Ravenswood

By Janice Bridges

Set in early 1900's, gold has been found in the township of Ravenswood, North Queensland. Men travel from all over the world in the hope of striking it rich. But the owner of the open cut Mining Company, Rodney Thomas has other plans, cheating them out of their gold. Ravenswood Station is owned by a small slip of a girl called Catalina who totes a high powered rifle and is not afraid to use it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janice Bridges
• Release date: Mar 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9780645168358

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Ravenswood

Written by

Janice Bridges

Copyright © 2023 Janice Bridges

Published by

Daisychain Publishing

2023

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by

ebooklaunch.com

2022

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

RAVENSWOOD STATION. Early 1900’s

The tunnel was as black as pitch.

Cat didn’t need to burn the candle wax to know which way she had to run, nor did she need the light to show her the way. As she ran, she lifted the gun from her shoulder holster and began sliding bullets into the chamber. Not once did she lower her eyes as she listened intently to the vibrations flowing through the rock and dirt above her head. Without hesitation or thought to her own safety, she followed the vibration of beating horses hooves, knowing exactly where they were headed.

The moment she hit the rise to the entrance to the mine, she slid behind the corrugated tin opening and laid as flat as she could behind the thick slabs of timber stored inside the entrance to use as stays in the depth of the mine. Using the rusted hole in the sheets of tin, she stared out directly onto the small shanty she called home.

Her heart gave a gentle sigh as she took note that the front door was closed and braced. The windows had also been lowered and she could see the point of her brother’s rifle filling a rust hole in the centre of the only entrance.

As the horses came to a standstill out the front of the small homestead, the three riders looked around, studying the small shanty with interested eyes. They also took note of everything else they saw and stowed it away for future plannings.

Jesus Christ Sid, what kind of idiot builds their house this far out in the bush and on the top of a bloody hill? Fred sneered, showing rotten teeth as he glared at the tin shanty atop the rock face. Ain’t no water for miles out this far, so how the hell are they feeding their stock?

Shut up Fred, the leader of the three whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sid looked around, his eyes as big as saucers. Don’t know about you two, but I am more interested in meeting the pretty young lady who owns this place. I heard she was a real looker!

‘Me too!’ Portman thought to himself, as he eyed his surrounding grounds with keen interest, but refrained from uttering a word. There were no pens or cages of any kind for animals or stock and yet he had heard a cock crow as they rounded the last turn in the roughly built roadway. The owners of this mining lease rarely came down into the township of Ravenswood, unless they needed supplies. Even then, they paid in cash and never ran up a tab which pissed him off considerably.

Portman loved it when they ran up a tab. He could charge them all kinds of extra fees and charges until they finally hit that elusive vein of gold. Over the last couple of years he had been slowly amassing his own private fortune, ripping off every gold miner who arrived in Ravenswood in the hope of finding that big nugget of gold and making themselves rich.

He rubbed the thick growth of hair that covered his chin with one hand and studied the area surrounding the small house. Taking in the timber verandah along the front of the structure that was most unusual in size and dimension. For a shanty of that size, the building had a deeply sloping roof that sheltered the small verandah from the heat of the sun. The house appeared to be built hard against a huge rock that spewed out of the earth and stood almost thirty feet into the air. Huge trees filled up the rest of the space that covered the hills to run all the way down to where they sat atop their horses. Those same trees spilled out thickly around them and all the way down the hill and beyond. His hand slid down his throat and played with his neck in irritation as he realised the place was built like a fortress. Even if anyone was stupid enough to try and jump their claim, they would be seen before they got halfway up the hill. No open terrain to watch what was going on, nor open spaces to watch what they were up to. Between the steep slope of the hill and the thicker than normal uncleared vegetation, his men were unable to see, let alone estimate, what was going on up here.

For the first time in a long time, Portman began to have seconds thoughts. He had planned to introduce himself to the brother and sister he now knew owned this section of land. The price he intended to offer them to sell this place was fair. It would be enough to take them back to wherever they came from, with a penny or two to help tide them over until they could find a place to settle.

Can’t you read Mister? A low voice came from the front of the house.

Portman’s eyes immediately returned to the front of the building and studied it thoughtfully. Leaning forward in his saddle, he slowly made himself comfortable, resting his elbow on his pummel, as he pasted a smooth grin to his mouth. I came to talk to the owner of this place. My name is…

I know who you are! State your business! Then leave. The voice stated firmly.

