The Cattleman's Curse

By Jenni Roussell

 

Schoolteacher Celeste Miller is taking a holiday in outback Australia when she is struck by the story of the legendary stockman Nathaniel Castlemaine, who advertised for a bride in 1900.  In fun she answers the advert and discards it but is surprised to receive a reply from his great grandson.

She arrives at Golden Downs Hughenden to find things are not what she imagined.  Nathaniel Castlemaine is nothing like his great grandfather. The staff don't think she's cut out for station life and make things difficult.

Just as she is getting to know the real Nate Castlemaine the Police arrest them for a crime they did not commit, and Celeste calls on her ex a gifted criminal lawyer to help.

Desperate to get them off the charges she uses all her ingenuity and skill while she is bailed to the vast cattle station she must help run while Nate languishes in prison for a crime he did not commit.

Can this sophisticated woman cope with life in the Australian outback without the support of the man she came for?  Just when things couldn't get any worse Nate finds a message from his great grandfather that changes his life.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenni Roussell
• Release date: Jul 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393231622

Jenni Roussell

Jenni Roussell is a naughty old tart with a wicked sense of humour. She lives with her husband of fifty-five years and her latest canine side kick, a spoiled miniature foxy called ZsaZsa, because she can wind men around her little paw. They all live in a tiny village in the Wairarapa with less than one hundred and fifty residents who enjoy many secrets and stories. 

Book preview

Chapter One:

THE WEDDING WAS OFF, Celeste Miller had been using the honeymoon time she had booked off work to reassess her situation by holidaying in Queensland Australia. She had joined a three-day bus trip and felt bored rigid. Most of the passengers were newlywed or nearly dead. Tonight, they’d be back in Charters Towers and then Townsville tomorrow. Next week her friend Mandy, another schoolteacher, would be on leave and they would do some things together.

Today the bus group had been on a trip to the Australian Stockman’s Hall of Fame in Longreach Queensland. The museum curator had pointed out the quaint yet sad exhibit, when talking about the diorama, relating to the legendary stockman explorer Nathaniel Castlemaine. Despite being told of the privation and loneliness of these early colonialists, Celeste filled her imagination with some naïve romantic notion of what life in the outback would be like with a man like him. She had written the words down remembering the yellowing aged newsprint, and how she had been chastised by the curator for taking out her phone to photograph the advert. The crusty old curmudgeon bellowed, ‘no cameras allowed in here Miss.’

In the Newspaper dated January 20th, 1900, under the heading of the personal column the advert read, Country gentleman interested corresponding with young lady with view to marriage. Write: Mr. Nathaniel Castlemaine, Golden Downs Hughenden.

She smiled to herself, she liked this man, he understood himself, and what he wanted. So many men today had lost their way. But not her ex, Hugh, he knew exactly what heinous betrayal he committed when Celeste caught him in bed with his secretary. She called their wedding off just weeks before their big day. The secretary boldly announced now he wouldn’t need to make the biggest mistake of his life. They would be out in the open at last.

After early dinner with the geriatric gadabouts and a few too many wines, even the old bus driver had starting to look good, heaven forbid. Bored out of her brain she decided to retire early. With little of interest on television and being wide awake she composed a letter on the hotel writing paper to Mr Nathaniel Castlemaine at Golden Downs Hughenden. Imagining herself as a 1900’s woman.

DEAR MR. CASTLEMAINE,

As a lady considered past marriageable age at almost thirty, I write in the unlikely expectation a gentleman such as yourself may not be confined by those rigid expectations of finding a naïve young woman in the prime of her childbearing years. Instead, I wondered whether a gentleman in your situation may be interested in meeting with a pragmatic schoolteacher who was raised a country girl albeit in New Zealand. I am skilled in running a rural homestead and conversant with the necessary bookkeeping including accounts, stud registers, stock rotation records and weather reports. Although I have not had any experience of marriage, I have read what is expected and if my parents are a guide then I would value a loving relationship if I were so fortunate. If these are the things you aspire to then may I suggest I come and stay on your property for three months as your fiancée and if you find me agreeable after such time, we formalise the undertaking.

