Chapter 3 

Joe used to bring me little presents when he came to see me, things he had picked up in the bush, like a smooth pebble that was an unusual colour or a cockatoo feather or a pinecone. Once he gave me a poem he had written himself – he was a bit of a poet Joe, they say it was him who wrote some of the songs they now sing about the Kelly gang. I still have that slip of paper; it’s my most treasured possession. It’s worn and creased from being folded and unfolded so many times but the writing is still as clear as the day he gave it to me. He had lovely handwriting did Joe. On top he had written ‘To Eileen’ and I can still see his face, how he looked a bit embarrassed when he gave it to me and I just kissed him because it was the best present anyone had ever given me. It’s not a love poem, in fact it’s about the bush, but it showed me that he had been thinking about me and that was worth more to me than any declaration of love could have been.  

“Let me read to you, Eileen,” Joe often said and then he would pull out a book and proceed to read it to me. Where he got all the books from I have no idea. I wasn’t big on books myself, but I loved to listen to Joe read to me. Often we would be lying in bed, his arm around me, and I would be watching his face while he read. He had such a lovely voice; sometimes I would be lulled to sleep by the soothing sound of it and would wake up when he stopped. Oh how I wish now I could have those moments back, I wouldn’t waste a single minute sleeping! 

I don’t think I ever really thought about the future or if I did, just expected that things would go on the same. I guess I had always vaguely expected to get married and have children one day but I was so much in love with Joe that just seeing him was enough for me then. I think we both took each other for granted in a way, I by expecting him to always come back and he by expecting me to always welcome him with open arms. I never asked him where he’d been or who with, and he never asked me. When we were together, it was just him and me. Sometimes we would go riding, Joe was an expert horseman and it was a delight to watch him, it was as if his horse knew instinctively what he was thinking and where he wanted to go. We would ride along the edge of the Gorge, with the whole of the Woolshed valley opening up in front of us and I remember thinking how lucky we were, living in such a beautiful place, with the vast open sky and all that green. To this day the smell of wood smoke takes me back to those winter afternoons, I can see the chimneys down below us, and all the wattles in bloom and feel Joe’s warm lips on mine when we stopped to kiss… 

I can tell you the exact day when it all changed and I had to face the future the way it was going to be. It was Monday, the 28^th of October 1878. 

It was a beautiful spring day, the sun bright and warm, a soft breeze carrying the scent of some flower I didn’t recognize. I had written a letter to my brother and decided to walk into Beechworth to post it before starting work. I was in really good spirits that day, I hadn’t seen Joe since early the week before and was sure he would come that night, it just felt like that kind of day to me. There was already a promise of summer in the air and while I walked, I amused myself with all sorts of ideas about what Joe and I would do when it got warm enough. I’m too embarrassed to write them down but that was what Joe did to me, made me think about things like how his skin felt against mine or how his mouth on my breast made me forget my own name or how when we came together it was like being on fire. He was such a physical man Joe, when he was there he was there so completely he filled the space around him with his presence. He would hold my hand or his arm would be across my shoulders, so our bodies were always touching. He smelled of the bush and the outside somehow, also of horse and leather and tobacco. Once he left a scarf behind, and I would hold it to my face and close my eyes and I could feel him there with me even though he was miles away. It was like he left a trace of himself wherever he had been and you could feel a brush of his spirit or something. 

I noticed something was going on when I walked past the Telegraph Office and there were coppers all over the place. When I walked into the Post Office, I saw groups of people standing around talking.  

“Has something happened?” I asked the clerk when I handed in my letter.  

“It’s the Kelly Gang. They’ve killed three policemen now, we just heard, Constable McIntyre was the only one who survived.” I think I stopped breathing for a moment. There had been lots of reports of what the Kelly Gang was up to; it seemed no one knew exactly who was in the gang apart from Ned and Dan Kelly, but I knew Joe was with them, for a lot of the time anyway. And I hadn’t seen him for a week. I paid for my letter and walked out in a daze. I didn’t believe it for one minute, my Joe was not a murderer. I knew the police were keen to catch the Kelly Gang because it made them look bad that they couldn’t. Hardly seeing where I was walking, I made my way back to The Vine. 

“You have heard the news then lass,” Mr. Vandenberg said to me when he saw me.  

“What happened, I heard three policemen are dead,” I looked at him praying for him to say something to make it all right somehow.  

“They say the Kelly Gang shot them in cold blood. I don’t know lass, I think they are in real trouble this time.” There was real compassion in his eyes and I felt like crying.  I don’t know how I got through that night, my heart was heavy and I wanted to be with Joe and I had no idea where he was and even if he was all right. I poured drinks and cleaned glasses but my thoughts were a million miles away, with Joe.  

Later that night Aaron Sherritt came in, he sat in the corner with a bottle of whiskey and I could see him glance at me every now and then. When his bottle was empty, he staggered to the bar.  

“You’re one of Joe’s girls aren’t you?” There was real malice in his voice and I pretended to be busy with rinsing glasses so I didn’t have to talk to him. “Well let me tell you he’s not going to be warming your bed tonight, in fact he’s gone to New South Wales with his great mate Ned Kelly and you will most likely never see him again.” He reached out and grabbed my arm. “I would be more than happy to take over for him, I’ve got everything he’s got and more.” I felt like he’d hit me across the face and while I was still reeling from his comment, Mr. Vandenberg came and led him outside. 

 “Come on Aaron, you’ve had enough for today. Time you were on your way.” 

That night when I walked home, I could hardly see the road for the tears. I cried for Joe, I cried for myself and I cried for our future together I had never thought about but knew now we would never have. Because if anything was certain, it was that the coppers would not rest till they had killed them all.

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