The Heart of Thornton Creek

by Bonnie Leon

  “How could you possibly know that?” Rebecca asked, anger building.

  “I know your type. You won’t stand up to the dust storms, the heat, or the critters. Soon you’ll be cryin’ for home. And home you should go. The sooner the better.”

  His rudeness stunned Rebecca. But more shocking than that was his precise statement of her fear—that she wouldn’t endure. As calmly as she could manage, she said, “Please go. I have no need of you or your criticism.”

  “No, you don’t understand. You need my criticism.” His tone was softer now. “Be on your way. You don’t belong here and you know it.”

  Does he know Daniel and I shouldn’t have married? she thought in alarm. Then, feeling more put out than anxious, she asked, “What business is it of yours, my being here?”

  He walked to the window and looked out. “The dried bones of those much tougher than you are scattered on these plains.” He turned and looked at her, nudging his hat down in the front. “Go home, missy. While you can.” Without saying more, he walked out of the room.

  Rebecca fought fear and blinked back tears. His warning wasn’t about her marriage. I’m not going to cry over some drover’s insolence. She walked to the window and gazed outside, searching for calm. Hearing something behind her and thinking it was Jim, she whirled around, ready with a retort.

  “Don’t let ’im get under yer skin,” Woodman said. “I think ya got what it takes.” He smiled and set a trunk on the floor. “No worries.”

  “He said I should leave.”

  “And how do ya feel ’bout that?”

  “My husband is here.” She glanced at the surrey below. What she didn’t say was that she was terrified and reasonably certain she should never have come and that although Daniel was her legal husband he felt more like a stranger.

  Woodman shrugged. “I wouldn’t listen to ’im then, eh?” He chuckled and walked out of the room.

  Rebecca wandered into the hallway. There were several closed doors. Thinking them private, she didn’t open any. Instead, she looked at paintings. She stopped in front of one piece she thought must have been painted in Venice. A man stood in a gondola, propelling himself down a waterway between stone buildings. She moved on, wondering if her new family had ever traveled there and remembering the holiday she and her father and aunt had spent in the exotic city. An ache settled in the hollow of her throat. There would be no more holidays with her father.

  Moving on to the next painting, she studied a woman who looked like a young version of Willa. She sat on a bench amid a lush flower garden. The artist had captured a spiritual tranquility in the woman. Rebecca longed for the seemingly elusive serenity.

  “My grandmother,” a deep voice said.

  Rebecca whirled around. “Oh, you frightened me. I didn’t know you were there.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Daniel said stiffly.

  Rebecca turned back and stared at the picture. “Did you say this is your grandmother?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She looks so much like your mother.”

  “I never knew her. She died many years ago. I heard she and Mum were very much alike.”

  “Just like my mother and me.”

  Silence hung over the two.

  “Have you seen our room?” Daniel finally asked.

  “Yes. It’s lovely.”

  His eyes serious, Daniel took Rebecca’s hands. “I know this isn’t the marriage you dreamed of, but I want you to be happy here. I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.”

  Rebecca felt a tug at her heart. She’d married a fine man. If only she were in love with him. “Thank you, Daniel.”

  They walked toward their room. “Daniel, do aborigines really eat people?” Rebecca asked, remembering Jim’s warning.

  “Who told you that?”

  “That Jim fellow. The one from America.”

  “It’s true, all right. Some aborigines are cannibals. But you have no reason to fret about our workers. They’re all top rate ’ere.” He stopped, smiled down at his bride, and kissed her forehead. “No worries, eh?”

  That evening, the family gathered for an early supper in the formal dining room. Bertram bowed his head and then glanced up to see that everyone else had done so. He caught Rebecca’s eye, and, embarrassed, she quickly dropped her eyes and bowed her head.

  “Heavenly Father, I come to thee with a heavy heart.”

  Rebecca expected words about his dead son.

  Instead, Bertram said, “Thy church is black with sin. I ask that thee show us our sin, force us to our knees before thee so that we will be purified. We are a fallen people. Show us a better way. Gird us up with thy righteousness.