Yours Sincerely,

Celeste Miller

P.O. Box 1365 Ballance 5713   New Zealand 

Celeste chuckled to herself as she put the letter in the hotel envelope and addressed it to the said Mr. Castlemaine Golden Downs Hughenden in her best swashbuckling handwriting.

Chapter Two:

BACK IN NEW ZEALAND Celeste immersed herself in her work. Tired of still having to explain the wedding did not take place and wishing people would not give her those pitiful looks she could hardly bear. Hugh, ‘heinously horrible Hugh’ as she referred to him was welcome to his secretary. Perhaps if they had been living together full time instead of just at weekends, maybe they would be married by now. Common sense told her not to be ridiculous it had nothing to do with Hugh’s infidelity. The guy behaved like an arse, she had a very lucky escape, she had no need to divorce him, he did it all by himself and before the marriage even took place.

Teaching in a small country school kept her away from the capital city crowd in Wellington, mainly Hugh’s friends. Only a matter of weeks after her return the hubbub had died away, and those country mums were busy trying to matchmake. Celeste hated it; she would choose her own male friends she told her friend Ellen one weekend as the pair sat on the back-door step sipping coffee in the morning sunshine.

‘Did I tell you I answered a personal advert in the newspaper to meet a country gent with view to marriage?’  She grinned knowing her friend Ellen would bite.

‘You did what? Are you mad?’ Ellen also a teacher, had a long-term boyfriend, a sheep farmer she met at her country school fair. ‘Did you get a reply? What did he say?’ When Celeste explained the advert had been written in 1900 and all its history, she added, ‘I felt bored one evening so I imagined what it must have been like back then and composed a letter, but I binned it back at the hotel.’

Over lunch Celeste mentioned she had been considering moving to Australia to teach in a rural school. ‘Don’t be such a damned martyr you’ll feel like socialising again soon. If you must travel, go somewhere where the climate is mild and there’s lots of people to do things with.’  Celeste simply looked away still hurting, she remembered the afternoon she had finished her teachers only day early at noon and couldn’t wait to get over the Remutaka Pass and surprise Hugh. Only she had been the one surprised, to find he had finished his court case early and not gone back to the office. Instead, he went home to their bed with his twenty-three-year-old secretary whom he used to slag off, saying the woman couldn’t spell. One day she spelt ‘carat’ referring to the weight of a diamond as ‘carrot’ the vegetable. Regularly critical of her, now Celeste understood why he had never dismissed the woman whose legendary laziness infuriated Hugh. From the noise emanating from her bedroom, the secretary did enjoy a talent for something other than spelling. As Celeste discovered the fateful afternoon, she burst in on them, the brazen woman had rudely told her to ‘naff off.’ She hadn’t spoken to Hugh since then, but she didn’t have much to say to him even then. Celeste wondered how he explained things to his parents, his mother had an inkling, according to the best man who kept in touch. She put it all from her mind he was history, bad history.

When Ellen went home on Saturday afternoon, Celeste decided to hand in her resignation. A new life beckoned her, and she really wanted it. Somewhere where the people were genuine and unpretentious, somewhere she could make a difference. Her parents were off in the Pacific doing volunteer service abroad. They had been country teachers before they retired. When she had told them honestly about Hugh her father simply said, ‘better to find out now, than later when you have babies.’ She knew he had the right of it. Celeste’s mum had never truly warmed to Hugh, afraid he seemed too good to be true. ‘Mudguards is what I’ll call him from now on’ she told her daughter, ‘You know all shiny on top and all shitty underneath.’ She saw things the others never did, an intuitive woman. Celeste’s brother had flown home from London for his sister’s big day and felt ticked off to learn en route the wedding had been cancelled.

‘I won’t be flying home next time Sis, you do understand, don’t you?’  Saying nothing she could see she had no support there. ‘Wait till he wants to get married it’ll be a different situation then, ’ their mother insisted ‘it’s not all about him.’

With only a week till end of term the school had a temporary teacher till years end, so Celeste busied herself packing up her rented house and getting ready to move to Far North Queensland as her friend Mandy suggested. One day while clearing her mailbox in town she found a letter with a Queensland postmark and turning it over she saw it came from a Mr. N. Castlemaine. A strange curiosity pervaded her as she opened the envelope in her car, hands shaking.

