by Bonnie Leon
Rebecca remembered how angry she’d been and mortified during her confrontation with Bertram, and finally furious with Daniel for not defending her. She had refused to speak to him. “I still think he should have said something in my defense.”
The racing grounds were jammed with businessmen, horse traders, gamblers, and plain folks from all over the district. Excitement permeated the place.
Rebecca found Cambria, and the two of them strolled the grounds, admiring horses and eyeing other women’s apparel. It seemed that even in Queensland women dressed up for the races.
Men from around the district studied the horses; some made deals for future breeding or made outright purchases of animals. Men were taking and making bets. Rebecca was surprised at the amount of money changing hands.
Woodman handed a wad of bills to a man. “Now, why would he do that?” Rebecca asked. “He’s not much on possessions.”
“The other man’s takin’ bets. Seems Woodman’s makin’ a bet.”
“But he wouldn’t.”
Cambria shrugged. “It’s all very excitin’ don’t ya think?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure why we’re here, exactly. Mr. Thornton is set against gambling, and that’s what this racing business is all about, isn’t it?”
“Yais and no.” Cambria nudged back her bonnet and rubbed her forehead. “There’s a lot of gambling going on, but there are some ’ere who are more interested in findin’ good breedin’ stock.”
“It’s all very interesting. I’ve always loved horses. My father believed in owning only the best quality animals.”
“We’ve never had such luxuries.”
“I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
“No worries.” Cambria smiled, and her blue eyes looked bright. “I’m quite content on me father’s station. Money never was of much interest ta me.”
“I’ve never been much interested in it either, but then I’ve always had all I needed.” Rebecca chuckled and offered an apologetic smile.
“How did it go with ya after I left the other day?”
“Not well. Mr. Thornton was angrier than I’ve ever seen him. And Daniel . . . well, he sided with his father. Willa, bless her heart, stood up for me—what little good it did.”
“It is true, ya made a poor choice headin’ out into the bush the way ya did. It takes time to learn yer way about.”
“I know. And I apologized, but Mr. Thornton seemed more upset about my trousers than my well-being.” She managed a crooked grin. “I don’t understand. Sometimes you and Meghan wear pants.”
“Yais, but we’re not lydies the same as you. We’re more like one of the blokes ’bout ’ere. We ride and work alongside the drovers.”
Rebecca stopped and leaned against a wooden fence encircling the track. She peered between the rails, watching a black stallion dance as he was being led around the arena.
“I can see your point, but why do I have to be so different?”
“Yer a Thornton.”
“Hmm. That’s what Mr. Thornton said.” She straightened and said with a sigh, “I’d be happier if my name wasn’t Thornton.” She shrugged. “Although I must admit, some of my difficulties have more to do with my personality than my name. Even when I lived in Boston I felt trapped by the proprieties of society. I’d hoped things would be different when I married Daniel. I thought he was different and would understand and accept me as I am.”
“Daniel’s a good bloke. He loves ya. But he’s a Thornton and has responsibilities. And he’s learned ta listen ta his father.” Cambria pressed her forehead against a railing. “Rebecca, Mr. Thornton’s a fine man.” She turned and settled serious eyes on her friend. “God speaks ta him. Sometimes he can be frightening, but he’s righteous and wise.”
“I don’t know what to think about that.” Rebecca watched Meghan saunter toward Daniel, who stood visiting with some men farther down the fence line. “My life in Boston was very different. In my church there, I was taught to respect the elders and, of course, my parents, and I sometimes sought counsel from those more spiritually mature than me, but . . . well, no one has ever dictated my every step.”
Meghan leaned on the fence beside Daniel. Too close. The hussy, Rebecca thought, struggling to keep her mind on her conversation with Cambria. “Of course, there have been people who felt strongly about certain things, especially my father. But in most ways he allowed me to be myself. And nearly always permitted me to make up my own mind about things. He instructed me to seek God’s will. Mr. Thornton decides he knows God’s will, then tells you what it is. That’s not right.”
