She went to the room Tom had chosen for her, and the tears welled up. She knew she was home when she looked at the big four-poster bed with the green and pink rose-covered bedspread. The heavy dressing table with the embroidered love seat drew her. She walked over and sat down, running her fingers over the glossy dark wood of the dresser. She surveyed the large room and felt at ease, as she never had before.
“Thank you, Uncle Thaddius,” she whispered. “Thanks for giving us a chance.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed loudly. Standing, she walked around the room and looked through the door on the other side of her bed. It was a dressing room, and beyond that, there was a bathroom. And it was all white. The fittings were old-fashioned but far more appealing than the vintage-green set in her old house.
Libby laughed and went in to wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her tired eyes and messy hair. Pulling her hair band off and running her fingers through her locks in place of a brush, she pulled it back onto the top of her head and twisted her hair into a knot, twining the band around it. She took a final glance around the room, pulled herself up straight, and rose in search of the kitchen and that promised drink.
She could hear the whistle of the old steam kettle before she found the kitchen. Following the black-and-white tiles down a hallway that seemed to go forever, Libby walked into the open room. A table sat in the middle of the kitchen, mismatched wooden chairs surrounding it. Tom was sitting at one end, holding his mug between his hands. Libby took a seat as her gaze continued to roam the kitchen.
An old hutch dresser held a blue and white dinner set, which had seen many a family dinner. Some of the plates had minor cracks and chips, but they did not detract from the simple beauty of their pattern. The windows were open to let in the gentle, fresh smelling breeze above the sink, and the back door was wide open. Winton was standing in the doorway, leaning against it as he kept his eyes slightly downcast, sneaking peaks at Libby.
She picked up her cup of tea and sipped gratefully. “Thanks for coming to pick us up. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. I’m glad you made it almost okay.” A hint of a smile was on his lips. “Aaron told you all about the place then?”
“Kind of, I guess. But I suppose it would be best coming from you.”
“I’ve been with your granddaddy and his brother since I could walk, just about,” he started, smiling fully at her. “Know all there is to know about the place, that’s for sure. Been hard these last few years, trying to keep the place going with just me and Winton. Boy should be in school, but your uncle was too tight to hire any men, so we just had to make do.”
“Excuse me, did you say my uncle kept Winton out of school and made him work?” she asked, shocked. “Why did his parents let him get away with it?”
“Cause he ain’t got no parents anymore, that’s why,” he answered. “Dad was a jackaroo who did a couple of seasons on the farm. He ran off years ago when Winton was a little bit of a thing, and his mum died a couple of years back. She was one of the local Aboriginal women who used to do the cooking for the shearers and other farm workers. Didn’t have any family either, so he ended up staying here.”
“So who looks after him then?” Libby was horrified at what she was hearing.
“I do,” replied Tom. “Neither of us has anyone else, and we get by okay. Winton is scared you’re going to send him away from here. It’s the only place the boy has ever known.”
Libby jumped to her feet and crossed to the back door where Winton was still hovering. She pulled him into the kitchen as she tried to find her voice.
“Consider yourself family from now on, the pair of you.” Tears filled Libby’s eyes. “Neither of you are going anywhere, except maybe to school for you, Winton.”
Tom smiled and shook his head.
“What?” she demanded, daring him with a glance to challenge her.
“Just like your grandma, you are. Never could let a stray get passed her that was for sure, stubborn as a mule with it too. This should be interesting.”
“I’m sorry,” Libby said. “I don’t mean to be difficult. It must come with having to stick up for myself so much. It can be a pretty mean world, Tom. The kids and I have been on our own for a while now, and some days, I feel like a mama lion with my cubs. I’m the only one who is going to protect them, and if that means I get stubborn, then so be it.”
“Don’t get your heckles up with me. I loved your grandmother like she was a sister. Lovely woman, she was, in spite of her stubbornness.”
“What’s going on?” Josh asked, coming into the kitchen. He had his belligerent look on his face again, but Libby was too tired to care. Holly walked in behind him, taking glances at Tom and Winton from behind her brother’s back.
“Come here, baby,” Libby murmured, holding her hand out for reassurance as Holly shuffled over to her. Henry squirmed in her daughter’s arms, wanting down. “Why don’t we take him outside for a wee walk, and then I think we need to think about dinner and bed for you guys?”
“I’ve got dinner sorted if you don’t want nothing fancy.”
“You are an angel, Tom. I think I could just about eat anything you put in front of me tonight.”
“Just cold meat and salad. Winton killed a couple of sheep for the freezer last week, and we cooked up a leg yesterday. Should feed you all for another couple of days.”
“You killed some sheep?” Josh cried, looking at Winton with horror on his face. “That is so totally gross.”
“That’s how we live in the country, sonny,” Tom shot back. “If you want to eat while you’re here, you’ll learn to help out with the stock as well.”
“I’m not killing anything,” Josh retorted. “I’d rather live on potatoes.”
