Arthur Upfield - Sands of Windee

“It was lucky for me that I did get back, for now Rose is as much mine as ever she was. A few words spoken by a parson don’t amount to much. I’m wearing my bridegroom’s clothes, and I’m going to be Rose’s bridegroom. She is going away with me as my bride. Rosie, get your hat and put on a pair of riding-boots.”

“I won’t! You must think I’m mad,” objected the bride.

“All right, come as you are, then!”

Amidababel of lurid language from the men and shrill invective from the women, Rose Green began to cry. Yet the hubbub and the tears had no effect on Joseph North. He took the girl by the arm and led her out of the house dressed in her wedding finery and without hat or coat. Afterwards the listening guests heard the thudding of horses’ hoofs growing fainter and fainter, and when the first of them freedhimself and hastily freed the others, they rushed out to see no sign of North or the bride.

The police were informed. Search-parties were organized. Every station homestead in the State was frantically telephoned for news. All Australia was thrilled and delighted by the story, which was headlined “The Stolen Bride”.

Yet neither the bride nor her abductor was traced. The great heart of Australia had swallowed them utterly. Weeks became months, and months became a year. It was three o’clock in the morning of the first of July in the following year that the licensee of the hotel at Louth heard horses’ hoofs outside his bedroom window. A minute later his front door was thumped by a human fist. Partially dressed, he took a hurricane-lamp and went to open the door. On unbolting, he heard again the sound of horses’ hoofs passing along the road. Mystified, he opened his door and, holding aloft his lamp, saw a figure crouched on the low veranda without. The figure was bowed, and from it came sobs. And when he lowered the lamp and gently raised the bowed head, he looked into the face of Mrs Thomas, nee Green.

“Return of the Stolen Bride” was the star attraction of the papers for weeks. Yet beyond the headings there was but little news, for Mrs Thomas resolutely declined to say one word of what had befallen her during the twelve months. It was she who insisted that the warrant for the arrest of North should be withdrawn. It was she who told a sergeant of police to stop worrying her with fool questions and to mind his own blank business. It was she who went to ThomasThomas and informed him that since he was her husband it was his duty to support her.

Apparently Thomas accepted the responsibility, for the “Stolen Bride” lived with him until his death, fifteen years later. He left her some four thousand pounds, and nine thousand in trust for their son, aged twelve years. The seasons being good, the selection was sold for a further two thousand five hundred, and Mrs Thomas then migrated to Sydney, where she went into the hotel business. She had prospered, and at the time of her coming to Windee was the licensee of a popular sportsmen’s hotel in George Street.

A remarkable woman, Bony considered her. A strong woman, for never a word had escaped her regarding that year’s sojourn with North in Central Australia.

At that time North would be about twenty-three years old. He was an active man, a good horseman, abstemious in his habits, and careful of his money. He was of medium height, with grey eyes and black hair. Stanton was of medium height, and his eyes were grey. Marion Stanton’s hair was black.

Was Stanton Joseph North? If so, had the business that had brought Green, alias Marks, to Windee something to do with the abduction of the bride forty years before? It seemed feasible that the brother had come to Windee to execute some scheme, and, since he had failed and disappeared, the sister had come to make inquiries. The future appeared pregnant with drama. The tangled skein was even more hopelessly entangled by Fate.

Bony waited expectantly for something to happen. In Time’s cupboard lay a skeleton than only Time would bring to light. Bony went on working at his sheep-yards, assisted by the cheerful Jack Withers. Yet nothing happened. Mrs Thomas apparently settledherself for a prolonged stay, yet, when Bony was beginning to think that she had become a fixture at Windee, she suddenly departed, being driven into Mount Lion in Mr Bumpus’s car, which she had bespoken by telephone.

The perplexed Bony still waited patiently.

Reconciliation

IT SO HAPPENED on the day after the departure of Mrs Thomas that Jack Withers, feeling unwell, did not accompany the half-caste to their daily work. On most days the two men rode to and from their work, but the day Bony worked alone he walked and carried his noonday lunch with him.

Throughout the day his mind was continuously revolving the visit made by Mrs Thomas and the mystery that lay behind her departure in a hired car. It wanted but two days to Christmas, and it was peculiar, if Mrs Thomas was a welcome guest, that she should not have stayed over the holidays.

At half-past four, when he ceased his labours, after rolling a cigarette he picked up his billy-can and lunch-bag and started his mile-long walk to the homestead. It had been a windless day, and hot. Widely separated, deep thunderclouds lay almost motionless in the sky like aerial icebergs. Birds were stirring from their daylong drowse, and a party of crows settled about the place where Bony had eaten his lunch.

Pensively smoking, he walked along a bank of the dry creek, welcoming the shade cast by the box-trees and trying to decide whether he would wait longer for Time to aid him or whether he would act without Time’s aid. His investigations had reached a point where they might be materially forwarded if he stirred up the human factor by ordering the arrest of Dot and Dash, or even by ordering the detention of Mrs Thomas. Something, certainly, should follow either step.

He walked with his head bent, his eyes noting sub-consciously the tracks of animals and insects which he crossed. He failed to see Marion Stanton riding Grey Cloud, and, because her mind was occupied with Mrs Thomas, she failed to notice him until they were so close that, when recognition was mutual, Bony swept off his hat and she reined in her magnificent steed. It was a meeting for which Bony had long hoped, and he said gravely:

“Good afternoon, Miss Stanton.”

Instead of replying, Marion regarded him steadily for several moments. In her eyes Bony saw the temptation to ride away without uttering a word, and he recognized that here was the opportunity to discover the reason of her displeasure.

“I fear that in some way I have offended you,” he told her un-smilingly. “If I have done so it has been done unwittingly, I earnestly assure you. Perhaps I could explain.”

“I am not sure that I would be interested in an explanation,”came the coolly spoken reply. He was struck by the immobility of her face, the different shade of beauty her displeasure created. The eyebrows now were straight and the eyes shone with the ice-cold gleam of-sapphires. She saw how easily he stood, with deference but without servility. She saw, too, a very faint hint of amusement in his dark eyes which aroused at once her antagonism. Seated still on the immovable grey gelding, she said sharply:

“You remember, do you not, that once you told me of your wife and your boys in Queensland?”

Bony nodded.

“You described to me what a wonderful woman is your wife, and how proud you both are of your sons. You interested me in them, and also you interested me in yourself and in your philosophy. You led me to think that you possessed the instincts as well as the education of a gentleman. Explain, therefore, why you made love to a gin named Runta!”

The surprise of the accusation figuratively stunned Bony. Having made up his mind that her coldness was the effect of suspicion that he was connected in some way with thepolice, the real cause was so unexpected that he wanted badly to sigh with relief. Nevertheless, he could not render the true explanation. Without the slightest hesitation he invented an explanation which possessed, at least, the saving grace of a grain of truth.