Heart of the Country

by Tricia Stringer

  Wallis grunted and kicked the step. “You’ve been lucky this time,” he shouted into the shed. “Only I need my rest or I’d still be after you.” He turned back to eyeball Thomas and then stalked away to his camp.

  Thomas stepped up into the shed. There was plenty of sheep noise but no sign of Wick.

  “You’d better make sure everything’s ready to start again,” he said into the space. “I don’t want any delays.”

  Thomas busied himself packing the last lot of fleeces and didn’t turn when the sound of sweeping reached his ears. He knew Wick would have emerged from wherever he’d been hiding and picked up the broom. There was little Thomas could do for the lad. Tomorrow the shearers would be gone and Wick with them. He would have to fend for himself, but at least Thomas took some pleasure in giving him a small reprieve; he detested bullies and injustice.

  The afternoon’s work was punctuated by Wallis’s bad-tempered outbursts. His fellow shearers copped a few foul rants aside from Wick’s usual share. The Smith brothers joined them so that at least Thomas was free to sort the fleeces as they were cut and make sure they got packed in the right bags. Finally the last sheep was shorn and they could all escape the heat of the shed.

  The shearers and Wick headed to the stream to wash. Thomas was conscious of his own dirty clothes and body – he hadn’t expected to have company and certainly not female company. It was difficult to get to his clean clothes, though, as Lizzie and her mother had taken over his hut. When he saw that both the women were tending the food at the fire he took the opportunity to get fresh clothes and slipped away to the stream.

  Lizzie was on the little verandah when he returned.

  “No more boils that need attention?” she said.

  Thomas stopped and looked around. She always had him on edge, and buzzing with a strange kind of anticipation. He was never sure what she might say.

  “You walk very well, so I am guessing there’s been no reoccurrence of the –”

  “I’m quite well.” He cut her off and ducked past to deposit his dirty clothes inside the hut. When he came out she was waiting for him. This time he noticed the mischievous lift of her lips and the twinkle in her eye.

  “You know I’m good at lots of things. I can even cut hair.”

  She reached up, her hand brushed his cheek and she tugged at a lock of his wet hair.

  Thomas restrained himself from grabbing her hand and pulling her closer, aware that her mother and brothers were on the other side of the hut and could appear at any minute.

  “Of course some men prefer their hair longer,” Lizzie said. “You have waves in yours so it falls well. When my brothers’ hair gets too long, it falls in clumps like bits of rope.”

  He swept his fingers through his hair and pulled it back from his eyes. “It does need cutting. I hope to be able to do that in Adelaide.”

  A loud call startled them both. Thomas turned to see Duffy riding towards him and another man with a woman following in a small cart.

  “I’m sorry about your last visit to us.” Lizzie spoke softly. “Jacob said the native man wasn’t harmed too much.”

  “No.”

  “Father means well,” Lizzie said. Thomas felt the soft pressure of her hand on his arm. “I thought you were so brave to stand up to him and take the native away.”

  He looked down to find her face turned to his, and that she was looking at him with admiration. He wished they were alone. Her pretty blue eyes were mesmerising. He longed to take her in his arms and kiss her.

  “G’day, mate.” Duffy’s arrival startled Thomas from Lizzie’s spell. “And who do we have here but Miss Lizzie Smith herself.”

  Lizzie stepped forward and nodded.

  “Mr Duff,” she said then waved to the couple getting down from the cart. “Hello, Mr and Mrs Gibson.”

  The couple came over to meet Thomas. John Gibson was a shepherd with Duffy, and his wife was an angular, pinch-faced woman whose lips turned down when she spoke, giving her a dour expression. Anne Smith appeared and drew Mrs Gibson away, calling for Lizzie to come and help with the food as she went.

  Twenty-four

  It was a large group gathered around the outside fire that night. After the heat of the day it was a perfect evening, with just a gentle breeze to stir the air. A few more logs were drawn up for seating and both the Smiths and the Gibsons had brought extra plates to add to Thomas’s meagre collection. When he saw the meat being cut up on Mrs Smith’s serving plate, he was once again reminded of what he had lost in the trunk Whitby had stolen. Thomas had thought he’d have no need of the items within it but he’d been wrong on several occasions.

