Dust on the Horizon (8 page)

Robert's little grizzles grew louder. Clara plucked him from the floor.

“How are things here?”

Clara turned to find Lizzie right beside her. “Fine thank you, Mother Baker. Are you both well?”

“Fit as fiddles. Although I did find that last heat spell very tedious. Even the evening breeze along the creek deserted us there for a while. Thomas never complains of course. I suppose it was even worse for you here. Smith's Ridge never did seem to catch any breeze. I hope you don't mind me distracting the girls with toffee, Clara.”

“Of course not.” Clara jiggled Robert up and down. Lizzie's barrage of words always flustered her.

“Can I take him?” Lizzie reached out her arms for Robert. Clara handed the grizzly baby over.

“Hello my fine young man.” Lizzie snuggled him into the crook of one arm and tickled his toes. “Haven't you grown since I saw you last.”

“Grandma, Grandma.” Esther raced through the door carrying a small calico bag.

“Yes, sweet Esther, I'm right here and I haven't lost my hearing. You'll be scaring your brother with all that shouting.”

To Clara's surprise Esther steadied to a walk and carefully held out the bag.

“That's some soap for your mother.” Lizzie patted the little girl's wayward hair.

“Thank you Mother Baker, you didn't need to bring me anything.”

“It's a gift for your birthday.”

Clara didn't want to be reminded of that horrible day. “Thank you.” She took the bag from Esther and breathed in the delicious scent of roses. She'd been alone on her birthday. Joseph had taken the oldest children with him on the trip to Hawker along with Binda and his children. Jundala had gone to visit her family. Clara had been alone with Robert. She'd been feeling unwell for days but was worse on that day. After an awful morning of trying to placate the baby and stop herself from being sick she'd realised what the date was and that had led her to discover why she felt so unwell.

Violet and Thomas came inside with arm loads of bags and baskets. Clara shut the door behind them to keep out the heat and the little black flies that crawled over everything. She pulled her face into a smile. “Goodness, what's all this?”

Thomas put his load on the table then helped Violet with hers.

“We've come to help with the lambs. I thought I'd bring you some food. I've stitched some overalls for young Robert.” Lizzie lifted the baby into the air and kissed his red cheeks. “He looks like he's teething. I've brought some of my mulberry jam, I've made a new nightdress each for the girls and there's a pocketknife for William.”

“She didn't make that.” Thomas chuckled as Lizzie drew breath.

“We've been into Hawker.” Lizzie kissed Robert's fingers as he tried to grab the chain around her neck. “There's a new shop there.”

“A proper shop,” Violet said.

“Have you been there?”

“The lady gave us sweets.” Violet's big eyes were round with delight.

“We're vagabongs,” Esther added proudly.

“Vagabonds.” Violet corrected softly which earned her a glare from Esther.

“Are you indeed?” Thomas lifted the two little girls, one in each arm. “I thought you were young ladies. How about we go and see what's happening with these sheep?”

“Yes.” Esther's squeals of delight were as ear piercing as her cries of displeasure. “And toffee.”

“I did promise.” Lizzie chuckled and dug in the corner of the big basket.

“Thank you Grandma,” Violet said ever so sweetly.

Esther echoed her in a louder voice.

“Shoes on, girls.” Clara moved towards the kitchen door.

“It's all right, Clara.” Thomas headed her off. “I can do it.”

“And their hats,” Lizzie called after him. “That sun is ferocious on fair skin.”

The sound of the little girls' laughter echoed back at them.

Lizzie turned back to Clara. “Now, my dear. How are you really? You look exhausted. I love all these beautiful grandchildren but they must tire you out.”

Clara felt her lip tremble. She put a hand to her mouth, sank onto a chair and burst into tears.

Joseph pulled off his boots and listened. The house was quiet. It was always a relief when all the children were in bed. His parents had retired to the hut that had been built for Binda and his family but it was rarely used. Binda and Jundala preferred the widlya, a dwelling they'd made for themselves further away from the main house. Mary sometimes slept in the hut but had gone with her parents and brother tonight.

