Heart of the Country (53 page)

Septimus cried out.

“Papa!” the boy yelled.

Harriet looked at the boy in shock. “Papa?” she said softly. Then she noticed his skin was paler than his mother's, and so was the toddler's.

“It's all a misunderstanding,” Septimus called. “Shoot one of them, Harriet, please, before they do me any harm.”

Harriet ignored him, her gaze locked on the children. The boy was quite tall. “What's your name?” she asked him.

“Jack.”

“And who is your papa, Jack?”

The boy pointed. He could have been waving his finger at any of the three men but he rushed forward and flung his arms around Septimus.

One of the native men pushed the boy away and raised his waddy.

Dulcie screamed and the boy scampered back to her.

Harriet suddenly realised what had been happening all these years. “That's why we've hardly seen you,” she said. “All these years you've had another family, another wife, a black one.” She spat the words. “You've lied and you've cheated many people, Septimus, but how could you do this to your own son, to Henry?”

“We can sort it out,” Septimus said. He twisted in the natives' grip but they dragged him another step. “Harriet,” he whined. “Please, Harriet, help me.”

Harriet continued to watch the men over the top of the firearm. The natives glared back at her; Septimus had become a whimpering lump in their hands. He was her husband and yet she realised she no longer needed him. She and Henry were better off without him. Slowly she lowered the firearm.

“Harriet!” Septimus screamed.

She glanced at Dulcie and her two boys then turned and walked back inside the hut and out the other door. The sound of Septimus's pleading screams faded as she kept walking back up the track to her cart. She tucked the firearm under the canvas and turned the horse. The wind had sprung up. She shivered from its chill and the soft moaning sound it made through the trees. She pulled her coat tighter, flicked the reins and straightened her shoulders. Her horse picked up speed and she left the hut in the hills without a backwards glance.

A miserable cold wind blew across the land, stirring up dust and leaving Thomas chilled to the bone. A few sheep staggered around the barren landscape as he entered the last group of trees along the track that led to the house. He would come back and check on them later. For now he would be pleased to get home. Ever since his first trip away from Wildu Creek when Annie had died, he was never happy going on long journeys without Lizzie and the children.

He'd been gone for months, droving the last of the sheep that were strong enough to walk south to AJ's property, where there was still plenty of feed. Jacob and Timothy had gone with him on the slow journey. Jacob had stayed on to help look after the sheep while Thomas and Timothy had made the return trip via Adelaide and Port Augusta. Thomas had left Timothy and the wagon after their last overnight stop, anxious to ride the last leg home as quickly as he could.

Smoke poured from the chimney. No doubt Lizzie and Ellen were inside on such a cold day but Thomas could see Joseph bending over something down near the creek. He lifted his head at the sound of Thomas's horse.

“Father,” he called and ran towards the house, where they met.

Thomas slid from his horse, every muscle aching and weary. The strength of Joseph's embrace nearly knocked him over.

“Steady up, young man,” he said. “You're getting too strong for your old father.”

“I'm nearly fourteen, you know.”

“Didn't you have your thirteenth birthday while I was away?”

“Yes, so I'm on my way to fourteen.” Joseph pulled himself up straight.

“He'll be there before we know it,” Lizzie said.

Thomas looked up at his wife smiling at him from the verandah. He ruffled his son's hair.

“Find something for the horse to eat and drink, son,” he said, and in spite of his weariness he made the three steps up the verandah in quick time and wrapped his arms around Lizzie.

“Where's Ellen?” he asked.

“Sulking up a tree somewhere because I asked her to feed the chickens.” Lizzie leaned back and looked up at him. “You really have indulged her too much, Thomas. She's the most wilful child.”

“Father.”

Ellen came running from the direction Joseph had just gone.

“Look at her,” Lizzie said. “She's wild like the natives.”

Thomas watched his little girl run barefoot up the steps. Her patched skirt was much shorter than he remembered and her dark wavy hair blew loose around her face. He let go of Lizzie and swept Ellen up. He kissed her pink cheeks.

