by Bonnie Leon
Their spacious stateroom was tastefully furnished and was supplied with hot and cold running water. Putting her hand under a stream of warm water, Rebecca chuckled. “Why, I never! I can’t wait to write Aunt Mildred.”
“I’m happy it suits you,” Daniel said. “The advertisement said it was built to indulge the tastes of the very wealthy.”
Rebecca turned off the tap, wondering just what waited for her in Queensland. How rich was Daniel’s family? She felt a shiver of trepidation. She’d been raised well, but her father had worked to earn his position. There was no powerful family behind him. The kind of wealth Daniel seemed to have shouted of old money, which often came with strong family ties. What would they think of their son marrying a woman without means?
When the ship steamed out of San Francisco Bay, Rebecca and Daniel stood on deck, the wind catching at their hair and salt spray wetting their lips. Daniel rested an arm about Rebecca’s waist. She wished he wouldn’t. The gesture felt possessive. She fought the impulse to pull away. After all, he had a husband’s right to hold her.
The city grew small and finally disappeared into the hillsides. Sudden fear swept away her excitement at the thought of a new beginning. She had a sense of being cut off from her world. What if she wasn’t up to the trials ahead? What if she hated being Daniel’s wife? And what of Daniel’s family? Why wouldn’t he talk about his father?
Their first night at sea revealed a more relaxed Daniel. It was as if he became Australian the moment his feet left American soil. After seating himself across from Rebecca at an elegantly laid table, he talked about Australia and life on the station.
“It’s a land like none you’ve ever seen. Queensland has everything you could want. Along the coast there are tropical forests with brightly colored and noisy birds. Brisbane and Sydney are grand cities. Sydney’s a fair way to travel though, so we rarely go there.
“Brisbane’s on the east side of the mountains, and once we move west from the coast there are lots of eucalypts and pines. I fear the pines won’t last. Blokes are cutting ’em down nearly as fast as they sprout.” He picked up a cup of tea. “On the other side of the mountains are the flats—broad, open plains. The station’s out there. We can ride often.”
“I would like that.” Rebecca stirred sugar into her tea. It was stronger than what she was used to.
“We’ve a mob of horses to choose from. You can pick your own.”
“That will be nice. But I can’t imagine ever replacing Chavive. I miss her,” she said, suddenly finding herself holding back tears.
Daniel leaned across the table and took her hand. “You’ll soon have another horse. I promise.”
Rebecca didn’t like the contact and pulled her hand free.
Daniel straightened. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be forward.”
“It will just take time, Daniel. I’m not used to having a husband.” Using her handkerchief, she dabbed at her eyes. “And just the thought of Chavive brought back memories.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. It hasn’t been that long since you lost your father and everything that mattered to you. And of course you aren’t used to being a wife.”
“I’ll try to do better.” She brushed away the wetness on her cheeks.
“No worries. You’ll soon fall in love with Australia. You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Mum will make you feel right at home. She has a way about her.”
“I can’t wait to meet her . . . and your father.”
Daniel made no reply, but a shadow touched his eyes, leaving Rebecca wondering why.
She couldn’t pinpoint the exact day the weather warmed or when the color of the sea changed. Maybe it had happened so gradually that one wouldn’t have noticed. But Rebecca liked the transformation—wraps were no longer necessary while strolling the promenade, and the seas were an iridescent blue.
One morning while wandering along the deck, she spotted land. So did many others, and anticipation spread throughout the ship. People gathered, watching and waiting.
Daniel stood beside Rebecca, but he didn’t touch her. They gazed at the tropical foliage hugging the shoreline and reflecting off the blue sea. The colors were vibrant.
“You didn’t tell me it was so beautiful. I had no idea.” Leaning on the railing, Rebecca looked down through clear waters and studied sea plants swaying in the currents and bright fish darting among foliage and rocks.
When they entered Moreton Bay, porpoises danced alongside the ship, chattering. Their merriment eased the last of Rebecca’s jitters.
“Where is Brisbane?” she asked Daniel.
“It’s up the river a ways,” he said, pointing to a river that flowed into the bay.
Anchor chains clanked while being lowered. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Lord, I pray I’ve done the right thing. She looked skyward. A white-breasted sea eagle soared. Its heavy wings beat the air, and it glided upon invisible currents.
Only miles away her new life waited. It was time to begin.
6
A crewman lifted the oars out of the water, and the boat glided toward the dock. “’Ere we are, safe and sound, eh?”
Moving toward the bow of the boat, Daniel made his way through other passengers. “I’ll tie ’er up for you.” He grasped a rope secured to the front of the boat and waited until the small craft bumped the pier, then reached out and grabbed hold of a wooden pylon, quickly looped the rope around it, and tied it off. He leapt onto the dock, caught another rope tossed by the oarsman, and secured the back of the boat.
“Ya do that as if ya’d been out ta sea a bit of yer life, lad.”
“I’ve made this trip often enough.” Daniel straightened and gazed at the opposite bank of the Brisbane River. A brisk wind buffeted foliage crowding the shore. “Glad to be home . . . well, nearly home.”
