Heart of the Country (20 page)

A bellow from the man next to him startled Thomas. Wallis was the unofficial leader of the small band of shearers. He was a thick-set man with wide shoulders and his upper body looked out of proportion on his short legs. Of the three shearers, Wallis had the most to say and usually did so with many expletives.

Thomas looked over his shoulder to see bright red blood pouring over the white of Wallis's newly shorn sheep. Wick appeared with the pot of black tar. Thomas watched as it was applied to stop the bleeding. That was just one more thing he didn't like about these men. They were far too rough. He'd lost count of the number of sheep they'd applied the thick black mixture to, and he'd had to slit the throat of one on the first day, its injuries were so bad. He docked money from their tallies for damage but it didn't seem to make them take more care.

Wallis glared at Thomas over Wick's head then shoved the lad out of the way before doing the same with the poor sheep. Thomas watched that Wallis didn't put a mark on the board. There was no way he'd get paid for that one.

“Should have slit its throat. Would have made a good roast for tonight.” Wallis twisted his pock-marked face into an ugly sneer. He held Thomas's look a minute longer then slid his gaze sideways and reached into the pen for the next sheep.

Thomas hauled his own sheep to its feet and pushed it through the door behind him with some small satisfaction. They were almost there. By knock-off this afternoon the job should be done: nearly three thousand sheep shorn. He had promised a celebratory meal, not that he felt the shearers deserved it; the celebration for him would be in seeing them off Penakie.

He moved quickly around the last pile of fleeces, pulling off any dags and checking for prickles and marks that could lower the price AJ would get for his wool. Jacob had already helped him load the first of the bags of wool onto the dray. As soon as shearing was finished, Thomas would make the trip back to Port Adelaide with a full load.

Outside, the midday sun belted down with the ferocity that had made the shed so hot, but at least the air was fresh. Thomas sucked in a huge breath and stretched. Behind him he heard Wallis give the shout to down shears. The men would take a break for an hour now, out of the heat of the shed. Wick shot out the door, making for their camp. Thomas once again felt pity for the young lad. There was no rest for him. He would have to be dishing up their food by the time the men reached him.

Thomas crossed to the water barrel and took a long drink before going to his camp kitchen where he had buried kangaroo meat in the coals to cook slowly for tonight's meal. Gulda had shown him how to do it so the meat didn't dry out or toughen. It was tempting to remove the dirt to check the heat of the layer of coals below but Thomas resisted. He knew he had to trust the process and leave it alone.

He wondered where the native and his family were now. Gulda had been a quick learner once he got over his initial fear of the horse and could ride quite well. He was also very good at rounding up the sheep, even without the horse, when he was with his cousins on foot. Thomas wanted Gulda to keep an eye on things while he was away taking the wool to the port.

He pushed his hat firmly onto his head and tracked around the side of his hut to fetch a piece of Lizzie's pie. He had just taken the last mouthful when the sound of a horse and cart rumbled from the creek. His spirits lifted at the sight of not only Jacob on his horse but Isaac driving the cart and, beside him on the seat, Anne Smith and Lizzie. They all raised their arms in greeting. He did the same then saw another rider bringing up the rear. Samuel had come as well.

“Hello,” Jacob called. “I thought you'd be about finished.”

“Not quite,” Thomas said, “but we'll cut the last sheep by knock-off time today.”

“You can't have cut out without a party,” Isaac said as the cart rumbled closer.

Thomas looked at Lizzie, whose face glowed under her wide hat. All the Smiths were beaming; even Samuel wore a small grin. They'd come to visit and he didn't have anything but a baked kangaroo to feed them.

“What's wrong?” Jacob was off his horse now. “I'd have thought you'd be celebrating. The shearing will be finished and you can see those poor excuses for shearers on their way.”

“I wish I'd known you were coming. I would have prepared more food.”

The cart came to a stop in front of the hut.

“Don't you worry about food,” Isaac said. “Mother and Lizzie have brought enough to feed an army.”

“I hope you don't mind us doing that, Thomas,” Anne said. “I knew you'd be too busy with the shearing to be thinking about food.”

