Outback Heritage

by K'Anne Meinel

  Harold looked at him again, trying to figure out if he was a man or a woman. Fabiola nodded coldly, looking every inch the landowner…strong and capable. Harold looked, well, weak. His boyish good looks were fading as he grew older. Used to being indulged a bit as he grew up, he could appear the eligible station owner but failed to maintain that facade for too long, as they would soon learn. “We were wondering when you would get here, but we never expected you to bring stock.” He looked beyond her at the sight of the eight thousand sheep, the herd of horses, and the wagons. He looked…alarmed. “We do have sheep here,” he pointed out.

  “Half of these belong to Mr. Lawrence,” Carmen explained, gesturing to Mel.

  Mister. That meant that he was a man, not a woman as Harold had wondered. Fabiola looked on, not saying much as she watched the strangers and the stock they had brought with them.

  “I also thought that having Merinos in our breeding would be good for wool production,” Carmen continued, echoing almost verbatim a conversation she had had with Mel many times on the trip out here and explaining why she had immediately set out to obtain the sheep when she found them. Mel had repeated what she had learned of breeds, having listened to Foster and his men as well as other station owners and grazers she met. Carmen had previously raised beef and horses but not sheep. She had relatives who were sheep herders but hadn’t a lot of experience with them herself. She had learned a lot on the trip out here as Mel willingly shared what she had learned.

  “Then you will be staying?” Fabiola spoke up, sounding haughty.

  “Yes, I sold my ranch in California to come here. I take it you didn’t get my lawyer’s letters?” Carmen asked, feeling equally haughty towards the woman.

  “Yes, we got your letters, but did you get our letters asking if you would be interested in us buying you out?”

  “I wanted to see what I had inherited,” her arm swept out to encompass the immense landscape around them, ignoring the question. Of course, she had gotten the letters, dealt with the lawyers, and decided against selling. Her eyes didn’t betray her thoughts, and she wondered if something was not as it seemed with her cousins.

  The first of the wagons had passed by them, and the sheep were coming up. Mel moved away to help keep the sheep away from the flock that was moving away. She whistled to her dogs to keep them on the side away from the other flock, herding them well away. Both Harold and Fabiola watched this.

  “That’s a lot of Merinos,” Fabiola commented, her face relaxing as she talked about the stock.

  “We were lucky. They’d just come off a ship and were confiscated by the bank. Mel there recognized them for what they were, and we bought them.”

  “Is he your partner too?” Harold asked, puzzled, wondering at the relationship and frowning. He’d tried to remain optimistic about their distant cousin coming to live at the station. He had been angry that she wouldn’t let them simply buy her out, but Fabiola had shrugged, not caring so long as they could stay on the ranch they had grown up on, and there wasn’t much worry in that since they owned half the station.

  “No, Mr. Lawrence is planning on setting up his own station, and I had hoped you two would have recommendations of where he should locate it. Perhaps, we could use a neighbor?” she hinted broadly. “In the meantime, do you have the pens to accommodate this flock and my herd?” she indicated the horses.

  “Of course,” Harold assured her, but Fabiola watched her closely, wondering at the Hispanic woman and why she had given up a ranch in California to come here.

  They rode to the top of the rise and looked down on the valley that held the home paddock. It was a wide, large valley with a creek that meandered down the middle. The station house was beside it as well as pens, barns, and sheds. It wasn’t an overly large home paddock, they’d seen bigger on the way out, but it would be adequate, if a bit rundown. Carmen looked down on their destination and wondered at its setup, disappointed with how it looked. She hadn’t expected a fine house and green pasturage after all the arid land they had driven through, but this was barren. She could see an Aborigine village on one side and what must be the station house on the other. Large barrels were on stilts for water, and the houses were also on stilts to keep out bugs and keep everything above the water level of the creek when it rained.