Portman rolled his tongue along his lips and grinned, Perhaps, if you could step outside for a moment or two, so we could talk…?

You and I have nothing to talk about. I suggest you leave this property.

Well that is where you are wrong young fella. I think you and I have a lot to discuss!

Obviously you should go back to school ‘cause you can’t read. When you turned onto our road, you must have opened our gate. That means you read the signs!

Well, yeah! he agreed very nonchalant. But you rarely come to town. What I need to talk to you about is …

You and I have nothing to talk about, so I suggest you be on your way before my sister comes home!

Portman’s eyes glistened, his smile widened as he turned to Sid and gave him a quick flick of his head. In that same instant, Sid started to dismount, already scanning the surrounding area with a greedy eye.

I have a business proposition … Portman stopped mid sentence as a bullet flew past the front of him and tore down the side of Sid’s face, ripping it open as it flew by him. His screams of pain filled the air. Now look here you, I came up here to talk …. Portman took a firm grip of his horse’s rein as the horse began to shy, laying his ears flat on his head and hunkering down in preparation to bolt.

We are not interested in anything you have to say. The sign on the gate says: ‘Trespassers will be shot.’ You are trespassing on my land. The second voice came from the opposite side of the clearing and from behind a bunch of large boulders that formed the other side of the ridge.

Before Portman could move a muscle, the girl stepped out and into their view. We have read your letters and our place is not for sale. You are not welcome on our land … not now … not ever. You may think you have gotten away with killing our father, Portman, but you are wrong. So very, very wrong.

Portman licked his lips at the sight of the small slender girl with hair as golden as freshly drawn honey and eyes as blue as frozen ice. I had nothing to do with your father’s death. I wasn’t even in the area when that happened.

Her eyes were as cold and as hard as steel as she stared unblinkingly at the large man sitting on the black horse in the middle of her front yard. I saw you with my own eyes, you hand your gun to the son of Rodney Thomas. He was the one who murdered my father in cold blood … but your guilt is, and always will be, the same as his. Her voice was low and slow, with not one person failing to hear the promise in each and every word she spoke. At the same time she slowly re-cocked her gun. This is private property, Portman. Trespassers will be shot on sight. Remember that, the next time you open our gate. You and your thieving bastards have had your one and only warning.

Every person standing in that small area, heard the truth in her voice and her softly spoken words.

It is your word against mine. Portman persisted, his voice deadly calm. I had a watertight alibi, Portman sneered back, a sly curl twisted his upper lip, along with one corner of his mouth.

Cat’s eyelids lowered just a fraction. She did not raise her voice, nor did she cower from the bold salacious stares of the three men below her. Maybe so, but the next time any one of you sets foot on this land, I intend to put a bullet through your brain. Just like you and your cohorts did to my father, only this time I will be the one to pull the trigger, where everyone here can see who will be sending them directly to hell. How long do you think your so called girlfriend will remain in town after she sees your men carry your carcass back into town, knowing she is destined for the same fate for lying to the police to save your filthy neck.

Portman’s eyes hardened. I will kill you for this, He whispered quietly.

Tell us something we don’t already know, old man? her brother added, staring at the man with hate-filled eyes.

Cat eyed the man with cool disdain. Get off my land and stay off it. Next time … I won’t miss.

Portman wiped the sweat from his chin and neck all the while staring boldly at the small woman. You won’t get away with this! His hand slowly lowered to the hidden gun he had holstered in the waistband of his trousers, beneath his woollen coat.

Cat’s eyes lowered to slits. This side of the mountain, the land is freehold. It has been in our family for two generations. There is no gold this side of the divide so keep your thieving eyes off what belongs to me and mine. If one of your men, in any capacity, steps foot on Ravenswood Station land, I can and I will, shoot them. In the seconds that followed her softly spoken words, he watched her position the gun, already cocked and ready to fire. His hand lowered and gripped the handle of his revolver and was in the process of retrieving it when at that same instant he heard the light rustle of shrubs directly beside him.

Suddenly a very large Aboriginal Tribesman moved out from within the bushes and positioned himself in full view. Resting one foot against the inside of his other leg, he used the spears he held in one hand to support his body as he watched. In his other hand he held a club-like stick. His eyes were as black as night and stared directly up and into Portman’s face.

