Heart of the Country (47 page)

Thomas studied the young man. He had adapted to life on Wildu Creek after less than a year. His knowledge of sheep and their management grew every day. He worked hard and he listened and watched. Joseph adored him and Lizzie had him calling her Mrs Lizzie like Gulda did.

“You're right,” Thomas said. “I hear Wiltshire bought poor stock just before shearing last year. He might have got the wool off their backs but there'd be few of them left now.”

“They keep staggering around looking for feed and water. There's not a blade of grass or a low-hanging leaf between this waterhole and way beyond their boundary.”

“If only there was some way to keep him out.” Once more Thomas looked to the east.

“I built a fence for Ma back in Port Augusta. The goats kept getting into her vegetables. Pity we can't do the same thing here.” Timothy chuckled. “That'd keep those Smith's Ridge sheep out.”

Thomas lifted his hat and rubbed at his hair, which was plastered to his scalp. He looked north along the invisible boundary between his property and Wiltshire's. He knew several miles away it was marked by a rocky outcrop pointing south like a huge bony finger. At the southern end it met a wide dry creek bed dotted with large gums and occasional cliffs and cutaways. If he ran a fence between those two natural barriers, few stock would find their way around it.

He shoved his hat back on his head and grasped Timothy by the shoulders. “That's it,” he said. A surge of excitement swept through him. “We'll build a fence.”

Timothy gaped at him. Thomas let go the lad's shoulders and strode back to his horse with an energy he hadn't felt in weeks. When he climbed on his horse and looked back, Timothy was still standing there watching him. “Come on,” Thomas called. “Time to go home. Mrs Lizzie will have food on the table by the time we get there and we've a lot to work out.”

“What will you make it from?” Lizzie asked as they sat out under the stars. They had eaten their meals on the creek bank all summer. As soon as the sun went down they had some relief from the flies and sometimes, like that night, there was a soft breath of a breeze along the gully. They had a small fire on the sandy bank to boil the billy and a lantern hanging in a tree. Their outside room, Joseph called it.

“Further south of us there's thick bush,” Thomas said. “We'll make a brush fence.”

“It would be a huge job,” Zac said.

“I know,” he replied. “But we've little else to do but watch our stock die.”

“More your neighbour's stock, really,” Timothy said.

They all looked at him.

He sank lower in his chair. “It's just that Wildu Creek is a much better property,” he said. “Better stock, better management –”

“Better people,” Zac said and they all laughed.

“Perhaps Jacob would help,” Lizzie said. “He went home for Christmas and wasn't going back to the mines. Mother's letter said he planned to visit us next.”

“Won't your father need him?” Thomas asked. He knew George suffered more and more from rheumatism across his shoulders.

“He's still got Edmund and Samuel,” Lizzie said. “Anyway, I doubt Jacob would stay here with us. It will just be a visit.”

“Well,” Zac said, lifting his mug of tea, “it looks like we're building a fence.”

They all lifted their mugs to touch his.

“When will we start?” Timothy asked, his eyes aglow with enthusiasm.

“Before dawn tomorrow morning,” Thomas said. They turned to look at him. “We take the wagon and the dray and head south. Cut as much brush as we can before it gets too hot and bring it back. We can take it in turns to do our rounds and build the fence. I'm hoping Gulda will help us. He's an expert at making those huts of his from bush. And we have the fine fence builder, Mr Timothy Castles, with us as well.” Thomas grinned at his young shepherd. “Isn't that right?”

Timothy's face beamed back. “Sure thing, Mr Baker,” he said.

There was more laughter. Thomas tilted his head back and looked at the stars. It felt good to have a project, something more productive than waiting for rain.

The next morning they were cutting the first of the brush as the sun rose, a golden orange ball in a pale, lifeless sky. They were all there, the men cutting, Lizzie and Daisy making bundles and Joseph and Tommie running wild, excited by this totally new experience. Thomas marvelled at Daisy's ability to keep working with baby Rose nestled to her chest in some kind of sling.

