The Heart of Thornton Creek

by Bonnie Leon

  She stepped inside. In spite of Willa’s efforts, the odor could not be overcome. Taking shallow breaths, Rebecca closed the door and latched it. The light in the small room dimmed, but Rebecca could see reasonably well.

  She hitched up layers of skirt. I’ll have to purchase some lightweight gowns, she thought as she saw something move along the floor near the doorway. Swiftly pushing her skirts back into place, she stared at the spot. There it was again! Something was definitely there! Heart thumping, she studied the shadows. The thing slithered across a shaft of light. Rebecca could see brown skin and a flick of a tongue. A snake!

  Backing up against the toilet, she let out a shriek. “Help! Someone help!”

  Several moments later the door jiggled. It was locked and wouldn’t open. If she wanted to unlock it, she’d have to move closer to her unwanted visitor.

  “Please hurry! There’s a snake!” The door shook. “You’ll have to break it. I can’t get to the lock.”

  With a loud crack the door flew open. Using the barrel of a rifle, Jim scooped up the reptile and flung it outside. He turned, took aim, and shot twice. The snake bounced as bullets ripped through its body.

  Pressing a hand to her chest and gazing at the lifeless reptile, Rebecca fought to quiet her breathing. “It must be eight feet long!” she gasped, studying the creature. “It doesn’t look particularly dangerous. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have panicked. It was just so unexpected. And I’ve never been fond of snakes.” She looked at Jim, wishing it hadn’t been him who’d come to her rescue. “Thank you for being so gallant.”

  Jim lifted the reptile and grinned. “This here is a king brown. They’re poisonous . . . deadly, in fact. Ought to make a nice meal though.” He grabbed the snake and walked away.

  Poisonous? Deadly? Rebecca thought she might faint. She gripped the edge of the doorway.

  “What happened?” Daniel asked, striding toward Rebecca. He glanced at Jim strolling away.

  “There was a snake . . . on the floor. There.” She pointed at the place she’d first seen the reptile. She gulped down a breath; her heart still pounded. “Jim said it was deadly.”

  He looked back at Jim and the snake. “Looks like a king brown. I’m sorry, Rebecca. We don’t generally get them ’round the house, but you never know ’round ’ere. You have to keep an eye out.”

  “Are there lots of snakes?”

  “I wouldn’t say lots. But they’re about. You’ve just got to watch your step.”

  “But this one was in the . . . the outhouse.”

  Daniel grinned. “You’ll do better calling it a dunny. Otherwise people won’t know what you’re talking about.” Daniel draped an arm over her shoulders. “No worries.”

  No worries? Rebecca fumed.

  “Everything’s all right. You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go up to bed? You can use the chamber pot in our room. Callie will take it out in the morning.”

  Rebecca felt jumpy, not sleepy. “I don’t feel tired.”

  “You must be.”

  “I suppose you’re right. It’s just the scare that has me on edge.” Rebecca longed for human consolation but didn’t feel comfortable leaning on Daniel.

  “I’ll be up soon,” he said.

  She nodded and headed toward the house. She couldn’t help but watch the bushes for snakes, and when she approached the porch she gave it a once over before taking the steps.

  Rebecca lifted a petticoat out of one of the trunks, carefully refolded it, and then placed the silk underskirt in a bureau drawer. She wondered if Daniel cared which dresser she used. A knock sounded at the door.

  “May I come in?” Willa asked.

  “Yes. Please.”

  The door opened and Willa stepped inside. “I’m so sorry about the snake.”

  “It’s all right. I’m fine.”

  “I wanted to make certain you were settling in all right. And is there anything I can get you?”

  “I’m fine, really. I was just putting away some of my things. This is a lovely room. Thank you for letting us use it.”

  “It’s yours. Everything here is yours, or it will be . . . when Bertram passes on.”

  Rebecca hadn’t given much thought to the endless stretch of days she’d be spending in this place. The enormity of what she’d done when she’d married Daniel swept over her. This wild territory was her home. This is where she would spend her life. Would it be loveless? How would she endure?

