Haunted Creek Read Online Free PDF Page B

she’d lock up Gertrude, in case she interfered with the process.
    The goat watched with interest from her pen as Rose kneaded the dough, working on a board set on a convenient tree stump near the hut. It was a very hot day and the bread rose quickly. In Yorkshire, it had nearly always been slow to rise. Over there, they would be struggling through winter snow. It was hard to imagine that she was in the same world … but she must stop thinking about Yorkshire.
    By noon, the birds had fallen silent and the gum trees seemed to shimmer in the heat. The bread went into the pot and Rose pulled the embers of the dying fire over the camp oven. As she did so, a sudden breeze blew through the trees and sparks flew up from the ashes. They landed on a pile of dry gum leaves and a blaze sprang up immediately. The hens cackled in alarm and Gertrude bleated.
    Rose looked round wildly. With all her worries, she’d never thought to be afraid of fire. She now had a fire on her hands and if it spread to the bush, those oily gum leaves would go up like a torch. Where was the water? She rushed over to the buckets, but they were empty. Fetching water from the creek had been planned as her next job.
    Fanned by the breeze, the fire ran along towards a tree with long ribbons of dry bark hanging down from it. If the flames got into them, the whole tree would burn and the hut would be gone in a few minutes.
    Rose bit her lip and fought down panic. Luke had left a shovel leaning by the door and she snatched it up and began to dig a shallow trench in the dry earth between the fire and the trees, to try to contain it. It was the only thing she could do. Dirt wouldn’t burn, surely? Everything in this place seemed likely to burn. Thesummer sun had sucked all the moisture out of the earth, the hut, even the people, everything except the grass down by the creek.
    Digging feverishly, she hardly noticed when the wind changed until the blue aromatic smoke came back towards her, making her cough. She could now see little, but the dreadful laughter began again. ‘Don’t sit there laughing, come and help me!’ Rose called to the bird. The fire was gaining ground and she was not going to be able to stop it now.
    Just as the wind seemed to gain strength and the fire rose higher, a figure appeared in the smoke, carrying a basket. ‘Please help me, there’s a rake by the fence,’ Rose called and went on digging.
    The woman nodded and took up the rake. For some minutes the fire seemed to be beating them and Rose despaired of the hut; they would lose what little they had.
    ‘Keep going!’ the woman encouraged her. Gradually they gained ground and, working together, they were able to contain the fire, pushing it back to the open hearth, and then beat out the flames. A few wisps of smoke still rose up from the ash, but the fire was ringed with bare earth. It was safe.
    Gasping, Rose sat down suddenly on the bench beside the door as her legs gave way. ‘Thank you. I was in real trouble until you came.’
    The woman smiled. She wore a plain cotton dress and bonnet and was browned by the sun. ‘I am so glad I was here at the right time. I’ve been picking blackberries … You must be Luke’s new wife. I’m Freda Jensen. I teach at the Wattle Tree school up on the ridge yonder. It was built last year.’
    ‘Yes, I’m Rose Teesdale.’ The name was still unfamiliar. Rose mopped her brow; the heat was intense. They sat quiet for a while and a bird flew down onto a stump, evidently looking for insects in the newly turned earth. It looked like a kingfisher. Then Rose moved slightly and the bird flew up into a tree, making the unearthly laughing sound she had come to hate.
    ‘That was the bird, Mrs Jensen!’ Rose laughed herself. Those dreadful sounds came from this bird.
    ‘The kookaburra – it’s called the laughing jackass. He always seems to turn up when you make a mistake.’ The older woman went over to the fire site and hooked off the cooking pot