Outback Born

by K'Anne Meinel

  When Mel reluctantly pulled back because her breathing had increased and she could feel herself becoming very aroused, she stared in Alinta’s endless black eyes and nearly fell into them. They were so dark, so mysterious, and so lovely that she couldn’t help comparing them to the endless and vivid night skies she saw here in Australia. She hadn’t known her years long wanderings had been leading her to this amazing woman. And she hadn’t known that any woman would want to spend the rest of her life with her.

  “I like kiss,” Alinta said softly, her own breathing coming harder. She wondered if the weather was changing as her body was becoming quite warm.

  “I do too,” Mel admitted, trying to get her equilibrium back. “I think we should wait until the parson marries us to continue this.”

  “Why?”

  “In the white man’s world, you only do things like this with your husband or wife, and you only do them after you are married,” she explained, wondering briefly at the other women she had been with over the years. They were the reason she had realized she liked the touch of a woman. She realized she wouldn’t have known that if she hadn’t had sex with them outside the bonds of marriage.

  “Then we should do this marry thing,” Alinta answered simply. “And the water thing too…for Ainia?” She could hear the baby making waking noises from where she had placed her on the bed after feeding her. She would have to check on her shortly.

  “Alinta, I want to marry you. I want to make love to you too. Are you sure this is what you want? You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with a man?”

  “No. Alinta no want man. Ever. Man hurt me. Man hurt mother. Man no good.”

  “Not all men are like that,” she said, to be fair. Some men were good. Her father had been an excellent example.

  “Alinta want no man. Alinta want Mel,” she insisted, trying to make herself clear.

  Mel smiled brilliantly, leaning down to kiss the woman again. “Mel want Alinta too.” She pidginned, wanting her so much it hurt.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The marriage of Alinta, a woman of Aborigine descent, to Mel (Melissa) Lawrence from America was performed in the open air of the home paddocks. The sheep were shorn, and the men were packing the bags onto carts to transport them to Sydney. Those in attendance at the wedding were pleased to witness the event. Very few realized the importance of the event or the sex of both the participants.

  “Do you, Mel Lawrence…” the cleric droned, having asked for a middle name that Mel did not supply, “take Alinta…” he hesitated over the fact that the woman had no middle or last name. Alinta had given him the name of her tribe, but he couldn’t pronounce it, so in his arrogant, white, male way, he just ignored it. He had gotten what he wanted, marriage between these two sinners. It was obvious they had been fornicating; the result of their sins was the child that the woman was holding in her arms. He had no idea that the child was not biologically Mel’s, nor did he know Mel was a woman. Only four people there knew Mel’s sex, and they weren’t telling. The cleric continued, “to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward? For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer? In sickness and in health? To love, cherish, and honor above all others, till death do you part, according to God’s holy law?”

  “I do,” Mel said clearly, her throat closing off as the importance of the words penetrated. She was holding Alinta’s hands firmly, looking down at the woman earnestly. They were both dressed nicely. Mel had pulled out one of her suits, which was now tighter in the shoulders and looser around the middle. Alinta’s eyes had widened at the sight of her mate in the unfamiliar clothing. Mel had given Alinta her only dress, which she then pinned in for the occasion since it swam on the shorter woman, but it looked like a summery gown with the extra folds causing it to bloom at the waist and making it look attractive on the Aborigine.

  “Do you, Alinta take Mel Lawrence to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward? For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer? In sickness and in health? To love, cherish, and obey till death do you part, according to God’s holy law?”

  Alinta had been ready to say yes. She had been nodding after each thing the man said, and she had understood all the words, but he hadn’t stopped, he just kept adding to them. Only the fact that Mel had agreed to almost all the same words had her answering in a small, clear voice, “Yes.”

  “You are supposed to say, I do,” he told her condescendingly. He didn’t see Mel stiffen at the tone in his voice but Alinta did, and she quickly said, “I do.” She didn’t know why Mel was suddenly angry. Maybe she was mad at Alinta for not knowing the right way to respond? But Mel was now smiling down at her brilliantly as the man continued his nonsense words and finally proclaimed that they were, “Man and wife.” Then, he gave Mel permission to kiss her. Alinta blushed as the white woman leaned down and gave her a peck on the mouth in front of all the witnesses, many whistling and clapping.

  “I wonder how long until Alinta doesn’t obey Mel,” Carmen whispered to Fabiola, who was hard pressed not to laugh about the independent woman.

  Their wedding was immediately followed by the baptism of Ainia, who was given a second and third name.

  “I baptize thee, Ainia Mary Lawrence,” the clergyman said, pleased that he could perform this small ceremony for them. He had blessed the water, so it was holy, and he poured the water on the child’s head. He was expecting her to cry, but instead, to the amazement of those watching, the child giggled. Mel laughed and Alinta smiled. The clergyman was horrified. He had never heard of such a thing. The crying was supposed to signify the bad spirits and the devil leaving a purified child’s body, but instead, this child laughed. He stared in horror at this child of mixed races.