  Harold rode on ahead to get men to help with the sheep. He knew the flock was valuable with those fine Merinos and wondered how set that Lawrence person was on taking half. If he could talk him out of it, he’d be happy. Cousin Carmen was right. The Merinos would be good for increasing their wool production, if they survived. He watched as the men herded them into the paddocks, seeing how well they had traveled. It was then he noticed the Aborigine, several other Hispanic women, and the many children with them. There were also the dozen men that looked swarthy to him and the usual carters who brought their supplies. They had been long overdue, and now, he understood the delay was because they had accompanied his cousin out here.

  For the first time since they had left Sydney, the sheep and horses were corralled, and both Mel and Carmen breathed a sigh of relief. They’d kept the sheep in rope corrals, folds as they were called here, and only the sheep thought they were safe in them. The folds didn’t really keep them contained, but the sheep thought they did, so along with the dozen dogs, the patrolling men, and the guns, it did.

  Carmen was welcomed into the main house, a four-room affair with two bedrooms, a front room, and a kitchen. She looked on at the primitive setup without saying anything, but Paco was horrified. After the large hacienda she had left in California, she should come to this…this hovel? He kept his face carefully schooled as Carmen wasn’t saying anything. She simply looked around and learned the setup. From what she was seeing, there was no way her cousins could have afforded to pay her the sum they had offered for the station.

  “He can sleep in the bunkhouse with the other men although with all your other men…” Harold began hesitantly, referring to Mel.

  “My vaqueros?” Carmen corrected gently, giving it the full Spanish flavor as she asked.

  “Yes, with your other men,” he repeated himself, not even trying to use the Spanish word, “it’s going to be a tight fit. The bunkhouse can only hold a dozen.”

  “What are some of those houses along the creek?” she asked.

  “They’re for some of our married stockmen…” he began slowly as he realized what she was saying. “Three of them are empty,” he offered up half-heartedly. It was obvious he was reluctant to give them out, but Carmen was more than a match for him.

  “Mel, you and Alinta can take one of the empty houses there along the creek,” she called, taking charge, seeing the large woman walking her horses along and heading for the corrals. The woman nodded and turned to what looked like an empty house.

  “Paco, if the bunkhouse is full, use the other empty house for the men,” she continued. She turned back to her cousin. “There’s that for now until the drayage men return to Sydney.”

  “They’ll go after we unload the supplies and then load the shearing,” he explained, gesturing to the various hodgepodge of sheds.

  “Yes, that’s what they told me,” she returned, nodding in agreement to show she understood.

  “They’re so late,” he complained but realized immediately that was the wrong thing to say.

  “Yes, that’s my fault. I didn’t want to run down the sheep or my horses.” She turned away, looking into the house and wondering where she and her children would stay.

  “Senora, where should we go?” Maria asked as she came up, speaking in Spanish as was her custom.

  “For now, let’s just get the children settled, so they can go out and play,” Carmen returned, gesturing towards the other empty house along the creek. It was obvious she was as comfortable in English as she was in Spanish.

  “That’s a pretty language,” Harold said with a smile, trying to be charming, but it was obvious he didn’t like them speaking a language he didn’t understand.
He watched as the other Hispanic woman began leading the children towards one of the empty houses.

  Carmen ignored him, instead watching Fabiola as she got down from her horse near the sheds and started commanding the men who stood around. There was soon activity as they moved about busily. Down by the creek an annoying noise had started. “What is that?” she asked about the noise she heard.

  “Sounds like a corroboree starting,” Harold explained. “It’s an Aborigine celebration. They do it for all sorts of occasions. I’m betting this one is because of your arrival.” He smiled, showing even, white teeth.

  Carmen nodded and returned the smile, wondering at it and not liking the way the man was hovering. “Jose,” she called in English to one of her men, “My things can be unloaded in that house over there,” she nodded towards where Maria was heading with her children, another of the nurses hurrying to catch up with them. “Please have the men check on my babies,” she added, and he smiled. He saluted her as he hurried away, directing one of the wagons to the house Maria had already disappeared into.

  “Your babies?” Harold asked, trying to be amiable.