  “I know and trust that thee hear me and that thee will have mercy on my family. I also ask that thee would bless this food to our bodies. Amen.”

  The room was quiet, the atmosphere tense. There had been no mention of Daniel’s safe return or any word about his wife. Bertram looked at Rebecca; his pale blue eyes seemed to hold secrets. “And how was yer crossing?” he asked, unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap.

  “Very nice. The ship was quite magnificent.” Rebecca followed his example and settled her napkin in her lap. “And, thankfully, the seas were calm most of the trip.”

  “Good.” He took a sip of tea. “And from Brisbane?”

  Rebecca believed in being honest, but she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot, so she decided not to mention the stagecoach trip. “I enjoyed the journey over the mountains. The country was beautiful and very interesting.”

  A smile creased Bertram’s lips. “I know too well what it’s like spendin’ days on that rocking stagecoach, eh?” He glanced at Daniel, then leaned back slightly when an aborigine servant placed a bowl of soup on the table in front of him.

  She served the entire meal silently, but her black eyes seemed to take in everything. Although she’d flattened down her wiry hair and coiled it into a bun, tufts of frizz sprang from her head. Her skin was darker than Woodman’s but not the charcoal black of Lily, the kitchen maid Rebecca had met earlier.

  “Callie, could you get us some tea, please?” Willa asked.

  “Yais, mum.” Noiselessly Callie disappeared into the kitchen.

  The chink of silver utensils against china was the only sound in the pervasive silence. Finally Daniel said, “I think I’ve found a mare for you, Rebecca. I’ll bring ’er ’round to the barn tomorrow so you can get a look at ’er. She’s not as grand as Chavive, but she’s solid and steady.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Rebecca said.

  “Do you ride?” Willa asked.

  “Yes. I used to ride nearly every day back home.”

  “This is yer home now,” Bertram said, his voice stern.

  Rebecca wet her lips. “Well, of course. I’m just not used to calling it that yet. I’m sure in no time it will seem like home to me.”

  She ate a spoonful of the hearty-flavored beef soup, but her throat felt tight and she wasn’t at all certain she’d be able to swallow. She glanced at her new father-in-law. He looked angry. What have I done? she wondered, managing to swallow the broth. Maybe it was her poverty, her need of a husband.

  Willa made a few more attempts at conversation, but each fell flat. Finally the last course was served and eaten and then the plates retrieved by Callie. The servant returned with tea and refilled the cups.

  “Thank you, dear,” Willa said.

  “Yais, mum.” Callie’s voice was deep and soft.

  Bertram sipped his tea.

  Willa turned compassionate eyes on Rebecca. “Perhaps you’d like to retire early. You must be quite done in.” She smiled warmly. “I’ll have Callie turn down the bed for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I am rather tired.”

  “Please, call me Willa. We’re family now.”

  “Of course. I’d like that too.”

  Willa seemed to possess a character opposite of her husband’s. Although both l
ooked robust, Willa’s tanned skin was smooth and vibrant, her demeanor warm and unpretentious, while Bertram’s harsh exterior appeared to match his interior. Rebecca liked Willa and felt certain she and her new mother-in-law would get along well.

  Bertram laid his napkin beside his plate and pushed back his chair. “I’ll have more tea in the library,” he told Callie. With a grim glance at Daniel, he said, “I’d like a word with ya, lad.”

  “Right.” Daniel finished off the last of his tea and set his napkin on the table. With a slight bow to his mother and a wink for Rebecca, he followed his father into the study.

  “Would you like tea on the veranda?” Willa asked.

  “Yes. That would be nice. It’s probably cooler outdoors.”

  “That it is.” Willa turned to Callie. “Could you bring tea and biscuits out to the veranda for us, please?”

  “Yais, mum.”

  Following Willa through the double doors leading outside, Rebecca’s mind remained with Daniel and Bertram. What were they talking about? She settled on a wicker rocker, savoring the touch of a gentle breeze. It cooled her hot skin and carried a sweet fragrance from the flower garden.