By mid-morning the wagon and the dray were both piled high with brush. Thomas asked Gulda to take the women and children home in the cart while he went with Zac and Timothy to make a start on the fence. Lizzie gave Thomas a cheery wave but he could see the work had tired her. She insisted on working as hard as ever and she never complained, but he knew the heat bothered her as her body began to swell with the baby. He worried, but she would have none of it.

“Let's go build a fence,” Zac called and cracked the whip over the bullocks.

Thomas put his concern to one side at the prospect of the task ahead.

For all their enthusiasm they got little built that first day. Zac wanted to start at the southern end and Thomas the northern. Timothy suggested they start in the middle. In the end it was decided they would have a team working at either end, finishing wherever they met. Each morning they would cut the brush and then build during the day between looking after the sheep.

They got into a routine. The women came with them each morning to help cut and stack the brush, then they went home and the men continued to build the fence when they could. That the structure had strength was due to Gulda. He was an expert at stacking and winding the brush so it held together. They learned from him. It was slow going but Thomas could see progress was being made.

February arrived with a week of extremely high temperatures, then suddenly clouds appeared and they had their first reprieve from the incessant heat in weeks. Everyone cut and stacked brush as usual but when it was time to go to the boundary, Lizzie insisted the women come to inspect the fence.

“We want to see what our work is going towards,” Lizzie said. “I've packed a picnic.”

Thomas took a seat on the cart beside her and led the way to the southern end of the fence, where the large gums along the creek would give them some shade. They must have looked a strange procession: Thomas in the cart with Lizzie and Daisy, baby Rose in her arms; Gulda on horseback; Timothy and Zac with the wagon and dray; and Joseph and Tommie bouncing along on top of the bundles of brush.

“Oh, look at it,” Lizzie exclaimed as the start of the fence came in sight. Beginning at a high point above the creek, it continued on up the hill and disappeared over the rise.

Thomas felt a small burst of pride. Their hard work was paying off. “It's just as long at the northern end,” he said. “A few more weeks and we should meet in the middle.”

Thomas took the cart across the creek bed. They'd formed quite a track after the many crossings they'd made. He'd thought about making some kind of sign to hang from a nearby tree, something to announce the start of Wildu Creek. How quickly time had gone since he'd driven the first mob of sheep over this very spot.

“You've achieved a lot in five years,” Lizzie said as if reading his mind.

There was a small cry behind them. They turned to look at Daisy. She had climbed down from the slow-moving cart and strode past them towards the fence. Gulda slid from his horse and followed her. Daisy turned on him, speaking loudly in a language none of the others understood.

“I've never heard Daisy sound so upset before,” Lizzie said

Gulda put a hand on Daisy's shoulder but she shrugged it off and spoke to him again, waving an arm at the fence.

“It's the fence,” Thomas said. He handed the reins to Lizzie and climbed down from the cart.

“What's the matter?” Zac asked as his wagon rolled up next to Thomas.

“I don't know,” he said. “Everything was fine until we got here.”

He walked towards the natives. He couldn't understand what they were saying but he recognised the tenor of Gulda's voice. At first it had been sharp but now he spoke in soothing low tones, trying to placate the agitated Daisy.

“What is it, Gulda?” Thomas asked.

Daisy stopped her diatribe. Her shoulders sagged and she kept her eyes averted from Thomas. She turned away, called Tommie to her side and walked around the group to the creek.

“Where is she going?” Lizzie called. “We must give them a ride, Thomas.”

He turned back to Gulda.

“Daisy not happy, Mr Tom,” Gulda said with sadness in his eyes.

“I can see that,” Thomas said. “Why is Daisy unhappy?”

“She didn't know this was what we were doing with the brush.” Gulda pointed to the fence.

“We've talked about it many times.”

“Daisy didn't understand what a fence was. This is her country, Mr Tom. Her people move around it all the time. They won't like this fence you are making.” Gulda shook his head and turned his sad eyes in the direction Daisy had gone.

Thomas wasn't going to argue, he knew neither Gulda or Daisy would understand the lease he had for this land. He followed Gulda's gaze. Already Daisy and her children had disappeared from sight. Flat grey clouds covered the sun, deepening the shadows along the creek. Thomas stared but he could see no movement.

“You must go with her, my friend,” he said.