  When everyone was seated, Thomas gave thanks for the work that was completed and for the food before them. Along with the kangaroo meat there were potatoes and pumpkin, baked to perfection in the coals, and Anne had also made some kind of turnip mash. He’d not eaten so well in a long time. Judging by the comments around the feast, the others all agreed.

  Wallis and the other two shearers were there, looking the cleanest Thomas had seen them. Wick seated himself on the opposite side of the fire from Wallis and tucked into his meal as if he’d not eaten for a week. Thomas noticed a red mark down the side of the boy’s face that hadn’t been there at the last bell of the day. Apparently Thomas’s protection hadn’t lasted once Wick had left the shed.

  Thomas glanced at the others around the fire. The mood was jovial: all except Wallis and Mrs Gibson had smiles on their faces as they ate and talked. Jacob, Isaac and Samuel sat with their mother and Lizzie had chosen a spot close to Thomas. Duffy on his other side was full of questions about the shearing.

  Finally Anne asked her sons to collect the eating utensils and Thomas raised his mug of tea. “To a most delicious meal,” he said.

  There was a chorus of voices agreeing with his sentiments. He noticed Duffy taking his customary sip from the flask he’d slipped from his pocket.

  “It’s not over yet,” Lizzie said and bounced to her feet. “There’s the fruit pie and Mother has made jam roly-poly.”

  “There’s also a small pot of cream from our cow,” Anne added.

  “I thought it was time for men’s business,” Wallis grumbled and tugged a pipe from his pocket.

  “Sweets first,” Lizzie said. “It will be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  There were groans of delight as the women set about serving. Once again they were all soon intent on eating – even Wallis, Thomas noticed. The sweets were delicious.

  “When do you leave for Adelaide?” Lizzie’s question came just as he scraped the last of the pudding into his mouth.

  “Tomorrow, I hope.”

  “You will be gone a while.”

  “Yes. I was hoping your brothers might take turns to keep an eye on things but they’ve already done so much for me.”

  “I’m sure they won’t mind.” Lizzie leaned in closer. “We’re neighbours.” With her hat off, her golden hair shone in the rays of the setting sun and he noticed she wore a pair of dainty drop earrings. There was a velvet ribbon crossed over at her throat and clasped with a small brooch that matched the earrings.

  “Time for dancing,” Jacob said. Lizzie laughed as her brother pulled her to her feet.

  “The shed’s the best place for that,” John Gibson said, and he pulled a harmonica from his pocket. He ran it across his mouth, producing a merry blast that stirred everyone to movement.

  The men helped clear the boards in the shed. They carried in some logs for seating while the women cleaned up the dishes and food. In no time they were all gathered again in the shearing shed.

  The breeze had cleared some of the heat and smell. Baskets of wool off-cuts were pushed to the sides and Lizzie draped small branches of flowering eucalypt along the tops of the pens. She and Anne had removed the outer coats they’d worn all day to reveal patterned dresses underneath, adding to the festive look. Lizzie’s dress was deep blue, with small white swirls on it. The neckline was cut
straight across her shoulders and, while the sleeves puffed out around her wrists, the bodice was tapered to hug her chest and her trim waist. She looked like a princess.

  With the light from some lanterns and the music played by Gibson, the atmosphere in the shed became quite celebratory. Duffy danced with Mrs Gibson, and Isaac with his mother. Jacob twirled Lizzie around the floor before stopping in front of Thomas and bowing out. Lizzie’s face shone. Dancing with her made him feel carefree and even light on his feet, although he’d never been much of a dancer.

  Even the shearers joined in. One of them dragged Wick to the floor. They tied an old sweat rag around his waist like an apron and pulled his hat down with a cord so it resembled a bonnet and whizzed him around. All Wallis’s animosity seemed to have evaporated with the music. Thomas suspected it was also something to do with the flask that Duffy was happy to share with him.