“I've made a pie with the last lot of dried fruit you gave us,” Lizzie said as Jacob helped her from the wagon. She stopped in front of Thomas and her sweet smile made his heart thud in his chest.

“There could be extras if Mr Duff arrives in time,” Anne said.

“Duffy?” Thomas pushed back his hat and scratched his head.

“I saw him near the boundary yesterday,” Samuel said. “I mentioned you were close to cut out and that Mother and Lizzie were planning a feast.” He looked at Thomas apologetically.

“You don't mind, do you, Thomas?” Lizzie's gaze met his over the armload of food Isaac had passed to her from the cart.

Once again Thomas scratched his head. Some good company was more than welcome and it seemed that most of the Smith family were happy to talk to him. He glanced back at the track in case George and Edmund should suddenly appear as well.

“I assure you we only mean well by our unannounced arrival,” Anne said.

“You're always welcome,” Thomas replied.

She patted his arm. “My husband sends his apologies. His shoulder is causing him a lot of pain at the moment and Edmund has stayed back to keep an eye on the place.”

They all looked around as a man's bellow was heard, followed by a high-pitched wail that sounded a lot like Wick.

“I'd better go and see what's happening,” Thomas said and, with a final glance at Lizzie, he set off for the shed.

He reached it at the same time as Wallis, who stuck his head through the door and bellowed: “You skinny little fool, I'll have your hide. Get out here you little –”

“Wallis.” Thomas's sharp call made the man stop his tirade and turn.

“We're still on our break. Don't interfere,” Wallis growled.

Thomas stood up straight. He glared at Wallis. “I'm in charge of this shed. What's the problem?”

“That halfwit knocked hot tea over me.” Wallis pointed to a stain across one lower leg of his trousers. “I was going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Make him more careful in future.”

“I'm sure you've given him enough of a scare to remember.” Thomas assumed Wick was hiding in the shed. Wallis still looked as though he was planning to follow. “There's no point in injuring the boy; we're short enough on labour.”

Wallis grunted and kicked the step. “You've been lucky this time,” he shouted into the shed. “Only I need my rest or I'd still be after you.” He turned back to eyeball Thomas and then stalked away to his camp.

Thomas stepped up into the shed. There was plenty of sheep noise but no sign of Wick.

“You'd better make sure everything's ready to start again,” he said into the space. “I don't want any delays.”

Thomas busied himself packing the last lot of fleeces and didn't turn when the sound of sweeping reached his ears. He knew Wick would have emerged from wherever he'd been hiding and picked up the broom. There was little Thomas could do for the lad. Tomorrow the shearers would be gone and Wick with them. He would have to fend for himself, but at least Thomas took some pleasure in giving him a small reprieve; he detested bullies and injustice.

The afternoon's work was punctuated by Wallis's bad-tempered outbursts. His fellow shearers copped a few foul rants aside from Wick's usual share. The Smith brothers joined them so that at least Thomas was free to sort the fleeces as they were cut and make sure they got packed in the right bags. Finally the last sheep was shorn and they could all escape the heat of the shed.

The shearers and Wick headed to the stream to wash. Thomas was conscious of his own dirty clothes and body – he hadn't expected to have company and certainly not female company. It was difficult to get to his clean clothes, though, as Lizzie and her mother had taken over his hut. When he saw that both the women were tending the food at the fire he took the opportunity to get fresh clothes and slipped away to the stream.

Lizzie was on the little verandah when he returned.

“No more boils that need attention?” she said.

Thomas stopped and looked around. She always had him on edge, and buzzing with a strange kind of anticipation. He was never sure what she might say.

“You walk very well, so I am guessing there's been no reoccurrence of the –”

“I'm quite well.” He cut her off and ducked past to deposit his dirty clothes inside the hut. When he came out she was waiting for him. This time he noticed the mischievous lift of her lips and the twinkle in her eye.

“You know I'm good at lots of things. I can even cut hair.”

She reached up, her hand brushed his cheek and she tugged at a lock of his wet hair.

Thomas restrained himself from grabbing her hand and pulling her closer, aware that her mother and brothers were on the other side of the hut and could appear at any minute.