Once more Gulda slowly shook his head. “I will stay.”

Thomas gripped Gulda's shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. He felt uneasy at the disagreement. He knew he wouldn't have survived so well out here without Gulda and Daisy's help. It didn't sit well to see his friends upset.

“Are we unloading?” Zac called.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “But we'll have our picnic here in the shade first, then Lizzie and Joseph can go home.”

Lizzie gave him a little smile and turned her bulging frame to reach the basket in the cart. Timothy was faster than Thomas, down from his dray in seconds and helping her lift the food.

Gulda made his way to the creek and disappeared among the trees.

“That was a bit of a to-do,” Zac said, through a mouthful of bread and pickles.

“Never mind,” Lizzie said. “She's had a bit of a shock. I'm sure she'll be the same happy Daisy again before long.”

“I hope so,” Thomas said, then clutched his hat as a sudden gust of wind threatened to tug it from his head. Lizzie covered the food as the wind strengthened, picking up dust and leaves. The grey clouds spread across the sky but they did little to stop the heat, flies or dust, so the picnic was soon abandoned. With Lizzie and Joseph aboard, Thomas turned the cart in the direction of home.

“Such a shame,” Lizzie said. “My little picnic was meant to be a celebration.”

“Never mind,” Thomas replied.

Lizzie put a hand on his. “It's a wonderful fence, Thomas. Daisy will get over it in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Don't worry about it.”

Thomas hoped she was right but that day changed the fence building. Daisy stayed back at the camp with her children and Thomas insisted Lizzie do the same as the temperature began to climb again.

Gulda worked as one of them but Daisy kept away from the house. The men took it in turns: two to cut and build while the other two shepherded sheep. Some days Thomas took Joseph with him. The little boy was wearing Lizzie down without his friend Tommie to occupy his time.

Riding up the last little rise to the house late one afternoon, Joseph asleep against him, Thomas was surprised to see Daisy on the front verandah. He hoped it meant she was willing to be friends again. Lizzie missed her company and her help. The bulk of the baby had slowed his darling down and in spite of the big grey clouds that kept building on the horizon, the days were no cooler. Lizzie was as exhausted as he was.

He smiled in what he hoped was a welcoming way but gave up as he brought his horse to a stop in front of Daisy. Her big round eyes brimmed with tears. His heart thumped in his chest.

“Daisy? Are you all right? Where's Mrs Lizzie?” he called.

Daisy came to the horse and slid Joseph from his arms. “She had the baby.”

Thomas jumped down and made the verandah in two strides. It was too early. The baby wasn't due for another month.

“Lizzie,” he called.

“Thomas.” Her feeble reply came from the bedroom.

He rushed in. The bed was stripped of all but a sheet. Lizzie was lying on top of it in a loose nightgown, soaked in sweat. Her hair was dark with moisture and beads of it dribbled down her forehead.

His hopes lifted at the sight of a small bundle beside her on the bed.

Lizzie turned her eyes to his and he knew.

“Our little girl came too soon.” Lizzie's voice was a harsh whisper. “She only breathed a short time.”

Thomas rolled back the wrapping to look at the tiny face of his daughter. His heart thumped and then ached as if it had shattered to a thousand pieces.

He kneeled at Lizzie's side. A bowl of water and a cloth sat on the little table beside her. He dipped the cloth into the cool water and wiped her brow. Large tears began to roll down her cheeks and then she shuddered with heartrending sobs. Thomas sat on the edge of the bed. He gently drew his wife into his arms: his dear sweet Lizzie who was being tested beyond endurance. He wiped her face, held her and rocked her, all the time watching the longed-for bundle that would never see life with them. His own grief burning deeply in his chest.

It was dark when Zac came in. Thomas felt his arms would break from holding Lizzie so long, but she was asleep at last and he wasn't going to leave her.

“I'm so sorry, Thomas.” Zac stood in the doorway looking as helpless as Thomas felt.

“I'm here too.”

Thomas raised his head at the sound of Jacob's voice. The last time he came they had just lost Annie. Now there was another child to return to the earth. His brother-in-law stared at him with eyes full of compassion.