  “I know the idea of it all can be daunting,” Willa said.

  You have no idea, Rebecca thought, closing the bureau drawer. “It is a bit intimidating,” she said. “I had no idea . . . that Australia was like . . . this. Everything is so big, and . . . well, I’m not certain what I should or shouldn’t do, or what my role here is.”

  “Indeed. Australia is a very large and handsome country. Hopefully, you’ll have an opportunity to see more of it. There are wonders lying beyond this station. And I know it’s hard for you to see now, but the flats have their own beauty.”

  She walked to a window and gazed out. “I marvel at the wonders of God’s hand.” She turned and looked at Rebecca. “And as for what you’ll do here . . . well, I’m not so young anymore. I need help to run this household. There’s a lot to oversee. Sometimes I find myself feeling a bit done in by it all.”

  Looking at the tanned and radiant woman, Rebecca couldn’t imagine her being done in. “How many years have you lived here?”

  “Thirty-four. I was just twenty when I met Bertram. My family lived in Melbourne. Like you and Daniel, we married quickly. Right off we knew we were meant to be together.” She smiled at the memory. “When my eyes fell upon him my heart set to fluttering. Bertram was charming as a young man. And quite dashing. He absolutely stole my heart.”

  Rebecca couldn’t help but wonder what Willa had seen in Bertram. As far as she could tell, there was nothing even remotely charming about him.

  She felt guilty over her deception and said in a faltering voice, “Willa . . . I need to tell you . . .” She stopped and took a breath. “I admire Daniel very much. He’s a fine man. But . . . I don’t love him . . .” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

  “I know.”

  “Daniel told you?”

  “No. I have eyes.” Willa smiled. “It’s all right. Whatever the reason for your marriage, I know my son and he’s not an irrational or stupid person. I trust his judgment.” She gently cupped Rebecca’s chin in her hand. “Love has a way of growing.”

  Rebecca gazed into Willa’s sky blue eyes. “I want to believe that, but I don’t. Admiration, yes . . . but love isn’t something a person can summon at will.”

  “We shall see.” Willa kissed Rebecca’s cheek, then abruptly turned and crossed the room to the bed. She turned down the blankets and smoothed the muslin sheets. “I’ll have Callie fetch you a bath.” Willa stopped at the door. “It’s splendid to have you here as part of our family.”

  Rebecca had no reply. She simply smiled courteously.

  Willa left, closing the door softly, and with a heavy heart Rebecca returned to putting away clothing and setting out personal items. She placed photographs of her father and her aunt on the back corners of the bureau, her comb and brush on one side of the wash bowl, and a hat pin holder with her three favorite pins on the other side.

  She lovingly set her Bible on the bed stand. She sat on the bed and for a long while stared at the black book, feeling comforted by its presence. It held the answers to all life’s questions and quandaries. If only she could look through its pages and see what lay ahead.

  Rebecca stepped into a spacious bathing room. Two sconces were secured on either side of a table with a marble inlaid top and swivel mirror. Their light gave the ivory-colored floor tiles a soft sheen. Fresh soap and towels had been laid out. Steam rose from a four-legged tub half filled with water.

  Just the idea of bathing made Rebecca feel more relaxed. The incident with the snake seemed far away as she removed her bathing ro
be and draped it over a Windsor chair. She stepped into the bath, lowering herself into the warm water. Resting the back of her head against the edge of the tub, she closed her eyes. A mild scent of lavender hung in the air. This is nearly like home, she thought, tension ebbing away.

  Dressed in a linen nightgown, Rebecca slipped between cool sheets. She plumped her pillows and lay back, feeling dreamy and content. She picked up the book Little Women. Her aunt Mildred had purchased it just before she and Daniel had married. It had been a pleasant distraction during the journey.

  Opening to the place where she’d left off, Rebecca eagerly returned to the New England world of Meg and her sisters. The girls were skating. The scene carried Rebecca home to Boston, where fresh snow sheltered the earth and ice encrusted the ponds and rivers. The air would be so cold it burned your lungs. Rebecca felt the aching squeeze of sorrow in her chest.

