Deceit & Devotion

Alma, North Queensland, Australia

Fall 1880

Emily Holtz stood at the large oak desk that once belonged to her father, her eyes scanning the paper she held in her fingers. Of all the letters she expected to receive this day, one from the Gem Museum in Townsville hadn’t been amongst them. After all these years they wanted to display her father’s black opal collection. The director of the museum assured her all six opals would be well-guarded and perfectly safe in his care. She didn’t have six of the gems though. She only had four.

Placing the sheet of parchment back on the desk, she glanced around at the grand room her father, Albert, had once spent so many of his years in. The interior was basic. A few paintings hung on the wall. An impressive chital stag’s head was also mounted there, having been a gift from the town’s taxidermist. The walls, like the rest of the house, were made from bluestone. Then there was the majestic desk before her. Running her fingertips along the smooth, polished oak, Emily couldn’t help but remember the many times she’d come in here to speak with her father over a cup of tea. Never once did he chase her away. No matter how trivial her plight was, Albert Holtz had always treated what she was saying as if it were the most important thing at that moment. He even listened when she begged him to release her from her engagement to Thomas Byrne.

Glancing down at her hand and the simple wedding band on her finger, she wondered if her father had lived, would she still have had to marry. Knowing the disaster her married life had been these last few years, she hoped her only surviving parent would have found some way out of this contract. Emily knew the shame associated with divorced women, but she didn’t care. Even being shunned from every social circle would be better than what her life had become.

Suddenly feeling all the fine hairs on her arms stand on edge, she knew she was no longer alone in the room. Before she could turn around, strong male hands covered her own, holding her to the desk where she’d been standing. The scent of stale cologne, tobacco, and alcohol lingered behind her, offending her senses.

“Are you remembering our wedding day?” Thomas asked from behind her, his body now touching hers.

She was grateful for the layers of clothing separating her from this man who was nearly twice her age.

“I didn’t know you were home, Thomas,” she commented, trying to steady the tremble in her voice. “I thought you would be in town visiting one of your women tonight.”

Fear filled her as she felt his hand starting to gather up the bottom of her night dress, his lips near her ear. Closing her eyes, Emily prayed something would save her from the clutches of this man. As a young girl, she was warned by her governesses of the dangers of native men raping women in this country, but never had anyone told her to be on guard of the white men Australian women were being contracted to marry.

“If you would come to my bed, then I’d no longer need to go and see those women, Emily.” Thomas jutted himself toward her, imitating an act that made Emily’s skin crawl. “You really ought to allow me to have a more active part in the business your father left you,” he continued, his fingers gathering up more and more of her dress. “Introduce me to your business partners, so they can call on me instead of you. If you didn’t have to constantly deal with those men and their money, then you wouldn’t be so stressed.”

Emily tried to pull away from him, needing to make it obvious she didn’t welcome his advances. Still, Thomas persisted, his fingers squeezing her bare thigh harshly.

“If you don’t learn your place soon, it is my right as your husband to take what I want.”

His words sickened her. They scared her more.

Reaching for the glass of water in front of her on the desk, she threw it over her shoulder, hoping, if nothing else, it would catch him off guard and he would let her go.

“You bitch!” he cursed at her, his hands letting her go to wipe the liquid away from his eyes.

Taking her opportunity, Emily pushed Thomas away from her and went to run toward the door, making her escape. She’d barely taken a step when his hand reached for her, his fingers gripping her wrist so hard she couldn’t stop from letting out a pained scream.

“Let me go, Thomas!” she demanded. “You have no right—”

“I have every right!” he cut her off, his other hand coming up and slapping her hard across the face. “You’re my wife, and I can take whatever I want from you!”

She struggled helplessly against him, fearing what would happen if she didn’t escape his wrath. Feeling the pain of her husband’s closed fist punching into her stomach, all hope left her. Falling into a crumpled mass on the floor, she could only dread the fate she was certain awaited her.

“Scream and I’ll hit you again,” he threatened as she heard him unfastening his pants.

She tried to fight him as his fingers dug into her knees, trying to part her legs for him to have his way with her.

“Please, Thomas,” she cried. “Don’t do this!” Slapping and pushing at him, Emily tried everything to dislodge this man from her before it was too late.

“Mr. Byrne,” one of the servants suddenly called out from the other side of the door. “A man is waiting for you in your room. He claims you were expecting him.”

“Tell him to come back later,” he shouted, still trying to fight against his wife.

“He’s a police officer, sir,” the servant replied. “He said he needs to see you immediately.”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief at hearing those words.