  “My horses,” she replied as she walked off the main house porch and headed for the house her children had disappeared into. She found that it had two bedrooms, a living area, and a kitchen. This would be fine for a while, but it wouldn’t be big enough for the long-term. “Maria, the men will soon be here with my furniture. Some will have to be stored in the barns until I can figure out what I’m going to do here.”

  “You will have to warn the children against going under the houses until we’ve made sure they are clear of spiders and snakes,” Harold warned her, proving he had followed her.

  Carmen was irked, but she nodded to show she understood and looked at Maria warningly. “Thank you, cousin Harold. I appreciate your concern and consideration,” she said sweetly. “We are going to have to discuss with Mr. Lawrence what his plans are and then divide up the supplies he purchased as well as the sheep.”

  “How keen is he on keeping his half of the sheep?” he asked as Carmen returned to the front porch of the house and looked around. The different angle gave her a better view, and she could see why someone had settled in this area. It must be beautiful after the rains. Right now, it looked parched and dead but still pretty in its own way.

  “The sheep were Mr. Lawrence’s idea. I have no intention of cheating him out of anything,” she informed her cousin frostily.

  “No, no. I just thought perhaps he would like to do a trade. Some of our sheep for a share of his Merinos,” he amended hastily. Damn, she was prickly and beautiful in her ire.

  “We could ask, but I own half that flock, and if four thousand Merinos aren’t enough on our station, then how many would be?” she asked.

  “Well, all would be welcome, and with them intermixed with our sheep, we should get ahead in a few years.”

  “A few years?” she turned from where she was observing the activity on the station. “How did you intend to buy me out?”

  “Well, over time or with a bank loan,” he began feebly.

  “I think there is some misunderstanding here, cousin Harold,” she began briskly as she saw Fabiola come up. “You don’t own this land,” she gestured at the hills around the home paddock. “You only have grazing licenses, so you couldn’t get a loan on it. From the few sheep I saw on the land while traveling here, I take it you’ve had some setbacks?”

  “We have,” Fabiola answered for her brother, drawing Carmen’s full attention. She looked hard at the woman. From what her uncle had written, both Fabiola and Harold were the result of his cousin’s liaison with an Aborigine. In her cousin Harold’s case, he looked white but had a weak chin and characteristics she could see wouldn’t serve a white man or an aboriginal man well. In the case of Fabiola, she saw that she was large boned, although not as large as Mel, but totally feminine in appearance. Her skin tone defined her as an Aborigine, and from what Carmen had experienced herself, she probably would not be welcome in Sydney. People frowned on mixing the races. Even her Spanish heritage was suspect because she and her vaqueros were darker skinned than the English. The Hispanics looked nothing like the aboriginal people in bone structure. “We had fires that wiped out our flocks in the southern paddocks. They were set by fossickers, who were mucking about with no care other than their own. Drought has taken a toll on our remaining flocks, but we are anticipating the rains, and with the influx of your flock we should do better. You’re right. We’d never get a loan, and I’m grateful you’re here to help. Are your men staying, or are they heading back to the Americas?”

  “They’re staying,” she informed her cousin, impressed despite her first impression of Harold.

  “Then they’ll be expected to work,” she stated.

  “Yes, that was the plan. I was uncertain what we’d find here, but I’m willing and able to work,” Carmen promised.

  Fabiola’s eyes sparkled. They had reached an understanding, and she sensed her cousin was a similarly strong woman, and she was bred for country such as this. “What kind of station is Mr. Lawrence planning on setting up?”

  “I was hoping we might convince Mr. Lawrence to be one of our neighbors, if there is land available and you could recommend something?”

  “How about we go out to a few of the paddocks tomorrow. We can take our men some supplies, and I can show you around the place?”

  “That would be a good idea,” Harold seconded the idea, and Carmen saw the look in Fabiola’s eye before she glanced at the brother and back to the tall woman.

  “Would you like to rest a few days?” She glanced behind Carmen to where the children were making themselves at home in the house, already running about followed by the faithful Maria and another woman, Gabriella.

