Mary Brock Jones by A Heart Divided

Philip relaxed, and John pushed down hard on his frustration. If it was up to him, the boy would be allowed to suffer the full effects of his foolishness, but there seemed little hope his sister would bet be so brutal, much as it was needed.
    “So you have come to town get more equipment, then back to the digging?” she asked.
    “His claim’s gone and he won’t get it back from that kind with fair words alone.”
    “No,” agreed Philip. There was some hope for the boy then. “I had hoped Sergeant Garret would be in town.”
    “He left yesterday to check on the outlying claims and is not expected back for a good week,” said Nessa.
    “You could stay in town. Help out your sister while you wait his return. Better protection than the one small boy she seems to be making do with at present.” John did his best to ignore Georgie’s protest and accompanying thump.
    “No, no, there’s no need—” began Nessa.
    “As to that, I’ve been thinking…” said Philip at the same time.
    Nessa stopped, giving way without thinking to Philip, but, for the first time in her memory, he waited for her to finish what she had begun to say. She shook her head and waved for him to continue.
    “It’s just that there’s a power of fellows here already. The best sites were taken long before we got here. On the way into town, I got talking with this chap, and he reckons the Shotover River up the Skippers is the place to be. There were only traces of colour in the claim I had, but the talk is that nuggets are just lying round for the taking up the Shotover. I’ve been thinking it might be better if we tried our luck there.”
    John felt like smashing something—preferably young Ward’s face. “The Shotover River is as fast and dangerous as they come; Skippers canyon is steeper even than the Arrow gorge, and the company is just as bad.”
    “Yes, but the Camp at Lake Wakatipu is bigger than the Arrow, and more settled now there’s a decent boat service across the lake. Nessa would be safer there than here, and could get more work there too,” said Philip, scowling at John as he gestured angrily towards his sister. At least the boy was starting to think about looking after her, and John had to concede he was right. Queenstown, as the rapidly growing township that serviced the Shotover and surrounding area was coming to be called, would be a lot safer than here. He would speak to Jean-Claud about finding another family to care for her. Then saw the unguarded look on Nessa’s before Philip turned back to her. A bone deep weariness and dismay. By the time Philip had swung round to say, “What do you think, Sis?” she had banished it for a bland look of genial acceptance.
    “Whatever you think best.”
    With that, the boy was back to being ten feet tall and cocky as hell. John wanted to smash him all over again.
    “‘Right,” said the boy. “How soon can you get packed up? We should get under way as soon as possible if we want to make the town tonight.”
    Still, John saw that stoic courage of hers held. She nodded, asking for a couple of hours only to shut down her business, pack her things and say goodbye to all who had been so good to her here. Two hours only to wrench out all those hardy shoots she had started to grow in this small community. It was left to George to say what John felt.
    “Here, you aren’t taking our Miss Ward away? You can’t! It’s not fair!”
    “I’ll come back and visit.”
    “No, you won’t,” said George with all the wisdom of a child reared on the rushes. “People never do.” Then, before anyone could stop him, he aimed a precise and well placed kick into Philip’s shin then raced off down the road.
    “That little savage!”
    Philip started after him, but Nessa put out a soft hand, just beating John’s hard thrust.
    “No, he’s just an upset little boy. Leave him be.”
    Her quiet order stopped both men. John hid his clenched fist in his pocket.
    “I’ll be leaving you to get