Band of Gold Read Online Free

and eyed Rian, who was leaning against the big yellow rear wheel of the coach. This morning he had dressed in a blue flannel shirt, black canvas jacket, snug grey moleskins and long boots. His dark blond hair, silvering slightly at the temples, was pulled back off his tanned and weathered face and he hadn’t bothered to shave. His eyes, bracketed by wry lines, were watchful. He looked devastatingly handsome and Kitty felt like bustling him into the coach, shutting the door and finding a way for them both to warm up.
    ‘Come on, it’s freezing out here,’ he said, and offered Kitty a hand to board, then climbed in and sat beside her. Amber followed and settled herself on the bench seat opposite, and Simon came last, bumping his head on the lintel and uttering a mild oath.
    ‘I hope it’s just us,’ Kitty said as she removed her bonnet and arranged her skirts.
    Amber gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘It’s cold in here, Ma.’
    In response, Simon unrolled all but one of the canvas covers on the windows, allowing just enough light to enter so that they could still see each other.
    But Kitty had spoken too soon: a minute later there was thumping and scraping as several items were secured to the roof of the coach, then the door opened and everything tilted as a rather large man clambered in.
    ‘Good day to you,’ he said, as he removed his hat and made a small production of looking for somewhere to sit.
    ‘Come over here, love,’ Kitty said, and patted the seat between herself and Rian.
    Reluctantly, Amber changed places.
    The gentleman nodded in acknowledgement and sat down opposite, his knees creaking in protest. He produced a bright green handkerchief, honked into it, then called out, ‘Come along, Mrs Harcourt—don’t dally.’
    The coach rocked again as a considerably overweight woman hauled herself up the step and squeezed inside. After a lot of manoeuvring and tsk-tsking, she thumped down onto the seat, squashing Simon rather violently into one corner.
    ‘My wife,’ Mr Harcourt said, to no one in particular.
    They appeared perfectly matched. In their forties, both were rotund and small-eyed. His mouse-brown hair was cut short and he wore whiskers, but Mrs Harcourt’s hair was invisible beneath an ornate bonnet with a pronounced brim and layers of pleated fabric and lace, the ribbons fastened beneath her chins with a small brooch. They both wore nicely cut clothes and good-quality boots. Mr Harcourt’s waistcoat displayed a watch and chain of heavy gold, and his wife’s fingers were adorned with several rings mounted with precious stones.
    Mrs Harcourt wriggled about until she was comfortable, then dug into a large tapestry holdall on her lap and withdrew a ball of wool and a pair of knitting needles. In no time at all she had cast on a row. ‘Inclement weather, is it not?’ she said eventually.
    ‘Yes, very,’ Kitty replied, moving her legs so that her knees wouldn’t touch Mr Harcourt’s.
    Silence fell, except for the clacking of Mrs Harcourt’s needles. Outside the five horses stamped and blew air between their rubbery lips, then a window cover lifted and the driver peered in at them. ‘All set? We don’t want to get behind schedule. Keilor, Melton, Bacchus Marsh, then Ballan, Ballarat, and end of the line at Bendigo.’
    There was a general mumble of assent and he disappeared. The coach rocked slightly as he climbed up onto the driver’s seat, then came a slight jerk as the five-in-hand strained in their harnesses andset off. Beside them the Criterion Hotel, Cobb & Co’s staging post, moved out of view, and they were away.
    Presently, Mr Harcourt asked Rian, ‘Setting out for the diggings, are you?’
    Rian nodded.
    ‘First time?’
    ‘Yes. And yourselves?’
    ‘No, I’ve travelled this cursed road many a time. But I retired from gold mining last year. Well, my health isn’t the best, you know. Hellishly cold out there this time of year, on the diggings.’
    Kitty gave Rian a pointed