Ellen giggled then grasped his three-month-old beard in her fingers. “You look like a wild man, Father.”

“That's the pot calling the kettle black,” Lizzie said.

Thomas laughed and threw an arm around his wife's shoulders. He kissed her cheek. “It's good to be home,” he said.

“Where's Timothy?” Ellen asked. Thomas raised an eyebrow. The child had learned from an early age she had Timothy entirely at her beck and call.

“He's following in the wagon.”

“Is there a present for me?”

“That's enough from you, miss,” Lizzie chided. “There'd better be food in that wagon or you'll go hungry.”

Thomas lowered Ellen to the ground. “Go and help Joseph bring the bags from my saddle. There may be something in there.”

Ellen squealed in delight, jumped down the steps and disappeared around the corner of the house before either of her parents could issue more instructions.

“You shouldn't be wasting money on gifts,” Lizzie said.

“It's nothing much. Just a few sweets and a knife for Joseph.”

Lizzie opened her mouth.

“For his birthday,” Thomas said quickly and kissed her again. “You taste so good.”

“And you, dear husband, smell rather bad. I think we'll all have a bath tonight. Sit down and I'll help you get those boots off.”

He did as she asked and then struggled back to his feet. He'd like to fall into bed and sleep for a week. She led him inside and through the front room to the kitchen, where the fire gave a warm glow and something smelling most delicious bubbled over it.

“Is there enough water for baths?”

“We had some rain while you were away. Not enough to soak the ground but it helped add to the tank. Besides, I've got no water to keep my vegetables alive unless we wash once a week.”

Thomas watched while she fussed over the fire.

“You're looking thin, Lizzie. Have you had enough to eat?”

“We're getting by, but I am looking forward to what you've brought back with you.”

“There's food, although not much flour. That's in short supply everywhere.” Thomas frowned.

“What is it?” Lizzie asked.

“The wagon is loaded but it's all thanks to AJ. I had little money and he insisted. I've paid back our first debt and now I owe another. I promised you I'd never owe anyone again after the business with Wiltshire.”

“Mr Browne wouldn't try to swindle us.”

“He's already taking on a large number of our stock.”

“You're a proud man, Thomas, but we have to be practical. I'm sure Mr Browne knows we will pay him back when we can. As you say, we've done it once before.” Lizzie took a bowl from the shelf and carried it to the fire. “Now, speaking of food, I've a nice soup here. I've no bread to go with it, mind.”

“I
don't
mind,” Thomas said and clutched his stomach as it growled in anticipation.

Lizzie laughed and he couldn't help but chuckle. He was home.

Timothy reached Wildu Creek with the wagon later in the day. Everyone helped unload the supplies and Lizzie supervised their arrangement in the cellar. Even Ellen did as she was bade, happy to have her chief admirers back. That night they sat down to a meal of boiled mutton, pumpkin and potatoes. Lizzie had used some of the precious flour to make bread. It was quite a feast after the rough food Thomas and Timothy had scrounged on the road.

“Are you expecting Zac in tonight?” Thomas asked.

“I never know when he'll be in,” Lizzie said. “While you've been gone he's been spending all his time looking after the remaining stock.”

“I've been helping,” Joseph said.

“And me,” Ellen said, jutting out her chin.

“Everyone has,” Lizzie said. “Zac has been staying out a few nights at a time. He's shifted most of the remaining stock to the higher country, where there's still some permanent water.”

“I saw a few sheep out beyond the trees on the plain.”

“They're nearly dead,” Lizzie said. “Joseph has been taking them whatever he can scrounge. We've put a bucket under the trees and we fill it each day.” Her brow was creased in concern.

“There's little else you can do,” Thomas said.

They all jumped as the door flung open.

“Zac!” Lizzie cried and leapt up to welcome her brother inside.

Thomas stood up to shake his hand.

