Dust on the Horizon (15 page)

Twelve

Lizzie stooped over the fire, coaxing it back to life, trying to bring some warmth to the big front room that had been Clara's pride and joy. The flames flickered and Lizzie watched them a moment, resting one hand on the long polished-wood mantel Joseph had set in the wall above the fire. Every muscle in her back ached. The children had needed so much attention. Over the last day and night she'd carried, rocked and soothed. She was out of practice at lifting and holding little bodies for long periods of time.

Out in the kitchen she had two cakes in the oven Joseph had built for Clara and a big pot of broth bubbling on top. Lizzie sucked in her bottom lip to hold back the tears. Everywhere she looked she pictured Clara, so proud of her big new house.

She straightened and put her hands to her hips, then arched backwards. Her throat was also sore. She hoped that didn't mean she was coming down with something like poor William had succumbed to.

The night of Clara's death had been every bit as cold as a winter's eve. By the time she had comforted Joseph and gone looking for her grandson, night had set in and so had more rain. The air was freezing and William hardly any warmer when she'd found him huddled in the tack shed. She'd heated water, bathed him and warmed him up before she'd tucked him into his bed. She'd kept him there most of yesterday. Mary had managed the little girls and Lizzie had looked after Robert and William.

The two younger children didn't understand that their mother wasn't coming back but Violet had been inconsolable and William the same, although reluctant to show it. Now he had a slight fever and a cough to add to his misery. She just hoped all four children would sleep a little longer. The sun wasn't up yet and it was going to be a long day for all of them, one Lizzie wasn't looking forward to. Today they had to bury Clara.

Lizzie had tried her best to shield the children from the sadness but Joseph was insisting they all be part of the funeral. It was the only way they would understand, he'd said when Lizzie had questioned him on it. At least Thomas would be here today, and their dedicated stockman, Timothy and his wife Eliza. Timothy was like one of the family. He had come to live with them as a young man. On one of his visits home to Port Augusta he had met Eliza and she became part of the Wildu Creek family, as did their children who were almost grown now. Lizzie would have plenty of others to help with the food and the children.

Lizzie turned at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Joseph stood in his crumpled clothing, the same clothes he'd been wearing two days ago when she'd arrived. His hair stood out all over his head and his face was haggard. He looked around the room through bleary eyes as if he didn't know where he was.

“Did you get some sleep, son?” Lizzie asked gently.

He turned to her, frowned, then winced as if in sudden pain. His legs wobbled beneath him. Lizzie rushed to his side and helped him to a chair. He raked his fingers through his dishevelled hair and put his head in his hands.

“How am I to survive without her?” he whispered.

Lizzie bent down and wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders. She felt him shudder as deep sobs wracked his body. Bearing witness to his raw grief nearly broke her heart. She was grieving too, for her daughter-in-law but also for her poor son who had lost his wife. Finally his soundless sobbing abated. She let him go and made some tea. They sat at the table together.

“I can't get the sight of her and the sound of her pain out of my head.” Joseph stared into his cup of tea. “And the blood.”

Lizzie reached across and gripped his arm. “I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner but I don't think there would have been anything different I could have done. Jundala and the other woman had more experience than me.”

“It must have been that damn tonic of Wiltshire's.” Joseph looked at her with wild eyes. “Clara had no trouble birthing the others.”

“Each birth can be different. Sometimes babies get stuck. It can be especially difficult if they're the wrong way round. Clara may have been worse without the tonic.”

“No. The old woman said it robbed her of the strength to push.” Joseph dug his fingers into his eyes as if he was trying to block the memory. “Clara said it didn't feel right. I should have done something sooner.”

“There was nothing you could have done, son.”

“Perhaps if I'd taken her to the Port, to a doctor, instead of leaving her with natives.”

“Don't go blaming yourself, Joseph. I am sure the old native woman was as capable as any doctor when it comes to birthing. This was nobody's fault.”

A cough came from behind them. Lizzie turned to see William hovering in the bedroom doorway. He was already dressed in the set of good clothes Lizzie had laid out the night before.