“Of course some men prefer their hair longer,” Lizzie said. “You have waves in yours so it falls well. When my brothers' hair gets too long, it falls in clumps like bits of rope.”

He swept his fingers through his hair and pulled it back from his eyes. “It does need cutting. I hope to be able to do that in Adelaide.”

A loud call startled them both. Thomas turned to see Duffy riding towards him and another man with a woman following in a small cart.

“I'm sorry about your last visit to us.” Lizzie spoke softly. “Jacob said the native man wasn't harmed too much.”

“No.”

“Father means well,” Lizzie said. Thomas felt the soft pressure of her hand on his arm. “I thought you were so brave to stand up to him and take the native away.”

He looked down to find her face turned to his, and that she was looking at him with admiration. He wished they were alone. Her pretty blue eyes were mesmerising. He longed to take her in his arms and kiss her.

“G'day, mate.” Duffy's arrival startled Thomas from Lizzie's spell. “And who do we have here but Miss Lizzie Smith herself.”

Lizzie stepped forward and nodded.

“Mr Duff,” she said then waved to the couple getting down from the cart. “Hello, Mr and Mrs Gibson.”

The couple came over to meet Thomas. John Gibson was a shepherd with Duffy, and his wife was an angular, pinch-faced woman whose lips turned down when she spoke, giving her a dour expression. Anne Smith appeared and drew Mrs Gibson away, calling for Lizzie to come and help with the food as she went.

It was a large group gathered around the outside fire that night. After the heat of the day it was a perfect evening, with just a gentle breeze to stir the air. A few more logs were drawn up for seating and both the Smiths and the Gibsons had brought extra plates to add to Thomas's meagre collection. When he saw the meat being cut up on Mrs Smith's serving plate, he was once again reminded of what he had lost in the trunk Whitby had stolen. Thomas had thought he'd have no need of the items within it but he'd been wrong on several occasions.

When everyone was seated, Thomas gave thanks for the work that was completed and for the food before them. Along with the kangaroo meat there were potatoes and pumpkin, baked to perfection in the coals, and Anne had also made some kind of turnip mash. He'd not eaten so well in a long time. Judging by the comments around the feast, the others all agreed.

Wallis and the other two shearers were there, looking the cleanest Thomas had seen them. Wick seated himself on the opposite side of the fire from Wallis and tucked into his meal as if he'd not eaten for a week. Thomas noticed a red mark down the side of the boy's face that hadn't been there at the last bell of the day. Apparently Thomas's protection hadn't lasted once Wick had left the shed.

Thomas glanced at the others around the fire. The mood was jovial: all except Wallis and Mrs Gibson had smiles on their faces as they ate and talked. Jacob, Isaac and Samuel sat with their mother and Lizzie had chosen a spot close to Thomas. Duffy on his other side was full of questions about the shearing.

Finally Anne asked her sons to collect the eating utensils and Thomas raised his mug of tea. “To a most delicious meal,” he said.

There was a chorus of voices agreeing with his sentiments. He noticed Duffy taking his customary sip from the flask he'd slipped from his pocket.

“It's not over yet,” Lizzie said and bounced to her feet. “There's the fruit pie and Mother has made jam roly-poly.”

“There's also a small pot of cream from our cow,” Anne added.

“I thought it was time for men's business,” Wallis grumbled and tugged a pipe from his pocket.

“Sweets first,” Lizzie said. “It will be ready in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

There were groans of delight as the women set about serving. Once again they were all soon intent on eating – even Wallis, Thomas noticed. The sweets were delicious.

“When do you leave for Adelaide?” Lizzie's question came just as he scraped the last of the pudding into his mouth.

“Tomorrow, I hope.”

“You will be gone a while.”

“Yes. I was hoping your brothers might take turns to keep an eye on things but they've already done so much for me.”

“I'm sure they won't mind.” Lizzie leaned in closer. “We're neighbours.” With her hat off, her golden hair shone in the rays of the setting sun and he noticed she wore a pair of dainty drop earrings. There was a velvet ribbon crossed over at her throat and clasped with a small brooch that matched the earrings.