Haunted Creek Read Online Free PDF

lass.’
    One or two trees were chopped down and Rose helped to clear away the branches, but it was a slow job and by the end of a month she could tell that he was getting restless.
    Luke was unwilling to work long hours. ‘Tradesmen in Melbourne have worked an eight-hour day for years. Why should I kill myself out here?’ he demanded.
    ‘I’ve never heard of an eight-hour day. We worked at least twelve on the farm at home.’ Rose stopped; she had noticed that her voice was getting harder. She must try not to be bitter, try to be loving.
    One Sunday night, Luke started to pack a bag. ‘I’m off down the creek with Jim to look for gold tomorrow. You’ll be all right, won’t you?’
    Rose swallowed. He was so casual! But she was not going to plead with him to stay at home. She was a settler’s wife; she must not seem to be afraid. She would refuse to think about snakes, outlaws, howls and shrieks and she would stare down spiders with big goggling eyes.
    One night they had climbed the hill behind the hut so that Luke could show her the unfamiliar southern stars. ‘The Southern Cross,’ he said, gazing at the bright cluster low in the sky. ‘Shining down on the best place on earth. This is our country now, lass.’ She had heard the growls, the grunts, the rustling all around them that night, but Luke had only mentioned the croaking of bullfrogs. ‘It’s not like Kirkby, Rose, you mustn’t expect it.’
    ‘So I’ve noticed,’ Rose murmured, peering into the rustling darkness. Heaven knew what was out there, a few yards from theirhut. Now, she would have to face her fears alone. ‘Just one thing, Luke,’ she said, more calmly than she felt. ‘Why is it called the Haunted Creek?’
    There was a slight pause before Luke answered. ‘Surely you don’t believe in ghosts?’ He put a casual arm round her. ‘It’s just a name, that’s all, from the gold mining days. Most of the haunting was done at the All Nations hotel. They say some of the miners couldn’t get enough of the place in the old days, stayed there for weeks at a time.’
    There had to be a better explanation. The roses down at the bottom of the Carrs’ place … perhaps there was a grave there. She’d realized that people were not buried tidily in churchyards here, because there were few churches and not many cemeteries as yet.
    Jim Carlyle arrived with a backpack about seven the next morning. ‘Good day, Mrs Teesdale, I’ve come to take your husband off your hands for a few days. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a bit of peace for a change.’ He was a likeable lad but there was something of the rogue about his crooked smile and Rose wondered whether Luke would be better off without his influence. She gave him a mug of tea while Luke tied a pan to his bundle.
    ‘Where are your horses? Won’t you be riding?’ she asked Jim. Surely it would be easier to travel with horses, the ones that had overtaken the bullock cart on her way to Haunted Creek.
    ‘Well, you see, they’re borrowed from a neighbour when we go to town. We haven’t got ourselves nags as yet,’ Jim said airily as though he could pick up a horse any time he wanted one.
    The men went off and Rose was left alone in the little clearing, listening to the hum of bees in flowering trees high above her head.
    There was very little housework in a bark hut. Perhaps she should try to make some proper bread? That would be challenging without the comfort of a kitchen and a coal oven. Mrs Carr – Martha, as she liked to be called – had given Rose some yeast with instructions for making a loaf in the cast-iron pot. ‘You bury it in the embers of a fireand then it’s an oven, a camp oven,’ she had explained. ‘It bakes the bread very well, if you get the heat just right.’
    It would be a good idea to try the method while Luke was away, in case the first batch was not eatable and it had to be given to the hens. The embers would need to be hot enough to cook but not burn the bread. First