  Carmen, one of the godparents, looked on amused when Ainia giggled instead of crying. Jose, the other godparent, looked startled but seeing the senora’s amusement, Mel’s laughter, and Alinta’s smile, he grinned.

  As Mel and Alinta turned away from each other to accept congratulations from those attending, Alinta was surprised to be embraced by the women and kissed on the lips by the men. She didn’t like that and would have bolted but for Mel’s hand firmly holding her own and Ainia being held in her arms.

  Mel saw the Aborigines from the small village watching, some knowingly, and she nodded towards them respectfully, especially the elders, who returned her nod of respect. She had spoken to a few of the elders who spoke English, and she told them they would be welcome at her station, if they so desired. She would need workers, and if they knew of others, they should come see the station she was going to build.

  Mel couldn’t believe how much the documents filled out by the clergyman meant to her. Seeing her name on the marriage certificate meant as much to her as the baptismal certificate. For better or worse, Alinta was her wife, and Ainia was her daughter. She valued one as much as the other. She rolled the papers up carefully, tying them with a ribbon and planning to tuck them away with her other important papers later.

  “Well, you did it,” Carmen said knowingly, leaning up to pull Mel down for a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you will both be very happy.

  “I hope we will be happy too. Thank you,” she told her friend.

  Fabiola wasn’t quite so friendly, but she also told the large woman she hoped she would be happy. “I’m glad you decided on that land north of us. If I had known about your valley, maybe I would have expanded up there, although that would certainly be a huge station. But I’d rather have a friend there.” She held out her hand to shake Mel’s, and the American took it gladly. She wondered briefly if Ainia would grow up to be as beautiful as this woman of mixed races, and she looked at the woman speculatively, wondering about her as she glanced between Carmen and the station owner.

  Harold was next, having returned after helping one of the stockmen get his shorn sheep out to new pasturage and checking some of the southern paddocks they were hoping to reuse. He heartily congratulated Mel
but moved on quickly, not acknowledging Alinta, and Mel noted that. He moved determinedly to the table where some of the stockmen’s wives had set up some rum in a keg along with some food for their little celebration. The men packing up the bags of wool rotated out, so they could get a share of rum and a little food before they had to be going. The carters were anxious to be on their way knowing how long a trek it would be back to Sydney.

  That evening, Mel handed the lead carter a bag with mail that could be sent out from Wilcannia or Menindee, depending on which place the man decided to travel through. The men were leaving early the next day, and a mail carrier would take it from there. That would be much faster than the carter could take it since it would take months for him to make his way back to Sydney with his full carts of wool. There was much more wool than he had anticipated, and he hadn’t had a chance to discuss next year’s cartage with the station owner. He had no idea that Fabiola and Carmen didn’t intend to use his services next year or that some of the mail he carried contained inquiries to other drayage companies for both Twin Station and the newly formed Lawrence Station.

  Mel had spent the afternoon after her wedding going through the large pile of mail from her lawyer, her accountant, a Mrs. Waters, her business partner, and surprisingly, a letter from Abigail in England. Abigail had written Mel soon after arriving in Sydney, wanting to let her and other people she stayed in contact with know of her new home and where to reach her. There were also a few other letters, and she spent time answering them all and writing quite a few new letters. Mel wasn’t sure how to address the fact that she had married a woman with her lawyer here in Australia and thought it best that she think about that for a while. She did, however, make Alinta and Ainia Lawrence her heirs, writing to her father’s lawyers—now hers—in America and England. For all anyone else knew, she might have adopted them. It would take time for the letter to reach the Americas and England, so she had some breathing room.

  “What is that?” Alinta asked as she nursed Ainia, the dress she had enjoyed long gone, replaced by her clean man’s long shirt and miners’ pants, her feet once again bare.

  “This is writing,” Mel explained as she finished up one letter, addressed it, and sealed it.

  “What is writing?” the inquisitive and always interested woman asked.

  Mel realized her wife—she loved the sound of that—had never seen her read or write. That gave her another thought, and she decided to write the lawyer and request some books be sent to her. Thinking about that further, she knew she wanted the classics but perhaps, some basic books would be good to teach her wife and someday, her daughter, how to read and write. “This is how we communicate across long distances. This is from America, the land where I come from,” she said, pointing to the letter she had just answered from her lawyers there. “That one is from England, from a friend of mine that lives there.” She had written Abigail too, knowing it might be a year before she heard from her again. Still, ships went to England and the Americas all the time. It was the mail service from Sydney to the interior that would really take a lot of time. She’d explained to all involved how far out her station was that she was establishing and that was why it was so long between letters.

  “You teach Alinta?”