Joseph pondered his mother's parting words. She'd urged him to take more care of his wife. His father had echoed her concern and added it might be Smith's Ridge that was wearing her down. Lizzie had laughed at that point saying it was much more likely that being the mother of several young children was what was ailing her.

Joseph always ignored his father's remarks about Smith's Ridge. It hadn't been a happy place for Joseph's uncles, his mother's brothers, and it had ended up in the hands of a terrible merchant, Septimus Wiltshire. It had come back to the family, bequeathed by Septimus's wife, after the odious man had died. Thomas had not been overjoyed by the prospect and had put a shepherd in the house.

When Joseph married Clara he'd been keen to take over Smith's Ridge and build a place of their own. His father had helped him, along with Binda, to knock down all the existing dwellings except the shearing shed and clean the place up, then they'd built this lovely stone house. Clara had been ecstatic with happiness at the sight of it. His mother was right; it was more likely the children that were wearing Clara down. And he'd hadn't brought Clara a gift for her birthday. He'd fully intended to buy her a bolt of fabric for a new dress at the shop in Hawker but after the bad experience with the owner, he'd forgotten. Joseph felt his anger surface just at the thought of the pompous man.

He pushed the shopkeeper from his mind. Joseph needed to find out what was bothering his wife. He entered the bedroom. Clara was standing in her nightdress. Her long fair hair hung lankly past her shoulders. The light from the lantern combined with the pale fabric of the well-worn nightdress gave her face a washed-out appearance. They had all been working so hard of late but he had wondered at the darker than normal shadows beneath her eyes and her short temper. “Is something wrong, my love? Mother thinks you're ailing.”

“Does she?” Clara hung the dress she'd just taken off on the hanger behind the door. She turned back to him, hands on hips. “And what do you think, Joseph Baker? Do you have an opinion of your own?”

Joseph hovered. He knew he was on dangerous ground here. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. He reached for her, she slipped away. Joseph stayed put. “I think I married the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Ha.” She spat the word at him. “All the flattery in the world will get you nowhere tonight.” She went to step past him.

He grabbed her and pulled her close. “I can wait,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered in his arms and he knew she'd come round. Tonight there was no child in their bed, at least for the moment.

She pulled away and pushed a hand against his chest when he started to lean forward. “No, Joseph.” She glared at him. “Not tonight. In fact, not again.”

“What?” He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. “Not ever?” Clara had always been feisty, that was one of the things he loved about her, but he had always been able to cajole her with his kisses. She could usually be persuaded to make love, and often she would initiate their intimate moments, something that they both enjoyed. Now tears brimmed in her eyes.

“What is it, Clara? Have you tried the tonic I brought you?” Joseph had reluctantly handed over the only thing he'd brought her from his trip to Hawker. It rankled that it had come from the pompous shopkeeper but at least he'd had something to give her.

“I have. It eases my head but I still feel so tired.”

“Are you truly ill?”

Clara looked up at him. His heart gave a thump as he saw the despair in her gaze.

“What is it, Clara?”

“I'm with child again.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks with her fingers.

Relief washed over him. “But that's wonderful news.”

“No it is not wonderful news.” She sank to the bed. “How am I to fare?”

“We are very lucky.” Joseph sat beside her and took her hand. “My parents had such trouble having children. They buried two babies. We're blessed, Clara.”

“Is that what you call it?” Clara's eyes filled with tears again. “What am I to do Joseph? I can't manage the children we've got. My milk is drying up and Robert won't take anything else. Esther throws tantrums and poor sweet Violet doesn't get a word in. And then there's William. He gets none of my attention. He's such a deep thinker but he needs to express himself somehow.”

“He did it quite well at dinner last week.”

“And so he should but we shushed him and the topic has not been discussed since. How's he to know what to think?”

“Calm down, Clara.” Joseph pressed her head to his shoulder. “It will work out. Mother would love to help more.”

