Wanted: One Scoundrel by Jenny Schwartz Read Free Book Online Page A

ran out at the sight of Esme. He took charge of the horse and a coin.
    Bombaytown was nowhere as large as the Chinatown he knew back home, but it was a unique and surprising experience in this remote Australian settlement.
    A small spice market held exotic scents, intensified by the smell of food cooking in surrounding homes. Voices rose and fell in the sounds of family life, but the language was strange to him. No mistaking though, the laughter of children and a mother’s scolding voice.
    There were tea merchants and textile warehouses, as well as smaller shopfronts with little cards offering professional services: doctors, lawyers, moneylenders, ayurvedic practitioners. He questioned the latter.
    “An ancient form of healing,” Esme said. “It cures colds and helps consumption. I think most households in Swan River have something from here in their medicine chests. Bombaytown actually started before the goldrush. Swan River is quite close to India—not so much in distance as in the absence of nations in between. We are linked by the Indian Ocean and we’ve supplied India with horses for a number of decades, and then, there’s the sandalwood.” She paused and inhaled appreciatively. “The scent of sandalwood is always on the air here. It’s one of the things I love about Bombaytown.”
    She indicated a large pile of branches that he’d taken to be rubbish piled against the side of a warehouse. “That’s cut sandalwood. It grows naturally to the east of Perth and some farmers are also trying to establish plantations of it. There’s a voracious market for sandalwood in India. They burn it as incense and use it in soaps and herbal compounds.”
    Beyond the pile of sandalwood branches a shallow tin dome, perhaps an arm span across, sat alone in a bare batch of ground. As they walked closer, Jed saw that a lively scene of tigers, monkeys and coiled serpents had been beaten into the tin.
    “A fire pit?” he hazarded.
    “Almost. Mrs. Dam calls it her radiant monster. She’s an inventor. You met her at our tea party.”
    “The taller of the two Indian ladies?”
    “Yes. Ayesha is clever. She thinks about things. Since it’s a rainy day, she’s pulled the cover over the mechanism. If it were open, you’d see the mirrors she’s arranged to intensify sunlight. She uses the heat to boil a thin layer of water. She thinks steam power ought to be cleaner than what we achieve by burning coal. It would be lovely if she could make it work. You’ve arrived in the worst of the winter weather, but mostly we have days of clear blue skies and sunshine. Using the sun to create steam makes sense.”
    “It’s certainly an interesting idea. Does Mrs. Dam use any magnification?”
    “I believe she’s exploring the concept. Be sure to ask her, you’ll make her day.”
    “I will.”
    In the open fields beyond the town, children ran laughing, launching paper kites into the air. The scraps of bright color soared high, tugging at the strings that held them to the earth.
    “The kites are left over from Bombaytown’s midwinter celebrations.” Esme shaded her eyes with a gloved hand. “The children made them from paper donated by Fremantle merchants.”
    Not all the children were Indian, either. Blond and red heads gave away the ethnic mix of the kite flyers. Jed commented on it.
    “That’s the best part of our midwinter celebrations. Everyone joined in, sharing the best bits of their beliefs. Even Father left the children a gift before he went prospecting. He built an automated sweets-dispenser and set it up by the water fountain near the Post Office. The children emptied it in a day. It’s in the shape of the Three Kings and one of their camels.” She laughed. “A very odd-looking camel. Francis is keeping it filled with peanuts for the children to enjoy.”
    “I’ll look for it,” he promised.
    Their slow stroll brought them back to the Chai House with its bright-colored wall hangings and intricately carved wooden