Poppy at Summerhill Read online

  Poppy at Summerhill

  Poppy, disguised as a boy, has escaped from Bird Creek Mission to find her brother, Gus. Life on the road is hard, and Poppy is given shelter at the Summerhill Homestead. There she meets a new friend, Noni – but will Noni discover that Poppy is not who she says she is? And will Poppy find Gus before they lose each other forever?

  Meet Poppy and join her adventure in the second of four stories about a Gold Rush girl who dreams of a better life.

  Puffin Books

  I would like to thank the following people for their invaluable assistance: Koorie Elder, Uncle John Sandy Atkinson O.A.M.; Koorie Liaison Officer, State Library of Victoria, Maxine Briggs; Koorie Heritage Trust Librarian, Judy Williams.

  For Yullarah — the beautiful face of Poppy

  With illustrations by Lucia Masciullo

  Puffin Books

  Poppy has run away from Bird Creek Mission to look for her brother, Gus, who is heading to Beechworth in search of gold. She is dressed as a boy to disguise herself from people who might be looking for her – the police and Mother Hangtree, matron of the Mission – but her journey has not been easy. Along the way she has shared a meal with the famous bushranger, Harry Power, and almost been caught by the local policeman at Tocumwal. Luckily, a dog named Fisher saved her life. Just when Poppy thinks that things can’t get any worse…

  Contents

  Poppy at Summerhill

  1 FOLLOW YOUR HEART

  2 THE TRAP

  3 THE GATES OF HEAVEN

  4 THE TWINS

  5 TROUBLE WITH JOE

  6 MISSION BOY

  7 JOE IN THE POO

  8 WILD-EYED GIDEON

  9 BIGARRUMDJA IN THE SKY

  10 THE SECRET

  11 POPPY’S ESCAPE

  HOW I BECAME AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL

  WHAT LIFE WAS LIKE IN POPPY’S TIME

  BANGERANG WORDS

  FROM CHAPTER 1 THE CRAZY BOY

  Meet the other Australian girls and authors

  POPPY and her dog, Fisher, were resting by a rock in the sunshine. It had been a long journey escaping from the Mission and they were both very tired.

  Since running away from the policeman at Tocumwal her path had led her into the forest, but she knew she had to get back to the river. Then she had to cross it. That would be the hard part.

  Suddenly Fisher leapt up.

  Fear gripped Poppy as she rose to her knees, looking around. ‘Fisher, what is it?’

  There! It was only a small wallaby sitting on a rocky outcrop not far from their camp, its long furry ears turning this way and that. She breathed a sigh of relief. The dog bounded after it through the long grass.

  Over the past five days since Fisher had saved her from the policeman, their trust in each other had grown. When Fisher took off, Poppy knew that he would always come back. And when he made a kill, he never kept it to himself but would drop it at her feet, and she would pet and praise him. Thankfully he had never brought back anything bigger than a rabbit. She hoped he would catch something, but not the small wallaby.

  Poppy gathered sticks and leaves and squatted in front of last night’s dead fire. They hadn’t eaten anything for two days and Poppy’s stomach was grumbling in protest. She shook a Lucifer stick from its cylinder. Oh no! Only three left.

  The Aboriginal stockmen who sometimes helped Charley at Bird Creek had shown Gus how to make fire by rubbing two sticks together. When Poppy had asked her brother to show her, he had shrugged her off, saying, ‘Girls don’t need to know that sort of thing.’

  And that was exactly the problem – girls didn’t normally roam the countryside on their own. So to avoid drawing attention to herself, Poppy wasn’t a girl anymore. She was disguised as a boy now, and needed every skill a boy should have. Without a fire she wouldn’t be able to cook. Worse still, she would freeze at night. The days were becoming shorter. Summer would soon head north like the waterbirds, leaving a shiver over the land.

  Poppy scratched the Lucifer stick until it exploded into flame. She lit a bundle of dried grass and leaves. On top of this she piled sticks and twigs. As the fire grew, Poppy added thicker branches. The leaves crackled and curled as the coals came alive.

