Dust on the Horizon (28 page)

At the sight of her Henry felt desire rise in him again. Dear God, this woman wasn't even his wife but she looked so delightful.

“I arrived late in the night.” He turned his back to her, aware of the bulge in his trousers, pulled on his shirt and went back to his tea to give himself time to regain his composure. He stood in front of the fire with his cup and turned back to Flora. She still hovered in the doorway, clasping her gown together with one hand and holding his son with the other. She was a fetching sight. “Where have you been with my son?”

“Mrs Wiltshire was so tired from the night feeds. I suggested Charles was old enough to sleep through. I took him with me to give your wife some rest.”

Flora was babbling. He liked seeing her flustered. He hadn't seen this side of her.

“And did he?”

Flora looked at Henry, her mouth half open, a questioning expression on her face.

“Did the baby sleep through the night?”

“Oh, no, but he didn't fuss too much. I got him back to sleep.”

With that Charles gave an extra loud wail as if to dispute what she said.

Henry put down his cup and held out his arms. “Let me take him.”

Flora hesitated then hurried across the room and handed Charles into his arms. She stepped back and her gown fell open to reveal a white cotton nightdress that was so threadbare he could almost see through it. She clutched at her outer gown, quickly wrapping it around her, and backed away.

“I will return soon to prepare breakfast.”

“Thank you, Flora.”

She turned and fled. Henry found the whole incident rather amusing. He lifted his son into the air level with his face. The baby stopped crying.

“Well, well, young man.” Henry bounced him gently up and down. “Aren't you the lucky one? Sleeping with Mrs Nixon.” Henry kissed the top of his son's head as the child began to cry again. “Time to wake your mother I think.”

Henry carried the baby up the hall, unable to remove from his mind the glimpse of Flora Nixon's breast, and the shapely figure silhouetted in the gown.

Twenty-three

Joseph leaned against a tree watching his children play in the shade by the creek. Parrots chattered in the branches over their heads and behind them the hill sloped away to the plain dotted with sheep. Lizzie sat in a chair keeping a close eye on Robert who toddled on stocky legs trying to keep up with his siblings. Ellen had gone up to the house to put her sleeping baby to bed and her husband, Frederick, and Thomas were deep in conversation

about ships.

They had all enjoyed a late breakfast together and the giving and receiving of Christmas gifts on this flat area above the creek where so many Baker family events had taken place. His mother liked to call it her outdoor room. Over the years various shades had been erected to add to that presented by the large gums and his father had created all kinds of outdoor chairs, varying in design and the degree of comfort they offered.

Joseph cast his gaze over the almost-dry creek below and across the valley to the plains. The meandering creek was studded with the tall gums. Barely a trickle now, it could also be a raging torrent carrying all kinds of debris in its brown wake. Wildu Creek was the place of his childhood. There were so many happy memories here. Lately he'd been silently conceding that his father may be right about Smith's Ridge. Not that it was necessarily cursed but over the years it had accrued so many unhappy family memories. He and Clara had been happy there but now Clara was gone.

“Penny for them.”

Ellen had returned and stood beside him.

“Nothing worth reporting.” Joseph gave a brief shake of his head. “Thinking about our happy childhood.”

Ellen tucked her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder, a lock of her dark hair falling across his white shirt. They were like cheese and chalk with their colouring. He was fair like their mother and Ellen dark like their father.

Ellen drew in a deep breath. “Wildu Creek was a special place to grow up in.”

“Now you're a town girl.” Joseph gave her a nudge. “Bet you don't run up and down the place barefoot like you did here.”

She nudged him back. “I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a woman now.”

Joseph gave a snort.

“It's certainly different living in town but I'm happy to live anywhere Frederick is.”

Joseph looked over to where her husband was deep in conversation with Thomas. Frederick was a shipping clerk and Thomas had developed an interest in the ships that docked at Port Augusta since his more regular visits to stay with Ellen. “He's a good bloke.”

“Oh, Joseph.” Ellen flung her other arm around him and hugged him close. “I'm so sorry. You must miss Clara even more on days like this.”

“It's all right. I'm glad you are happy.” Joseph closed his eyes. Esther's giggle made him open them again. William had built a little group of buildings from sticks and they were playing some kind of pretend game with stones for horses, and bits of bush for trees. In spite of their mother's loss his children were healthy and mostly happy. It still amazed him to see the transformation in his youngest daughter. Since her stay with his parents, Esther had been a much happier child. She still asked for Clara sometimes of course and cried for her mother but in general she was so much easier to live with. “I don't know what Mother did to Esther when she stayed here but she's come back a different child.”

Ellen let him go and studied the group before them. “Mother never stands any nonsense.”

“I didn't think Clara and I did either but somehow Esther was always in a mood.”

“Father's the soft touch.” Ellen shook her head. “My little Isabelle is not out of the cradle and she has him hanging on her every sound. When she smiles at him I think he's going to burst with happiness.”

“He has always loved babies.”

“Oh dear.” Ellen grabbed his arm. “I keep putting my foot in it don't I? You lost your own baby when you lost Clara.”

“Don't fuss, Ellen. Life goes on. You can't stop talking in case you hurt my feelings.” Once more he nudged her. “Although life would be much quieter.”

She chuckled. “And boring.”

They both watched the children again. Lizzie plucked Robert to her lap to prevent him from knocking over the game that had the other three children enthralled.

“How are you managing Robert?” Ellen slipped her arm through his again. “The day-to-day practical things must so hard without Clara. Mother said Binda and Jundala are still with you?”

“Yes. They have been a big help with the animals and the outside work. Their son Joe helps and their daughter Mary is good with the children. She's thirteen now.”

“That's still young.”