“We will finish this later, wife,” Thomas threatened as he got off her. Standing, he fastened his pants and righted the rest of his clothing.

Waiting until he stormed from the study and yelled at the servant who had come to collect him, Emily leapt to her feet. Rushing to the door, she quickly shut and locked it, her fear-filled tears finally taking her over as she crumbled to the floor. Her husband had always scared her, but never could she have imagined the monster he’d become. She could take this no more. She had to find a way out of this charade that was her marriage.

* * * *

Thomas stormed into his small bedroom that also served as his office.

“What do you want?” he asked the police officer rudely.

Walking to the tray of alcohol bottles, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, drinking it in one go to try and calm his still-raging senses. He honestly thought he would have been able to finally have that woman he called his wife tonight.

“Mr. Byrne, I’m here on a very important matter,” the officer said. “There have been complaints from the tavern owners. They say you’ve been harassing the aboriginal women who work for them.”

Filling his glass again, Thomas glared at the man. “You dare come here and accuse me? Have you any idea who I am?”

Returning his stare, the officer replied, “I know who your wife is, sir. I also know how much control she has in this small township of ours. If she were to vouch for your whereabouts tonight, then I shall make sure the matter is dropped immediately.”

Thomas pursed his lips. He didn’t want anyone seeing Emily at the moment, for fear he may have struck her hard enough to leave a tell-tale mark of his ever-growing anger with her.

“My wife is sleeping,” he lied. “Even if she were not, I wouldn’t allow her to converse with any man at this late hour.”

“Then I must give you a warning, Mr. Byrne,” the officer told him. “This matter will be investigated further, and if I find any evidence you’re indeed guilty of mistreating those native women, then you’ll have to face the judge. We don’t condone such matters here in Alma.”

“Condone such matters?” Thomas echoed, consuming the last of his whiskey. “Those women who work in a tavern are just as much fair game as the other whores who work there.”

“They’re native women, Mr. Byrne,” the officer spat at him, clearly disgusted. “And you, sir, have no right to lay a hand on them.”

“Is that all, Officer?” he queried, pouring yet another drink. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go join my wife in bed.”

The man nodded in acceptance of his dismissal. “I’ll be back, Mr. Byrne, you can count on that.”

Turning, the officer left the room, closing the door behind him. Waiting until the entrance was fully shut, Thomas threw the glass he was holding into the fireplace.

“Sod it!” he cursed into the air around him.

He didn’t need the attention of the police, not yet at any rate. Not until he had enough to be able to buy their loyalty; something he couldn’t do without the assets and connections Emily had been left upon the death of her father. When the old man had been found murdered in the cottage outside of town, Thomas thought to immediately take up residence in his study and have access to all of Albert’s papers and business contacts. Never did he bank on his wife walking straight into her father’s business as if she’d been born into it.

Her late father’s business partners all went to her to conduct matters, never once giving him the time of day. When he tried to involve himself, they merely turned their back to him and told Emily they would arrange another meeting in town where they wouldn’t have to be interrupted. This wasn’t how things were supposed to have been. Men did business with men, not with their wives. The fact that Thomas wasn’t an active part of his wife’s inherited business was humiliating beyond measure.

But this had to change, and sooner rather than later. If the police started sniffing around in his business affairs, they would find many things from his past that were far worse than just his annoyance of some of the local native women. They would find...

He pursed his lips. He couldn’t allow the police to ever find out what lay along the trail that led him to move up north. If they did, and they told Emily, then he would lose everything he ever fought to have. She could rightfully file for divorce, and he would end up back in jail, begging to be saved from the gallows.

Feeling a sting in his arm, he glanced down at the fresh scratch that was causing it. He had no doubt his wife put it there moments before when she’d been fighting against him, pleading for her life. Her life.

Thomas glanced around at his meagre surroundings. He felt humiliated having to conduct all his business meetings in his bedroom. Men of his position needed a study of some sort to show their position and power in the household. His late father-in-law once had such a room. Thomas knew if he were to get anywhere in this town and establish himself above Emily’s importance in the small township, he would have to take occupancy of the grandest room in the house.

He thought upon Albert’s death his shift into the study would be automatic. He’d been wrong though. The old man hadn’t even been cold in his grave when Emily made it quite clear that Albert’s study wasn’t to be touched, insisting on it being kept under constant lock and key. To further humiliate him, his wife told him any business he needed to conduct at the house would have to be done in his bedroom, as no other room could be made available for his personal use. In his frustration, he raised his hand at her then, ready to strike her. Had her lawyer, Peter Carcary, not walked in at that moment, he was certain he could have beat her into allowing him anything he demanded.

