Dust on the Horizon (12 page)

Thomas frowned. “I hope you're right Lizzie, but if he's anything like his father he'll keep turning up like a bad penny.”

Lizzie clicked her tongue. “Enough, Thomas. Now let's go inside. Perhaps another cup of tea before you go?”

“No thank you, Mother.” Joseph extricated his arm from hers. “We must make a start. The rain has cleared for now but there's no telling how much we'll get. If the creeks come down I could get held up and I don't like to leave Clara alone for too long.”

Lizzie's heart melted at the worry lines on his face. “Clara's a good strong woman and a wonderful mother. Let me know if you'd like me to come and help.”

“You've enough to do.” Joseph patted her hand.

“We can manage without your mother if we have to.” Thomas put an arm around Lizzie's shoulders.

Joseph gave them a weak smile. “Thank you. Perhaps when the new baby arrives. Clara's own mother won't come.”

Lizzie placed her hand over her son's and smiled up at him. “Send word and I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

Nine

“Have you finished giving your final instructions to Mr Hemming, my dear?” Henry smiled benevolently at his wife who was pointing out the recently received delicate lace collars to their new employee. “I have your trunk in the cart.”

Catherine turned in his direction. Her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink from her exertion. “I think Mr Hemming has a good understanding of our stock.”

“I do.” The thin-faced young man held his hands behind his back and gave Catherine a slight bow. “You are an excellent teacher Mrs Wiltshire, but I don't want to make you late for your train.”

“Oh, we're not late, are we Henry?”

“No. If we leave now we will be right on time. Mr Hemming can have his first experience at minding the shop alone while I take you to the station.”

Malachi Hemming gave a self-satisfied nod. Henry was very happy with their new employee. He'd arrived in town only two weeks ago, looking for work. There were plenty of shepherding and building jobs going but Malachi was not an outdoors type of person. He had walked into Henry's shop just at the time when Catherine had made up her mind to go to her family in Adelaide to have the baby. They had been deliberating on the fact that her absence would mean they would need a shop assistant and Malachi appeared on their doorstep that very day. He was of neat appearance, quick with addition and very good with customers.

The new house Henry was having built would be finished by the time Catherine returned with their new baby. They would live in the house and Malachi could have the bedroom at the back of the shop. Henry was happy. Business was going well, he was building a fine stone house for his wife and he was about to become a father. His decision to build a business at Hawker had been the right one.

Catherine came around the counter, her steps reduced to a waddle and her swollen body hidden beneath her maroon travelling cloak. Harriet had sent it for her along with a matching hat. The rich red was the perfect colour for Catherine's rosy complexion and dark brown hair. The thick cord fabric would be warm against the cold July day outside and yet was soft enough to fall in a graceful drape around her.

Henry offered her his arm. “Your carriage awaits.”

“Oh, Henry.” She gave a soft giggle. “I could walk the short journey to the station.”

“Not in your condition. I won't allow it and we need to get your trunk there too. I am sure it must be packed with half your wardrobe it's so heavy.”

Catherine pouted. “You want me to look my best when I get to Adelaide and I have the layette for the baby and gifts for my family.”

“It's all right, Catherine.” He patted her hand indulgently.

Henry opened the door then stepped back quickly, bumping against Catherine as he moved. Outside the shop stood a bedraggled-looking woman with a thin shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. By the look of her blue lips it was doing little to protect her from the cold.

“Mrs Adams.” Catherine peered around his shoulder.

Henry looked again. He hadn't recognised the farmer's wife who they'd given credit to on several occasions. No doubt she was here for more.

“Come in from the cold.” Catherine opened her arms to usher the woman inside.

Henry stood back and cast an eye along the street. There was plenty of activity but no sign of Mr Adams.

“You look half frozen.” Catherine turned to Mr Hemming who stood at attention behind the counter. “Please make Mrs Adams a cup of tea.”