  She turned at the sound of Fisher pushing through the bushes. In his mouth he held a fat goanna with yellow stripes and a long tapering tail. Fisher’s lips were pulled up around the lizard making him look as if he was smiling. He dropped it on the ground and sat down, panting.

  ‘Good boy, Fish,’ Poppy said, rubbing his side. ‘Did that old wallaby outsmart you?’

  Fisher’s ears drooped as he looked at her.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re a good hunter.’ She gave him a scratch at the nape of his neck, his favorite reward.

  Picking up the lizard by the tail, Poppy flipped it on its back. Now came the worst part of all. Even though it was dead, she had to skin it, then take out its insides. A small shiver ran through her.

  She took a deep breath, her knife poised over the body ready to make the first incision. ‘Thank you, lizard, for giving up your life to feed us,’ she said. Then, with her eyes scrunched up, she stabbed the goanna’s creamy white chest.

  As the lizard cooked in the coals, Poppy sat cross-legged, watching the flames dance and the sparks swirl like golden butterflies. All at once she was reminded of Blossom and her graceful dance. Dear, sweet Blossom. Then her thoughts turned to little Daisy, and Juniper and Tobiah, and to all the orphans at Bird Creek. Tears sprang to Poppy’s eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and leant forward, prodding the goanna from the coals. It was no use thinking of Then. Then only made her sad. She had to concentrate on Now and finding Gus before he returned to Bird Creek and found her gone. She would be turning twelve soon.Time was running out.

  As she and Fisher ate, Poppy’s thoughts turned to that night when she had found the secret code with the words LINTIAN and the two Chinese symbols carved into the tree. ‘Where could Gus be now?’ she sighed. The only thing was to stick to her original plan of reaching Wahgunyah. Perhaps in that town she would find someone who knew about the Chinese poster at Tocumwal – the one with the red tiger seal. The same red seal was on the mysterious letter in her pocket. It must be something to do with our father, she thought. She felt for it to make sure it was still there.

  The sun had lifted above the trees. Poppy cleaned their camp, burying the fire well, spreading branches and leaves over the area. Standing with her satchel on her shoulder, she looked back at the place with satisfaction. A good tracker might be able to tell someone had stayed there. But to the casual eye it looked just like undisturbed bush. She gave Fisher a pat and they set off to look for the river.

  It was late in the day when Poppy and Fisher came to a fork in the road. One track led into a dim, dark forest, but looked easier to walk. The other was harder, climbing upward. But it was clear and bright.

  ‘What do you think, Fish?’

  Fisher cocked his head to one side.

  Reaching inside her jacket pocket, Poppy took out a handful of berries. Eating seemed to clear her head. What were Gus’s words just before he left? Oh yes, that’s right. ‘When I’m not around and you have to make a decision on your own, you gotta let your heart tell you what to do, Kalinya.’

  ‘But my heart only knows how to cry when it’s sad and laugh when it’s happy,’ she had replied.

  ‘You’re wrong. Your heart knows more than that. But you have to take the time to listen.’

  Hmm … listen to my heart, she thought. All right, Gus. Let’s see if it works.

  Closing her eyes, Poppy faced the track that led into the dim, dark forest. It was strange. A part of her, her legs in particular, wanted to take the easy way. But w
hen she faced the other track, her heart swelled and she knew.

  Fisher ran on ahead, barking for her to follow. He seemed to know instinctively which way to go.

  It was only a gentle ascent at first. Another mile or so, however, and the track began to climb in earnest, winding between boulders and amongst trunks of thin twisted gums. Poppy was puffing hard and had to stop. She watched Fisher go over the crest of the hill and struggled after him.

  As she neared the top, a cool breeze washed over her. Then she took one more step and gasped.

  There spread out before her like a shimmering mirage lay a vast landscape covered in dense forest. A tiny town sat snuggled into soft rolling hills. And there too was the river sparkling in the sunlight. Far off in the distance, Poppy saw purplish peaks covered in something white. With a thrill she realised it must be snow.