“We got most of the stock south,” he said taking in Zac's appearance. If Thomas thought he felt tired, Zac was his mirror. His face and hands were dark with dirt, his eyes red with dust and lack of sleep, and his hair stuck out in all directions

“I've got the last few sheep up in the hills,” he said. “There's a little water but they have to compete with the natives camped nearby. Gulda and Daisy have moved up there with them. Gulda will keep an eye on things.”

“They may as well eat what they want,” Thomas said. “I'd rather the sheep were food for someone else than see them taken by wild dogs or die and rot.”

Lizzie set some food on the table for Zac and he ate hungrily.

“We're not the only ones doing it tough,” Thomas said. “We came home through Port Augusta. I wanted to talk to Mr Grant about our options and Timothy visited his family. You should see the land around the port. It's barren for miles. Everywhere north and west of there is little better.”

“People are just walking off their properties,” Timothy said. “Their animals are dead and they've nothing to eat.”

“We had a rough trip back.” Thomas raked his fingers through his hair. “I was hard pressed to get feed for the horses.”

“The police at Port Augusta brought in a body while we were there,” Timothy said. “Some poor man probably lost his way in the hills.”

Thomas noticed Ellen's and Joseph's eyes grow wider.

“Aren't you two the voices of doom and gloom?” Lizzie said and began to stack their empty plates.

“Not all.” Thomas aided her attempt to change the subject. “Talk in Adelaide is the government may give us a remission on our rent for a time.”

“That's good of them,” Zac said. “Now that they've finally realised we've nothing to pay them with.”

“There's also talk that when they issue the new leases next year,” Thomas said, “they will be for twenty-one years.”

“Nearly fifteen years we've been here and for what? We won't last another twenty-one.” Zac pushed back his chair and stood up. “Well it's too late for me.”

There was silence in the room but for the crackle of the fire.

“What do you mean too late, Uncle Zac?” Joseph asked.

Thomas could see both children watching Zac, their faces full of concern.

“You've all been good to me,” Zac said, “but there's nothing more I can do for you, Thomas, and I'm just another mouth to feed.”

“You know as soon as I get some money I'll pay you,” Thomas said. He understood the frustration Zac felt. There'd been no money for Timothy either, but the young shepherd had asked to stay on.

“It's not that. I'm fed up with the struggle. There must be something else.”

“You heard what Thomas said, Zac.” Lizzie extended a hand to her brother. “The whole of South Australia is doing it tough.”

“Not in Adelaide,” Zac said, “or the mines or the country around Adelaide. There are other opportunities.”

“You don't have to leave,” Lizzie said. “Things will get better.”

“You're always the optimist, Lizzie girl.” Zac's eyes softened as he looked at his sister. “I've got to go. I don't want to end up like I … like I was before. I have to try something else.”

“When will you go?” Thomas asked.

“Soon,” Zac said. “While there's still a horse alive to carry me.”

“Are the horses going to die too?” Ellen's worried voice drew their attention.

“Not with you and me here to look after them,” Timothy said brightly and winked at the little girl.

“I think it's time for bed,” Lizzie said. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

She ushered the children out of the room and Timothy said good night, leaving Zac and Thomas alone in the kitchen.

“You know I'm grateful to you for all you've done for us, Zac?” Thomas said.

“It's me who's grateful,” Zac said. “You and Lizzie saved my life, turned me around, but I can't take this desolation any longer. We're so helpless. It's not just the sheep but all the wild animals that are dying – and even the natives are struggling to survive. I feel so useless. I can't go down that path again, Thomas, you understand. I have to go.”

Thomas stood up and gripped Zac in a firm embrace. “I do,” he said.

There was a scuffling noise from the front of the house and then a thump on the door.

“Mr Baker?” Timothy called.

Thomas and Zac both hurried through the front room. Thomas opened the door. Timothy was stooped on the verandah with a man draped over his shoulders.

“What's happened?” Thomas asked.

“I found him by the horse trough,” Timothy said. “I think it's Mr Neales.”

“Is he …?” Zac's voice croaked to a halt.