“All I know is that he makes good decisions, and he’s looked out for me family. We owe ’im a great deal.”
Rebecca nodded. “I know. That’s what I’ve heard. And to be honest, that’s what’s confusing me.”
A woman’s laughter carried above the racing din. Meghan. Rebecca looked and found the Australian beauty standing very close to Daniel. She rested a hand on his arm. The two seemed to be sharing some private joke. Meghan glanced at Rebecca, triumph in her eyes.
Rebecca seethed inwardly. No matter what she felt for Daniel, Meghan had no right.
“It’s shameful the way she fawns over ’im. If he were me husband, I’d tell ’er how I felt.”
Rebecca agreed, but did she have the right? Daniel professed to loving her, but their marriage was still one of convenience. Again Meghan flashed Rebecca a triumphant smile. “I think I will have a word with her.”
Rebecca waited until Daniel and the men walked away and Meghan was alone. “Pray for me,” she told Cambria and headed toward Meghan.
With her back against the fence, Meghan rested her elbows on a rail. Her brown eyes wore a challenge. “Wal now, how are ya’ feelin’? Heard about yer close call the other day. Can’t imagine someone having so little sense as to go wanderin’ about when they don’t know their way ’round.”
“I was fine until my horse threw me,” Rebecca said, struggling to maintain her composure. “But I didn’t come here to talk about that. It is my opinion that you need to be reminded that Daniel is married. It would be a shame if such an oversight were to ruin your reputation.”
Meghan smiled, and her almond eyes turned into slits. “Yer husband likes me. He always has. And whether he’s married or not doesn’t matter ta me. He belongs ta me, and one day he’ll come back ta me.”
“Whatever you had with Daniel is part of the past. I’m his wife now—and you will stay away from him.”
“Yer his wife all right, but it’s not what was meant to be. Even Mr. Thornton wishes Daniel had married me. When things are set aright, Daniel will be much happier and so will ’is father.”
“Bertram Thornton is a righteous man and would never accept divorce.”
Meghan seemed undaunted by Rebecca’s words. “It’s been understood Daniel and I belong together. Ya might as well get used to the idea.”
Before Rebecca could reply, Meghan strutted away. She longed to give her a more thorough tongue-lashing, but to run after her and force her to listen would only create a scene and bring more condemnation from Bertram. Her fury boiling, Rebecca watched Meghan seek out Daniel and slip an arm through his as he walked toward one of the horses being groomed. She wanted to slap her.
Rebecca realized she was afraid. What if Daniel really did belong with Meghan and regretted marrying her? Well, then it would all simply have been a mistake. Just as I’ve thought. The words made sense, but Rebecca didn’t feel comforted.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Jim said, joining Rebecca.
Barely able to speak, Rebecca said, “She certainly is.”
“Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s used to getting her way, and she’s jealous—can’t seem to make anything happen. She and Daniel may have had something once, but no more.”
“How do you know that? He seems . . . taken with her.”
Jim grinned. “I know because of the light in his eyes when he looks at you. Wish I had someone who
felt that way about me.”
Cambria joined them. “G’day, Jim. Nice ta see ya.”
“Good to see you.” He flashed a smile. “Well, I’ve got work to do.” He tipped his hat to the ladies and walked away.
“Good lookin’ bloke, that one, eh?” Cambria said, watching him go.
“He is, at that,” Rebecca said. “From what I hear he’s looking for someone to love.”
“Roight. A lydie, not someone like me.”
Cambria went to help her mother, and Rebecca wandered the grounds alone. Occasionally she’d stop to study an animal or watch a race. It would have been enjoyable if Daniel had shared the time with her. He was busy studying horseflesh and flirting with Meghan.
Callie joined Rebecca late in the day. “Mum, Mrs. Thornton was wonderin’ if ya would like ta join ’er. She’s over yonder.” Callie nodded at a tree where Willa sat in the shade, chatting with a friend. “She’s thinkin’ ya might be wantin’ some company.”