  “No,” she said, pushing herself more upright. “I’m not getting maudlin over a bit of snow.” She closed the book. “I’ll have to adjust. It’s as simple as that.”

  A knock sounded at the door. “Rebecca,” Daniel said, then stepped inside.

  She let her book rest in her lap. She’d hoped to be asleep before he came up.

  Daniel stood just inside the doorway and gazed at her. “You look as if you’ve been dreaming.”

  “I guess I have been, in a way. I’ve been reading Little Women, and it’s carried me home.” She offered a tremulous smile. “I’ve had a lovely bath, and I’m feeling quite refreshed.”

  His eyes on her, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  Rebecca could see passion in his eyes. Her own response was confusion. She wanted him to stay, and she wanted him to go.

  He leaned over and kissed her tenderly, then with more passion. Suddenly he straightened. “I can’t stay.”

  “No?” Rebecca felt relief.

  “I’ve business. My father and I are meeting with a man from another station. Seems there’s been a real scare—more red water up north. We’ve got to decide what we’re going to do if it moves into the district.” He gazed at her. “I’d stay, but you know my father.”

  “No. I don’t,” Rebecca said, suddenly annoyed. “I’ve barely met him, but I know he hates me, and I know you don’t want to tell me about him.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just surprised at our getting married.”

  “And who is Meghan?”

  “A long-time friend.”

  “And?”

  Daniel grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

  Rebecca had no response. Maybe she was.

  Daniel pressed her back against a pillow and pulled the sheet up under her chin. “Meghan and I have been friends since we were kids. There’s nothing more to it than that.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come in,” he said and left the room.

  In spite of her mixed feelings, Rebecca felt abandoned. She gazed at the ceiling for a long while, then returned to her book. A high-pitched yip echoed in the distance. A dingo, she thought, feeling satisfaction that she’d distinguished the voice of a local animal.

  She threw back the covers, padded to the window, and gazed at a flaming sunset. Where the sky touched the earth it looked as if it had been washed with red paint. The color reached farther into the heavens, changing to a muted orange. Translucent clouds blushed gold. A breeze ruffled the grasses, and Rebecca felt the breath of the open land.

  She stood there for a long while until the sun dipped beneath the horizon and the air cooled. An unusual thumping sound came from the darkening tablelands. She held her breath and listened. The sound came again, then again. “What can that be?” She stared at the dim landscape. A shadow moved just beyond the fence line. Rebecca felt a prickle of fear, and then she saw a kangaroo bound across the yard below. “So that’s it,” she said with a smile, feeling silly at her alarm.

  A light glowed inside one of the cabins, and Callie stepped onto a tiny, railed porch. Skinny arms hugging her waist, she stared at the darkening plains. Rebecca sensed sorrow and loneliness in the woman.

  A door banged closed, and Jim emerged from the barn. Rebecca watched him amble toward another cottage. I wonder why he’s so disagreeable.

  He glanced her way. Spotting Rebecca, he stopped. For a moment he gazed at her, then tipped his hat.

  Rebecca could feel a flush burn her face. Embarrassed at having been caught watching him, she offered a barely discernible nod and backed away from the window.

  When she was certain he was gone, she returned to the window and looked out. The yard was empty, but light radiated from inside several cabins. People she didn’t know lived there. Rebecca felt alone and frightened. What was she doing here, so far from home? Then it struck her. She had no home.

  She returned to bed, climbed beneath the sheets, and settled her head on soft pillows. The last hint of orange cast its light on the walls. The glow faded, and with the darkness came demons of doubt. Rebecca pulled the sheet up under her chin, as if she could hide from the uncertainties.

  Angry voices carried from downstairs, adding to her disquiet. Were Daniel and his father quarreling about her? Bertram didn’t want her here. But what could be done now? She was Daniel’s wife. Nothing could change that.

