Golden Hope by Johanna Nicholls Read Free Book Online Page B

disguised ‘thumbs up’ sign to acknowledge his role in bringing the circus to town.
    Jesus! She’s that cheeky lad covered in axle grease.
    â€˜Seems you’ve won a heart. You know her, do you?’ Doc asked.
    â€˜You could say that,’ Rom said drily.
    The procession halted in front of the Diggers’ Rest. The troupe gave the spectators a taste of their expertise – juggling, performing handsprings and building a human pyramid with acrobats stacked on each other’s shoulders.
    Rom felt his hackles rise at the sight of the large swarthy man in Ali Baba costume who caused nervous squeals from the women spectators as he juggled lethal-looking knives, teasing them by suddenly advancing as if to place them in danger.
    Boss Gourlay, an impressive figure in top hat and scarlet cape, extolled the virtues of his circus, promising feats of daring never seenbefore in the Colony. He offered the crowd just enough to whet their appetite for the performances to come.
    After a rousing rendition of Banjo Paterson’s new song Waltzing Matilda was performed by the brass band, Gourlay presented Councillor Twyman with an invitation for his family to attend the opening performance.
    Twyman was forced to accept it but his aside to Pius James reached Doc’s ears. ‘That quack Hundey will rue the day he pulled rank over me.’
    Rom propped himself against the hotel’s veranda post, basking in the praise of those in favour of the circus. He was intrigued by the undercurrent being played out between the young girl on the white horse and the voluptuous brunette seated on the wagon marked Daring Dolores Hart and Little Clytie. Dolores was distracted, watching every move the younger girl made as if she were her instructor.
    Clytie. So that’s the kid’s name.
    His hackles rose again at the sight of the man billed as Vlad the Knife-Thrower. Large of frame and swarthy, his bare chest as hairy as a wombat’s hide, his full-blooming red trousers were adorned with an outsized sabre hanging from a jewelled belt. The muscles in his arms rippled as he juggled an increasing number of knives.
    Rom noticed that when he fumbled one of his knives, he hissed at Dolores, ‘Wake up! That was your cue, woman!’
    Dolores retrieved the knife with a graceful curtsy as if it was all part of the act. She graciously inclined her head towards Rom when he initiated a round of applause that was picked up by the crowd. Rom knew it was common knowledge that theatrical females were notoriously ‘easy’. He watched Clytie sweetly order her horse to cross his front legs and execute a bow – a final touch that delighted the crowd.
    Before climbing back on the wagon beside Dolores, Clytie turned on Rom a cheeky smile and in a time-honoured theatrical gesture blew him a kiss.
    â€˜Yes, sweetheart, I’ve got you hooked,’ he said softly under his breath.
    Gourlay was ready to move on. ‘Now if someone would kindly direct me to our venue, we will set up our Big Top ready for our first performance.’
    Fuming with impotence, Twyman refused to back down.
    Doc Hundey quietly took control. ‘It will be my pleasure, Mr Gourlay. The creek is rising, I’ll show you the safest crossing.’
    Doc slung his tweed jacket over his shoulder and armed with his medical bag, climbed up beside Gourlay onto the box seat and chatted as if they were old friends. Leaving the impromptu audience eager for more, Gourlay gave the order for the wagons to roll. Doc gestured to points of interest as he directed him along the route to the Cricket Ground.
    Rom was elated, his imagination fired by two lovely images. The twenty guinea reward that would soon be in his pocket – and Little Clytie’s teasing kiss.
    She’s damned pretty – in an exotic kind of way. Young, but not young enough to land me in gaol.
    He felt drunk on success despite past experiences when Lady Luck had proved a fickle