The Heart of Thornton Creek

by Bonnie Leon

  Everything looks the same. Have I come this way already? Panic washed over her. “Father, you know the way. Please show me.”

  She opened the canteen and drank, then poured a few drops of the valuable liquid into the palm of her hand and wet her burned face and lips. She was hot, too hot, and she knew she was in real danger. I should have listened to Willa and to Daniel. Oh, Lord, why am I always so bullheaded?

  Draping the canteen over the saddle horn, Rebecca tried to think rationally. How do others find their way? It can’t be that difficult. Think.

  A goanna scampered across the ground in front of her. Rena danced, then hopped sideways. Rebecca pressed her knees into the horse’s sides and pulled on the reins. The mare reared. Before Rebecca knew what had happened, she fell off backward and slammed into the ground. The impact knocked the wind from her, leaving her gasping for air. Pain in her back spread to her chest and arms.

  Rena bolted and disappeared.

  Rebecca rolled onto her side and hugged the earth. She lay there for a long while. When she finally caught her breath and the pain eased, she pushed to her feet, brushing earth and twigs from her clothes and hair. The wind sang a lonely song, sifting the earth and catching at Rebecca’s snarl of curls.

  She stood alone in the broad emptiness.

  Fear seeped into her. She had no horse, no water, and no idea where she was. “Lord, what am I going to do?” Tears threatened, but she forced them back. They would serve no purpose. Someone will come for me, she told herself. But what should she do until then? There was no protection from the pitiless sun. Her mouth tasted of dirt, and she thought of the canteen still attached to her saddle.

  Hands planted on her hips, she studied her surroundings. A slight knoll rose above the flat about ten meters from where she stood. Woodman had once told her that aborigines sometimes dug out places in the earth to shelter in. “That’s what I’ll have to do,” she said, searching for something to use for digging. A gnarled, nearly limbless and leafless ghost gum cast a narrow shadow on the dry ground. She crossed the parched land and scoured the earth near the ancient tree. A branch lay abandoned at its feet. Rebecca grabbed it, hoping it would be sturdy enough for digging.

  Feeling weak and craving water, Rebecca walked to the rise. Using the sharp and narrowed end of the branch she started digging. The earth was hard, but she kept at it and inch by inch scooped away dirt. When the stick snapped, she found a stone and continued. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She wiped away the stinging moisture and kept digging.

  Finally she managed to carve out an alcove just big enough to provide a shaded spot. She huddled inside, her knees bent and tucked close to her chest. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and tried to think pleasant thoughts, but thirst and a throbbing headache were pervasive.

  “God, am I going to die here?” She thought of home. She should never have married Daniel and moved to this empty place. Living in someone else’s home amid the disorder created by five children was preferable to this.

  Her mind wandered to her husband. Their last words had been angry ones. Tears stung. She’d hoped for so much more. Her eyes closed, and in spite of the heat and thirst she slept.

  “Aye! What are ya doin’ in there?”

  Rebecca lifted heavy eyelids and peered up. Cambria slid off her horse and hurried toward her friend.

  “Thank the Lord I found ya.” She kneeled beside Rebecca and put a water flask to her lips. “’Ere, ’ave some of this. It’ll do ya good.”

  Rebecca gulped down the blessed water. “Thank you.” She was more awake now.

  “What are ya doin’ out ’ere?”

  “My horse threw me. And I didn’t know where I was.”

  “Yer horse wandered into our place. Roight away I came lookin’. Me father and brothers are lookin’ too.” She offered Rebecca more water. “Come on, then, drink up.”

  Rebecca gulped down more of the precious liquid. Finally satisfied, she smiled and wiped her mouth. “You don’t know how wonderful that tastes.” Rebecca met Cambria’s concerned gaze. “I thought I was going to die.”

  “Wal, and ya might ’ave too if I hadn’t found ya.” Cambria smiled. “Come on, then. I’ll take ya back ta my place, then on home.”

