Now that their job was done, Captain supplied some drink for his men. Thomas had taken a sip to be sociable but once again the fiery liquid was not to his taste. He noticed Gurr and Platts drank a big share. Gradually the stories around the fire became bolder and merrier. From time to time he caught Gurr’s steely glare but Thomas kept his distance. Platts took no notice, more intent on swallowing as much of the shared grog as he could. Finally he stumbled close to the fire. Captain called it a night at that and urged the men to turn in ready for an early departure. Once again Thomas was the last to leave the warmth of the fire. As he approached his bed a man stepped from the shadows into the faint light of a half moon.
“A word before we leave, Mr Baker.”
Gurr, Thomas could see, was drunk and looking for a fight. Thomas felt his body tingle on full alert.
“Types like you think you are special with your fancy job.”
“What do you mean?”
Thomas might have been bigger than Gurr but the man was used to fighting. He glanced around. There was no sign of Platts, but plenty of shadows to conceal him.
Gurr moved swiftly and grabbed Thomas by the arm. He pushed his face in close and Thomas wrinkled his nose at the boozy breath.
He wrenched his arm free.
Thomas was thankful Gurr couldn’t see the heat that throbbed in his cheeks. But he was also sure now that the despicable man was alone. Thomas eased his shoulders back. The odds were more even now, and he did not like bullies.
Gurr gave him a shove. Thomas was ready for it and pretended to wobble backwards, then lurched forward, swinging his clenched fist. He connected firmly with the side of Gurr’s face. He felt the jar through his fist. Gurr gasped. Before he could recover, Thomas stepped around him. He slammed his fist under Gurr’s chin, sending the man backwards to the ground.
Thomas snatched the firearm from its position in the tree.
Gurr growled. He struggled to his feet but froze when he saw what Thomas was pointing at him.
“I had no quarrel with you or your friend.” Thomas’s voice was low and unwavering. “But tomorrow you will leave my land and never come back.”
Gurr spat at his feet. “This isn’t your land.”
“No, but I am in charge of it for now.” Thomas gripped the rifle tighter. “Our paths should never cross again, but if they do, you will be the one who is sorry, Gurr.”
Gurr looked from the rifle to Thomas. He put a hand to his face and rubbed it slowly. “We’ll see, Baker, we’ll see.” He gave Thomas one last withering look then eased backwards and slipped into the shadows.
Thomas remained rigidly holding the firearm. He listened to the soft tread of Gurr’s feet until they were lost in the whispers of the trees. He hoped never to be bothered by the odious man again but, just in case, he would keep the firearm close.
Thomas startled awake the next morning at the sound of voices. Captain was barking orders at his men, getting them packed up and ready to move on to the next job.
Before they left, each of the men shook Thomas’s hand, except for Gurr, who was busy tying down a wagon cover. He glanced up just as Thomas looked his way. The black eye he sported gave Thomas some small satisfaction. A strong hand gripped his shoulder. He turned to see Captain’s rugged face.
“Take care, Thomas,” the other man said, “and I’ll be more than happy to work for you in the future. You’re a fair and honest man with a good brain. I am sure the day will come when you will be in charge of your own property.”
Thomas couldn’t imagine life beyond Penakie, but who knew what the future held? He was happy to wave the team goodbye without the regret that the return to isolation would normally have brought. Apart from getting rid of Gurr and Platts there was work to be done. Thomas had a plan. He took a bag of the dried fruit and mounted Derriere. He had to find his way to the Smiths’ homestead. George had offered his sons to help with the drafting and Thomas hoped that would still be possible. Once he set off, he realised seeing the forthright Miss Lizzie again wouldn’t be a bad thing either. He urged Derriere into a trot.
Nineteen
Lizzie glanced from the front door of the Smith house back to her father. “No sign of Edmund and Zac.” She lifted the cutlery she held in her hands. “Should I set places for them?”
“I don’t know when they’ll be back,” George said.