“I have a housekeeper as well.”

“Really?” She peered up at him. “Mother didn't mention it.”

“It's a new arrangement. Mother and Father both met her when she first arrived at shearing time. She's Binda's sister, Millie.”

“An Aboriginal woman?”

“What does that matter?”

Ellen shook her head. “It doesn't. It's just that I've never found them much good at keeping house.”

“Daisy and Jundala perhaps, but they've always stuck close to their traditions. Keeping house holds little interest for them. Millie is different. She has worked for a family on a property in the south and is well skilled at cooking, managing the house and looking after the children. She enjoys it and she's a much better cook than Jundala or Mary or me.” Joseph patted his stomach. “She looks after us well and the children are happy.”

“Well, that's all that matters then.”

Once more their gaze went to the children and their game.

“Yes it is.” Joseph nodded his head. He wasn't sure how they would have survived if it wasn't for Millie. And it wasn't just her ability with cooking and cleaning that he appreciated. It was her constant happy presence around the children. The younger ones loved Millie and even William enjoyed her company. She couldn't replace their mother but she filled a gap in their lives and for that he was most grateful. Even Binda appeared to have left behind his earlier misgivings about his sister's staying and life had settled in to some kind of comfortable routine since shearing.

“What are you two nattering about over there?” Lizzie struggled up from her chair holding Robert in one arm and nearly fell back again.

Joseph rushed to her side. “Careful, Mother.”

“I wouldn't drop him.”

“I'm not worried about Robert. I'm sure he'd bounce. It's you I'm concerned for. Can't have you hurting yourself before we've eaten your wonderful Christmas dinner.”

Lizzie's eyebrows shot up. “Your son needs some distracting. A walk perhaps?”

“I'll take him.” Ellen reached for the toddler. “Come to Aunty Ellen. I think there's a puddle further down the creek you can splash in.”

“Can we come?” Esther and Violet called together.

“Now look what you've done,” Joseph said to his sister.

“The more the merrier.” Ellen laughed and blew a raspberry kiss on Robert's plump cheek. “What about you William?”

“No thank you, Aunt Ellen.”

“Very well.” She took Esther's hand. “Come on girls. Don't tell your father but when we get to the creek we're going to take off our shoes.”

Both girls squealed in delight, their excitement as much for being part of the teasing of their father as for the thought of playing in the water.

Joseph shook his head at their departing backs.

“Perhaps you could come inside and help me with a few things I need to do for this Christmas food you're looking forward to.”

“Of course, Mother.”

“Do you need me, Lizzie?” Thomas looked up from his conversation with Frederick.

“No, you stay here. I only need one set of male muscles for the moment.”

Joseph offered her his arm and they walked across the patch of bare ground to the front of the house.

William watched his father and his grandmother walk away arm in arm. Snatches of his grandmother's happy chatter drifted back to him as they went. Now that they'd left there was little point in staying. His grandfather and uncle were only talking about the differences in the ships that came to the port. That didn't interest William.

He should have gone to the creek with his Aunt Ellen. She was always good fun to be with but part of him had wanted to stay with the men. If he sat quietly it was his observation that the adults in his life usually forgot he was there and adult conversation was often full of interesting fragments. He discovered all manner of things that he digested and put back together later.

“I hear there are many farmers struggling in these parts.”

William paused his building. His Uncle Frederick was changing the subject from boats. William was out of the two men's line of sight so he didn't even have to pretend he was playing.

“Those on the plains are having a tough time of it but most of us in sheep country are doing well although Joseph suffered some significant sheep losses this last year.”

“Through lack of feed and water?”

“No. We've not had the best year but we've maintained feed and our water supplies are strong. The losses are too high to be put down to wild dogs and natives.”

“What else is there? Disease?”

“One that goes by the name Ellis Prosser. Joseph's neighbour.”

“He's stealing Joseph's sheep? Can't the police do something?”

“If we had proof I am sure the constable would follow it up but Ellis and those who work for him are too clever. We haven't caught them in the act and we can't prove it.”

William was a little disappointed. He'd heard this discussion several times already between his father and Binda. The conversation was nothing new.

“It is very beautiful here.” William could tell his uncle was looking beyond the creek to the mountains in the distance. “But it is so remote. I don't know how you live here all the time.”

Thomas chuckled. “It was the last place I expected to end up when I came from England nearly forty years ago. Back then I thought Adelaide the most remote place on earth but this country claimed me for its own.”

“You don't ever want to go back to England?”

“Why would I? There is nothing for me there. Everything I love is here. My family, the land; although we have been sorely tested at times.”

“No doubt Ellen has been a handful.”

Thomas chuckled. “I meant by the land. Back in the sixties we suffered through a terrible drought. We could have lost everything, nearly did but for the help of good friends. What stock we had left we sent south. It was a grave time.”

“But you hadn't been here long then. You're more established now.”

“Perhaps, but we also had some dry seasons only a few years later. That was when Joseph took it into his head to go off in search of permanent water on Smith's Ridge. Luckily he found it and he survived but it's not enough. Nothing can save us unless it rains and we haven't had a lot of that in the last couple of years. It reminds me of the sixties.”

William pondered his grandfather's words. He knew his own father had nearly died when he was only a few years older than William. The land had been so dry he'd set off to look for the springs of water he was sure existed in the rugged country at the back of Smith's Ridge. He'd found a permanent waterhole but would have died had Uncle Binda not found him. William had heard that story many times but it was always in a lighthearted, joking way between Uncle Binda and his father.

“Joseph seems to be coping.” Uncle Frederick changed the subject again.

There was a pause before Thomas spoke. “I think so.”

“Are you worried about him?”

William sat perfectly still.