  “It’s so much nicer out here.” Willa accepted a tray of tea and biscuits from Callie.

  “Anything else I can do for ya, mum?”

  “No. We’re fine.”

  Callie returned to the dining room.

  “She seems to go from place to place without even stirring the air,” Rebecca said, mystified by the young woman’s ability to move soundlessly.

  “Almost all the blacks are that way. You never hear them, unless they want you to.”

  “It’s a little unnerving.”

  “I dare say, but you’ll get used to it. It’s said the blacks see all the world as sacred and are careful not to disturb anything as they move through it.”

  “What a romantic thought. Most of us simply ramble through without a care for the mystery of creation about us.” Rebecca rocked and gazed out at the open plains.

  “That we do.”

  “Daniel told me you sometimes have summer storms?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry to say they’re rarely cooling, and the earth is like a dry sponge—the wetness is quickly gone.”

  “How much longer until winter?”

  Willa filled a cup with tea. “One never knows for certain, but some months yet I’d say, if it comes at all. We’re praying this year isn’t so dry as the last.” She poured tea into a china cup. “Would you like sugar?”

  “Yes, just a bit, please.”

  Willa sprinkled a half spoonful of sweetener into the cup, stirred, and handed it to Rebecca. “I’m glad you’ve come. It will be nice to have another woman about the place.” She offered Rebecca a biscuit.

  Selecting one of the plain-looking sweets, Rebecca said, “At home we call these cookies.” She took a bite. “It reminds me of the shortbread my aunt makes. Delicious.”

  “I’ll tell Lily. She’ll be pleased.”

  “I had no idea Douloo was so far from . . . civilization.” Rebecca took another bite of biscuit.

  “Indeed. It’s quite a way into town, but I don’t mind it a bit, really. I must admit that when I first arrived as a young bride the openness was disconcerting, but now when I travel east over the mountains I feel closed in. I truly love it here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  Angry voices carried from inside the library. Willa glanced in the direction of the sound. “Those two, they’ve always had their spats. No worries though, dear. Everything will be just fine.”

  This time it’s about me, she thought with certainty. Bertram hadn’t seemed at all pleased to have her in the family. A puff of wind caught at her hair, and she smoothed it back into place. “I must be a sight. All those hours on the train, then the stagecoach. I did manage to tidy up a bit, but . . .”

  “You look lovely. Far prettier than any of the young ladies who’ve been after my son.” She smiled. “And clearly more refined.”

  Before Rebecca could respond, Bertram’s sharp voice boomed throughout the house and carried outside. “Yer a fool! No highbred woman will do out ’ere. Ya knew it and still ya brought ’er ’ere. Ya would have done well to have stayed with Meghan. It was understood between ya two.”

  “She wasn’t for me!” Daniel hollered, but the rest of his words were indistinguishable.

  Alarm swelled in Rebecca. What if Bertram was right and she couldn’t make it here? And who was Meghan? She stopped rocking to listen more closely.

  Willa laid a hand on Rebecca’s arm. “Don’t worry. My husband doesn’t take well to change, but he’ll manage. Be patient. He’ll come around.”

  Rebecca nodded, but inside she felt as if a storm had been set loose. How can I live in a house with a man who doesn’t want me here? Why hadn’t Daniel warned her? And what about Meghan? Would she have been a better choice?

  “I’m very much looking forward to your meeting the women at the church,” Willa said cheerily. “And they’ve been anxious to meet you. Ever since hearing about Daniel’s wedding, they’ve been all a-twitter.”

  Would they feel the same if they knew why and how we married? Rebecca wondered. The men continued to quarrel, and she strained to hear. How could Willa simply ignore the squabbling going on between her husband and son?

  “I’ll not pamper her!” Bertram’s voice boomed.

  Pamper me! I never expected anyone to pamper me! Rebecca fumed, half inclined to storm into the study and defend herself.