What the hell are they doing here? Portman yelled, releasing his hold on his gun and yanking the reins to his horse as it quickly stepped back a pace or two.

They are tribesmen of the Kudjala. This was their land, long before the white man invaded this area and stole it from them by way of roundups and annihilation. As the original owners of all this land, they are free to walk on all Ravenswood Station land in complete safety and with my permission. They have never fouled my water nor destroyed my soil. They live off my land, yet they kill only what they need to survive. Unlike you and the rest of your lying, thieving thugs.

Portman missed the steel in the girl’s voice as she spoke, his eyes widened as he searched the surrounding area for more Tribesmen. Digesting the girl’s words sent his blood cold with the thought of how many more of them were out there watching him. His abhorrence of the black skinned men was well documented from all who knew him.

I will also shoot anyone who tries to remove any of the tribesmen from this land against their will. For someone so young, her voice carried through the air like hardened steel.

I will have you arrested. Portman stared at the girl with pure hatred in his eyes.

Cat didn’t waste her breath any further, she simply turned her gun towards Fred and pulled the trigger. The man’s screams filled the air as he lifted his hand to the side of his head and tried to stem the bleeding. The bitch shot me! Fred screamed in shock.

Portman didn’t move a muscle as the gun swung swiftly, it’s trajectory was right between his eyes.

The bitch shot my ear off! Fred wailed loudly, as he swung his horse around and headed down the mountain at a reckless pace, followed closely by a bleeding Sam, his face covered in blood.

Portman’s horse was already trying to throw him as it shied from the loud cracking sound of the bullet being fired. He cast one long hate-filled glare at the girl before giving his horse its head and heading down the side of the mountain.

Cat remained where she stood listening to the weakening sounds of their unwanted visitors as they churned up the gravel in their haste to be gone.

Bilba spoke softly as he headed down the track to close the gate and this time to make sure it was locked. Him bad bugger, he be back.

We know. Cat lowered her gun and sighed quietly. With all that is happening lately, we may have to post a guard from now on!

Do you think he already knows about the land? Peter asked as he stepped outside the shanty to stand on their small verandah.

No. Not yet. He is still trying to buy the land because he thinks there is gold here. Only stands to reason if there is gold everywhere else in these hills, Ravenswood Station must be sitting on a fortune as well.

That was pretty smart of you to totally bypass the local Mining company. But once the word is out that we have bought more land, the locals are going to get suspicious, Peter added wearily.

We also bought all the mining rights as well, so they can’t try and move onto or into any of our land for any reason. Cat turned to head inside once she received the all clear from Bilba. Seeing as I am now already up here, how about a cup of tea?

The pot should be just about boiled. Bilba and I caught some crauchies from the dam when we were down checking on the cattle, so there should be plenty of hot water.

Just remember not to move too far from the shack on your own from now on. I don’t trust Portman as far as I can spit! We have kept well out of the way of all the locals in this district for a good reason, but if someone in Charters Towers knows more than they should, we could be in for a bit of trouble.

They have no idea about our mine. Not here or not in Charters Towers.

And that is the way I want it to stay, believe me. But once the Surveyor arrives and we start fencing along the new blocks, someone is bound to get nosy. Especially when they discover all the equipment was purchased elsewhere, including the posts and wire as well.

You mean Portman?

Cat didn’t answer, she simply reached up onto the top shelf for the tea caddy and set about making them both a hot cup of tea.

CHAPTER TWO

Clay Stewart and his brother Bear rode through the bypass of the small gold mining township of Ravenswood in the early hours of the morning. They had camped on the outskirts about a mile from the actual township the night before and used one of the small freshwater creeks to rest and refresh their horses. While Bear built a small fire and set about making them something to eat, Clay unfastened his backpack and withdrew his equipment. They had deliberately chosen this particular area because it was situated at the bottom of a natural rise.

With his case containing his instrument called a Theodolite and his tripod slung over one shoulder, Clay set out on foot to walk to the top of the nearest large hill. He was a surveyor and one of the best in his business.