  Lizzie was swept away by Samuel. Thomas danced with Anne Smith and with the dour Mrs Gibson, who threw herself in to the activity with great enthusiasm and even managed a smile. After several dances, Thomas found himself without a partner for a while. With all the movement, the shed had warmed up again, so he strolled to the door to take in some fresh air. There were no clouds and little moon: a million stars glittered across the velvet sky.

  Thomas thought of England and the life he’d lived there. Back then he could never have imagined this. If his parents could see him now, what would they think? It was harder work than they’d done in England. The land here was much harsher than the Dowlings’ lush green pastures. Was this what his father had been hoping for when he’d booked their passage? Thomas looked down the sweep of the hill to the glowing coals of the outside fire and the dark silhouette of the rough hut. It all seemed insignificant under the huge sky.

  His spirits dipped at the thought of the big trip ahead of him. Then there was the problem of who would look after the place in his absence. AJ hadn’t given him any instructions about that.

  “You’re deep in thought.”

  Thomas looked down into Lizzie’s upturned face. She was puffing slightly and a little bead of sweat glinted across her brow. Behind them the music continued and the laughter got louder.

  “There’s a lot to do tomorrow,” he said and looked back at the night sky.

  “You’ve done a good job so far. I am sure Mr Browne was right to put his faith in you.”

  “I’ll be gone a long time.”

  “My brothers can take turns checking your sheep.”

  “I don’t like to ask them for help again.”

  “Why not? That’s what neighbours do. I’m sure you’d help us if we needed.”

  Thomas gave a soft snort. “I can’t see that being necessary. Your family is a small army.”

  “You never know.” She leaned forward to look out at the stars and he was surprised by her hand gripping his arm. “Anyway, the good Lord will make it right. Just look at this beautiful night he’s provided.”

  “Yes, it is beautiful,” Thomas said, but he was looking at Lizzie. Some wisps of hair had escaped the upwards-sweeping knot at the back of her head and they floated over the pale skin of her neck. The gentle hint of lavender followed her, reminding him of England.

  Suddenly there was a bellow from behind them and the music stopped. Thomas spun in time to see Wallis strike Wick a blow with the back of his hand. The lad sprawled to the floor with a yelp. He scrabbled backwards as Wallis went after him.

  Thomas strode over and stood between the wild-eyed shearer and the whimpering lad. “That’s enough, Wallis,” he said.

  “The young idiot stomped on my foot and he’ll pay,” Wallis bellowed.

  Thomas was sprayed with spittle and boozy breath. “I think we all need to turn in.”

  “There’s still plenty of music left in Gibbo yet.” Duffy’s words were slurred and he struggled to get to his feet.

  “Everyone has an early start in the morning.” Thomas kept his eyes locked on Wallis’s brooding face.

  “That’s right,” the shearer said. “We’ll be on our way.” He leaned forward and peered around Thomas. “Then you won’t be able to hide.”

  Thomas put his hands up as Wallis swayed into him, and got a shove in return.

  “Don’t touch me,” Wallis growled.

  Jacob and Samuel moved in either side of Thomas.

  “It’s been a wonderful night.” Anne Smith spoke brightly. “But Thomas is quite right, it’s getting late and we ladies will retire. I think the gentlemen should too.”

  Wallis stepped back and suddenly the shed was alive with movement again as everyone bade their good nights. Duffy continued to suggest they keep dancing but no one took any notice. The women gathered their coats and left to share the small space inside the hut. The men would spread bed rolls by the fire and Thomas had hung his hammock in the trees again.

  He remained rigid on the spot and nodded as each of them bid him good night and left the shed. Wallis was the last and didn’t speak until he reached the door.

  “Come on, Wick. Get back to camp,” he said.

  “Wick can stay with me a little longer,” Thomas said. “I’ve a couple of jobs still to do here.”

  Wallis’s eyes flared. Then he twisted his mouth in to an ugly smirk. “Don’t keep him too long. We want to be gone by sun up.”

  Finally there was just Thomas and Wick. The lad scrambled to his feet. Now he had a red mark on the right side of his face to match the other.

