River Queen Rose. Shirley KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.
run it by herself. “Of course, the River Queen is much larger, and there’s more going on.”
Grinning, he replied, “You could say that, being as the River Queen is one of the biggest and most notorious saloons on the riverfront.” He grew serious. “I think you’d like to give it a go, even though you deny it.”
“I’d love it, and I know what I’m talking about. At the inn, the work was hard. There were always things going wrong that I had to fix, but the good part was, I was in charge. I made the decisions, and at the end of each day, when the guests were content and I’d made a profit, I had this…this…wonderful feeling of accomplishment.”
“Well then, seems to me you’d better think twice before you give up what’s rightfully yours. You wouldn’t be the first female owner of a hotel in this town. A woman named Fanny Wentworth owns the Silver Star. She’s quite a gal.”
Rose briefly wondered what he meant by “quite a gal” but didn’t ask. “I might like the idea of running my own hotel, but I can’t imagine actually standing up to my in-laws and saying, ‘I’m not going to sign.’ My blood runs cold at the thought. I’d never have the courage.”
“You wouldn’t? It all depends on how you define courage. What do you think it is?”
She sat thinking a moment. “Courage is a lot of things. For a man, it’s like bravely marching off to war, or running into a burning building to save someone. For me, it’s different. I’m a woman, and women aren’t expected to do heroic things. Women are pretty much expected to do what they’re told, so for me courage means staying in my place, no matter what, and not complaining, no matter how resentful I might feel. That takes courage, too. It’s not easy to be humble and do as I’m told when inside I want way more in this life than I’m supposed to have.”
“Blimey.” For a time he sat silent, lines of concentration deepening along his brow. “In a way, you’re right. There are different kinds of courage, like for me it’s acting like I don’t care my leg is broke when inside…”
The look of pain that crossed his face disappeared in an instant, but she hadn’t missed it. “How did you break it?”
“I’ll tell you sometime. Let’s get back to courage.” He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, his grey eyes intense upon her. “Here’s what I think. Being a woman has nothing to do with it. If the law says you own the hotel and the farm, then so you do, and those in-laws of yours can go take a flying leap. You’re quiet, but you’re strong. Smart, too. I haven’t known you long, but I’d wager whatever you set your mind to, you could do it. The worst of it is, if you don’t speak out and claim what’s rightfully yours, there will come a time when you’ll regret it, only then it will be too late and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you’d spoken up when you had the chance.”
She’d been caught off guard by the intensity in his voice and couldn’t think how to answer. Nobody had ever talked to her like that before. “I must say, you’re honest enough.”
“That’s my advice. Take it or leave it.” He stood, shoved his pistol in a holster, and took up his crutches. “I’m done here. Come along. You can hold my crutches while I get on my horse.”
Pleased that he’d actually asked for help, she followed him outside and dutifully held his crutches, noticing how gracefully he swung into the saddle despite the cumbersome cast. She handed him the crutches, which he tied over one of the saddlebags. “Where are you going?”
A thoughtful smile curved his mouth. “I’ll know when I get there.” With a sudden downward swoop, he kissed her on the cheek. “Mind what I said. You’re made of stronger stuff than you think you are, Rose Peterson. It was nice knowing you.” With two fingers he touched the broad brim of his hat. “Very nice.”
Rose watched Deke Fleming nudge Sidney and ride away. He sat his horse well, as if he’d spent lots of time in the saddle. Such broad shoulders. A shame about the crutches. Today he’d opened up enough to let her see how much he hated that cast on his leg. She touched the spot on her cheek where he’d kissed her. Was it her imagination, or was it still warm? Ah, well, he was gone now, and she’d never see him again. He’d given her something to think about, though. What he said made a lot of sense, and she would have liked to talk to him more about it. Not that she’d change her mind.
* * * *
As Deke rode away, he gave a quick shake of his head, his habit when the world closed in around him and his spirits got down. That’s when he’d think of home. He had only to shut his eyes to be back at Amalie Station, in the heart of the outback, where he’d lived all his life on the most beautiful, most unforgiving land on this earth. His beloved Amalie—a place of silence and beauty where the fish-filled streams ran crystal clear and the water birds hovered above; where the beautiful Flinders Range with its ever-changing colors loomed in the distance; where he could herd a thousand bleating sheep for days and never see another soul, only wallabies, kangaroos, lizards, and the like; where he could sleep on the ground by an open fire, stars twinkling above, and consider himself the luckiest man on earth.
Rose made him laugh when she asked if he was a convict. He’d honestly told her he wasn’t. What he hadn’t said was that his father was. At the age of fifteen, Jonathan David Fleming was caught committing the heinous crime of stealing two rabbits off a pushcart in the Brixton district of London. At his trial, he told the judge he’d stolen the rabbits because his family was starving, but his explanation fell on deaf ears. He was convicted, and because the cost of the rabbits was over five shillings, the judge sentenced him to hang. Not until he stood on the gallows, noose around his neck, was he given a choice: either hang or be sent to Australia on a convict ship.
Only in the last years of his life did Deke’s father talk about those months on a convict ship where he was chained below deck the entire time, beaten and nearly starved. Where nothing lay ahead except the dismal prospect of serving time in one of Australia’s notoriously brutal prisons. But he survived the journey, and when he arrived in New South Wales, he got the luckiest break of his life. He never served a day of his sentence in prison. Labor was so scarce he was immediately sent to work on a sheep station near Adelaide. Soon awarded his freedom, he married Amalie, a girl he’d met while they were imprisoned on the ship, and was granted some land of his own. He named it Amalie Station, and that was where Deke was born and grew up.
After his father died, Deke took over the small sheep station. Over the years, he expanded, bought adjacent land. His property got so big that he could get on his horse at one border of Amalie Station, ride three days, and still be on his own land.
The profits rolled in. He started thinking maybe he’d build onto the homestead and get a few luxuries like a pump in the kitchen and rugs on the floor. And maybe he’d start looking for a wife, although on the rare times he got to Willowbrook, the town closest to Amalie, he didn’t see anyone special that he liked, so there wasn’t a hurry about that. Then the Australian market for wool started slumping badly. His profits dropped, along about the time word came about the California Gold Rush. When his friend, Mitch Carter, who owned the nearest station to Amalie, said he’d bought his passage on the next boat to San Francisco, he urged Deke to come along. “The trouble with you, Deke, is you’re sheep-rich but bored,” Mitch told him. “What you need is an adventure.” Deke got to thinking he should go. And why not? He was healthy, fit, and strong. His trusted manager could run Amalie Station just fine without him. His friend Mitch was a sober, deeply religious man whom Deke highly respected. So maybe he’d have a go at it, catch the same ship as Mitch. They would sail to California, make their way to the gold fields, and find enough gold to make their fortunes. Even if they didn’t find those giant-sized nuggets everyone talked about, so what? He’d have had himself a fine adventure. Would that be so bad? What did he have to lose?
Deke bought his passage to California. He’d go to what they called “the diggings,” take a look, and if he didn’t like what he saw, then he’d bloody well go home.
On a bright, sunny afternoon in June, eighty-one days out of Sidney, Australia, Deke and Mitch stood on the