After that day, despite the many times he’d struck his wife, demanding the key to the study, never once would she part with it. It was just another reminder of the constant control she tried to hold over him.

Thomas was no fool though. He knew everything he had, including the house he lived in, was because of his wife and the inheritance Albert left to her upon his death. It was a vast fortune in its total, including cattle stations, estate houses, bond papers, and more. It was a fortune large enough to buy the favour of every policeman in the district, ensuring they all turned a blind eye to his insatiable hunger for the native women. It was a fortune that was supposed to have been his.

The law dictated he rightfully had possession of whatever his wife owned and could do with it whatever he wished. He reminded Emily of this with every beating he inflicted upon her. Still, she wouldn’t forfeit the key he needed to take his rightful claim. In desperation, he’d sought legal advice on how he might take control of the assets his wife kept under lock and key. He was told, short of breaking down the solid door, the only way was to find the key she kept hidden.

"There must be some law you can enforce to make her hand the key over to me?" he’d persisted.

The lawyer said they couldn’t make her hand something over to him that no one could prove even existed. Thomas had been enraged, going on to tell his legal adviser that his wife was conducting business her father had once been a part of. The lawyer had shrugged his shoulders, explaining unless there was proof of what exactly the business was, there was nothing that could be done to put Thomas in control of it. Of course, upon his wife’s death, he would assume control. Or, if there were some kind of proof she was involved in an adulterous affair, she could be deemed unfit to continue in her father’s business affairs. Only then, when business associates came forth to reestablish their new secure business relationship with Emily’s husband, could anyone be sure there was a genuine business partnership to begin with.

A smile filled Thomas’s face as he remembered the conversation. His wife’s death or misconduct. All the business involvements Albert had made his financial fortunes through could still be Thomas’s should something ever happen to his wife or if he could prove she’d been unfaithful to him. Thomas didn’t want her dead per se, as it would draw too much attention from authorities. He merely needed to discredit her enough to ensure he could get a divorce and gain possession of her business assets and associates. Such a divorce would cause her far more pain than he ever could. The way the law stood, Emily would lose everything.

All he had to do was find someone to seduce his wife into an affair, and he would have enough to dissolve the marriage without much loss to himself, and no risk of blood on his hands. To do this though, he needed a man, such as one of the local aboriginals, who no one would ever believe should they try to go to the authorities and confess what they’d been paid to do. Paid? Thomas also needed to find a man he didn’t have to pay to do his dirty work, a man who already owed him a debt would be ideal. Like one of those half-caste ruffians he had boxing in the fighting hall he ran.

Reaching for a full bottle of whiskey, Thomas opened it and filled his glass. He remembered trying shortly after his nuptials to get an annulment, but Emily was so much of a prude that she refused to allow the doctor to inspect her to determine if the marriage had been consummated. He tried everything to persuade her, but always she refused. Even after he beat her until she was bed-ridden for several days, she still refused the inspection. Since then, he’d been searching for any way he might be able to get out of the marriage, yet gain full control of her inheritance. His plan was perfect now. And if the young man he hired wasn’t successful in bedding his wife, then he would be instructed to just do away with her, leaving Thomas as nothing more than the grieving husband in the eyes of the townspeople.

There would be no blood on his hands at all. All he would be was a very wealthy and powerful widower.

* * * *

Jarrah Miyan looked at the message the general store owner had just given him, irritated by what he read. He had only come to town to deliver some crates of Lilly Pilly fruit for one of the local farmers. Crumpling the piece of paper in his hand, he wished he could just ignore those who continued to beckon him.

He was tired of being summoned by the wealthy white men and women of this town like he was little better than a trained animal. He wanted more than to be their servant and beaten if he didn’t obey. All his life, he’d watched as the white settlers of Alma treated his people the same, if not worse, than they did him. This was not the life he wanted. It certainly wasn’t the life he expected when he left his mother’s tribe to find his father. What he found from these people was fear and adversity. Yet all he yearned for was freedom.

He expected the message from Thomas Byrne though, especially after his performance at the fighting hall the previous night. Usually, he just did as he was paid to and fought against whichever man was put in the makeshift boxing ring with him. Normally, that wasn’t hard, as the opponent was just some white man spitting racial slurs at him, reminding him of everything his people had suffered at the hands of the white settlers in this area. Last night was different though. He was told to fight a man he’d grown up with while living in a camp with his mother’s tribe. When he refused, Thomas threatened him with every number of punishments. Jarrah had held strong though, refusing to fight one of his brothers and walking from the ring. Thomas had his henchmen follow him and beat him far worse than any boxer in the ring could have.