  Above her, clouds drifted and wedge-tailed eagles soared. Poppy’s chest expanded and she breathed deeply, filling herself up with the bigness of the world.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Fish, just like the place in my dreams where Gus and I build our home.’

  Fisher wagged his tail and barked, beckoning her to follow.

  He was right, Poppy thought. It was only a dream. There was still such a long way to go. But sometimes dreams do come true. At least that’s what the storybooks said.

  With a sigh, Poppy took one last look.Then she and Fisher set off down the hill.

  DOWN on the flat land the tracks seemed to join, one after the other, until there was one wide track which meandered through forest then opened out onto swampland close to the river. Grey and white waterbirds with fine legs and graceful necks stalked the shallows. The mud was thick in these parts, churned up by wagon wheels.

  Poppy and Fisher passed the carcass of a mule still harnessed to a broken wagon. Only skin was left of the animal, stretched over a white cage skeleton. Fisher stayed back to sniff the body, snorted, then ran to catch up with her.

  Several miles on, while travelling through the forest, Poppy noticed a tendril of smoke in the distance curling upwards like a thin wispy ghost.

  Fisher ran off and Poppy groaned. Now she would have to wait for him to return. She sat down on a rock, took out her canvas water sack and drank. Just as she did, the Tear Jar tumbled into the dirt. Picking it up, Poppy cleaned it carefully on her jacket, then shook the fine silver dust inside. It was the only thing she and Gus had left of Napu. Their mother’s tears caught in a tiny bottle.

  In the distance came the sound of Fisher barking. Poppy looked up. She could tell that he wasn’t warning of danger. It was more a begging bark and it came to her wrapped around the delicious smell of roasting meat. She slipped the Tear Jar into her pocket and took off towards it.

  A thick clump of trees grew on the edge of a small clearing. Poppy peered between the trunks. A group of Aborigines, three men and two women, were cooking what looked like a sheep carcass on a spit over a fire. Their spears lay on the ground beside them and they sat with blankets around their shoulders, chatting and laughing.

  This was the first time Poppy had seen any Aborigines since leaving Bird Creek. She remained very still, watching them, remembering what Gus had told her. ‘When the squatters came they wanted land for their sheep and cattle, so they drove our people away from our hunting grounds. Many were killed and many starved to death or died from white man’s disease. All this land used to be ours,’ he had said angrily. ‘After that, the government rounded up whoever was left and put them on missions.’

  Fisher had stopped barking and was sitting on his haunches looking at one of the men expectantly. Poppy crouched lower in hiding, not sure what the small group would do. Fisher was always hungry and looking for food, but he seemed so friendly towards these people. Did he once belong to a group like this? she wondered.

  Suddenly Fisher pricked up his ears and looked into the forest, sniffing the air. The hackles on the back of his neck rose and he stood up, growling.

  One of the men said something and pointed. Then everyone was on their feet, hurriedly gathering their belongings, looking over their shoulders with frightened expressions on their faces.

  Poppy felt their fear and quickly looked around for Fisher. But in the confusion she couldn’t see him anywhere.

  She jumped out of her hiding place. ‘Fisher! Fisher!’ she cried out in desperation.

  Then she felt the ground tremble. The thud of hooves like angry thunder grew louder and louder.

  Horses burst through the forest into the clearing just as Poppy leapt behind a bush for cover.

  Four white men on big grey stallions raised their guns. Poppy watched in horror as they took aim at the people who had been sitting at the camp only moments before.

  A gunshot rang out. BANG! Then another. BANG! BANG!

  One of the women slumped to the ground, groaning. The other was screaming. For a few moments Poppy didn’t know what had happened. Then she saw blood spurting from the woman’s arm.They had shot her.

  One of the Aboriginal men helped the injured woman to her feet and they ran with the others into the forest.

  The riders pulled up in front of Poppy’s hiding place. Her heart pounded. Horses danced in the dust. Foam flecked their sides. They were close enough to touch.

  ‘They think they can steal our sheep and get away with it!’ a man yelled.

  ‘Split up, men. Looks like one’s been wounded. We’ll circle around them! They can’t get far on foot.’

