The Heart of Thornton Creek Page 8
Gazing at the open plains with their dun-colored grasses, Rebecca couldn’t imagine the land being more parched. Using a fan she’d purchased in Brisbane, she tried to cool her overheated face. “Is it always this hot?”
“Ya’ll get used ta it,” Woodman said. “T’day’s not so bad. There’re days when it’ll kill ya. Blacks sometimes dig in the ground alongside a mound and make themselves a little niche for shade ’til it cools off.”
“We’ve a river of sorts on our place. And a billabong.”
“What’s that?”
“A nice shady place where the river pools up. I’ll take you there.” Daniel allowed the reins to go slack and rested his arms on his thighs. “I thought Mum would meet us in town. I wired her ’bout Rebecca and our arrival.”
“Yais, she wanted ta come along, but she’s gettin’ the place roight nice for ’er family.” Woodman smiled, and his eyes disappeared in soft puffy folds of brown. “And ya know how yer father can be,” Woodman added.
“Yah, I know.” Daniel snapped the reins. He was silent a moment, then asked, “Where is my dad?”
“Up the north end of the station, checkin’ the herds.”
“He wired me ’bout the red water. How many have we lost?”
“None. The disease ’asn’t touched our mob.”
“But I thought . . . The wire said . . .”
Woodman shrugged. “Wal, ya know yer father. He’s not one ta ’ave his sons runnin’ off, eh?”
“Right.” Daniel clenched his jaws and said nothing more. After a bit he handed the reins to Woodman, then climbed into the back of the surrey and sat beside Rebecca. “We’ll be coming to Douloo soon, and I want to share your first sight of it.”
The sun baked the dry earth, and although the surrey had a top, Rebecca started to feel that if they didn’t get to the station soon, she’d arrive roasted. Letting out a slow breath, she gazed at a deep blue, cloudless sky.
“Right pretty, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.
Rebecca didn’t want to lie. “I’ve never seen a sky with such an intense shade of blue. It’s quite pretty . . . but . . . well, it’s a little stark here, don’t you think?”
A shadow of disappointment touched Daniel’s eyes. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’ll grow on you. Give it a fair chance.” He smiled, his cheek dimpling.
“I don’t mind, really. I’m sure everything will be fine.” But Rebecca wasn’t sure at all. She tried to think back to why she’d agreed to marry Daniel and move to this place. At this moment Boston and her aunt and uncle’s small house crowded with children seemed tolerable.
The surrey rattled down the bank of a dry creek bed, bounced over ridges cut by previous water flows, then climbed up the other side.
“Does this have water in it when the rains come?” Rebecca asked.
“Yais,” Woodman said. “Sometimes we get lots of rain. It’s a sight all roight. Water’s gushin’. Sometimes even this land is covered. And after, everything turns green and flowers pop up. Ya’ll see.” He winked.
Rebecca decided she liked Woodman. Maybe he can be a friend, she thought but quickly dispelled the idea. It would be inappropriate. But out here who was there? A dust cloud billowed in the distance.
“What’s that?”
“I’d say a mob of mutton,” Woodman answered with a grin.
The dust moved toward them along with the sounds of barking dogs and bleating.
“There must be an awful lot of sheep,” Rebecca said.
When the animals could be distinguished from the dust, Woodman pulled back on the reins and stopped the horses. They waited while a dirty sea of wool and noise surged around them. Rebecca placed a handkerchief over her nose and mouth but couldn’t keep the dust from penetrating. Her eyes watered, and she coughed, trying to clear the dust from her throat.
“I thought you said you had cattle,” Rebecca yelled over the noise.
“We do. But a lot of our neighbors raise sheep. Like I said, my grandfather figured he’d have a go at cattle instead.”
A drover tipped his hat and moved by without a word. Gradually the din and dust faded.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Rebecca said, repinning her hat and wiping dust from her face. “I must be a sight. What will your family think?”
“No worries. They’ve made the trip—they understand.” Daniel wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek and planted a kiss there.
The gesture startled Rebecca. He acted as if he loved her, like a real husband. He is my real husband, she thought, remembering the kiss. It had been tender, and she felt a sense of being cared for. Her fears about her new home quieted.