Jarrah hoped that, after his refusal, he would be left in peace for several days before this money-hungry man found him again. Squeezing the note still tighter in his fist, he realized that hadn’t been the case. Staring at his feet, knowing better than to try to look anyone in the face in this town, Jarrah knew he would have to borrow a horse if he were to get out to the Byrne cattle station by the time he’d been requested. Going to the stables, he prepared to do whatever he had to just to be able to afford an animal for the next few hours. Tracking down the stable owner, Jarrah cleared his throat to gain his attention.

“I need to borrow a horse, please,” he said clearly.

The stable owner laughed at him. “You expect me to trust you with one of my horses? How do I know you’ll even bring it back?”

“I assure you I will, sir. I have some money. The rest I can pay with services. I can clean the stables for you or feed the horses or whatever else you need doing.”

“Get out of here!” the owner yelled at him, his hand waving in the air as if he were shooing a pest. “I’ll be damned if I give you one of my horses!”

“Please, sir,” Jarrah begged. “I swear on my honour, I’ll return the animal in a few hours.”

“People like you have no honour,” the stable owner spat at him cruelly.

“What’s going on here?” a soft, husky, feminine voice inquired beside him.

Jarrah turned instantly, his gaze settling on the most exquisite woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her red hair was tied into a loose knot, and several curls had escaped and were wisping around her face. Her skin was so very pale, so opposite to the darkness of his own, and he fought the urge to reach out to her just to see if she was as soft as she appeared. Her voluptuous form was shaped by the jeans and cotton work shirt she was wearing.

“This milky came in here trying to steal one of my horses,” the stable owner answered the young woman standing beside Jarrah.

“I came in here to hire one,” Jarrah quickly corrected him. “I have never stolen anything in my life. I certainly do not need to steal a horse.”

The red-haired woman glanced at him then back to the stable owner. “Is this true?” she asked.

“Just because he says he’s going to return the animal doesn’t mean he will,” the owner said. “You can’t trust these savages, miss.”

Jarrah reached into his pocket and retrieved his small amount of money. “I offered to pay for it, some with coin, the rest with services. I certainly didn’t expect to rent the beast for free.”

The woman looked between both men, and Jarrah expected the police to be called any minute and him accused of stealing.

“If this man gives you the money he has, how much would he still owe?” she drilled the stable owner.

The man shrugged. “A few shillings, miss.”

Jarrah watched as the woman reached into her jeans pocket and pulled forth a few coins. She threw them on the bench in front of the owner.

“That should be enough to cover the remainder of what this man owes you for the rent of this animal.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Jarrah said, his hand instantly going to her forearm. “I can’t afford to be indebted to you.”

Realizing his familiar act, he instantly retracted his hand from the woman’s pale white, silken, soft skin. He expected any amount of abuse. What he received was her slight smile.

“This man owes me far more than the mere price of a horse, sir,” she told him. “Even if you don’t return the horse, I guarantee you he won’t send the police after you. Take the horse and do with it what you need to.”

Jarrah didn’t know what to say. Never had any white person ever shown him any form of kindness, certainly not to the extent of which he’d just received from this woman.

“Thank you, miss,” he stammered, unsure what this white woman would expect from him in return as payment. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find me again one day and you can repay me then, sir.”

“I’ll take you to your horse,” the stable owner said, turning and leading him out the back to where the horses were kept.

Nodding again at the red-haired woman, Jarrah wondered who she was and why she’d shown him such warmth. He wanted to find this woman again one day and repay her kindness.

Taking his horse, Jarrah turned in the direction of the Byrne station and toward a meeting he was dreading more than anything. He doubted what was going to happen this afternoon would be for the good, still, he felt he had little choice but to attend. If he were to avoid Thomas any longer, he would send his henchmen after Jarrah. Rubbing his still aching knuckles, he knew those men were almost as unforgiving as their employer. It was better he went now.

Kicking his horse in the flanks, Jarrah hoped this time his assumption as to why he’d been summoned was wrong. He hoped this time something good would come out of his meeting with Thomas.

* * * *

“Come in,” Thomas said upon hearing the knock at his door, his fingertip running along the scratch Emily had given him last night.

He watched as a young female servant ushered his guest inside. “A man to see you, sir,” she uttered shortly.