  Cambria and Rebecca rode together to the Taylor station. The house was small and unadorned. There were no flowers or broad verandas. The outbuildings were in disrepair and so were the corrals. Chickens roamed the yard, searching for tidbits in the dirt, and a scruffy cat lay curled in a wooden chair on a small front porch.

  Weak and tired, Rebecca slid from the horse and followed Cambria inside. “Do you have ranch hands to help you with the work?”

  “Nah. Me and me brothers are all there is. We manage.” Pushing open the front door, she said, “I found ’er. Horse threw ’er, but she’s fine. Mostly just hot and thirsty.”

  “And I’ll bet hungry,” Mrs. Taylor said, hustling to Rebecca and gently pressing her hands on the young woman’s cheeks. She studied her face. “And yer a bit sunburned too. Poor thing. ’Ave a sit. Ya look done in. I’ll get ya somethin’ to eat, then.” She dipped a ladle into a pot on a hot stove, filled a bowl with what looked like stew, and set it on the table in front of Rebecca.

  Cambria brought a cup of water. “A little more won’t hurt ya.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said. Her head pounded and she felt sick to her stomach, but she ate.

  “Anything I can do ta help a Thornton,” Mrs. Taylor said. “Yer father-in-law’s a fine man, a saint I’d say. He’s always been ’ere ta give us a hand when we needed it. I’m always pleased ta help out a Thornton.”

  Rebecca took a bite of stew, thinking on the woman’s words. Cambria had said the same thing. She couldn’t imagine her father-in-law as a saint.

  “Why, there’s been more than a time or two that he was the only reason we were able ta hang on ta this place. Without ’im we’d ’ave lost it.” She smiled, and her eyes crinkled with pleasure.

  “I didn’t know,” Rebecca said, sipping her water.

  “Most people don’t. He’s quiet about his charity. But he’s a real fine Christian, eh?” She glanced at Cambria. “Why don’t ya hitch up the wagon. I’ll not ’ave her riding home on horseback in such a condition.”

  “How well do you know Mr. Thornton?” Rebecca asked, puzzling over what seemed to be a contradiction between what she was hearing and what she’d experienced. He’d shown kind consideration toward Willa, and she had to take into account what she’d seen that morning in the barn. Now Mrs. Taylor was expressing high regard for the man. Just who was he, really?

  “We’ve known ’im for years. Always has been a fine person.” Mrs. Taylor smiled.

  Rebecca’s mind moved ahead to the confrontation she knew was coming. She’d never be able to sneak home. In fact, there were probably people searching for her. Bertram must be furious. Just the thought made her throat tighten. She’d have to face him, dungarees and all.

  I deserve it. I was foolish to leave the way I did. I have no excuses.

  18

  Rebecca could hear preparations being made downstairs for a day at the races, yet she remained at her desk. The Bible lay in front of her, and she continued reading, hoping to shut out the world, if just for a time. He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. Rebecca’s eyes traveled to the book and chapter, Psalm 91:1. She wanted to remember where to find this verse. It was a comfort.

  Over the years, and more so since coming to Douloo, she’d been told of the sovereignty of God and of his wrath. Contrary to that, so much of what was written in the Bible spoke of a God of love and compassion—the God she knew. Closing her eyes, she felt the reassurance of his presence. She longed to remain with him.

  Bertram’s accusing eyes intruded on her peace. The day she’d been lost, he’d been one of those looking for her. After returning with Cambria, she’d stood before him, still wearing britches. He’d stared at her a long time, then in
a quiet, venomous voice had said, “I expect ya to change yer clothes. Ya know the wrong ya’ve done. It won’t be mentioned again. And it won’t happen again. Is that understood?”

  Rebecca had glanced at Daniel, seeking solace, but there had been none. An ache swelled in her throat at his remoteness.

  Willa had placed an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “We’re thankful to have you home safe and sound. You scared us half to death.” She had gazed at her husband. “It’s natural for a young woman to wander a bit. And here it’s especially difficult, with little for a well-bred, educated woman to do.”