Clara pulled away from him and stood up. “She's no longer a young woman. She has more than enough to do at Wildu Creek and your sister will be in need of her help soon enough. Her baby is only a few months away.”

Joseph rose and gently pulled Clara to him. “We'll get more help if we need to.”

“More natives?'

“They don't have to be if you'd prefer not.” Joseph knew Clara didn't share the same close affection for Binda and his family as he did but she was always considerate and thankful for their help.

“I worry for our own children. They have to be able to fit into normal society and not be treated like outcasts by people like that shopkeeper.”

“He wasn't a nice man.”

“Maybe not but he probably only said what others think about us, Joseph.” She gazed up at him, her eyes worried.

He kissed her. “We'll work something out, Clara.” He slid his hands down her nightdress and cupped her buttocks, pulling her close. Love and desire surged through him. He adored his beautiful wife as much now as the day he'd fallen in love with her. She always blossomed during pregnancy. He loved their children. One more would be wonderful.

“Don't worry, my sweet.” He kissed her gently.

She pulled away a little. “I said we're not doing this anymore.”

He kissed her again. More urgently and felt her soften in his arms.

“Where's the harm in it,” he murmured. “If you're already with child?”

“Joseph, I'm so tired.”

He slid her nightgown from her shoulder and kissed the skin beneath her hair. “I'll get up to the baby.” He traced his lips across to the soft flesh of her breasts. “He can have water in the night.”

“Joseph.” Her tone was half complaint, half desire.

He rang his tongue around one nipple and then the other. She arched her back. “Tomorrow, my beautiful wife, you can sleep in.”

She opened her eyes and raised one eyebrow.

“My late birthday gift to you.”

She shook her head. “How?”

“You'll see.” Before she could say more he covered her lips with his and gently lowered her to the bed.

Clara opened her eyes then squeezed them shut. The bedroom was warm and stuffy and full of light. She lay back on the pillow and listened. There were no sounds of children, no footsteps, no banging of pans. She felt heavy and lethargic. She must have slept all night. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened. After their lovemaking she had lain awake listening to the soft breaths of her husband. It frustrated her so, that he could fall asleep so easily and yet she who was so desperate for sleep could not. She'd taken a bigger draught of the tonic he'd brought her from the shop in Hawker. She didn't use it often but it did ease her headaches on the days when they were bad. It had obviously done the trick and Joseph had been true to his word. He must have got up to Robert. She felt her breasts. They were soft, not full of milk for her baby.

Then she remembered. Robert would no longer be her baby. She put a hand to her stomach. Already it was rounding. Soon enough there would be another baby. Nausea gnawed inside her and, in spite of her sleep, weariness overwhelmed her. How was she to manage?

She gave a brief thought to her own mother but there would be no help there. Her parents had not been happy that she had fallen in love with a sheep herder, as they'd described Joseph. Her father had been the harbourmaster at Port Augusta and had planned for his daughter to marry someone he thought more worthy. Her parents had never made the long journey to Smith's Ridge and now they were even further away at the port of Wallaroo.

“You've made your choice,” her father had said. “It will be a hard life. You'll be sorry and there will be no turning back.”

Now those words had come back to nest. She hadn't stopped loving Joseph. He was a wonderful father, an attentive lover and yet she was just so tired. Clara rolled over and curled herself into a ball. Moisture seeped from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and let the tears flow.

Seven

Henry looked up at the tinkle of the bell over the door. A tall man entered, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a soft leather vest in spite of the warm day. When he removed his hat he revealed a thick thatch of red hair.

“Good day to you, sir,” Henry said. “How can I be of service?”

“I heard you buy wool?”

“I can do that on your behalf, Mr …?”

“Prosser, Ellis Prosser.”

“Henry Wiltshire.” He thrust out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Prosser.”

Prosser clasped his hand in a vice-like grip then let it go. Henry tucked the hand behind his back and opened and closed his fingers. Prosser was too busy taking in his shop to notice.