  “And,” Bertram continued, “ya’d best make it clear she’s expected to submit to her husband as well as to her father-in-law. I’ll not have any women’s suffrage types living under my roof!” For emphasis he continued, “God’s Word is clear. Ephesians 5:22–24 says, ‘Wives submit yerselves unto yer own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church. . . . Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing.’ God placed man over woman. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it will be in my house!”

  Rebecca couldn’t make out Daniel’s response, but he didn’t sound defiant. Her anxiety grew. What if Daniel stood with his father against her?

  Callie’s hands trembled as she cleared away the dishes. “Anything else, mum?” she asked, her voice tight.

  “No. That will be all. Thank you.” Carrying the tray with the teakettle and extra biscuits, Callie left the porch. “She’s a lovely girl. We’ve had her since she was just ten. She’s been a blessing to us.” Willa’s effort at cheerfulness only made the fractious atmosphere more palpable.

  Willa added solemnly, “We’re very lucky here. There are women who live alone on the flats with no female company or help. They contend with vermin and pray for water simply to survive. Everything here is lovely. Bertram makes certain we live in comfort, and he provides all I need for my garden.”

  Rebecca recognized Willa’s need to defend her husband but wondered if compassion and brutality could exist within one man? And if so, which had the upper hand in Bertram?

  Just then her father-in-law strode through the front door and stomped down the steps. Without even a glance at his wife or daughter-in-law, he headed for the barn.

  “His bark is much worse than his bite, honestly.”

  Rebecca was unconvinced.

  Daniel, who was visibly shaken, joined the women. Offering a forced smile, he crossed to Rebecca and stood behind her chair, resting his hands protectively on her shoulders. His strength reassured Rebecca. He would protect her.

  “We’ve no worries, love. We’ll be fine, eh?” He squeezed Rebecca’s shoulders.

  “Of course.”

  Nothing truly bad can happen, Rebecca told herself. They’d face his father together. But I’m no soft, highbred woman, she thought, remembering Bertram’s harsh words. I won’t disgrace my husband. I’ll show Mr. Thornton what it means to be a Williams.

  9 />
  Daniel settled into a reed rocker, folded his hands in his lap, and thrust his legs straight out in front of him. “Nice out, eh?” He sounded relaxed, as if the argument with his father hadn’t happened.

  Rebecca gazed at the flower gardens and greenery growing along the veranda. “I’ll be glad when the temperatures cool.”

  “I’m afraid the heat will last for a good while,” Willa said. “But you’ll get used to it.”

  Rebecca repressed a sigh. She’d been told more than once that she had no worries, which of course she did, and now she was being told she’d get used to the heat, which she highly doubted. She’d spent too many mild summers in New England.

  She stood and moved to Daniel. Leaning close, she asked quietly, “Is there a necessary downstairs?”

  A grin touched Daniel’s lips.

  “I’d rather not use the chamber pot,” Rebecca explained, wondering at his humor. “You do have a water closet, don’t you?”

  Daniel smiled. “Oh, you mean the dunny. It’s ’round the side of the house.”

  “Outside?”

  “Right. We haven’t got indoor plumbing, not for that kind of thing. We’re still a bit behind Boston.”

  Rebecca straightened. “The . . . dunny will be fine.”

  Thinking she’d heard annoyance in Daniel’s voice, Rebecca excused herself and walked around to the side of the house. The dunny stood several yards from the house. A fresh coat of white paint made it look bright in the simmering sunlight. It seemed tidy. Still, it was outdoors.

  While traveling, Rebecca had been introduced to primitive Queensland, but after seeing the Thornton home she’d expected modern facilities. One more difficulty to manage, she thought, approaching the outhouse. “Stop your whining,” she told herself. “It’s not the first time you’ve had to use an outdoor privy.”

  She grabbed the door handle and pulled open the wooden door. It creaked on well-used hinges. She peeked inside. This was unlike the outhouses she’d been compelled to use on their journey. It was large, and all four sides had vents cut into the wood near the ceiling. Wallpaper with pink rosebuds covered the interior walls, and a shelf held a hand-painted vase, which had been filled with fresh flowers. Willa, Rebecca thought with a smile.