Outback Heritage

by K'Anne Meinel

  Carmen and Mel exchanged a look as both understood that feeling. Several of the men on the trip out here had experienced that phenomena but neither of the women. Both had instead embraced the endless lands and the feel of forever in the Outback. Mel had even commented once that leaving her old life behind hadn’t been a problem. Instead, she felt that she had been born for this, perhaps bred to it as she helped to herd her flock out to the vast Outback.

  Fabiola had introduced the men who answered Mel’s ads, and several of them agreed to hire on for a year, possibly more, as she assessed how they worked with the sheep. She also had a stack of mail that had come with the supplies she had ordered.

  Carmen discussed with her men about helping her build a track onto her station, so the carts they had brought to carry supplies could be hauled in. She explained what she had already built, what she intended to build, and all her other plans. If any wanted to back out after learning the amount of work she had in the planning, they would have the opportunity now and could return to civilization with the drays that had hauled Twin Station’s supplies in and would be taking the shearing back. None did. They were wanting the jobs because Mel promised an honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work.

  * * * * *

  “Mr. Lawrence?” an unfamiliar voice addressed Mel. Not used to being addressed this way, she turned in surprise to see a cleric standing there with his bible in hand and his starched white color standing out in contrast to his black robes. He looked at her benevolently. She glanced beyond him to see Carmen looking amused, and Fabiola’s eyes were dancing with her own amusement.

  “Yes?” she asked, wondering if this was a Catholic priest and how she should address him. There was a hint of something in his accent, not Australian and not properly English either.

  “I was wondering what you were planning on doing about the welfare of the child?” he asked, as though he were giving her a blessing of some kind.

  Mel frowned, not understanding. “What child?” she asked, sounding stupid.

  “Why, the child of your…wife?” he asked, sounding surprised that she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Mel chuckled. “I don’t have a wife,” she said before she could stop herself, and she saw Carmen and Fabiola both turn away in their mirth. She realized that the man of the cloth would think that Alinta was her common-law wife and Ainia was her illegitimate child. Now, he must be thinking the baby was born out of wedlock.

  “But the child, it must be saved! It must be baptized!” he protested. “We must not take advantage of these poor savages, who inhabit this land. Their simple minds must be protected and saved.” He held up his bible to emphasize saving the masses.

  Mel was amused. She had attended many churches over the years. She believed in a higher being, but organized religion was not for her, especially not out here. Saving the aboriginal people, indeed. “Have you ever seen these people in action?” she asked him instead, confusing him. “They are one with the lands here. They don’t take anything more than they need from the Earth, and they don’t need saving.” She realized that last line should not have been added as the man objected immediately and began going on about their poor, lost souls. He blathered on so long that Mel found herself agreeing to having Ainia baptized.

  “How in the world did that happen?” she asked Carmen and Fabiola as they walked along. Fabiola was yelling at the men that were loitering, telling them to get back to work.

  “He wears you down. He’s almost as bad as the priests back in California at the missions. They are forever saving the savages, as they call them.” She had seen him come in on the drays, and the men who had brought out their supplies were not thrilled with his companionship as it cut down on their drinking and talking. They had to curb their cussing in the holy man’s presence.

  “Well, I better go explain to Alinta, so he doesn’t frighten her. I’ve also got about a dozen letters to write,” she sighed, remembering the pile of letters she had gone through.

  “We should be done tomorrow with your flock,” Fabiola reminded her, glancing at the men and the sheep they were shearing, then at the many carts the men were filling.

  “Oh, that means they will be going soon,” Carmen said, obviously enjoying their visit.

  “Well, I do have a station to establish,” Mel reminded her friend fondly. She’d been thinking of nothing but her future station since they got here and saw Fabiola’s setup. Already, Carmen’s influence was obvious in the operations of this station and not just in the building of the house on the side of the hill. Carmen had explained that it was higher up and out of the path of the creek that had flooded so during the rains. She felt that the hill should protect her home from the worst of the winds. She also loved its view.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  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 at Twin Station. The sheep were shorn, and the men were packing the bags onto carts to transport them to Sydney. Those in attendance were pleased to witness the event. Very few realized the importance of the event or the sex of one of 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, and in his arrogant, white male way, he simply ignored it. He had gotten what he wanted, marriage between these two sinners—it was obvious they had been fornicating since the woman was holding the results of their sins in her arms. He had no idea that the child was not biologically Mel’s child or that she was a woman. Only four people attending the ceremony knew this, and they weren’t telling, “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. 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 tighter in the shoulders and looser around the middle now. She had given Alinta her only dress, which she then pinned in for the occasion. It swam on the shorter woman but looked like a summery gown.

  “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 kept adding more words. Only the fact that Mel had agreed to almost all the same words had her waiting before answering in a small 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 once again smiling down at her brilliantly as the man continued his nonsense words and finally proclaimed them to be, “man and wife.” Then, he gave his permission for Mel 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 of them whistling and clapping.

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

  “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 holy water on the child’s head, expecting her to cry. Instead, to the amazement of those watching, the child giggled. Mel laughed, and Alinta smiled, but 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 the child of mixed races.

  As Mel and Alinta turned away 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 held in her arms.

  Mel saw the Aborigines from the small village watching on, some knowingly, and she nodded towards them respectfully, especially the elders, who returned her nod of respect. She had spoken to a few who spoke English and told them they would be welcome at her station too, 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 the clergyman filled out meant to her. Seeing her name on the marriage certificate meant as much to her as seeing the baptismal certificate. She rolled them up carefully, tying them with a ribbon and planning to tuck them away with her other important papers.