Nodding, he waved his hand in the air, dismissing her. Waiting until she’d closed the door behind her, he glanced at the dark-skinned man now standing before him. Of all the aboriginal men who worked for him at the fighting hall, this one owed him the most.

“Your deadline is up,” Thomas told the young native man standing before him. “You must pay the debt you owe to me in full.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jarrah explained, his hands resting on his hips. “I don’t have the money you gave me.”

“Loaned you,” Thomas corrected him. “I didn’t give you anything.”

“If you could only give me a little more time, I’ll have the money. I’ll even box for you again this evening—”

“You have no more time!” Thomas fumed, stepping toward the tray of alcohol bottles on his small wooden desk. Pouring himself a drink, he turned back to the fearful, young man standing in his study. His jeans were ripped and tattered, his shirt showed signs of how often it had been worn, and his feet were uncovered and dusty from the ground he’d been walking on. “But there might be one way you could pay back what you owe to me.”

“Anything, sir,” Jarrah offered quickly. “I’ll do anything.”

Thomas knew the younger man was terrified of the physical punishment he’d have to endure should he not be able to pay his debt back. Thomas swirled the brandy around in his glass, thinking about the obvious desperation of the man before him and how much pleasure it filled him with. He should feel sorry for Jarrah, even show him some pity, but he was nothing more than a means to an end.

“I need to divorce my wife,” Thomas stated. “And I need it to appear as if I played no part in pushing her away.”

“I don’t understand.”

His patience was growing thin with the naivety of this young man. “My wife is very wealthy,” he explained. “Upon her father’s death, she was left a very handsome sum of money along with several properties. She was also left papers she keeps locked up in the study that once belonged to her father. I’m told these papers list certain secrets. Secrets many of the wealthy families of this town would be happy to have disappear.” He poured himself another brandy, watching the amber liquid fill his glass before turning back to Jarrah.

“But as her husband, you already have full ownership of whatever she inherited,” Jarrah uttered.

“It’s far more complicated than that, something someone like you would never be able to understand,” Thomas stated, his words cold. “If I can claim infidelity on her part, then upon a divorce, everything she keeps hidden in that study, all her business matters and contacts, will legally pass to me and become mine. Those bastards she works with will have no option but to deal with me then.”

“And how am I supposed to be able to help you with that?” Jarrah inquired. “I don’t know your wife, sir, but I’d guess she wouldn’t jump into bed with the first native man she came across, nor hand me her most important papers.”

Thomas smiled. Jarrah was little more than a pawn on a chess board to him, to push around as he always had to get what he needed. He knew that Jarrah would do what he was ordered to for fear of the punishment he would receive should he refuse his orders again.

“I want you to fuck my wife.”

The shock on the younger man’s face was plain to see. “What?” he asked. “You can’t be serious?”

Thomas nodded. “I’ve never been more serious. I want her money and the business papers she has hidden in that study of hers, and I want you to go to whatever lengths you have to to make sure I have them. Only then will I consider your debt paid in full.”

“I can’t do this!” Jarrah fought back. “I won’t do this. Not again.”

“You can and you will,” Thomas insisted. “Or I’ll make sure you find yourself at the end of a hangman’s noose for the other crimes you’ve committed.”

“You bastard! You ordered me to do those unlawful acts! It wasn’t my choice to steal from those men and women.”

Thomas smiled cruelly. “Maybe, but I doubt any law man in the state will believe your word over mine. I’m one of the biggest businessmen in the area, and you’re nothing but a dirty little half-caste.”

Seeing the reality of his words dawning on the younger man, Thomas smiled in satisfaction.

“You do what you have to to get that viper I’ve wedded to spread her thighs for you,” he ordered. “I don’t care if you have to adhere to every one of her sick desires, just so long as you’re caught in her bed and I can claim grounds for divorce and get those hidden papers.”

“And what if she won’t spread her thighs? What if she’s not the kind of woman you think her to be?”

Thomas sculled the last of his brandy. “Then you kill the stupid wench, get the key to the study from her, and bring those papers to me.”

Jarrah’s stare darkened. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just break down the door to this room and retrieve what you want?”

“I can’t,” Thomas replied. “The door is made from gidgee wood. You can’t even cut it with an axe. Besides, after all she’s put me through, I’d find much more pleasure in her death.”

The two men stared at each other, neither willing to concede to the other’s will.

“I don’t kill people,” Jarrah insisted in a steady voice.

Thomas smiled. “You have before when I’ve ordered you to.”