  Bertram’s countenance had remained harsh. “Foolishness, rebelliousness, disobedience—God does not look kindly on such behavior.”

  “I’m sure she meant to do none of those things,” Willa had argued.

  Bertram had throttled her with his eyes. “God has placed men over women. And a wife is to be a helpmate to her husband. Is standing against yer own husband being a proper helpmate?”

  Willa had kept her arm around Rebecca, but she’d said no more. Rebecca had felt her mother-in-law’s annoyance.

  “Sir, I know what I did was foolish,” Rebecca had said. “I really didn’t understand how dangerous it could be. I should have listened to you and Daniel. I’m very sorry.”

  “I might be able to excuse that. Yanks don’t understand this country. But the clothes? Riding astride?” The tenor of his voice had risen with each question.

  “Other women wear trousers, and they ride astride—Meghan and Cambria . . .”

  “Yer not other women. Yer my son’s wife, a Thornton. Thorntons aren’t like other people. We’re held to a higher standard.”

  A call from outside carried Rebecca back to the present. It was the clothes, she thought. He only cared about what I was wearing. I hate him. Her mind turned to Willa. How does she stand it? Is being like Willa what’s expected of me? I can’t do it. I won’t. Another thought throttled her. If Daniel had married Meghan, would she have had to change?

  She closed her eyes to pray, but she saw Daniel, standing beside his father, a shadow of a man. Many times Bertram had reprimanded her, and not once had Daniel come to her defense. Would he ever? Or would he become his father?”

  The bedroom door opened. “Rebecca,” Daniel said. “It’s time to go.”

  She wiped away remnants of tears, then turned to look at him.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I was just reading.”

  “Well, we’re waiting. Mum’s already in the surrey.”

  Rebecca stood and smoothed her gown. “I suppose I’m ready, then.”

  Rebecca sat beside Willa. She didn’t feel much like visiting. In fact, she felt little interest in this outing, or anything else for that matter. She’d rather have stayed home.

  “It’s a lovely day for the races,” Willa said. “Right perfect. Not too hot, not too cold, and no rain. Not just yet, anyway.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “This time of year we get storms on occasion. And soon it will be March, and the temperatures shall become cooler.”

  “I’m looking forward to that,” Rebecca said.

  The entire household accompanied the Thorntons. It was a short jaunt to the track. A picnic lunch had been prepared ahead of time and would be shared by all. There had been a carnival atmosphere to the preparations.

  Woodman looked back at the women. “Ya ready, then?”

  “Indeed, we are,” Willa said cheerfully.

  With a flick of the reins and a click of the tongue, Woodman moved the horses out, and the procession of one surrey, two wagons, and several riders proceeded. Daniel rode alongside his father. Rebecca watched him, resentment growing. He has no spine when it comes to his father. In Boston he’d been different, more fun loving. I suppose that’s what comes from being out from under his father’s authority. At Douloo it was as if he’d been dragged onto a stage where he played out a chosen role.

  She could feel the sting of tears. If only he could stand up to his father. As long as he continues to yield, he’ll not know freedom . . . and neither will I.

  “I should like to make a trip to Brisbane,” Willa said. “And I was thinking it might be wise to go before the weather turns wet.”

  “What? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”

  “Oh, I was just speaking about going to Brisbane. I try to travel there at least once a year. Would you like to go?”

  “That would be wonderful,” Rebecca said, remembering how charming the city had been. “I liked it there.”

  “I do as well.” Willa studied Rebecca. “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “My sunburn is much better.”

  “I wasn’t speaking of your physical health.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca didn’t know just what to say. “I don’t know, really. I guess I’m a bit sad and a little afraid.”

  “Afraid? Whatever of?”

  Rebecca knew better than to speak honestly about her fears, but she needed to tell someone. “I’m . . . afraid . . . Daniel will become like his father and that I’ll be like you.”

  Willa looked stunned.