  “Sure, I’ll be happy to teach you,” Mel replied, having just had that thought. “We will teach Ainia too someday.” Mel was so happy. She had a companion and a daughter, perhaps for the rest of her life. She was a realist. She wanted to believe everything was forever, but they lived so far away from everything, and things could happen.

  Alinta was happy too. She didn’t know what the future held, but with Mel as her mate, she was looking forward to finding out. She looked down at her daughter and held her tighter knowing that they were safe with this woman-man and secure in the knowledge that Mel wanted them with her forever. She looked down at the odd little ring that someone had sold Mel. It had come from one of the stockmen, who had lost the woman he planned to marry. She thought it an odd custom to wear such metal, but once she got used to seeing it on her left hand, she also thought it pretty. Mel had explained the ring was worn on that finger because white men thought it went directly to their heart. She said it with a sweet smile on her face as she explained, and Alinta’s heart was happy too.

  ~THE END~

  Thanks for reading.

  At this point, I’m going to ask if you would take a moment and leave an honest but kind-hearted review. I know my writing is different than most authors, and I hope you liked it well enough that you’re willing to recommend it to other readers.

  Your review makes a big difference…a BIG difference. Reviews are often the determining factor if someone picks up a book or not. Knowing that, if you liked this book, won’t you please take a moment to tell others about it right now? It will take less time than you think, and it’s best to do it while the story is fresh in your mind.

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  If you have enjoyed OUTBACK BORN, I hope you will enjoy this excerpt from

  CAVALCADE

  Molly didn’t know what kind of life to expect when she fell in love with Erin Herriot—her schoolmate, her best friend, and a woman. She had been grateful for Erin’s friendship when the bank swindled her after selling her parents’ farm and she was invited to live on Erin’s parents’ farm.

  After making the difficult decision to live life as ‘man and wife,’ Molly gladly accepted the challenges before them. Together, they made the decision to sell Erin’s farm and embark on the journey of a lifetime…on the Oregon Trail.

  Erin couldn’t give Molly children; however, she could love her forever. But leaving the area where they had both grown up and where everyone knew the women was the only way they could be together without questions about the true nature of their relationship.

  Come along on their adventure as two women cross the country, adopt a family, and begin a life that neither had imagined possible growing up in the mid-1800s.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Erin watched as Molly labored over the dog, petting her to calm her frantic breathing. Both Erin and the male dog watched for hours as one by one, the woman helped the first-time mother bring forth her litter of puppies. Two of the barn cats looked on curiously from the hayloft above the stall. The time sped by, but no one left their post. Erin shifted from foot to foot occasionally, looking down at the male Tervuren, who looked up in excited wonderment, panting happily. The intelligence of the Belgian dog showed through in that look they exchanged.

  “Well, I think she’s done. That’s it, eight pups,” Molly finally said as she palpated the abdomen. She smiled down at the bitch, who nuzzled at the tiny, mewling creatures. She seemed confused about what they were and the fact they had emerged from her body. Her flightiness was now gone, soothed by Molly’s comforting presence. Already, she had licked each of her offspring thoroughly and allowed this human to examine them. She lay contentedly now as they finished their first feeding, nuzzling close to the warmth of the fur around her teats.

  “That’s a good litter for her first,” Erin commented with a smile, leaning down to pet King, who looked up at her again as though he understood. “Think we can let him near her?” she indicated the proud papa, who had watched the birth of each of his pups, cocking his head now and then at the noises emanating from them.

  “She’ll let him know if she doesn’t want him near,” Molly said as she rose from her kneeling position, stretching her back after being scrunched over for so long. The front of her apron was covered with slime from the puppies she had helped whelp.

  “Do you really think she needed your help?”

  “Ya, I think she was frantic until I settled he
r here.” She indicated the stall they had prepared for the whelping box.

  Erin had to concede that Molly was probably right. For a first-time mother, Queenie had been rather ditzy, so unlike the normal brilliance they experienced in Tervurens. Erin knew this relatively unknown breed was invaluable here on the farm and was worth the effort. She gazed at the exhausted bitch. This part of her job was mostly over, and she was laying back in the deep straw, her smooth and even breathing indicating she was asleep.

  Molly backed up farther, slowly, so she could look down at the display. King chose that moment to take hesitant steps into the stall, sniffing avidly. Queenie never woke, didn’t give any indication she even knew her mate was there. Both humans tensed, ready to pull the male away if he gave any indication that he would savage the pups. Instead, he sniffed each one individually and nudged it slightly with his nose, familiarizing himself with each of the eight pups before he turned his back and lay down, protecting his mate and family and looking at his humans. His expression clearly indicated they could go. He had this. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his family.

  Molly smiled as she took one lantern hanging on the stall. Erin took the other lantern as they left the animals, closing the barn door behind them.

  “I am tired,” Molly admitted as she stretched again, the fabric of her dress pulling tightly against her form, showing her firm, young breasts and drawing Erin’s eyes.