“That wasn’t my choice.” Jarrah tried to defend his past. “You know as well as I do that I only went to that house to explain myself. I never thought the owner would attack me.”

“You killed a man for approaching you after he learned you’d slept with his wife,” Thomas accused him. “I’m sure the police will have no problem understanding that.”

“I didn’t kill him though,” Jarrah tried to explain. “Duncan attacked me and I punched him once. I didn’t shoot him or his wife in the head.”

“Do you think the police will believe that? Or do you think they’ll believe me when I tell them you had been having an affair with the wife for months?”

“Damn it, you know that’s not true,” Jarrah said. “I never laid a hand on that woman!”

Thomas smiled confidently. “The police were told she’d been having an affair with a native man who worked on their cattle station. You’ll be found guilty regardless of your past with either of them.” Watching the younger man lower his gaze, Thomas knew Jarrah was fearful of what would become of him should his past ever be discovered.

“How will I find your wife?” Jarrah finally relented.

“I’ll arrange for you to be brought here as a new station hand,” Thomas said, knowing he’d gotten his way. “It will all seem perfectly normal to her, and she won’t suspect a thing until it’s too late.” He poured himself yet another brandy. “Now get out until I send for you.”

Obeying the orders given to him, the younger man turned on his heels and went to leave the study.

“You better not throw the fight this evening like you did last night either,” Thomas yelled to him. “I have a lot of money riding on your sorry arse. It would be a shame if you threw the fight and ended up even more in debt to me.”

The younger man didn’t react though. He kept walking straight out of the study door. Watching the door shut behind him, Thomas downed the last of his drink. He would have to be careful with Jarrah and keep a constant eye on him to make sure he did what he was being ordered to and nothing more. He couldn’t afford for anyone else to discover the extensive wealth his wife had hidden away in that study. He certainly couldn’t allow this native man to become suspicious and start investigating himself. If that were to happen, then he could lose everything he was working so hard to obtain.

* * * *

Emily paced up and down the small office, her arms folded tightly around her waist, her gaze focused on the dust on her shoes.

“I thought you were to be in town earlier this morning?” Peter Carcary, her father’s lawyer, inquired.

She nodded. “I was, but I had to stop at the stables to see the owner on business matters. I ended up...” Her words trailed off. He didn’t need to know about her adventures at the stables.

“I do have other appointments today, Emily. So if you’d rather do this some other day—”

“I’m not sure how much longer I can do this,” she stressed, glancing at the man who was now her lawyer. He wasn’t a big man by any means, nor was he young, but he was good at his job. Above all, she trusted him. “Father knew I never wanted this marriage,” she continued.

“Yet it was Albert who arranged your nuptials before his death,” he immediately reminded her.

“Are you saying my father wanted his only daughter married to a philandering snake who wants nothing more from me than whatever wealth he thinks I inherited?”

Peter went to her, his hand resting on her shoulder supportively. “Emily, Albert did the best he could for you, including setting you up so you would never have to struggle for anything in life. Maybe he thought Thomas was better than the other money-hungry bastards that would have come chasing you as soon as Albert was buried.”

Emily shook off his hand, taking several steps away from him. “I have documents in my possession that could ruin some of the greatest families in the district, not to mention put them in financial ruin. My father guarded the secrets with his life. They may have even cost him his life. I doubt he would just hand them over to a man he hardly knew.”

“You don’t know just how much Albert knew about your husband,” Peter pointed out.

“When I begged him to release me from the engagement before his death he swore he would look into Thomas’s past,” she told her lawyer.

“Did you ever consider there was nothing found?”

Emily wasn’t amused by his comment. “We both know my father died before he could find anything. Now I’m saddled with a husband whose past is more elusive than a career criminal. So elusive even you couldn’t find out anything about him.”

Peter appeared suddenly uncomfortable. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Emily,” he stammered.

“Bollocks!” she cursed. “My father told me you’d been investigating Thomas since he sent a letter to him asking for my hand in marriage, so you can quit pretending the horror of this marriage is all in my mind!”

“Is the marriage really as bad as that? Just because we can find nothing on your husband or his past doesn’t immediately make him a bad person.”

“I’m being forced to stay married to a man who spends more time in the beds of the whores in this town than he does at the cattle station he’s supposed to be helping me run,” Emily said, her voice strained. “Thomas beats me when I’m foolish enough to be left alone with him, demanding I give him the key to Father’s old study. He keeps raving about getting his hands on father’s papers. He even tried to rape me the other night, saying it was his husbandly right.”