  “Please don’t misunderstand. You’re a dear woman. And I love you. But I can’t be like you.” Rebecca tried to gather her thoughts. Once again, she’d said more than she ought. “Certainly, I should be somewhat like you. I’m often too mutinous for my own good. But I don’t believe life is to be lived by a list of rules overseen by one’s husband.”

  Willa kept her hands clasped in her lap; her eyes held a mix of hurt and irritation.

  “I’m not saying this very well, but please hear me out.” Rebecca took a deep breath and tried to relax. “My father was a godly man, a good man. He was the authority in our home, but he led gently . . . usually.” She offered a half smile. “We had our battles, but never did he make me feel as if I were of little value. And when he said something in anger, he was always quick to apologize. He never seemed to lose sight of God’s sovereignty and the fact that we must allow room for God’s will in our lives.”

  Still looking wounded, Willa remained silent. Rebecca understood she’d thrown a barb, but there were things that needed to be said. She continued, “I’ve never lived in a home like this. Truly, I’m confused. I see your husband reading his Bible and praying, and I hear him quoting Scripture, but I don’t see God’s love in him.”

  Willa unfolded then refolded her hands. “Your words have cut into my heart. It pains me to realize how unhappy you are. But I don’t know that I can do anything to change the circumstances.

  “I love my husband, but I’m not blind. He can be a hard man. But that’s not his heart. He does his utmost to obey God’s call as overseer and protector of his family. He sees it as his duty to make certain they remain on the narrow path to redemption.” She glanced at her husband, then looked at Rebecca. “I know he sometimes loses his way, but I also know he’s God’s servant. And the Lord loves him and us; therefore, we can be assured the path Bertram follows is the one ordained by God.”

  She rested a hand on the top of the surrey door. “Many years ago I vowed to be his helpmate and to obey him. I won’t betray that vow. It’s my duty to pray, to love, and to obey.”

  A smile of reminiscence touched Willa’s lips. “I remember the tenderness, and I still see it from time to time. Please don’t give up on him. He’s a good man and he’ll come ’round.”

  Rebecca wanted to believe her mother-in-law, but more and more she’d come to think her father-in-law had strayed from the truth of God’s Word. The memory of him in the barn tending the wounded dog puzzled her. He did possess compassion. She laid her hand on Willa’s. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, only to help you understand my distress. I haven’t lost hope. All things are possible with God.”

  Daniel rode up to the surrey. “It’s a good day for a race, eh?” He smiled as if he were happy with the world.

  “Absolutely,” Rebecca said, trying to be cheerful.

  “Cambria will be there. Yo
u two will have time for a chat.” He chuckled. “And I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you in a dress this time.”

  Rebecca’s disposition turned sour. “I seriously doubt she cared a whit about what I was wearing when she found me. She cared only about my welfare. As you should have.”

  “I was . . .”

  “If I had my way I’d buy a dozen pairs of trousers,” Rebecca snapped. “It seems someone in this family would care more about my nearly dying in this godforsaken country than whether or not I was wearing britches!” Folding her arms over her chest, she squared her chin and looked directly in front of her.

  “I was sick with worry,” Daniel explained. “But you wouldn’t speak to me when you returned.”

  Rebecca kept her eyes forward.

  Daniel continued to ride alongside the surrey. “You’re the most hardheaded woman I’ve ever known,” he finally sputtered and rode off.

  “In his defense,” Willa said, “he was fit to be tied. And not about your trousers. He was worried about your safety. You’re being unfair.”

  “I suppose.” Rebecca dropped her arms to her sides. “Sometimes I can’t seem to keep from being contentious.” She watched Daniel urge his horse across the dry grasslands.

  “How do you feel about being Daniel’s wife? Have your feelings for him changed?” Willa asked softly.

  Rebecca sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “Yes and no. I care for him, but I don’t believe it’s love I feel.”

  “Give yourself time.” Willa patted Rebecca’s hand. “Try not to be so hard on him. He’s doing his best.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not easy for him—living under a man like Bertram.”

  “If he was so frightened about what had happened to me, why didn’t he speak up?”

  “Maybe the barbs you wore kept him from telling you how he felt.”