“How are you feeling, William?” She could see his cheeks were still flushed and his hair damp.

“I'm all right, Grandma,” he croaked.

“Come and sit at the table and I will warm some milk for you.”

Joseph lifted his head. “The cow.”

“Binda was up early too. He said he would see to it.”

When Lizzie came back from the kitchen with the milk, Joseph and William sat at opposite ends of the table in silence.

Lizzie put the warm drink in front of William and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did a very brave thing coming to find me on your own.”

Joseph looked up. Lizzie gave him an encouraging smile.

“It was William's idea to get you,” he said. “I didn't expect you so quickly.”

“Luckily he only had to go as far as the boundary waterhole. Your father and Timothy were moving the lambing ewes to higher ground. He was worried about this weather coming. Eliza and I had offered to check the waterholes and we'd just reached that one and set a fire for the billy when William turned up.”

A small cry sounded from the children's bedroom. Joseph turned his head.

“Robert's awake.” Lizzie got to her feet and gave Joseph a reassuring smile. “I'll see to him.” She crossed the room, trying not to stoop. Every part of her body ached already and the day had hardly begun.

William had never seen so many people in their front room. It was mainly full of ladies. Neighbours had come from all around, including Mr Prosser and his wife who were rare visitors even though their property shared a boundary with Smith's Ridge. The door was open in spite of the cool day and most of the men were on the verandah that wrapped around the front room.

They had buried his mother on a flat patch of dirt under a large gum tree. His father had said she'd always have the morning sun to warm her. There were plenty of flowers to cover the mound of bare dirt. The plains were covered in them and the women had gathered beautiful bunches. His mother would have liked that. She loved flowers.

There had been no priest available so his grandpa had read some verses from the family bible he'd brought with him all the way from England. William knew that Grandpa would record his mother's death in the back of the bible along with all the other births, deaths and marriages he'd documented over the years.

William bit his lip to keep the tears back. He'd been doing that all day but he knew his eyes and nose were red anyway from his cough. Mary wove through the room carrying Robert to his grandma. The women parted to let her through. Close by he heard some muttered whispers. William remained still but strained to listen.

“Walks through here as if she owns the place.” It was Mrs Prosser's voice.

“Looks after that baby as if it's her own.” The other lady, Mrs Marchant, was from a property further south. Her clothes were the smartest William had ever seen. He didn't recall her ever visiting their home before.

Another set of eyes studied him. Looking around her mother's skirt, her red hair fluffed over her shoulders as she watched him with pale green eyes, was Georgina Prosser. She was a little younger than William and years younger than her brothers.

William felt his cheeks burn under her scrutiny. Then Mrs Marchant's voice drew his attention.

“Poor Clara, such an awful birth,” she said, “and they say she was butchered by an old black woman.”

A cold shudder swept through William as he recalled the native woman smeared with blood and the bloodied sheets in his mother's room. Suddenly Mary's round face was inches from his.

“William,” she hissed. “Your grandma wants you.”

He glared back at her then glanced around to see if Georgina was still watching. She must have disappeared behind her mother's skirts and the two older women appeared to be talking about something else now. He stepped around Mary and went to his grandma's side.

“There you are, William,” Lizzie said brightly.

He noticed her cheeks were a deeper red than normal. “You remember Mrs Henderson from the property beyond Prosser's Run?”

“Hello, William.” A kindly faced woman smiled down at him. “I haven't seen you since you were about Robert's size.”

William pulled back his shoulders and thrust out his hand “How do you do, Mrs Henderson?”

A smile twitched on the woman's lips then she shook the hand he offered. “You've certainly grown into a fine young man. Your grandma was telling me you rode all the way to Wildu Creek to get her.”

“Only as far as the first waterhole.”

“Still very brave of you.”

“William, I was hoping you could take Robert outside for me. Find a place out of the wind in the sunshine.”

William reached for his brother and his grandma swayed beside him.

Mrs Henderson put out a steadying arm. “Are you all right, Lizzie? Sit down.”

Robert squirmed in his arms but William remained rooted to the spot. His grandma's cheeks were flushed but the rest of her looked so pale.