Daniel helped passengers disembark while Rebecca patiently kept her seat. Finally, when all the others were off, Daniel smiled at his wife and offered her his hand. “Right, then. Let me give you a hand, ma’am.” He grinned.
Holding her bonnet secure, Rebecca allowed him to assist her from the pitching boat. Once planted on the wharf, she was obligated to keep hold of him. She felt as if she were still rocking, and her legs were wobbly.
“I suppose it will take me a while to get used to being off the ship.” She gazed at red brick buildings crowding the street above the pier. “So this is Brisbane. It’s larger than I expected . . . and modern looking.”
“It’s a first-rate city all right,” Daniel said, wearing a broad smile.
“Thanks for yer help, mate,” the crewman said, handing up Daniel and Rebecca’s baggage.
“Glad to be of help.” Daniel grasped two bags in one hand and one in the other. “They’ll send on the rest of our things, then?”
“They’ll be unloaded tonight and sent on over ta yer hotel, lad.” The oarsman smoothed an overlarge mustache. “Ya been abroad?”
“Yes. Business in the States. And I picked up a bride while I was there.” Daniel chuckled and hugged Rebecca with one arm.
An immediate blush heated Rebecca’s face. “I wasn’t just picked up . . .”
“Wal, of course not . . . ,” the sailor said with a snicker.
“Nearly.” Daniel grinned.
“Actually, it was all quite proper. You see . . .”
“Ah, don’t worry ’bout it, lydie. As long as ya found each other . . . that’s all that matters, eh?” The crewman tipped his cap. “Time I got back.” He untied the ropes and pushed off. “Yer things will be brought ’round ta ya before dark. I’ll make sure they’re sent directly ta yer rooms.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said, still wishing she could explain how she and Daniel had met. If only she could say they’d fallen in love.
She turned to Daniel. “You embarrassed me. You made it sound as if I were some little . . . strumpet.”
“He knows better.
It’s obvious you’re a lady.” He kissed her cheek.
Rebecca felt uncomfortable with the familiarity.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He glanced at the buildings along the quay. “Would you like to see some of the city before going to the hotel?”
“Yes . . . ,” Rebecca said hesitantly, opening a small umbrella to ward off the sun. “Thank goodness for the breeze. It’s awfully warm and humid.”
“Right. It’s always a bit sultry in these parts. Once we’re over the mountains it won’t be so bad.” He turned and looked toward the street. “Come on, then.” Juggling the luggage, he stepped toward the road.
“I’ll carry one of those,” Rebecca said.
“No worries. I’ve got it.”
“I’m capable of helping. And you obviously have more than is comfortable. Please, let me help.” She stopped and waited. “Why is it that men always have to be so gallant?”
“They don’t always.” Daniel sized her up. “And I guess you’re quite able to help.” He shifted the luggage. “Here you go, then,” he said, handing her the smallest bag.
After stowing the baggage in the back of a carriage, Daniel helped Rebecca into a sturdy, but otherwise outdated, coach. A matched pair of stout horses stood calmly in the harness. The driver flicked the reins, and they plodded forward. No doubt the heat has the animals worn down, Rebecca thought as they moved through the streets of Brisbane.
They passed a three-story wood-paneled building with a broad veranda. An assortment of green plants provided ample shade. “Brisbane is quite civilized and lovely. Not exactly what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I’m not sure, really.” Summoning her best Australian accent, she added, “I think I might quite like it ’ere.”
“Roight, ya will,” Daniel said. “But if ya want to become a local ya’ll ’ave ta work on yer accent.” He grinned, then looking at the house, he said, “Douloo isn’t anything like Brisbane.”
“Of course. I know that,” Rebecca said, wishing it were. “This is a beautiful place though.”
“Right. It is. And so is Douloo. You’ll see.”
Rebecca didn’t sleep well that night. Having grown accustomed to the movement of the ship, she thought it might be the stillness. More likely it was nerves. She would soon discover the truth about the life she’d chosen. The unknowns frightened her. After all, life on the station would be nothing like life in Boston. She’d done her share of traveling, but each new and interesting locale had always been temporary; this change would be permanent. And she’d face it with a man she knew only slightly and didn’t love.
Heavy, broad-leafed plants outside their open window chafed in the breeze. That along with the cooler evening air finally soothed Rebecca into slumber.
The following morning Daniel held Rebecca’s hand as they stepped out of the hotel. Rebecca wished he was less demonstrative. After all, they were not the loving couple.
She breathed deeply, aware of an unfamiliar, sharp fragrance. The pace of the city seemed casual and unhurried compared to Boston. Rebecca liked that.
Travelers waited at an unpretentious train depot. People chatted amiably as if they were old friends. Boarding was done in a leisurely manner, yet everyone managed to get aboard before the train was scheduled to leave.
The coaches were even more uncomfortable than those in the States. Dust coated windowsills and the backs of shabby seats. They would travel by train to Jondaryan, then make the remainder of the four-hundred-kilometer trip by stagecoach. Rebecca felt shaky inside—anticipation and fear mingling.
“So are you ready to give it a go?” Daniel smiled encouragement.
“I’m looking forward to seeing your home.”
“Our home.”