“We’ve lived out ’ere a long while. We’re used to the dust. Mum says it’s a constant battle.”
The idea of contending with unremitting dust swept away Rebecca’s temporary ease. She’d hoped that by some miracle this thirsty world would disappear at Douloo. Silly of me to believe that in the midst of this place a moist patch would simply appear. She swallowed her disappointment and asked as cheerfully as possible, “How much farther?”
“We’re nearly there. We’ll see home soon, eh?” Daniel offered Rebecca a smile.
She managed to smile in return, but inside she quailed.
Woodman glanced back at Daniel. “Few days ago some blackfellas were caught poddy dodging down in the south end of the district.”
“Whose place?”
“The McGregors’.” Woodman clicked his tongue at the horses.
“They get away with many?”
“A fair number of cattle were lost. But they carted off them rustlers, they did. No one ever seen ’em again. Hanged, I figure.”
His words reverberated in Rebecca’s head. “What do you mean hanged? Without a trial? People don’t just hang other people. What about the law?”
“‘Round ’ere if ya get caught breakin’ the law, ya pay for the crime, and more so if yer black.”
“Even if they were black, they deserved a hearing,” Daniel said, anger in his voice.
“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Rebecca asked, fear spiking through her.
“Roight often. But them blackfellas knew better. They shoulda kept their black ’ands to themselves.”
Rebecca felt sick. “They had no trial?”
“Nah.”
Rebecca fanned herself and stared out at the bleak surroundings.
“How’s Mum been?” Daniel asked, as if he were trying to change the subject.
“Wal, she was real sorrowful in the beginning, but she’s lookin’ roight healthy these days.” One of the horses stumbled, and he tugged on the reins. “Ah, steady there.”
No one spoke for a moment; then Woodman said, “I had a dream ’bout Elton. He was racin’ his horse across the flat, ya know the place down by that batch of ghost gums along the creek bed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He was runnin’ one of the brumbies hard, goin’ faster and faster, and then that horse just took into the air. He was flyin’, he was. And Elton was happy. I could feel it. He’s roight happy.” Woodman steered the horses around a batch of scrub. “I told yer mum ’bout the dream, but it only made her sad. She’s still grieven’.”
Daniel gazed at the dirt road, with its waves of heat rising from the baked earth. His eyes moved across the fields, where buzzing hordes of flies enveloped piles of dried cattle dung. “Mum was heartbroken when Elton left, and then to lose him that way. I shoulda stayed home to be a comfort to her.”
A sharp yip echoed across the open land. “What was that?” Rebecca asked.
“Dingo,” Daniel said. “We’ve got plenty of them. You’ve no need to worry. They’re nothin’ but pests.”
“What are they?”
“They’re like a dorg, only wild,” Woodman said. “Ya’ve no reason ta fear ’em. They keep their distance.”
“They can be a blight on ranchers though,” Daniel said. “Sheep and calves fall easy prey.”
“They’ve been known to drag off and eat almost anything, but I’ve never seen one attack a human.” Daniel offered an encouraging smile. “No need to worry.”
Rebecca felt wretched. Queensland was nothing like she’d expected. What would her life be like in such a desolate place? What would she do with herself? There certainly wasn’t a need for lawyers or teachers. There would be no trips to the philharmonic or to the theater and no quiet walks along the shoreline.
She didn’t belong. I’m truly a fish out of water, she thought, picturing a gasping pike. She pushed the image from her mind, but a sense of helplessness and desperation lingered.
The surrey moved up a slight rise, and a dark shape seemed to grow up from the earth. They drew nearer, and Rebecca could see a house among a grove of trees. They moved past a huge barn, outbuildings, and cottages. The house was large, three stories, and had an angled roof with dormers in front. It was freshly painted white and looked bright beneath the brilliant sun. A broad veranda sprawled across the front and wrapped itself around both sides. A garden of roses, lavender, geraniums, and other, unfamiliar flowers hugged a walkway. Like an ocean swell, shrubs and wisteria washed up onto the foot of the veranda.