  “What do you want me to do, Mr Baker?”

  Thomas was saddened by the eagerness in the lad’s voice. He knew Wallis was right. He couldn’t protect Wick for much longer.

  “Stack those logs by the door and turn out the lanterns,” Thomas said. “Then perhaps you can sleep in here tonight. Get a good rest before your journey.”

  Wick flashed him a grateful smile and Thomas left the shed. He felt an ache in his muscles and the weight of deep tiredness. He was only a few years older than Wick but tonight he felt ancient. He climbed into his bed and gazed at the stars through the branches of the tree over his head. Even though the evening had ended on a sour note, nothing could spoil the memory of his first cut-out party and dancing along the boards with Lizzie in his arms. Very quickly, he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.

  Thomas was awakened by a rough shake of his shoulder and the puff of unpleasant breath in his face.

  “Where’s that young imbecile?”

  Thomas felt as if he’d just shut his eyes but beyond the looming figure of Wallis he could see the pink glow of the rising sun.

  He rolled out of his bed away from the foul man. “What are you talking about?”

  “Wick,” Wallis said. “We’re ready to go and the young idiot’s nowhere to be found.” He jabbed a dirty finger towards Thomas. “You’ve hidden him somewhere.”

  “I’ve done no such thing.” Thomas pulled on his boots. “I gave the lad permission to sleep in the shearing shed and that’s the last I saw of him.”

  “Wick!” Wallis bellowed.

  “Quiet, man,” Thomas hissed. “You’ll wake everyone up with your noise.”

  He strode to the shearing shed. Inside, the logs had been stacked and beside them on the floor were the cold lanterns. With Wallis right behind him, they looked in every pen and every corner.

  “He’s not here,” Thomas said.

  “I can see that for myself,’ Wallis said.

  “Perhaps he’s asleep somewhere in the bush.”

  “I’ve called all around. He’s always close by … until your place. You’ve made him soft.”

  Over Wallis’s shoulder Thomas saw a small movement in the wool swept to one side of the shed. It was a mound of dags, the dung-caked locks trimmed from the backsides of the sheep.

  “Perhaps he decided to go his own way,” Thomas said and made his way out of the shed. “He could be anywhere by now.”

  “We can’t waste any more time looking for him,” Wallis pointed at Thomas again, “but
we’ll be back this way one day and if he’s here –”

  “He’s a free man to go where he pleases.”

  Wallis snorted and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again only to spit at Thomas’s feet. He turned and strode away, past the yards with the last of the shorn sheep, to where the other two shearers stood with their meagre possessions over their shoulders. Thomas watched as Wallis gathered up his things, including a collection of pots and pans that clunked together as they moved off.

  “I’m not sad to see them go.” Jacob’s voice startled him.

  Thomas turned to see the Smith family; the three men had moved up close behind him with the ladies a little further back.

  Anne raised her eyebrows. “You seem to make a habit of helping lame ducks, Mr Baker.”

  “It shows he has a kind heart, Mother,” Lizzie said with a gentle smile.

  “Or he’s easily duped,” Samuel said.

  “What’s all the noise about?” Duffy stumbled out from under the Gibsons’ wagon.

  “Time for us all to head home, Mr Duff,” Anne said. “Perhaps you’d like some tea and damper before you go?”

  “No thanks, missus. Gibbo and I should be on our way. The Gwynns are due any day. Got our own sheep to attend to.”

  Thomas waved them off and watched as they disappeared through the trees past the stream. The Smith brothers busied themselves with their horses and cart and Lizzie helped her mother with the breakfast. No one was paying him any attention as he headed back to the shed.

  “You can come out now, Wick,” he said. He watched as the boy slowly emerged from the smelly wool heap.

  “I don’t want to cause you trouble, Mr Baker.” Wick picked at the clumps of wool sticking to his clothes and hair. “But I don’t want to travel with them shearers no more.”

  “I can give you a ride back to Adelaide.”

  “No thanks,” Wick said quickly. “I prefer to keep away from busy places.”

  “Where then?”

  “I could stay here. Keep an eye on things while you’re gone.”