Lizzie’s other two brothers, Jacob and Samuel, were seated at the table. They both groaned.
“My stomach thinks my throat has been cut,” Jacob said and clutched his middle.
“No need for that kind of talk, Jacob,” his mother reprimanded. “Lay the table for those of us here, Lizzie. I’ll set some food aside for Edmund and Isaac.”
“They were headed west following that dry creek with the big washed rocks. Edmund said he could see tracks.” Jacob blew out a breath. “I don’t know how.”
“With any luck, Edmund will catch the thief this time and we’ll put an end to it.” Their father sat himself at the head of the table. “I’m fed up with losing sheep to those natives.”
Lizzie paused in front of him. “But how will you put an end to it, Father? Even with five of you, you can’t be everywhere at once.”
“They need to be punished.”
“In what way punished?” his wife asked.
A distant “coo-ee” echoed from outside and stopped any reply George was going to make. Jacob and Samuel were first to the door. Their father was close behind, Lizzie following him outside. Her mother was busy patting down her hair. It was rare to have visitors.
Lizzie put a hand to her brow. A man on a horse was crossing the yard in front of their house. She grinned. It was their neighbour, Thomas Baker.
“Hello, Thomas,” she called and waved vigorously.
Her mother had arrived to stand beside her and tugged gently at her arm. “A little less vigour, Lizzie dear,” she murmured.
The visitor’s face too was lit in a smile. He waved back.
“You found us all right,” George said. “Welcome.”
Lizzie watched Thomas climb down from his horse. He was moving freely. No sign of any tender spots. Her grin widened at the thought of their last encounter. He had been so embarrassed, poor man, but he wouldn’t have been able to lance that boil without her help.
“This is my wife, Anne.”
Thomas raised his hat.
“And you know our Lizzie, of course.”
Lizzie felt her mother’s restraining hand still on her arm as she went to rush forward. She stayed where she was. “How are you, Thomas?” she asked demurely.
“Well, thank you, Lizzie,” he said.
Lizzie studied his face. Had he put extra emphasis on the thank you?
“These are my two middle boys, Samuel and Jacob.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” Thomas said. Lizzie noticed they were all of a similar height and stature though her brothers had a few years on Thomas. She was sure he was looking much fuller of body. “You’ve certainly developed some muscles since I saw you last and –”
“Lizzie!” her mother reprimanded.
“I was only saying how much healthier he looks. You should have seen him before with his pale skin and skinny –”
“Is this a social call, Thomas, or are you in need of help?” George cut in as Lizzie’s mother tapped her on the arm again.
“Both.” Thomas turned back to his horse. “I’ve brought a gift.”
He unhooked a calico bag from his saddle.
“You may have plenty of these but Miss … Lizzie showed me how to dry them, so I thought I’d bring you some of my first attempt.”
“Thank you, Mr Baker.” Lizzie’s mother took the bag and gave the contents a brief glance, then passed it to Lizzie.
“Oh, you’ve dried some wild peaches,” Lizzie said. “Thank you.”
She beamed at Thomas, who stood tall in front of her, clutching his hat in both hands. She was rewarded with an equally broad smile and something inside her d
id a little flip. He was quite the most handsome man she’d met.
“Won’t you join us for something to eat, Mr Baker?” Anne said. “The boys went off without breakfast this morning so we were about to sit down to our midday meal a little earlier than usual.”
“Yes, come and join us, Thomas.” George threw an arm across Thomas’s shoulders and drew him towards the door. “You can tell us what you’ve been up to and what brings you our way.”
Lizzie followed a few steps behind the others. She would much prefer to be the one leading Thomas inside but her mother was always reminding her she was far too forward. At least he was to stay for the meal. It would give her the opportunity to find out more about him, even if she did have to share him with almost her entire family.
Lizzie was curious to know what had happened with that horse back in Adelaide. She hadn’t said anything at the time, but she’d recognised him immediately. She didn’t know a lot about horses but she was fairly sure neither of the horses he’d had at his hut was the one she’d seen him with in the street outside the general store.