Peter looked horrified by what he was hearing. “Has your marriage to Thomas been consummated?”

“I have managed to avoid such a pleasure,” she replied sarcastically.

“Then you’ll be able to get the marriage annulled,” Peter told her. “It’s a tad humiliating as you’ll have to be inspected by the doctors to ensure your virginity is still intact, but surely even that’s better than—”

“That’s not going to happen,” Emily cut him off. “I can’t let those doctors examine me.”

“Heaven’s sake, why child?” Peter queried, taking a seat and pouring himself a drink. “It’s belittling for sure, but even that must be better than what you’re telling me that bastard you call husband has been putting you through!”

She smiled, though it was from sadness and not any other emotion. “If those doctors inspect me, they’ll decide it is I who has been having an affair,” Emily revealed. Seeing Peter’s curious frown, she shook her head. “I haven’t been, Peter. I had a horse riding accident when I was younger. The nurse told me my hymen was stretched to near invisible. With age, she was certain it would disappear in total with no interference from a man.”

“So divorce him then,” Peter said suddenly.

She laughed at the foolish bluntness of such a suggestion. “You know better than anyone I can’t even entertain that idea. Not only is it extremely expensive, but I run the risk of losing everything Father left to me.”

“Not if you can prove Thomas guilty of some other crime, one that proves he only married you to gain access to your assets,” the lawyer explained. “If you can prove he has also been unfaithful—”

“Thomas is a man, no one cares about his infidelities.” Emily laughed, unamused. “And he is smart enough to never allow me to catch him in bed with another woman. To even entertain the idea, I’d need photos, letters, and the sort from the women he frequents. He’s too smart to keep any of that. As for other crimes, I wouldn’t know where to start looking.”

Peter held her stare for a while before clearing his throat. “I might know someone who can help you get the proof you need,” he finally offered. “It still won’t be easy to finalize your divorce and keep all your assets in place but, with some rearranging of title names, I should be able to safeguard most of them.”

“Those assets are all I have left,” she said, her hands again tightening around her waist. “My father left so many things unanswered when he died, so many things I need to resolve.”

“There were countless things Albert hoped you would never need to know,” Peter uttered. Standing up, he walked to the door and opened it. “I’ll take you to the fighting hall. The man who runs it should be able to help you.”

“No one there will help me.” She grimaced. “The manager is at least a month behind on his rent.”

“Then you may have to waive what he owes you if you want his help. It’s your choice, Emily. Either he pays you what he owes you or he supplies you with a man who’ll allow you to get a divorce. You can’t have both.”

Staring at her lawyer, she knew what he said was right. She couldn’t have both things. She would have to choose what was more important to her. Her freedom or money.

“We will enter through the back door of the fighting hall in case Thomas is there,” she told him as she walked toward the open door. “I’m fairly sure the idiot who runs it will be expecting me anyway.”

* * * *

Emily walked through the back door of the fighting hall, her heart in her mouth. She hated going to these businesses she’d inherited, demanding the owners and managers pay their rent, but she also knew she had little other choice. Since her father’s death, the rent from properties such as this one was how she earned her living and safeguarded the unpredictable profits from the cattle stations she’d also been left. She also learned the hard way that most of the owners of the establishments using her late father’s properties were much more reluctant to pay their rent to her than they had been to her father. Still, she would be damned if she let any man walk over the top of her.

“Ms. Holtz, I wasn’t expecting you,” the manager of the fighting hall, Walter Hartmann, said as he quickly stepped toward her. “This really isn’t the best time for you to have come for a visit.”

She stopped, her brow raised. “It never seems to be the right time, Mr. Hartmann. I’m wondering if my father were still alive, would you make so many excuses to avoid paying your rent?”

“It’s not like that,” Walter started defending himself. “It’s just you need to understand in a business such as mine—”

“What you need to understand is that I own this land, and I can have this shack of yours dismantled in a matter of hours and your so-called business reported to the authorities,” Emily cut him off, her words harsh and direct.

“Boxing isn’t illegal, Ms. Holtz,” he reminded her.

“What you allow in here isn’t boxing though. Those men out there in your so-called boxing ring who get beaten to a pulp by bare knuckles on a near-nightly basis are there because they have little other choice. Most have debts to pay or are shunned for the colour of their skin and are unable to find work anywhere else. They make their living off the money being passed around your hall in bets, and you, sir, make your profits off the blood of those poor bastards!”

“Emily, now isn’t the time,” Peter Carcary reprimanded her as he stopped beside her. “We’re here on business, remember, not for your own personal vendetta regarding fighting halls.”

