The Miner

Charles sat out the front of his dusty tent, bone weary from another day digging and no gold. His son sat across from him and he wondered if he had done the right thing to bring him over to Bendigo away from his mother and home.

Ah home, thought Charles fondly.  He was homesick so he couldn’t begin to imagine how the boy felt.  Oatlands might not be anything flash but it was better than this godforsaken place.  What he wouldn’t do to be sitting in front of the fire with Betsy.  God, even her rabbit stew would taste good compared to the mouldy damper he’d just had.  He chuckled at the thought of this, things must be bad if he was remembering that stew fondly.  Betsy was the best wife a man could want, but as for cooking, he didn’t like to speak badly of his wife, but she wasn’t the best in the kitchen!

He closed his eyes to wander down the main street of Oatlands, to his cottage at the north end of the street then south past the mill to his friend George’s shop where they spent many hours discussing the town and beyond.

Dammit, he thought, why am I here working my guts out for nothing and getting into more debt borrowing money for Betsy to live on when I could just go home and work. And with that thought his mind was made up, it was time for him and the boy to head home.