  “No, I’m used to traveling now. Let’s go discuss it with Mel Lawrence and see what…he has to say about it.” Her hesitation was only brief, but she wondered if Fabiola had recognized it as her eyes flared slightly.

  After Carmen’s wagons were unloaded into her chosen house, the rest of her goods placed in some stalls in the barn covered and away from the animals, the Hispanic men pitched in to help unload the rest of the supplies for the station into the storage shed and elsewhere. Fabiola was pleased with the additional help as everyone, including Carmen and Mel, pitched in to not only unload the supply wagons but also stack the large bags of wool, so the wagons of the drayage company could immediately turn around the next day and head back to civilization with their crop.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They headed out the next day. Fabiola led the way, followed by Carmen and Mel and several pack horses. Only two of the vaqueros accompanied them to guard the Senora. It had taken Mel several tries before Alinta understood that she was to stay in the house with all the supplies. She had been curious about the place, never having been in one of these structures, but she took the job of protecting Mel’s things seriously.

  Fabiola explained they had split the paddocks into sections to keep track of them, and a stockman oversaw each section, sometimes helped by an assistant, called a jackaroo here in Australia.

  Mel and Carmen looked about avidly as Fabiola explained and pointed with her short whip to different features of the landscape.

  “My father wanted to enclose all the paddocks, but he was too ambitious, and it never got done. Your uncle enclosed the paddocks to the south before his death, but we ran out of money before we could do more, and those are now gone with the fires.”

  “This is a lot of land to enclose,” Carmen commented.

  “It is, but it won’t graze as many sheep as it would in, say England. Do they have sheep in America?” she asked, directing her question to both Carmen and Mel.

  “Oh, yes, and as it’s a new land it too has its problems enclosing large areas to keep the animals contained.”

  Mel smiled. Carmen was using big words again, and she could tell that Fabiola was a little intimidated, even if she didn’t let it sh
ow. Fabiola was all bravado on social items but was brilliant when it came to the land and the stock. Mel knew she could learn a lot from Fabiola. Mel and Carmen were both still trying to figure the brother out. He seemed to allow his sister to take the lead. Still, he had stayed behind, ostensibly to supervise at the home paddock while his sister was gone.

  She showed them a little valley, which was a bit greener than their own valley where the first flock was located. The dogs didn’t bark as they rode into the valley; they were trained not to bark. Instead, they started moving about restlessly to tell the stockman that something or someone was nearby. He looked up and waved when he saw them, curious about the other people with Fabiola.

  “John Neighbors, this is Uncle Jude’s niece. She’s come here all the way from America,” she told him, and he nodded. “My cousin, Mrs. Carmen Pearson.”

  “Aye, we’ve been waiting on you for a while now,” he said with a decided Irish brogue.

  “Waiting on me?” Carmen asked.

  “News that you weren’t going to sell was all over our station. There is little to talk about here,” Fabiola explained. “Anything of news about the family or the station owners is news to everyone here.”

  Carmen nodded, understanding. It had been that way with her people back in the valley since everyone knew everyone and many were distantly related besides. Everyone could count someone related to another person through marriage or kinship. “I’m pleased to meet you,” she stated. “This is Mel Lawrence, also of America. He is planning on setting up a station as well.”

  “How do you do?” John said, holding out his hand to the other man.

  Mel shook it, hiding her amusement that the stockman would shake another man’s hand but not offer to shake the hand of the station owner because she was a woman. She glanced at Carmen and saw that she was also aware of that.

  “Where’s your hut?” Fabiola asked, not willing to waste time in chin wagging.

  He pointed it out to her and saluted as she started off, the two pack horses following her own. He admired the horse that Carmen was riding, but he admired the woman more. Mel was amused when she saw him looking at the beautiful Hispanic woman, but she turned her face away before he could see her amusement and she embarrassed him. He did lose his smile when the two men he hadn’t been introduced to glared their resentment as they rode past. He wondered who they were with their short jackets, dark moustaches, and stocky horses.