“Yes. Tell her I’ll come visit shortly.”
Instead of returning to Willa, Callie remained. “I seen ya wanderin’. Somethin’ troublin’ ya?”
Rebecca was surprised at Callie’s concern. “No. I’m fine. The horses are beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Yais. Roight fine.” She watched a group of men swapping bets. “Seems the men ’ave a good time of it.”
“They do. But from what I’ve seen, they’re here to gamble more than anything else. A lot of money has changed hands. I must say, I was surprised to see Woodman making bets. He doesn’t seem the type.”
“He never bets.”
“But I saw him.”
“He don’t care for possessions. They mean nothin’ ta blackfellas.” She paused. “I’d say the bet was for Mr. Thornton.”
“But I’ve heard him preach about the evils of gambling. He said he visits the races only so he can get a look at the horseflesh in the district.”
“What a man say and what he do is not always the same, eh?” Callie smirked. “Whitefellas always want things, need ta ’ave goods. I wonder sometime, is it something ta do with yer God?”
“Certainly not. It’s simply human nature. God’s Word states clearly that man’s not to store up treasures on earth but rather in heaven. And he tells us not to fret over what we’re going to eat or wear. His Word says he feeds even the birds, and he cares for us more than he does a bird—we’re to trust him.”
Silence settled between the two women, then Callie said, “Mr. Thornton ’as much treasure. If yer God says this is bad and not to store up, why is he rich?”
Rebecca was momentarily stumped. Clearly Callie had given this some thought. It was important she offer a sensible answer. “I don’t believe God is saying that being rich is bad but that the desire for riches should not hinder our verve for him. Nothing should be more important than God.”
“Wal, I see Mr. Thornton doing what yer God says not ta do. He says God loves, but sometimes he don’t love very well.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t believe what’s in his black book.”
“No one can live a perfect life, Callie. Not even Mr. Thornton. The Bible talks about so much more than what you see in his life.”
Callie took a step away. “I don’t want to talk no more ’bout this. What ya believe is for fools.”
Rebecca watched Callie as she walked away. How would she ever know God’s presence and his forgiveness if those around her didn’t live out what they believed? She glanced at Meghan and knew that being a living example in this place would be a challenge.
19
Tea in hand, Rebecca stepped onto the veranda. A storm rumbled from the east, and the smell of rain was in the air. Wind caught at her hair and dress. Anticipation coursed through her. “Rain, wonderful rain,” she said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
Although squalls sometimes visited the flats during the summer, they generally released little moisture before moving on. It had been weeks since they’d had any real precipitation.
Woodman had explained they could pretty much count on an occasional storm in March. And just that morning he’d predicted one was on its way.
Rebecca was ready—ready for green grasses, the smell of moist earth, and the charm of fields sprinkled with flowers.
Willa joined her, then stood watching the eastern sky. “We’re in for it, I’d say.” She pointed at a gray curtain in the distance. “See there, it’s coming down in sheets.” Her voice was filled with anticipation. Distant thunder rumbled.
The wall of water moved closer. The first splatters plopped on the ground, leaving wet dimples in the dry earth. Big drops splashed the porch steps. Lightning fractured the sky and thunder boomed. Then all of a sudden the downpour moved across the yard and to the house in a drenching deluge.
Exhilarated, Rebecca gazed at the display. “It’s marvelous! I hope it rains for days!”
“You may get your wish,” Willa said. “Once the heavens open up, it sometimes takes days to turn off the spigots.” She smiled. “We never know quite how much we’ll get. Indeed, there may even be flooding.”
The rain continued for five days. It splattered the windows and drummed against the roof. The yard turned to mud, and the garden plants sagged beneath the weighty wetness. Rivers filled and some flooded, and reports were that some of the streets of Thornton Creek flowed with muddy water. The Thorntons sheltered indoors, and for the first time since Rebecca had arrived, there was no church meeting. However, she’d heard that in spite of the flooding, seats at the Thornton Creek Pub were filled. Men in the district had little to do.