  “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 too. Thank you,” she told her friend.

  Fabiola wasn’t as friendly, but she too told the large woman that 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. 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 from helping one of the stockmen get his 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 a little celebration. There was rum in a keg as well as some food. The men packing up the bags of wool rotated out, so they could get a share of rum and a little food before they would be going. The carters were anxious to be on their way, knowing how long a trek it was back to Sydney.

  That evening, Mel handed the lead carter a bag with mail for her station 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, much faster than the carter could. He already had a bag of mail from Carmen and Fabiola for Twin Station that would be mailed as well. It would take months for him to make his way back to Sydney with his full carts of wool. There was much more 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.

  Carmen watched as the carters left the station, heading east on the track leading into the station. She and Fabiola helped Mel and the new men herd the large flock of now shorn sheep north along the track that was forming there. They stopped that night and shared dinner, the flock well-tended with additional dogs and men, who guarded them in shifts.

  “Well, Mel. You got through your first year of sheep herding, establishing your station, and shearing,” Carmen saluted her with a pannikin of water.

  Mel smiled at her friend, looking at her sitting next to Fabiola on a log they had pulled up to the fire. She glanced at the men, who were already rolled up in their blankets asleep, intending to patrol the flock later in shifts. Then, she looked beyond them to the carts that were in a semi-circle around the chosen camp. Her look finally encompassed her wife and child, and she felt content. “I thank you,” she said, returning the salute with her own pannikin, this one containing coffee that had come in with the supplies.

  Carmen saw that look towards Alinta and understood it. She wondered if she would ever find someone, and at that moment she noticed Fabiola. She had known that Mel wasn’t the companion she was seeking in life but counted her as a true friend. Fabiola had never had a mate, and she wondered if there was a reason behind that. She briefly thought of Harold and immediately dismissed that. His interest was apparent, but something about the weak-willed man repelled her.

  Paco had noticed Carmen’s repugnance of the man, and he spread the word to their men to keep Harold at bay, if possible. Harold had tried to order the vaqueros around, but they made it clear that they worked for the senora and no other. Occasionally, they would do as Miss Fabiola asked but only out of respect for the senora.

  As Carmen and Fabiola headed back towards Twin Station the next day flanked by several vaqueros, Mel and her people were well on their way north to establish this new, raw station she had named Lawrence Station. They smiled, urging their mounts into an impromptu race as Dancer easily outdistanced the Brumby that Fabiola was riding. The two women laughed joyously, well-matched and looking towards the future.

  ~THE END~

  Thanks for reading.

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

  AN ISLAND BETWEEN US

  The war is over, and the boys are coming home. It’s time for women everywhere to leave the factories and return to their rightful places…in the kitchen.

  Women did their duty and filled many traditionally male jobs while their men were fighting for their country, but now, the men are back and ready to take over. But what if your man didn’t return? And what if you found you enjoyed the freedom your job gave you?

  Neither Marion Whiting nor Barbara Jenkins loved their jobs in the mill; however, they did the best job they could for their government, and after being widowed by the war, those jobs had become a necessity.

  The two women fell in love and moved in together to save on expenses, but they soon discovered life is very different from when they were married to men. After giving up their individual homes in order to buy a place together, they learn that no bank will give them a loan without a responsible male’s signature. Since Marion and Barbara no longer have men to ‘take care’ of them, they decide they will take care of themselves and each other.

  Dreams are meant to be pursued, so Marion and Barbara buy an island using the last of their combined money. They want to create a vacation getaway where they can raise their shared family, but they have no idea what it will take to make their dreams on this island a reality.

  Will they have to give up their dreams to save their relationship? Will the freedoms they enjoy be thwarted by outside influences? Come along as two women in post-war Maine embark on their dream. "What could possibly go wrong?” you ask…

  CHAPTER ONE

  As the ferry finally docked, Marion breathed a deep sigh of relief. The trip had been long
, too long, and she worried that it would be impossible to make money with the idea they were pursuing. Maybe this had been a wasted trip? It was a wild idea, and she worried that she and Barbara were crazy to even entertain these thoughts. But it felt right, and they had to try. It felt like if they didn’t get out of their boring life, they would smother from the sameness of it all. If their lives alone didn’t kill them, someone else would. You see, they were a lesbian couple. They’d managed to fool some of the townspeople in the small village outside of Boston where they were escaping from, but some people were suspicious that two young widows living together and not searching for husbands were perhaps more than they appeared. Marion didn’t really care, but she worried that Barbara might accidentally be hurt if anyone realized what they were to each other.

  As the ferry hit another wave and caused her to sway on her feet, she wondered if she was going to be sick once more. She hoped not. Already, people were staying well away from the seasick woman but thankfully, not Barbara. Barbara held a basin for her time and again, mopped her brow, and even fetched water from the drinking fountain in the corner to soothe her acid-filled stomach. The hours on this ferry had been hell. They hadn’t realized how long it would take to get to this corner of Maine. She was also craving a cigarette, having smelled the smoke from the one that was inevitably planted in the corner of Barbara’s lips. She knew if she had one puff though, the motion sickness she was suffering would only get worse.

  “We’re almost there,” Barbara said soothingly, her cold hand lovingly caressing the forehead of her sweaty and sick girlfriend. She removed her cigarette with her other hand and flicked the ashes onto the deck of the ship without a thought. Looking at its length, she took one more drag, before flicking it over the rail.