“Well, that’s your choice, I guess,” Tom said. “I can show you how to grow those as well. Your grandma set up a lovely, big vegetable patch out back by the chook house, Libby. I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Tom. Come on, let’s get these dogs out before they pee on the floor.” Libby pushed her kids out the door into the backyard.
When they were a little away from the house and the pups were sniffing around, Libby spoke to them. “Look, you two. This is a huge move for all of us, I know that. Things are different here in the country, and I want you to promise to think before you open your mouth and complain, Josh. So what if they kill their own meat? It’s no different than what I buy in the supermarket. It’s probably fresher though,” Libby added. “And I’ll make sure Tom doesn’t make you kill anything, at least not yet, so settle down and listen and learn. Now, let’s have some dinner and an early night, and tomorrow we can check out our new home, okay?”
Holly agreed by nodding her head, and Libby waited for a reply from her son. “Josh, I’m talking to you.”
“All right then, jeez; chill out, Mum.”
When they walked back inside the house, Tom and Winton had set the table and pulled a big plate of cold meat and salad from the fridge. Jars of pickles and homemade mayonnaise sat in the middle of the table, along with a big jug of water and some glasses.
“Thanks, guys.” Libby’s smile was for both of them. She sat down, Holly on her right, Josh on her left, and filled their plates with food, encouraging them to tuck in.
Talk over dinner was minimal. They were tired from their journey.
It was late by the time Libby had settled Holly to bed, Henry in the dog bed beside her on the floor where she could see him. Josh had gone quietly, shutting the door behind him.
When she came back to the kitchen, Winton was doing the dishes, and Tom was nowhere to be seen. Libby grabbed a tea towel from the rack behind the door and started drying.
“Where did Tom go?” she asked casually.
“He just checking that the dogs are okay, missus.” He spoke softly. “Strays around upset them sometimes. Been taking some lambs too.”
“Okay, sure. Do you live in the house wi
th Tom?”
“No, we live in the shearer’s quarters, missus, out by the shed.”
“Call me Libby, please. Do you miss going to school?”
“Yeah, some,” he answered shyly. “Tom been trying to teach me though.”
“What did you like most at school?” Libby asked, as she polished a glass.
“I like to read, missus...umm...Libby,” he responded. “All those places in the world to see. All there in those books for anyone who can read.”
“Have you been anywhere...besides here, I mean?” she asked.
“Never been past Charleville.” He handed her a plate to dry. “One day I will though.”
“I’m sure you will too.” She put the last of the plates away as Tom came back into the kitchen. “Everything okay out there?”
“Yeah, just some stray dogs giving the stock some grief. I’ll have to go out with the gun and see if I can find them. I don’t want to lose anymore sheep, not so close to lambing anyway.”
“Can you show me around the farm tomorrow, Tom?” Libby asked, leaning back on the kitchen bench, her arms crossed. “I may as well get into it from the start.”
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Bit rusty, but yeah, I can.” She smiled. “It’s been quite a few years, and I’ll no doubt have difficulty walking by the time I finish up, but I’m game if you are. I lived here when I was a small child. I don’t know if you know that or not. My memories have faded over the years, but I’ve always remembered the horses, and if there was a stable around, I’d ride when I could afford it.”
“What about the kids?” he asked.
“No, they’ve never been near one,” Libby replied. “Josh can keep an eye on Holly while we’re out. He’s used to watching out for her.”
“I’ll leave Winton here with them, just in case. He knows this place backward. They may as well get used to each other now since they’re going to be living together.”
“Thanks for everything. If you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in. See you early in the morning.” They nodded their agreement and murmured good night, while Libby watched them walk down the path before closing the door. Taking another glance around her new home, she turned off the lights in the kitchen and went to her room. Finally, she had an end to a trying day, and in the morning, she had a new, fresh start...at life and—Libby hoped—happiness.
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, Libby woke with a sense of déjà vu as she lay listening to the sound of the kookaburras in the gum trees outside the house. She could hear the dogs in the background and what sounded like cows nearby as well. She threw back the blankets and padded in her bare feet to the bathroom. When she was finished, she grabbed a pair of old jeans and a long-sleeved, cotton shirt from her bag and pulled them on. She gathered her socks and boots to put on later and headed for the kitchen.
She opened the door and surveyed the yard. Dogs were loose and running around, chickens scratched in the dirt out by the open shed. She could see a tractor parked on one side and other machinery amongst the hay bales. She stepped out and stood on the path. None of this had been visible the night before. Only the front of the house had been bathed in the light of the porch. The air smelled fresh and—she imagined—green. The fence around the yard was covered with straggly-looking plants. She thought they might be heritage roses, but wasn’t sure. It was something she could check later.
Her feet sank into the soft, green grass as she wandered around the back of the house. Someone loved this garden at one time, she thought as she spied what must be the vegetable garden Tom was talking about. Weeds grew everywhere, but even Libby could tell there were vegetables growing among them.