Rebecca dusted off a seat. “I must admit to being a little nervous about meeting your family. After all, we married in such a hurry. I hope your father approves.”
“Not to worry,” Daniel said, but uncertainty lay behind his eyes. “Mum will take you into her heart. And if anyone can thaw out my father, it’s you.”
Apprehension swept through Rebecca as she sat on the stiff bench seat. She’d hoped that having a father-in-law would soften the pain of her own father’s death. “What do you mean ‘thaw’?”
“It’s just that he can be a bit . . . severe from time to time.”
Rebecca’s anxiety grew. “You never talk about him. Please, tell me what he’s like.”
“He’s a decent bloke. Everyone in the district admires him. And—”
The train jolted forward.
Without thought to his language, someone from the back of the car shouted his annoyance at the spilled luggage.
“Watch yer mouth,” another man hollered.
Daniel rested a hand on Rebecca’s arm. “Sorry, some blokes don’t know how to mind their manners.”
“It’s all right,” Rebecca said. And she meant it. She found the earthiness refreshing. The grime was another matter. She ran a finger along the edge of the windowsill, leaving a trail. “There’s an awful lot of dust, don’t you think?”
“That’s the way of it ’round ’ere.”
“I don’t understand. It’s lovely and green. Where is the dust coming from?”
“The train travels over the Great Dividing Range. On the other side it’s a bit dry. But grand all the same—with its open spaces.”
Rebecca wasn’t sure she liked the idea of having a dry, open environment for a home. And the idea of a cantankerous father-in-law set her on edge. What if he disliked her, especially since she and Daniel had married in such a hurry?
The train moved out of the station. With regret Rebecca watched spacious homes with their broad verandas swamped with greenery disappear. Almost immediately the train plunged into a heavy forest.
“Is it all right if I open the window?” Rebecca asked. “That way I’ll be able to see better.”
“Why not,” Daniel said, standing up and sliding open the filthy window. “After we get over the mountains it’ll heat up a bit, and the fresh air will do us good.”
The forest was an odd mix of tropical plants, curious-looking evergreens, and cedar. “I didn’t expect to see cedar trees. They remind me of home.”
“I’m partial to the cedars, but loggers are having a real go at them; I figure they’ll be gone one day.”
“They’re beautiful.” Rebecca pointed at a tree with smooth, nearly white bark and bunches of long, slender leaves. “What is that? I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s splendid.”
“It’s a gum tree, or a eucalypt. We have more of those than just about anything, I’d say. Out on the flats they’re not nearly so tall or full, and their bark can be very white—we call them ghost gums. On this side of the mountains they fare a bit better. You can smell them. Sometimes you can see a blue haze over the mountains—that’s from the eucalypts.”
The train continued inland and began to climb. Rebecca was so taken by the surroundings, she forgot to worry about her new home and family. They traveled above the heavy forest. Below, the land looked like a lumpy green mat that rolled all the way to the ocean. Trees teemed with birds. Some had feathers that looked as if they’d been set afire; others wore deep blue cloaks. The air was alive with their squawks and shrieking calls. One variety was large, with white and gray feathers that looked like glossy coats covering the heavy bodies. Rebecca wished she could touch them to see how the plumage felt.
“I like it here,” she said, exhilarated by the stimulating and interesting surroundings.
Daniel said nothing but smiled.
Rebecca settled back. Maybe living in Australia wouldn’t be as challenging as she’d feared. It was different from home but fascinating. And Daniel had proved to be accommodating and kind.
They continued to climb. The train slowed, chugging as it covered the last miles to the mountain’s crest. Rebecca worried they’d be forced to lighten their load by discharging passengers.
“How do you suppose they got like that?”
“I figure God placed them there, but the blacks have their own tales. Woodman can tell you ’bout them.”
“Woodman?”
“He’s a half caste who works on the station. He’s been there forever.”
“What do you mean ‘half caste’?”
“He’s part black and part white. Good bloke though. He grew up on Douloo.” Daniel studied the boulders. “Once when I was a lad, he took me on walkabout with him. When we needed water he went right to a water hole lying hidden in some rocks. All the blacks know ’bout them. When they go on walkabout they count on watering holes.” He nudged his shoulders back. “I’m one of the few whites who knows ’bout the ones Woodman showed me.”
“Why don’t whites know about them?”
“Blacks and whites keep to themselves. They don’t mix . . . and the blacks don’t trust whites with their secrets.”
“Why?”
“Just the way of it. Kind of like in America. Blacks don’t like whites, and whites don’t much like blacks. I’d say it’s good to keep the races separate, eh?”
“I suppose so,” Rebecca said tentatively. “But there’s probably a lot we can learn from each other. Like the things Woodman taught you.”
“He’s different. Woodman’s been on the station so long he’s nearly like family. My father and him were chums.” Daniel shrugged. “There’s no reason to change the way things are between whites and blacks.”
“I disagree.” Rebecca met his eyes with a challenge.
“Now, don’t go mixing things up. You’ll only make trouble for yourself. ’Round ’ere the blacks have their place.”
Rebecca was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Daniel to be intolerant. “Don’t you think change can be good?”