Having been put in her place, Emily nodded in submittance. “Very well, Peter. Do what you must.”

Having been given full reign by her, Peter stepped toward the manager of the fighting hall. “Mr. Hartmann, we need a young man who’s willing to do a job for us. Some simple scouting work. Someone who can get around virtually unnoticed to gather some information for Ms. Holtz.”

“Say I have such a man for you, what do I get out of it?” Walter inquired bravely.

She raised her brow at the unashamed greed of this man before her. She wanted nothing more than to slap the smug expression from his face, but she knew now was neither the time nor place.

“I’ll waive the rent you owe me if you can supply me with such a man,” Emily answered him reluctantly.

“He’ll be well cared for,” Peter continued as if to further persuade him. “He’ll be given clothing, food, and shelter while he is in our employ.”

Walter shook his head as if what he’d just been told was of no importance to him. “Follow me,” he said, waving his hand at her and Peter. “I think I have the man you need.”

“I can’t go in there!” Emily balked. “I refuse!”

Peter reached for her elbow and gripped it tightly. “If you’re going to continue as a business woman, then you would do best to learn there are things you’ll have to do that go against every moral you have.”

Not waiting for her to argue the point with him, Peter pulled her along as he followed Walter into the fighting ring.

Entering the crowded want-to-be arena, she pulled herself free from her lawyer’s hold. “Surely you can’t expect to find the man we need in this monstrous place!”

Peter leaned into her. “You would be surprised the type of man who finds himself in these kinds of places, Emily. Even Albert found himself here once upon a time.”

“My father would never have lowered himself to bet money on such a barbaric sport!” Emily rebutted, quite offended by the accusation she was hearing.

“Albert never bet on the sport, Emily,” Peter corrected her. “He was one of those poor bastards in the ring.”

“What?” she exclaimed, taken aback by what she was hearing.

Peter nodded. “He did what he had to in order to survive, Emily.”

“That man in the ring is the one you be after, Ms. Holtz,” Walter interrupted before she could question Peter any further. “He has a history of being used to gather information, and he’ll do near anything for money.”

She turned toward the makeshift fighting ring, her stare focusing on the two figures circling each other, their clenched fists raised and ready to strike.

“The half-caste fellow wearing the tattered jeans goes by the name Jarrah,” Walter muttered from close beside her, his hand raised to point out the man, unaware of her discomfort at what she was watching.

Emily froze at what she saw. She’d met one of those men in that ring earlier this morning at the stables. Though she hoped to see him again one day, never could she have imagined it would be here like this.

“I can’t stand here and watch this,” she said, turning her face away.

“It will be over in a few seconds, Ms. Holtz,” Walter tried to reassure her. “Just give your fellow a chance to get one hit in.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Emily turned briefly to watch as the brown-skinned man struck one punch at the other man’s face, knocking him straight to the ground.

“That was a clean knock out!” Peter exclaimed, astounded.

Walter nodded. “Always is when he fights. I’ll go fetch him for you before he leaves.”

“No!” she insisted, her hand going out to stop Walter. “I mean, I’ll go after him.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Peter asked her.

She nodded. “If I was that man and Mr. Hartmann came asking me to do a job, I doubt I’d accept.”

Emily walked off in the direction of where Jarrah stood taking his money. She didn’t know how she would put her proposition to this man, but she knew she must if she were to ever be free from the farce that was her marriage.

Pushing through the gathering of people there to see the fight, she wondered why this man wasn’t staying to bask in the glory of his win as so many fighters did. Following his quickened pace through the crowd and out of the fighting hall, she couldn’t help but think he seemed almost eager to be away from the establishment and the horrid events that usually were there.

Watching as Jarrah came to a halt on the banks of a small waterhole, the sun slowly setting around them, Emily stopped a few yards back beside an acacia tree. She was suddenly very aware that she was out there, all alone in the company of this half-naked stranger. He wore only the ripped jeans he’d fought in. They hugged his rear and legs, defining the masculine beauty that was this man. Now standing so close to him, she realised he was taller than she first thought, being nearly a full foot taller than herself. He was unlike any man she’d seen before, his jawline strong and defined, his black hair glistening in the setting sunlight. Her stare settled on the bared coffee-brown skin of his back, and she admitted that never before had she found such pleasure in seeing a man in a state of partial undress. In truth, she’d never gazed upon the naked back of any man before, not even her husband. That she was now with this native man both scared and thrilled her. Would he hurt her? Would he help her? Emily had no way of knowing.