Dear Miss Miller,

It was with great pleasure I received your letter and if I have been tardy in my reply, it is only because I needed to gather my thoughts as you are obviously much more skilled with words than I am. I find your suggestion most acceptable, and I trust you will waste no time in getting here. Your ability to get directly to the heart of the situation warms me and I believe we will have many points of common interest for conversation. I see you have a considerable journey; however, I suggest you advise me of your intended arrival date in order for me to arrange for you to be met and brought here to Golden Downs.

My dear Celeste, may I now refer to myself as your affectionate fiancé?

Yours truly,

Nathaniel Castlemaine

Golden Downs. [e-mail]

If it had not been for the email address, she could have believed she was in a time warp. The beautiful handwriting, while not the copperplate style of the early twentieth century, it looked like real pen and ink and quite delightful. The paper appeared to her to be a good quality however it looked like he had read it and reread it, it appeared crumpled. Whatever, his words had inspired her to write back. She acknowledged receipt of the letter by email and booked her flight to Townsville, allowing for a few days with Mandy. Celeste suggested she make her way by bus to Charters Towers, and he meet her there and gave him the date. She suggested noon at the library. Next day she received a reply confirming the arrangements and signed ‘Nate.’

Filled with an excited anticipation she finished her packing and worked out what she would take on the flight. The packers and removers would send the rest of her household furniture and all other possessions to Townsville, including her car, a Mazda she loved to bits. It would take ten weeks for it to arrive, including her car. Bravely, she gave Golden Downs Hughenden as her address. Mandy looked forward to her return, but Ellen thought she may be hiding herself away. Celeste had not told Ellen the truth in case she tried to dissuade her. When she arrived in Townsville, she planned to tell Mandy and her parents, she had a position in Hughenden at Golden Downs station. Then, depending on the outcome, she would come clean.

In the weeks leading up to her departure for Townsville, Celeste researched everything she could to glean about station life in the outback of Far North Queensland. They had the internet thank heavens. Carefully she chose clothes suitable for the life, making a list of what she might buy in Townsville like: An Acubra, boots; although she already had a couple of suitable pairs of boots, her kindle to download books from the net, in the unlikely event the station had no suitable reading material. Her sewing kit and several embroidery projects. A woman who liked to be prepared, she took her grandmother’s country woman’s cookery book, complete with old fashioned household hints and first aid measures, all having stood the test of time.

Chapter Three 

ELLEN DROVE CELESTE over the Remutaka Pass Road to the airport. Celeste, an organized woman, had opened a bank account in Townsville to save for holidays with Mandy on her previous trip. It felt important to her to have certain home comforts and plenty of light hardwearing clothing. The moving company would text and email when her goods had passed through customs and were ready for the trip to Hughenden. Ever practical, she rationalised if things at Golden Downs turned to custard, she would have her possessions diverted to storage in Townsville until she found a job.

The trip to Townsville flew direct from Auckland. After five hours flying time, she arrived, to be greeted by a very excited Mandy. The pair chatted into the wee small hours.  Mandy seemed thrilled Celeste had a job out at Hughenden. Some of those larger stations had help with teaching the station’s children, so Mandy never gave it a second thought.

THE BUS RIDE TO CHARTERS Towers hardly took any time at all, her mind, busy the whole trip excitedly covering all the contingencies. Sitting outside the Library on a garden seat her luggage piled up around her, she looked a picture in her peasant style sundress and boots with her sunglasses perched on top of her Acubra. Her long dark hair hung down her back in a thick plait.

At ten past noon a large four-wheel drive Landcruiser arrived and out stepped a tall good-looking man. He called to her.

‘Celeste Miller? Hi, I’m Walt Stone, head stockman at Golden Downs. Sorry the Boss couldn’t be here to meet you, he has business in Townsville, should be home tomorrow.’ Walt looked cheerful and warm and as she took her daypack, Walt loaded up the wagon with her luggage. He observed her purchases which included large box full of fresh fruit and vegetables and some grocery items she particularly liked. Studying the vehicle, she noted huge bull bars on the front to fend off the big Red kangaroos. Long radio aerials for UHF and VH F radio communications. A full canvas water bag hung firmly attached to the front bull bar of the dust covered Landcruiser. The vehicle had a very large snorkel for crossing rivers, and on the roof, there were two long tubes she understood also contained water. Thank God for the wide running board. Celeste, only five foot two, found the Landcruiser quite high off the ground. Inside the vehicle she noticed various means of keeping in touch. The two radios, two mobile phones, and various chargers, also several bottles of drinking water. She had brought her own as well. Walt never spoke as they climbed in and buckled up. On closer inspection he looked about her age. She wondered what if anything he knew; he seemed a little embarrassed to have her there.