“No doubt you've been working yourself ragged looking after these children.” Mrs Henderson tutted.

William frowned. Was Mrs Henderson suggesting he and his siblings were a nuisance for his grandma?

Lizzie gave him a weak smile and patted his cheek. Her hand felt hot against his skin. “I'm all right William. Off you go outside while the day is still warm.”

William turned away clutching his squirming brother. His normally strong grandma didn't look well at all and it was probably because of him and the other children. He could look after himself but what was to become of the others? His father would be too busy. He squeezed past Mr Prosser on the verandah and recalled his wife's words about Mary. William gritted his teeth. He knew what his father would do. He would ask Mary to look after them. Anger wormed in his chest. William wasn't going to be cared for by her.

“Lizzie, I'm taking you home.”

She opened her eyes and looked up into Thomas's worried face, then at the early glow of first light beyond the window.

“Not now, Thomas.” She put a hand to her forehead, her cool palm soothing against her warm skin. Somehow she'd managed to get through the day yesterday but by night time she'd been exhausted. She'd slept fitfully in a makeshift bed in the big main room of Joseph's house. Thomas hadn't wanted her to spend the night in the little hut out the back. From beyond the door Thomas had left open she could hear a child crying. Probably Esther. Lizzie closed her eyes again. Her head ached and her chest was sore from coughing. “I can't face the ride.”

“Timothy and Eliza left us the cart. The rain has gone and it promises to be a warm day. I've made you a cosy bed in the back of the cart. If we set off now we will make Wildu Creek before dark.”

“The children.”

“William is recovered from his fever and the others haven't succumbed.”

“But they need care. They've lost their mother.”

Thomas took her hand. It felt warm and strong around her own. “Joseph has Jundala and Mary to help with the children for now.”

Lizzie coughed and pain wracked through her chest and back.

“You can't do anymore here, my love. You're too sick. I'm taking you home to Wildu Creek.”

“Very well.” Lizzie was too tired to argue. The last thing she felt like was rattling along in the back of the cart but she knew she was no help to Joseph as she was. Thomas couldn't spare anymore time away from Wildu Creek and she did long for her own bed.

In a very short time Thomas had her rugged up and bundled into the back of the cart, over which he'd rigged a canvas frame to give some protection from the breeze.

Lizzie looked back at Joseph, who held Robert with Violet standing beside him. Mary held Esther. Both little girls were crying, Esther loudly and Violet trying not to, with big tears rolling down her cheeks. William stood a little apart from the others, his face grim.

Wispy clouds passed over the sun giving a momentary grey light. Thomas clasped Joseph's shoulder then climbed up onto the cart, urging the horse forward. Lizzie jerked with the sudden movement. She tried her best to give the sad little family gathered on the verandah a happy smile and a big wave. It broke her heart to see her son leaning against the verandah post for support, his face so sad, his shoulders stooped.

Within minutes they were lost from her sight as the cart followed the track through large trees. Once more she clutched at her chest as a bout of coughing hacked through her. Finally it eased. Lizzie felt so tired and the bed Thomas had made was surprisingly comfortable. She huddled down into the blankets and closed her eyes.

Thirteen

“This is certainly interesting country, Mr Prosser.” Henry shifted his gaze from the gently rolling hills scattered with sheep to the backdrop of the rugged mountain range behind. This trip to Prosser's property was his first to the country beyond the plains where Hawker had been built.

“Much better than the plains. They shouldn't be farming there. Some have the strange notion that the rain follows the plough.”

“I've heard it mentioned several times. You don't believe it?” Henry shifted his weight in the saddle. His backside was beginning to ache. The horse Prosser had loaned him was steady and reliable but Henry wasn't used to sitting in a saddle. He'd made his way to Prosser's Run in his small delivery cart. With Catherine still in Adelaide and no word of the baby, he had taken the opportunity to leave Mr Hemming in charge at the shop and drive out to Prosser's property, a full day's journey in his cart. Last night he'd enjoyed the Prosser's hospitality and now he was getting a look at their land.