While his older brother worked, Bear set traps. He was in the mood for roasted pigeon tonight and knew he would need at least six to fill their empty bellies after a full day in the saddle. Bear was a large man who stood just over six foot tall. He had broad shoulders that tapered down into slim hips, with long legs that allowed him to run like the wind. He was of Canadian Inuit Heritage with hair that was as black as night and fell down his back, almost to his waist. His eyes were the darkest of brown, so dark, they were often called black, while his skin was a lighter shade of red.

Clay and Bear shared the same father but not the same mother. Where Bear followed his mother’s Heritage, Clay’s mother was English, fair haired and fair skinned. To see the two men standing side by side you could see they were brothers, but where Bear was dark, Clay was light. His hair was the purest of white and had often been mistaken for silver as it fell down his back almost to his waist as well. Where Clay liked to tie his back with a leather thong, Bear loved the feel of the wind as it whispered through his long hair and kept his ears warm after the heat of the sun had finally settled.

Garrick Stewart, the boys’ father had been employed by the English Government to map out the interior of the newly discovered Canadian Everglades and the many varied Tribes that lived within her shores. Although newly married with his wife expecting their first child, Garrick had been thrilled by the unexpected position offered by the English Government. Natasha, his wife, had refused to remain behind without her husband and demanded she be allowed to go with him. Although the going was extremely rough at times with little to no amenities, his wife thrived in her new vocation. She had delivered her son in a hut made from Sod blocks and whale bones with nary a harsh word or complaint. At times the weather was so cold she knew one would freeze to death if they remained outside for any length of time. Instead she learned all she could about this land and her inhabitants, including the language of the Native people of Alaska, The Eskimo.

While her husband mapped out this strange and wonderful land, Natasha filled book after book of her writings about the Native people of this land, their customs and their religions. How they shared their food, caught their whale and trapped wild Caribou. Absolutely nothing was wasted, what they didn’t use as a tool, they used in other ways. Animal skins, not only kept them warm as clothing but were also used as waterproof walls for their huts and their boats. She would draw pictures of their tall, hand carved and painted religious Totem poles, the clothes they wore and the many utensils they used for every day use. How they cooked, how they cleaned, how they simply survived in this below freezing wilderness.

As much as she loved these people and the land they loved, the winter chills were deadly to those who were not born to the harshness of the Alaskan winters. Where Clay, her son, thrived in this new land, Natasha was prone to a weakness of the chest. After one particular month of nothing but below freezing winds, sleet and snow, she lost her battle with the coughing sickness which often filtered through their camps.

Arsha was a widow who lived not far from where the Stewart’s home had been built. She lived alone, having lost her husband to a bear attack only a few months earlier. She had often worked in the larger dugout along with many other women to help with the Government Officials and their needs. She was unusually pretty for a native woman, with eyes a deep shade of dark chocolate brown, with hair and lashes that were as black as night. As was her tradition, she wore her hair in a single plait that fell down her back and past her hips. Never to be seen and covered at all times with the fur skins she wore pertaining to her tribal heritage. Her so-called marriage had been arranged by her father as was often the tradition of the Eskimo people. The man she was given to had stayed for less than a sennight near her families camp while the first of the winter’s snow began to thaw. She may not have loved the man she had been given to, but she had laid with him and he had given her a child who had meant more to her than life itself. So when the man to whom she had been given, was killed while gathering much needed food, her life changed dramatically. Unable to return to her own family due to the winter thaw and the water that now flowed freely around them, she had no choice but to remain in the area, mourning the loss of her new small family. The shock of seeing the man she now called husband killed in such a way, had brought on an early delivery. She had tried everything she knew to stop her child from being born but had failed and within hours had delivered a stillborn son.

Still heavy with milk, she had applied for work at any and all places looking for females to employ within their households. She did not care how hard she had to work or how many hours she had been allocated to do it in. The harder she worked the less pain she felt, at not only losing a husband, the head of her house, but also her child as well. Added to that dilemma was the loss of the dominant male which had now left her in an extremely delicate position; unable to support herself and fully dependant upon the head of her husband’s family. A family who made no attempt to hide their disapproval of the marriage in the first place.

Contrary to what everyone around her thought, Arsha worked hard to free herself of that dependancy, applying for a working position inside, as well as outside of their community as a way of supporting herself. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be totally reliant on those who looked down upon her because of her situation. According to her traditions, the male head of each house was the one who gifted their daughter’s hand in marriage, whether she liked the man or not. Afeared her new father-in-law would give her away like her birth father had, she was determined to remain self reliant. While ever she was self reliant and away from his notice, she felt safe.