Everyone was seated around the table except Lizzie and her mother, who served plates of mutton pie, pickled cabbage and boiled potatoes. Anne had allowed Lizzie to toss the warm potatoes in a skerrick of butter with chopped parsley.
Once grace had been said, her brothers were quick to begin their meals, though they paused between mouthfuls, taking it in turns to ply Thomas with questions. Before long he had told them about his life in England, the death of his mother back home and then his father on the voyage to Australia, and his meeting with AJ. Lizzie noted nothing was said about the horse. Perhaps one day she would ask him about it, but not now.
“This is an isolated life compared with the way you lived in England,” she said. “Don’t you get lonely?”
Thomas looked across the table and she held his gaze. He had deep brown eyes that gave her the feeling he was much older than his twenty years. There was something strong and dependable about his look. She felt her heart beating faster.
“Sometimes,” he said.
“McKenzie’s death was a bad business,” George said. “You’ve got a big job there on your own.”
“Do you have much trouble with the natives?” Jacob asked.
“Everyone stop asking Mr Baker questions,” Anne said. “The poor man has hardly taken a bite of his food.”
“We don’t see many visitors, Thomas,” George said. “You eat up.”
Lizzie watched as Thomas tucked into the food while the talk of her father and brothers flowed around them. Finally, he sat back.
“Thank you, Mrs Smith,” he said. “That was the most delicious pie.”
“I suspect you don’t eat many pies, Mr Baker. In any case, I didn’t make it. It’s Lizzie you should be thanking.”
“It was very good pie.” Thomas smiled at Lizzie.
Lizzie basked in his attention. “Mother says my pastry needs a gentler hand.”
“She probably talked to it too much,” Samuel said.
“Or slapped it too hard,” Jacob added with a playful tap on his sister’s shoulder.
“That’s enough, boys,” George said. “If your mother and sister are good enough to put food on the table you’ll accept it with good grace.”
“Gather the plates please, Lizzie.” Her mother stood up. “Would you like a cup of tea, Mr Baker?”
“Yes, please, and won’t you call me Thomas, Mrs Smith?”
“Thomas it is,” she said, “and you may call me –”
“Mrs Smith,” Lizzie and her brothers chorused. Everyone except their mother laughed.
“No.” She glanced at each of her children sternly then looked at Thomas with a smile. “I was going to say, Anne.”
“You are a special visitor,” Jacob said. “Everyone but us calls her Mrs Smith.”
She left the table to make the tea while Lizzie picked up the plates. Once again her brothers and father began to talk. Lizzie noticed Thomas looking around the room. No doubt he thought their place more homelike than his own; it was certainly a little bigger, although when all six Smiths were home it was a tight squeeze to fit everyone around the table. There were only two bedrooms, one for her parents and the other for her brothers. Lizzie slept on the long low couch under the window.
“So, tell me now, Thomas,” George said once the tea had been set in front of them. “What brought you to our door today?”
“I’ve had the hut builders at Penakie,” Thomas said. “They’ve built drafting yards and a shearing shed. I’ve come to ask for some of that help you offered.”
Before George could answer, a distant shout turned everyone’s attention to the door. Samuel and Jacob immediately started pushing at each other to get through the gap first.
“That sounds like Zac.” Lizzie stood up.
“Stay here, Anne,” George said. “And you, Lizzie,” he added as she went to the door. “You’d best come with us, Thomas. You will no doubt have to deal with natives yourself in the future.”
Lizzie saw a slight frown cross Thomas’s face before he turned to follow her father. She stepped after him. She wanted to spend as much time in his company as she could but her mother put out a restraining hand.
“You heard your father, Lizzie. We must stay here,” she said. She looked past Lizzie out the door. “I don’t like the sound of this business at all.”