Rebecca spent contented hours indoors. The sound of rainfall brought an ease she hadn’t felt since arriving at Douloo. One afternoon while curled up in a large chair reading Jane Eyre and listening to the downpour, Rebecca was struck at the similarities she felt between herself and the novel’s heroine.
She hadn’t grown up orphaned or in poverty, but she now lived in a house with a fierce man who possessed absolute authority. He was sometimes frightening and always a puzzle. She could only wish for a happy ending.
Callie dusted around her. “Why do ya read?”
Rebecca looked at her. “For lots of reasons.”
“Why that book?”
“I don’t know. It’s an adventure; I admire the main character. She has a deep reverence for God and a strong spirit of service. And there’s a hint of a romance. I like that.” She pressed the book against her chest.
“It talks about those things?”
“Yes. You don’t know how to read?”
“No. Blacks don’t read. I never knew any blackfellas who could.”
“Would you like to learn?” Rebecca felt the stir of excitement. Reading could open up the world to Callie.
“No, mum.”
“But why not?”
“I’m not smart enough.”
Rebecca set her book in her lap. “Of course you are. In fact, I think you’re quite intelligent.”
“Ya do?” Callie’s face brightened for a moment before the mask of disinterest returned. “Wal, readin’s not for blacks.”
Rebecca stood. “Why don’t you let me teach you? It would be fun.”
Callie looked at the dust cloth in her hand, then at the door leading into the main house. “Ya think I could learn?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Wal, then . . . maybe.”
In the days that followed, Rebecca spent time each day teaching Callie. The servant was bright and learned quickly. She moved from the basic alphabet to rudimentary words in no time. As she grasped the written language, her hunger for knowledge grew.
Rebecca thoroughly enjoyed the time they spent together, but she knew Bertram would disapprove, so the lessons were kept a secret. The two women waited for snatches of time, then met in Rebecca’s room.
One day Callie looked up from her studies, a puzzled expression on her face. “Mum, what am I ta do with this readin’? I like it, but me life won’t change.”
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Rebecca was stuck for an answer. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m certain God does. And knowledge is always a good thing. One day you’ll be able to read the Bible.”
Callie compressed her lips. “I don’t wish ta read yer Bible.”
“What about a novel, then? There are many good ones—Vanity Fair, Jane Eyre, or even Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” She smiled. “Of course, that one you’ll have to read in secret. It’s somewhat controversial, and I don’t think people around here would approve.”
“They’ll be mad about any readin’. I’m tellin’ no one, eh?” She grinned. “But I’ll keep learnin’.”
“Absolutely. Now, you better get back to your duties before you’re missed.”
“Roight.” Callie closed the book she’d been working on and walked to the bedroom door. She stood there a moment, her brow creased. “Mum, I think Mr. Thornton knows. A coupla days ago he found me lookin’ at this.” She held up her elementary reader. “He said nothin’, but I could see his inside anger.”
“Try not to worry. I’m sure everything will be fine,” Rebecca said, but inwardly she quaked.
“Yais, mum.”
Rebecca closed the door behind Callie and walked to the window. What would Bertram say? “I’m probably in for another tongue-lashing,” she said, gazing out across the open plains.
Just as Woodman had said the day she first arrived in Thornton Creek, the rain transformed the plains. The grasses were thick and green, and patches of wildflowers had blossomed, looking like brightly colored jewels. It reminded her of spring back home. As the thought penetrated her mind, she realized Boston didn’t seem as much like home as it once had. Curious, she thought, then picked up her bonnet, settled it on her head, and tied it. “I’d say it’s time to enjoy some of this springlike weather.”
Rebecca stepped out the front door and walked across the porch, breathing deeply. The air smelled of damp vegetation and floral sweetness. Rain had beaten down the garden, leaving the delicate domesticated flowers and plants more than a bit undone. The roses had suffered most and clearly longed for more sunlight and heat. Willa and I will have to prune them back, Rebecca thought.