Cherry tomatoes climbed up the back fence, the small, red fruit covering the ground where the over ripe ones had fallen. She walked over and picked a shiny globe and popped it into her mouth. The fresh, sharp taste exploded on her tongue as she chewed in silent bliss. She promised herself she would learn all she could about the art of growing your own if this was the taste she could expect.
A lemon tree stood by itself against the side of a small wooden shed. She walked over to have a look, discovering an assortment of garden tools and pots on a workbench inside.
Libby sank her toes into the soft green grass and looked around the yard. She thought of what this move could mean to her little family and the things they would discover together. Jamming her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she let her mind turn to what she wanted now she was here.
If she could get Josh to find an interest on the farm, he would turn around; she knew it. He was always such a sweet child. She wouldn’t give up hope, even if she had to ask Tom to help with him. He needed a grandfather figure who wouldn’t shout him down, but also one who would listen to him in a way she couldn’t. Holly had perked up since she got her puppy. She was going to see if there were some jobs involving the animals; even feeding the chickens might appeal to her.
She smiled to herself at the thought of having a normal family before returning to the house to rouse the kids out of bed.
Libby didn’t want to keep Tom waiting. She was keen to see what the farm was all about.
After giving the kids their breakfast, she pulled her boots on and went in search of her hat. Once found, she gave instructions to Josh to look out for his sister and listen to Winton. He was going to show them around the yards and get them used to the jobs he did around the house. Libby wanted the kids to pull their weight and, even Holly was capable of collecting the eggs and feeding the chooks.
When she found him, he had a small bay mare ready for her, already saddled up. She approached the horse and held her hand out for her to sniff. The smell of the horse and tack brought back vague memories, tugging gently at her mind. She smiled and made a note to reminisce when she had time. She looked into the paddock and realized she recognized this part of the landscape. Had she ridden or helped feed horses here?
“This here is Honey,” Tom said, gaining her attention. “Real gentle little lady, but she can go like the clappers if need be. She doesn’t spook easy, so you should be a’right on her until you find your rhythm again.”
“Thanks, she’s just lovely.” Libby turned from him, shading her eyes as another memory rose from deep in her subconscious. Flashes of another time swamped her senses, leaving her breathless. Libby swung her leg over the waiting horse and settled her feet in the stirrups. She held the reins loosely and nudged her mount forward, riding beside Tom out the yard, ready to explore the farm.
He took her around several paddocks holding the sheep due to lamb. His craggy voice filled her head with so many facts she struggled to contain it all. She had the urge to make notes, to keep it all in perspective, but that was next to impossible on horseback. Heaven knew how much information she would retain by the time she got back to the house.
By the time they had unsaddled the horses, Libby was hot and dying for a cup of tea. Tom showed her the other horses in a paddock close to the stables.
“Hey, Tom, who is that little gray pony over there?” She pointed to the far side of the paddock.
“That’s Puddin’. I was given her when Winton was just a little bit of a thing. Taught him to ride on her, but he’s outgrown her now. That’s his horse, the big bay over there.” Libby looked at the horse in the corner of the paddock and decided she liked the one she had today. She was a few hands smaller than Winton’s, and Libby liked her pace.
“Maybe we can teach that little one of yours,” Tom suggested, voicing what Libby was slowly starting to consider.
“Yes, maybe we can, but right now I really could do with a cuppa, if you don’t mind.”
As they walked back to the house, a truck came up the driveway and pulled up in front of the shed. Libby looked up to see who it was. When she recognized the man behind the wheel, her back straightened, and she crossed her arms.
“Don’t go getting uppity just yet,” Tom warned. “Let’s just see what he wants.”
&n
bsp; Libby stood beside the overseer, watching Nathan climb from his truck and walk toward them, a confident swagger in his stride.
“Morning, Tom, sweetheart,” Nathan greeted, his dark gaze raking over her body from top to toe as he spoke. He brushed his sweat-stained akubra from his head and wiped his tanned face with a cloth before jamming it in his back pocket. His short, black hair was showing signs of gray around the temples and sideburns. Hands on hips, he watched her watching him. Looks like showdown at Quincy Station. Great. His jeans were clean, although they were well-worn, as was the long-sleeved shirt he wore with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dark stubble covered his strong, square chin, giving him an almost sinister look. Devastatingly handsome and trouble with a capital T.
“I’ve already told you, call me Libby,” she bit out, struggling to ignore the male magnetism tugging at her.
“Sweetheart suits you better,” Nathan drawled in that rough voice she was coming to recognize so well.
“What can we do for you this morning, Nathan?” Tom asked.
“I thought we should get straight to the crux of the matter since the new owner is here,” Nathan bobbed his head in Libby’s direction. “No point letting things go on if she can set her mind to fixing them.”
“What are you talking about, Mr. Miller?” Libby asked.
“Your fences, or should I say lack of them. I have purebred stock on my property, and your mongrel crossbreeds don’t seem to know what side of the fence they belong on. My cows are just about ready for breeding, and I would appreciate it if you could get your bulls to stay away.”
“I told you it would take time and money we just don’t have,” Tom said.
Taming the Outback Page 3