Twenty
Unease settled on Thomas as he followed his neighbour outside and across the yard towards a large gum tree away from the house. Already at the tree were three men. Two of them, he could see, were so like Samuel and Jacob they had to be the other two brothers, the only visible difference being Samuel and Jacob were fair like Lizzie and their mother and these other two had dark brown hair like George. Thomas couldn’t see the face of the other man but could tell he was a native from the black arms and legs flailing about.
The taller of the two brothers spoke as his father approached. “We’ve got him.”
The other said, “Who’s that?” They all turned and looked at Thomas, who was several steps behind. He didn’t know what was going on here but he was certain he did not want to be involved.
“Come and join us, Thomas,” George called. “You should learn how best to deal with these fellows.”
Thomas glanced behind him. Lizzie was at the door, her face full of concern. Anne was looking over her shoulder.
He sucked in a long, slow breath and continued after George. He frowned as Samuel produced a thin branch and held it out for his father. George took it and flicked it on the ground like a lash. The two brothers who had brought the native had him spread around the trunk of the tree. His bare back glistened in the dappled shade of the giant gum. He was struggling against the arms that pinned him to the tree and yabbering in his native tongue.
Thomas glanced from the scarred wrists to the native’s head. Only his side profile was visible but Thomas knew him. The man turned his black face and his fear-filled eyes locked on Thomas.
“Mr Tom,” the native cried out and then babbled something Thomas didn’t understand.
“Do you know this person?” George said to Thomas.
All eyes were now looking at him.
“He cut some timber for me before the hut builders came.”
“He’s probably been stealing your sheep. If the truth be known, he’d owe you,” George said.
“I have no evidence of that.”
“Well, we do.” One of the brothers holding Gulda to the tree spat at his feet. “Caught him red-handed this time. You going to give him those lashes, Father?”
“Boys, this is our new neighbour, AJ’s overseer, Thomas Baker.” George indicated the men to the left and the right of the tree. “That’s Isaac and that’s Edmund.”
Thomas nodded as one man and then the other acknowledged him.
“You’re the man Lizzie was prattling on about,” Edmund said. He was the one who had spat and, by the look of him, was the oldest of the
brothers.
“Thomas will be needing help from you boys to get his sheep in and drafted.” George tapped the branch in his hand against his leg.
Thomas looked at each of them in turn. Did none of them think it was strange to be having such a civil conversation while they held a poor native man pinned to a tree? He wished he’d never come.
Suddenly Gulda kicked out with his foot and connected with Edmund’s shin. The kick carried enough force to make Edmund yelp and let go his grip.
Quick as a flash Samuel stepped in and grabbed Gulda’s free arm. George ignored Edmund’s threats to thrash the man himself and stepped in closer. He raised the branch and Gulda called loudly. Once again the only word that made any sense was “Tom”. Thomas was appalled at what was about to take place. He forced himself between George and the gibbering native.
“What are you doing?” George glared at him as if he’d gone mad.
“I never paid this man for the work he and his cousin did for me.”
Edmund stepped forward to reach for Thomas but George held up a hand. His son stopped but stood his ground and fixed a stony scowl on Thomas.
“As I said, he’s probably been stealing your sheep already.” George’s voice was low and calm as if he was explaining something to a child. “He and his friends have been pilfering ours for a long time but we’ve never been able to pin him down. The boys set up a trap to catch him in the act and they’ve done that today.”
“I can’t let you hurt him, George.”
“You don’t make the decisions here,” Samuel growled.
Thomas sensed movement on his other side and knew Edmund was itching to drag him away.
“Steady, boys.” Once again George held up a hand then he turned his serious eyes back to Thomas.
“If you don’t punish them for stealing your stock they will get the better of you and you’ll never stop them, Thomas. We’ve caught this man stealing. I could take him to the magistrate but he could end up in chains and I’m not sure that would serve a good purpose. If he receives some punishment from me here today, he will tell his friends that we don’t allow thieves. I am happy to trade from time to time but I won’t abide theft.”
Heart of the Country Page 13