  Then they kicked the horses’ flanks with their spurs and took off at a gallop.

  Poppy’s whole body trembled as she looked at the trampled fire, the half-roasted sheep lying on its side and the pool of blood on the ground.

  ‘Fish, where are you?’ she breathed as a sickening feeling rose up inside her.

  Just then, the pounding of hooves thundered back through the forest, heading her way.

  Poppy ran, pushing away the branches, stumbling over rocks, picking herself up and running again. It was as if dark shadowy fingers were reaching out to grab her. She ran on blindly as tears kept coming, pouring down her cheeks. The world was a blur.

  Then an excruciating pain ripped through her body. Sharp teeth snapped over her ankle. Poppy fell, writhing in agony, clawing at her leg.

  Everything went black.

  POPPY awoke from a nightmare. Shapes danced before her eyes. Clouds of colour billowed and swirled. Then, searing pain and an explosion of white.

  She groaned and tried to move but found she was being held down, gently but firmly.

  A dark face slowly came into focus.

  ‘You leg caught in big fella dingo trap,’ the voice of a man said. It was deep and rich. He pressed something damp and cool onto her ankle.

  No, don’t touch it, she wanted to cry.

  But the pain was easing. Whatever the man had put on her ankle seemed to be working.

  Poppy felt herself being lifted into the air. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she said, struggling against him, weakly. ‘Put me down …’

  The man remained silent as he carried her to his horse. He sat her in the saddle with her satchel and boots in her lap and climbed up behind her.

  She looked around for Fisher. ‘My dog …’

  The man pointed at the ground, and there was Fisher, looking up at her, his tail wagging as if he had never left her side.

  ‘Fish, Fish, oh you’re safe.’ Relieved to see him, Poppy slumped forward into the horse’s mane and closed her eyes. She was too weak to struggle anymore.

  The man spoke. ‘That one good dog, eh? I at the far paddock. He lead me straight to you.’

  Poppy only heard some of the words. It was as if the man was speaking inside a dark tunnel.

  One moment she shivered with cold, the next she felt as hot as coals in a fire. And the pain in her leg had returned with the movement of the horse. Throb. Throb. Throb.

  Through the fog in her mind one thought leapt out at Poppy. Gus had told her about the Aboriginal trackers who could pick
up footprints and signs in the bush. They were used by the police to hunt wanted criminals – wanted criminals like a mission runaway. Could this man be one of them? But she was too weak to escape.

  Finally she felt the horse slow to a walk. They had turned off the main track. When Poppy opened her eyes, she saw a pair of huge white gates.

  They look like the Gates of Heaven, she thought. She imagined Napu and Bartholomew waiting, ready to greet her.

  But then another thought made her heart race again. What if this is a mission like Bird Creek?

  As they passed through the gates, Poppy glimpsed a wooden sign with the word SUMMERHILL written in swirly black letters. A long sweeping driveway disappeared into the distance and on either side, through the tall feathery trees, she could see velvet green paddocks with horses and cattle grazing. Poppy’s head lolled back. A crow flew overhead. Gwaaak, gwaaak, gwaaaaaak, it called to her.

  This isn’t a mission, she thought, in a daze. It’s too rich, too grand. Too … beautiful.

  The driveway swept around a bend. A magnificent house with a wide verandah came into view. There was a pretty garden with flowers. And bushes in the shapes of animals – bears, kangaroos, lions, all standing guard along a maze of pathways. She had never seen anything like it before. Not even in The Book of Knowledge in Mother Hangtree’s library back at Bird Creek had she seen such a wondrous place.

  The man reined in his horse as they approached the front door. Poppy was drifting in and out of consciousness.The house looked fuzzy, as if it was enveloped in mist. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

  Then a lady swept out of the house and down the stone steps under a trellis of vines. Her hair was light brown and she had large green eyes. She wore a long blue dress with fine lace around the collar and cuffs. The material shimmered like light on the surface of the water as she walked. Poppy had never seen a more beautiful lady. Or is she an angel and this really is Heaven? she thought.