  10

  Daniel sat on the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on his thighs. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at the darkness beyond the window. He was tired and discouraged. The previous night’s debate with his father had gained him nothing except more condemnation. He’d known his father would disapprove of Rebecca, but he couldn’t help but hope for better.

  What if his father was right? What if he had made a mistake?

  He looked at his bride. In the near darkness he could scarcely distinguish her features and her dark hair spilling across the pillow. He could imagine how her dark lashes rested against ivory cheeks and wanted to touch her, to press his lips against her cheek. He fought the impulse, still hearing his father’s accusations.

  “She’s certainly no more than a spoiled socialite. How can ya expect ’er to have the heartiness needed to stand up to this country and its demands? Yer a fool, Daniel.”

  A fool. Well, maybe I am, he thought. He had doubts she would adjust to life on the flats. Most likely, Meghan would have been a wiser choice. After all, they’d known each other all their lives, and she was strong and well suited to life here. But I don’t love Meghan.

  He contemplated Rebecca and the troubles she’d faced since meeting him—her father’s death and the loss of her home and all it contained. She’d held up well. When she’d married without love and moved from Boston to Queensland, she’d demonstrated sturdiness and a strong faith. Right. She’ll make it. She’ll do fine, he told himself.

  However, in spite of his efforts at optimism, the truth that she didn’t love him lay like an open wound. Would she ever? What can I do to make her love me? There was nothing he could do to make her feel that kind of devotion and passion.

  Rebecca moved her hand onto the pillow. Daniel quickly looked away, not wanting her to catch him staring. He pushed up off the bed carefully so as not to disturb her. Rebecca’s breathing remained steady and quiet.

  Daniel crossed the room, stepped into the dressing closet, and took clothes off the shelf. Feeling his way in the darkness, he dressed quietly. If only his father weren’t so demanding, he’d linger here with Rebecca. It would be pleasant to awaken and greet the day together. He smirked. It would never happen, not as long as his father had anything to do with it.

  He grabbed his hat off a rack, moved toward the bedroom door, and opened it. Faint light from the hallway illuminated the room. He gazed at Rebecca. If it were possible, she looked even more beautiful than the day he’d first met her. “Love me, Rebecca. Please love me,” he whispered before stepping into the corridor.

  Still
half asleep, Rebecca rolled onto her side. She opened her eyes and stared at the empty space beside her, then glanced about the room. Daniel was gone. She’d fallen asleep alone and had awakened alone. Is this how it would be?

  She felt emptiness inside. Their partnership had quickly created interdependence. Without him, she felt alone.

  Sitting up, she rested her arms on bent knees. Already she could feel the heat of the day, and her mind calculated the new wardrobe she’d need. A soft rap sounded at the bedroom door. “Just a moment.” Rebecca threw off her lightweight blanket and sheet, dropped her feet over the side of the bed, and grabbed her robe off the bed post. Pulling it around her, she asked, “Who is it?”

  “Callie. I brought yer breakfast.”

  Rebecca opened the door. “Thank you. Come in.” Combing her fingers through a tangle of hair, she said, “I must be a sight.”

  “No, mum. Ya look well.” Carrying a tray, Callie stepped into the room. “I didn’t wake ya? I woulda waited, but Mr. Thornton believes in risin’ early.”

  “I was awake. Thank you for bringing my breakfast. You didn’t have to.”

  “That’s me job.” She set the tray on the desk. “There’s more if yer of a mind.”

  Two slices of toasted bread, a poached egg, and a small teapot along with a cup and saucer rested on the tray. “This will be fine,” Rebecca said.

  “Good, then.” Callie stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with a pitcher of fresh water. She laid out a clean towel and washcloth beside the washbowl. She moved silently; even the floorboards gave no sound.

  Like a ghost, Rebecca thought, a ripple of apprehension moving through her. The aborigine servant wasn’t like anyone she’d met before. Rebecca wondered if all the blacks were like her.

  Callie picked up clothing Rebecca had laid over the chair the previous night and started for the door.