“I haven't come for any more of your charity.” Finally Mrs Adams spoke and her tone was harsh. “I've simply come to give you this.” She pulled a battered piece of paper out from under her shawl and thrust it at Henry.

“What is this, Mrs Adams?” Henry accepted the paper but kept his gaze on the poor downtrodden woman.

“The lease to our farm.”

Catherine gasped.

“It should cover the supplies and the interest you charged.” Once more the woman's tone was angry.

“There's no need of this, Mrs Adams. After the great rain we had back in May the season is looking very promising.”

“It was too late for us,” she snapped.

“Where is Mr Adams?” Henry looked over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should discuss this with him.”

Mrs Adam's pursed her lips, pulling the lines on her pale face tight. “He's dead.”

Catherine put a hand to her heart. “Oh, Mrs Adams. How?”

“No doubt you'll hear about it soon enough.” The woman tugged her shawl tighter. “My husband took his own life. Your extraordinary demands for interest were the final straw.”

Catherine gasped.

“Have a care, Mrs Adams.” Henry put a protective arm around Catherine. “My wife is with child.”

“My children are starving and now they have no father.” All of a sudden Mrs Adam's anger left her and she crumpled to the floor.

“Mrs Adams!” Catherine cried and tried to help her but Mr Hemming appeared beside the fallen woman. He raised her to her feet and then onto the chair they provided for customers.

“Oh, poor Mrs Adams. Henry, we must help.”

Henry thrust the paper into his coat pocket and propelled his wife to the door. “We must get you to the station or you will miss your train. Mr Hemming will look after Mrs Adams until my return and then I will see what's to be done.”

At the cart Henry helped Catherine up on to the seat then he climbed up beside her. The day was fiercely cold. They'd had well over an inch of rain back in May but little since. Even so, most of the farmers were optimistic. Adams was a fool to take his life over a bad season or two.

Catherine turned her worried gaze to him. “What did Mrs Adams mean about the interest, Henry?”

“I will sort it out, my dear.”

“But surely she doesn't think Mr Adams killed himself because of something we'd done. We only offered charity to people in need.”

“Of course we did. Mrs Adams doesn't know what she's saying, she's in such a state. Please don't upset yourself, Catherine. You have the baby to think of and a long train journey ahead of you.”

“Promise me you will help poor Mrs Adams and her children, Henry. We can bear the loss of a few supplies but they have lost their provider. We can't take their land as well.”

Henry pulled up the horse and cart in front of the railway station. He noticed a few people give a second look at his fine bay horse and new sprung cart. He turned to Catherine.

“You must trust me on this, my dear. All will be well. All you have to worry about is you and the baby.”

She gave him a feeble smile. “Of course, Henry.”

He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. “I look forward to the day the train brings you back to me with our son.”

“What if it's a daughter? Am I not to return?” She lifted her lips in a coy smile.

“You have my preferred names.” He gave her thigh a squeeze. “I can't wait for your return, whatever you bring me.” Catherine had been less inclined to enjoy their matrimonial pleasures of late and it would be at least a month, perhaps two, before she returned. Henry longed for the night she would share his bed again properly as his wife.

Catherine's eyelashes fluttered. “Henry, you'll make me blush.”

He diverted his frustration to loading his wife and her luggage on the train. With little time to spare the train departed. He gave a final wave then retraced his steps to his cart and turned his thoughts to Mrs Adams.

He had recently sent her husband an updated itemised account with interest added. The land and improvements, provided there was anything of value left, would more than cover what the Adamses owed him. Now he had two properties on the plains but the first one had shown him very little return. He needed a better manager than the man he had; someone with a broader knowledge of the country who could improve both properties and provide Henry with extra income. Perhaps Mr Prosser would be of some help. He seemed to be doing well and even though his property was in the hills rather than on the plains he appeared to have some knowledge of the country in general.