Walt had a three-day beard. She wondered whether Nate had whiskers like the pictures of his ancestor in the Museum.

The Curator at the Stockman’s Hall of Fame, while a crusty old curmudgeon, he offered a mine of information saying a beard helped in their climate.  Cooler and less irritating on the skin and less chance of shaver’s rash causing fungus infections when sweat continually ran down their faces while working. Walt wore moleskin trousers and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, with the sleeves rolled up.

‘So, what has Nate told you about me?’ she asked, noticing he stiffened slightly, commenting, 

‘Nothing much, he’s the boss I don’t ask him personal questions.’ She felt he knew something more but didn’t elaborate.

‘Okay Walt, tell me about Golden Downs.’ It soon became apparent she would need to ask the questions. Walt, a man of few words made conversation like pulling teeth, for the chatty Celeste. ‘So how many people work on the station and how many live there altogether? Tell me about them all.’

‘There are about eighteen or so including eight people who report to me, five ringers, and a couple of jackaroos and a groom. There are a few families on the property, I’d have to work it out. We no longer employ a designated station cook and the team take turns at cooking in the staff quarters. However. the staff members like me who have their own house or a wife or partner, they cook in their home.'

‘The boss has a housekeeper, she’s flexible, and cooks for us too sometimes. She’s been with the family for years since the whole family lived here.’

‘Don’t they live there anymore?’ she wanted to know.

‘No, they were all killed in a light plane crash seven years ago. Nate’s brother was the pilot. It happened before my time. I’ve only been on the Downs five years.’  He looked at her. She knew nothing, she needed to learn things and fast.

‘Poor Nate it must have been awful for him.’ She became aware of Walt studying her closely.

‘WE’LL STOP AT TORRENS Creek and get a cuppa and some food it’s another couple of hours to Golden Downs.’ Walt had a lovely smile and beautiful teeth, but he seemed embarrassed about something Celeste thought the man socially awkward.

‘Do you have someone do the office work on the Downs?’ she asked, wondering what she might do to occupy herself.

‘Yeah, me and the boss, the station office is near the staff quarters.  We are the only ones with keys. We don’t allow the others in there using the internet or any of our computer stuff.’ He breathed deeply, ‘the reception’s not good for mobiles either. I usually phone my folks from town when I go about once a fortnight. Nate’s not keen on the staff using the landline unless it’s necessary. They have radio telephones at the homestead as well as the station office.’  The man proved a mine of information. Celeste could never ask him what she really wanted to know, like how old is Nate? What is he like? She did ask ‘What’s Nate like to work for?’

Walt wrinkled his nose, not a good sign, then he qualified it.

‘I guess he’s not bad or I wouldn’t have stuck around. But he’s tough, a hard taskmaster, station life is not for everyone you know. Him being on his own doesn’t help either, he works hard and doesn’t suffer fools.

Chapter Four:

THEY FINALLY ARRIVED at Golden Downs at quarter to four. Walt took Celeste to the homestead and introduced her to the housekeeper, Mrs Harrison, who insisted ‘just call me Mrs H, everyone does.’ 

He left the stack of luggage on the front veranda and drove off before she had a chance to thank him.

‘Walt just told me to get a guest room ready for you Miss.’

‘Celeste please call me Celeste,’ the housekeeper looked to be a friendly woman, in her late forties or early fifties, short mouse hair and a thin mouth.

‘Did Nate tell you about me?’ Celeste asked noticing the woman looked a tad miffed. It appeared she knew nothing either. She smiled trying to put her at her ease.

‘I’ll let him tell you then. But I’ll be here for at least three months. I’d love a cup of tea and then perhaps you could show me around the homestead. I bought a box of goodies for us,’ she smiled again, anxious to get the woman on side. Mrs H took the box. Celeste watched the woman’s face light up as she set the large box