of anyone