Henry was quite convinced diversifying was his best way of making money. He'd set up a shop and a forwarding agency. He was having talks regarding adding the post office to his shop until a permanent office could be built and he'd recently heard the new telegraph would need to be housed somewhere. Once again his shop was the perfect place.

Now that Catherine was gone he planned to move into the little wooden cottage beside the new house he was building. It was for rent and he could keep a closer eye on construction if he lived right next door. Mr Hemming could move into the house at the back of the shop and the telegraph could be set up in the parlour.

Henry was full of enthusiasm as he hitched his horse and cart at the back of his building and made his way inside. Everything was working out well. There was just the problem of Mrs Adams.

When he entered the shop Malachi was serving customers, a man and his wife, but there was no sign of Mrs Adams. Henry kept himself busy, quietly observing his new assistant. The young man was more than competent. Henry was sure he would be a good asset to his business.

He smiled benevolently as the couple left, loaded with stores and the lady with some of his better quality soap and handkerchiefs.

“Well done, Mr Hemming. A good sale.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And now what have you done with Mrs Adams?”

Malachi frowned. “Did you want me to keep her here? Only I didn't think you'd want her in the shop looking as she did and crying and saying terrible things about you. I suggested she take her children back to Adelaide. She has family there.”

“She's gone?”

“She was persuaded it was for the best.” Malachi met his gaze. The younger man's jaw was clenched and his dark brown eyes narrowed. “She left not long after you.”

Henry smiled. “Very good, Mr Hemming, very good.”

The bell jangled over the door. Malachi's lips lifted in a neat smile.

Henry turned to the lady who'd just come in, the stationmaster's wife. She was an older woman, short of stature but always smartly dressed and a very good customer.

“Mrs Taylor. How lovely to see you on this cold day. I don't believe you've met my new assistant, Mr Hemming.”

“Hello, Mr Hemming. I assume you are taking over from Mrs Wiltshire.”

“I am, Mrs Taylor.”

“I saw you put your wife on the train, Mr Wiltshire.”

“Yes. She is going to Adelaide to be with her mother for the delivery of our baby.”

“Very sensible. Now I am hoping you still have some of that Hathaway Oil. Mr Taylor says it's helping relieve his leg pains and we've nearly emptied the bottle.”

Henry went towards the cabinet behind the counter which housed all manner of oils, ointments and pills. They had proven so popular he had moved them into the shop, but Malachi was a step ahead of him.

“Let me help you with that, Mrs Taylor. We have the oil in stock and Mrs Wiltshire instructed me before I left to be sure to show you the delicate lace collars that have recently arrived.”

“How very kind of her to think of me when she has so much else on her mind, I'm sure. She knows I like to dress well. Just because we live hundreds of miles from decent civilisation there's no need to lower one's standards.”

“Indeed, Mrs Taylor. They were Mrs Wiltshire's very words.”

Henry smiled. He was sure Catherine wouldn't have said that but Malachi had the right idea. Henry patted the paper in his pocket. He could leave his customers in Malachi's capable hands while he worked on a plan for his farming properties.

Ten

“Good night, Mrs Wiltshire.”

Harriet smiled as the last of her staff left the shop. “Have a pleasant evening, Miss Wicksteed.”

Harriet went to close the door then changed her mind, opened it instead and stepped out onto the path. It had been a warm day for autumn and now the Adelaide evening had a golden glow. The air outside was still and balmy, and there was no need for her jacket. Several people passed by and O'Connell Street itself was still busy with horses, carts and wagons.

She looked up and down the wide stretch of road and inhaled deeply, thankful again that she had found such a wonderful premises to set up her blooming business. The ladies of Adelaide travelled to her door not just for her embroidered linens but for her beautifully tailored outfits suited for every occasion, from undergarments to bridal trousseaus. This bigger shop was much better than the small place she'd rented in Hindley Street when she had returned from Port Augusta and it had the benefit of living quarters at the back which suited her very well. There was a milliner next door, then tea rooms, and beyond that a grocer who grew much of what he sold on the nearby fertile plains.