Relief enveloped Rebecca. It looked much like the homes in Boston. “It’s lovely, Daniel. Really lovely.”
Although reassured, Rebecca couldn’t blot out the home’s surroundings. It stood alone in the midst of thousands of acres of nothing but grass and scrub. There was no town, no neighbors.
“I knew you’d like it,” Daniel said proudly. He stood and sucked in a deep breath. “It’s grand to be home,” he said without conviction.
A woman rose from a chair on the veranda and walked down the broad front steps. She was middle-aged, sturdy-looking, and had an attractive, friendly face. Long brown hair was caught back in a pale blue ribbon. Eyes alight, she hurried toward the surrey.
“Whoa,” Woodman called, hauling on the reins. “I brought ’im safe and sound just like ya asked.”
Tears spilled onto the woman’s tanned cheeks. She held out her arms as Daniel stepped from the carriage. “It’s so wonderful to have you home.” She pulled him into a mother’s embrace.
“I’ve missed you.” Daniel kissed her cheek, then turned toward the cart. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.” He took Rebecca’s hand as she stepped from the surrey. “This is my wife, Rebecca. Rebecca, this is my mother, Willa Thornton.”
Rebecca barely managed to keep her feet. Her right leg had gone numb from the long ride. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thornton.”
“Willa. Please call me Willa.” Her sky blue eyes, so like Daniel’s, smiled at Rebecca. Then the woman took her daughter-in-law’s hands. “I’m very happy to meet you at last. Welcome to Douloo.”
Willa turned to Daniel. “I’ve made some refreshments. I thought you would be thirsty and hungry after such a long journey.”
Rebecca noticed that Willa’s speech was crisp and clear, with only a bit of a lilt to it. Her diction was precise as if she worked at defining her words. That must be from her years in England, she decided.
“Right, Mum. I’m starved. I meant to have tea in town, but when I saw Woodman all I could think about was getting home.”
Willa looked beyond Daniel toward the barn. “Your father,” she said, her voice taking on an edge.
Rebecca turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man striding toward them. He wore a somber expression, and his eyes seemed unfriendly.
Daniel and his mother waited silently, their bodies taut.
Rebecca was suddenly afraid.
8
Bertram Thornton carried himself with dignity and confidence. He was a striking man, even handsome, and his sun-damaged skin gave him a rugged appearance.
He offered Daniel a slight smile and shook his hand. “Good to see ya. It’s been a long while, eh?” A well-worn hat shaded his eyes.
“Yes, sir. It has.”
Rebecca thought the greeting rather formal for a father and son.
Removing his hat, Bertram turned to Rebecca. “And this must be yer bride, eh?” He smiled, but his light blue eyes remained emotionless.
“Yes, sir. This is Rebecca. We were married . . .”
“Good to meet ya, Rebecca. Welcome to Douloo. I hope ya’ll be happy ’ere. Don’t guess it’s what yer used to.”
“No, sir, but I’m certain I’ll adjust,” Rebecca said, doing her best to keep her tone cheery. “You have a beautiful home.”
Bertram gazed at the house. “Finest in the district. My father brought every plank, every pane of glass, all of it, from England. He was proud of this house. And rightly so.”
In spite of Bertram’s sociable manner, Rebecca felt an underlying resentment. His words were amicable, but the look in his eyes remained indifferent. Even more disturbing, Daniel stood rigid and silent.
Bertram glanced toward the barn, where a man stood just outside the double doors. “Jim, I need yer help.”
The young man’s strong jaw and brown eyes were set as he walked toward the house. He wore dungarees and a short-sleeved cotton shirt. Rebecca couldn’t help but notice his good looks. He exuded self-confidence . . . or was it arrogance? Brushing long brown hair from his forehead, he winked at Rebecca in a way that no one would notice, then turned to his boss. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I need ya to carry the bags into the house. Woodman ’ere will give ya a hand.”
“Happy to,” he said, his tone belying his words.
He had no accent, and Rebecca thought he sounded American. Just knowing he wasn’t Australian made her feel slightly less isolated.