Arsha wanted to love the man she would spend the rest of her life with, not be given to, or sold like a piece of whale meat. With so many others family members reliant on her new father-in-law, she knew she would be cast off to the first available man who simply needed a bed warmer.

Imagine her jubilation when a person from the newly appointed Government Office enquired if she still had breast milk!

The woman explained their dilemma, the loss of the new Governor’s wife and the welfare of her newborn child.

To relieve the pain of her swollen breasts, Arsha had agreed to help, offering to express a bottle or two until the little one could be trained to take a bottle of artificial mother’s milk.

But young Clay Stewart had spent may happy hours on his mother’s breast and would not take a bottle, no matter how hard the rest of the house had tried to nurse the boy. In the end, Arsha had taken him to her breast and in that same instant, lost her heart to the fair haired, blue eyed boy. She was to be further surprised when she discovered she would be well paid for her services. The amount of money she would be paid made her heart leap, for if she lived frugally she would never have to return to her father-in-law’s house, ever again.

Four months later, when the boy’s father had finally returned to their camp, Arsha was worried he would cast her out when he discovered she had become his son’s wet nurse. Even though she had saved everything she had earned, it wasn’t enough to set her up financially until she could leave this place and secure another job. Fear filled her heart once again, the last place she ever wanted to return to was the house of her in-laws … for any reason.

Her fears were unfounded as within days of Garrick Stewart’s return, he had asked her to move her belongings into the children’s tent and help him raise his son.

In the months and years to follow, Arsha became part of the Stewart family. Everywhere they moved to, Arsha travelled with them. So there was no surprise to any of the house staff, when Garrick finally took Arsha to his bed and became his wife in truth. Within twelve months she had borne him a second son she lovingly called Bear. In the following years she bore him another two children, both girls, Sunshine and Moonbeam. The two had become extremely close as they raised their children in the wilds of Northern Alaska.

When Garrick’s time abroad came to an end, they all returned home to England, including Arsha for she had become the heart of the entire Stewart Family.

⌘

QUEENSLAND, AUSTRALIA

Bear set traps where he knew he would find enough birds to fill both their stomachs. While he waited for the trap to work, he settled the horses out of sight at the edge of a small clearing where they could graze without being seen. The last thing they needed was for any passing vagrant, short on cash, to make off with them before he returned. He then climbed to the very top of the nearest tree and made himself comfortable in a position where he could not be seen. Satisfied, he settled down to wait. When he saw the birds flutter down to the ground and begin to graze on the bread crumbs he had scattered there, his satisfied grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

Clay lengthened his stride as he rounded the top of the large incline and moved directly toward an area where he had clear vision of the grounds that lay before him. With effortless ease he swung the tripod off his shoulder and quickly went to work making sure it stood level and stable. Seconds later, he attached his Theodolite into place and while his fingers were setting everything into position, his eyes began to search the surrounding area. Lost in a world completely of his own, Clay mentally calculated distances, heights and visual points, moving his fingers to different sections of the one machine until he had them all aligned, magnified and into position to begin his calculations. Pulling the rough map he had been given by the head of another department, he studied them carefully.

Swinging his machine to the left, he carefully calculated all the information he needed before retrieving a pencil from his shirt pocket and jotting those numbers onto the back of the map. With that section completed, he then turned his lenses to his right and began setting all the levels into sequence once again. Concentrating hard on his figures, it took him a moment before he saw the point on his Theodolite on which he was working and the rock formation obstructing his view. With his interest caught on the huge white rock protruding out the side of the hill, he studied his calculations, moving and sliding each piece into position until in frustration, he simply adjusted the magnification and stared at what was obstructing his mathematical calculus.

The stone appeared to be one large white, oval shaped boulder protruding from one side of the mountain. The rock appeared to be almost as tall, but not quite as wide as the actual top of the mountain, directly behind it. The rock also appeared to have a most unusual lean that obstructed his view of the actual hill’s elevations.

Lifting his head he squinted his eyes to try and see what was between him and his calculation point, but could see nothing as it was too far away. Returning his attention to his job, he