Free A HAZARD OF HEARTS by Frances Burke Page A

particular
area. Or are you one of those men who see a woman as an adjunct, a background
figure against which a man struts and orders the lives of others?’ Elly’s tone
was too tart, she knew, but she truly believed that her sex was underrated. She
also admitted privately that something in her needed to prick this man’s
self-assurance.
    Paul spurred the horse into a fast trot. ‘I don’t
agree that is the common view of women. They have a necessary part to play in
family life, wielding power in the home, which is their natural place. But
women in public life would be a scandal and a mockery to their femininity.’
    Bumping uncomfortably now on her steed’s rump,
Elly spoke jerkily, in short phrases. ‘Aha. So you are one... of them. Afraid
of challenge. Afraid to think... of women as intellectual equals.’
    ‘Not at all. I prefer to think of them as nature’s
counterpart to men, a restraining influence, more resilient, less driven by the
need to achieve, to conquer. Female softness is a necessary balance, to be
preserved and protected at all times.’
     Elly snorted, seeing that further argument
would not only be futile but could lead to an uncomfortable clash with her
rescuer. ‘Very well, Mr Chauvinist Gascoigne, we shall talk of other matters.’
    Paul slowed as they reached the top of a steep
incline and retorted, ‘We’d best not talk at all, while on this slope. I think
we should find a reasonably level place to camp. The sun’s almost gone, but the
river is still a mile on, if my reckoning is correct.’
    Elly subsided but continued to silently plan a
few future agreeable sorties against the bastions of Mr Gascoigne’s prejudice. Was
this the reason for his solitary nature, or did something else lie behind his
wariness with others of his kind? Animals drifted to him, and Pepper, running
ahead as usual, was his slave; but for all her efforts, Elly herself could come
no closer to understanding him.
    Once at the river they progressed more easily,
spending the night on a grassy bank with the sluggish murmur of the water in
their ears. They broke camp early, a few hours’ ride along the watercourse
bringing them to a large lagoon known as The Broadwater. There on its shores
they found a mill where they bargained for passage on a log raft being drifted
across to the next section of river. This shallow stream, unnavigable by
anything but a flat-bottomed barge, passed through thick rainforest and
followed the coastline down to Port Stephens.
    Sore from the unaccustomed exercise on horseback,
and disgruntled with her silent companion, Elly appreciated the change. The
animals rested, also, and she even began to believe they enjoyed the different
scenery. This had altered drastically to swamp forest and sand flats dotted with
tea-tree and cabbage palm. At times the gums and banksia closed in then gave
way to open heath following the gentle slopes of old dunes where wallabies and
dingoes came down to the river to drink. At night, when they pulled in to the bank,
above the hum of mosquitoes Elly could hear the sea.
    Ten miles from the Broadwater the river debouched
into Port Stephens where they bought passage on a paddle-wheeler carrying
milled timber down the coast to Sydney.
    By this time Elly and Paul had taken up
diametrically opposed positions on just about all subjects. Forced into each
other’s unrelieved company day and night, they seemed to disagree every time
they spoke, finding their only refuge in silence. When they finally boarded the
coaster she welcomed the chance to escape his company. Conscious once more of
her appearance in society, she sacrificed a petticoat to fashion a scarf,
hiding her maltreated hair, and carrying off her odd appearance with a
composure worthy of Paul Gascoigne’s own.
    After an uneventful trip they hove to overnight,
well outside Sydney Heads; then in the pearly dawn light they took on a pilot
and slipped into the harbour. Elly stood at the prow, absorbed by the