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“It’s gorgeous!” And it was. Already, Catherine felt a sense of peace and belonging. The bath had not featured in her dreams, but it was the most perfect addition and she couldn’t wait to try it out.
“So when was this place built?” Catherine asked.
Carly thought for a moment, her finger against her chin. “Oh, right at the start, I think, when the original Ryan brothers first arrived here,” she said. “So about 1868, ‘69, or thereabouts. A hundred fifty years or so. It was built before the homestead, I know that much. There’s dates and names carved into the wood all over the place. On a post at the shearing shed, and on the wooden fire surround in the hut. Lots of history. You’ll see them.”
Catherine nodded, but didn’t say anything. Carly hadn’t been able to tell her anything helpful, really. Nothing Carly had said shed any light on why this hut had featured so often in Catherine’s dreams. There was nothing at all that Catherine could see to link it to her in any way. It was old and cute, but seeing it in the flesh just left Catherine feeling more confused than ever.
They walked closer. Out of the corner of her eye Catherine saw something on the ground glinting in the sun. What was it? She bent down to pick it up and the second she touched it, a violent spark of electricity shot up her arm. She gasped, and jumped.
Whatever it was, it was still partially buried in the long grass and she knelt down to get a closer look, gently easing it free. She dug at the ground with her fingers, wedging her nail underneath the object, levering it up out of the ground. It took her a couple of seconds to figure out what it was, it was so matted with mud.
“Look! It’s a watch!” Catherine tugged the hem of her shirt free and used the thin fabric to wipe as much dirt away as she could. Slowly, years of mud and debris fell away, revealing a tiny silver ladies’ marcasite watch. The glass was cracked so badly she couldn’t make out the face at all. “It’s been there a long time.”
“I wonder if the excavations for the bath uncovered it,” Carly mused, making no effort to take the watch.
Catherine turned the watch over in her hand, sparks shooting through her palm.
“There’s something written on it, but I can’t make out what it says. It’s too tiny,” she said, squinting at the small engraved lettering, holding the watch up closer to her face.
“May I?” Carly held out her hand and Catherine pressed the watch into her palm.
“Did you feel the sparks?”
“Sparks?” Carly sounded puzzled.
“Electricity. I got a bolt when I picked it up,” Catherine explained.
“Static electricity, maybe?” Carly shrugged, tilting the watch on an angle against the sun, examining it closely.
“My darling C,” Carly read slowly. “Love, B.” She straightened up and looked at Catherine. “Strange. It’s old, isn’t it? I don’t know the family history here, but the only B I can think of is Benjamin Ryan—one of the brothers who founded this place. He lived up here, in this hut. He rode the boundary; this hut was his home. If I remember correctly, he was only seventeen when he came up here, and he died up here too, alone.”
“He never married?”
Carly shook her head. “Not as far as I know. Be a pretty hard life for a woman, up here.”
Catherine casted her mind back, trying to remember. Now that she was here at the hut the dreams were hazy in her memory, almost like she’d imagined them. She tried to picture the man she’d seen in her dreams, the one who stood beside the hut, the man who’d called her name so mournfully. He’d been hairy, with old-fashioned clothes. Heavy canvas pants, a grubby shirt. Wild, untamed hair. Big bushy beard. Not Benjamin Ryan, surely? Why would she be dreaming about him? That made no sense at all.
“What did he look like?” Catherine asked.
“Benjamin?” Carly shook her head. “I wouldn’t have a clue. There might be photos around somewhere, I don’t know.” She gave Catherine a puzzled look then, like she’d overstepped some invisible boundary. “Why?”
“Oh, no reason. Just wondering.” Catherine tried to brush it off, but what if it was him? This whole scenario was so crazy anyway, it wasn’t anymore far-fetched to assume the man in her dream was Benjamin Ryan, than it was to actually be here, in the flesh, at the hut she’d dreamed of so many times. It didn’t even seem real. She couldn’t voice any of this to Carly, though—Carly would think she needed to be committed. Catherine was almost starting to doubt her sanity herself.
“I wonder who that belongs to, then,” she mused.
“There might have been other women up here, over the years. I don’t know. I’ll ask the men, see if they know anything. I imagine the women had to come up here from time to time. They would have helped with the mustering, wouldn’t they?” Carly said.
“I guess so.”
“It probably belonged to Davo’s mum,” Carly said, pocketing the watch. “I’ll ask him.”
Catherine had her doubts, but she kept quiet. That was an old watch. It wasn’t the sort of watch a woman would have worn in the ‘90s, and it didn’t seem plausible at all that she would wear it to a place like this if it was a family heirloom and special. Besides, it had clearly been buried for a long time. What had been here before the bath had been put in? But she didn’t argue. If Carly could find out who owned the watch, it might help some way in solving the mystery of the bizarre dreams.
“What was her name? Davo’s mum?”
Carly shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll ask Davo. If it was hers, I’ll let you know when we fly back to pick you up.”
“Okay.”