Bertram placed a hand on Daniel’s back. “I’ve got a filly I want ya to take a look at. She’s new. Just brought her over from the Linnells’. Ya remember the Linnells, don’t ya?”
“Yeah, I know them.” Daniel sounded annoyed. He followed his father to the barn.
Rebecca watched them go, wondering why Bertram’s words about the Linnells had been barbed.
“I’d like those trunks taken up to Daniel’s old room,” Willa said.
“Roight, mum.” Woodman hefted a large bag off the surrey. “Happy ta do that for ya.”
“I’ll show you the way, Rebecca.” Willa hurried up the front porch steps, the heels of her shoes making a hollow, clapping sound. “Right this way, dear.” She opened the front door and disappeared inside.
Rebecca followed her into a tiled entryway that opened onto an expansive vestibule with a wooden coat rack and a long bench resting along one wall. To the right, an arched doorway opened to a sitting room, and straight ahead, a broad staircase led to the second level.
Just as Willa started up the stairs, the sound of shattering glass came from another room. “Glory be! Now, what was that?” She glanced at Rebecca. “You go ahead, dear. Your room is on the second floor. Just go up the staircase, turn left, and go to the end of the hallway.”
Gingerly Rebecca placed her hand on the ornate wooden banister and started up. An intricately woven carpet of deep blue with gold and brown fibers cushioned her steps. One very much like it covered the wooden floor of the sitting room.
A bag in each hand, Jim brushed past her, thumping her leg with one of the pieces of luggage. He mumbled something and moved on.
Surprised at his rudeness, Rebecca stopped and watched him climb the stairs. Annoyance flared, and intending to give him a piece of her mind, she hurried after him. By the time Rebecca caught up to Jim at the end of the upstairs corridor, she had decided not to say anything about his discourtesy and simply asked, “Did Mr. Thornton say your name is Jim?”
“Yep. Jim Keller.” He pushed through a doorway.
Rebecca followed him into a spacious bedroom. “Are you from America?”
“Yep. California.” He strode to a large four-poster bed.
“I’m from Boston. It’s good to meet anoth
er American.”
“Means nothin’ out here.” Rebecca was taken aback, but before she could say anything, he continued, “In this territory we’re all countrymen. We need each other. Can’t be worrying about where a chap comes from.” Jim set the bags on the floor.
Rebecca searched her mind for something more to say. “Woodman’s very friendly. I’ve never known a black man personally before. Is he an aborigine?”
“He’s a half caste.” Jim settled golden brown eyes on Rebecca. “Sorry to see the likes of you here.”
“What?” Rebecca wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly.
“Nothin’.” He moved toward the door. “Just watch out for them blacks. They’ve been known to eat white folks.” Mischief lit his eyes.
Rebecca couldn’t repress a gasp.
Jim smirked.
“You’re teasing.”
“I never tease.”
“Do you like living here?”
“Yeah. I do.” He removed his hat and picked at what looked like a burr stuck in the brim.
Rebecca glanced around the cheery room. Two windows draped with white lace curtains let in sunlight. The walls were papered in yellow floral that looked like Japanese silk crepe. On the wall opposite the windows hung two small paintings, each portraying an English garden. Rebecca felt a pang of homesickness. They reminded her of the grounds at home.
As she took in the rest of the room, a longing for home set in. Large, mirrored bureaus sat on opposite ends of the bedchamber. Each had a delicate lace doily draped over it. One had a pitcher of water and a bowl, and the other an ornate china clock. A small desk below one of the windows held a hand-painted vase filled with fresh flowers. I’ll write letters home from there, Rebecca thought, a pang of sorrow pricking her—she had only her aunt now. A heavy armoire rested between the two windows. “This room is lovely, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, real lovely,” Jim said sarcastically, returning the hat to his head.
“Have I done something to annoy you?”
“Yeah, you moved here.”
His tone raised Rebecca’s ire. “And why is that a problem?”
“Yanks travel to Australia expecting adventure, thinking they’re going to find a grand life. When they get here they kind of wither. Some of them leave.” He gave her a once over. “Don’t figure you’ll manage well.”