“Once upon a time a man’s word was all that was needed.” Bull lurched to his feet. “I can get the money.”
Septimus looked around the hut. Over the years he had gradually fleeced Bull of anything of value. The few furnishings that remained were of no interest to him. He patted his pocket. “The law favours the written word these days.”
“You’re no gentleman.” The red in Bull’s face deepened. “You’re a blackguard and a thief.”
“Call me what you will.” Septimus strolled to the door of the neat little hut. At least Mrs Bull, wherever she was hiding, had managed to keep their abode and what remained of their furniture in good condition. “Be gone from here by midday or I shall bring the constable to evict you.” He lifted his hat. “Goodbye, Mr Bull.”
The man roared all kinds of obscenities as Septimus pulled the door shut on him. From the corner of his eye he saw the end of a skirt disappear around the corner of the hut. Mrs Bull was obviously well used to keeping out of her husband’s way.
He looked up at the cloudless autumn sky and grinned. He had just acquired his first piece of land and it wouldn’t be the last. He mounted his horse and rode back along the track to the bush where he’d set up camp and left Harriet. She hadn’t been her usual self lately. They’d been a long time living in a wagon. Perhaps a house of her own would brighten her up.
Later that afternoon, he drove the wagon back to Bull’s property and was pleased to see his threats had worked. The place already had a deserted air. There was no cart beside the house or horses in the yard. He helped Harriet down and led her onto the verandah. There would be no way Septimus would have drawn attention to himself by involving the law but Bull didn’t know that. He’d packed up and gone.
“It doesn’t look as if anyone is at home, Septimus.” Harriet peered through the small window. “The house is completely empty.”
“Except for the new owners.”
“Owners?” Harriet turned her pale face to him. “Where are the Bulls?”
“Gone. Mr Bull was not able to meet his financial commitment to me so his property is now mine.”
Harriet’s mouth fell open.
“Welcome to your new home, Harriet.” He pushed open the door to the empty hut.
“Home?”
“Come, Harriet, surely you are as tired as I am of being on the move all the time. This will be our permanent home.”
“What about poor Mrs Bull?”
“She’s not our concern.” Septimus stepped inside, a little annoyed that Harriet wasn’t as excited at the prospect of their own home as he was.
She followed him. “This is so far from anywhere.”
“There is talk of a town being laid out at the head of Spencer Gulf. It will only be a day’s ride down across the plain.”
“I had thought perhaps …” She brushed a loose piece of hair from her face and turned sad eyes in his direction. “Perhaps a town.”
“We will have a grand house in town.” Septimus took her hand and spun her round. “This is a stepping stone along the way.”
Harriet moaned. Her hand slid from his. He just managed to catch her before she collapsed.
“Harriet!” Septimus called as he lowered her to the floor. Her eyes were closed and small beads of perspiration dotted the skin above her lips. He propped her against the rough wood of the wall. “Harriet,” he said again and gave her a gentle slap on each cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open. She moaned softly again. “Water,” she whispered.
Septimus ran outside to the wagon, where they kept a water pouch hanging in the shade. He hurried back inside and helped her take a sip.
“This is not like you, Harriet,” he said. He hoped she wasn’t ill. They had much work to do.
“I’ll be all right.” She tried to get up but he put a hand against her shoulder.
“Sit a little longer,” he said. At least the pink was returning to her cheeks.
“Then this is to be our new home. Septimus, can you please sit beside me?” She patted the rough wooden floor. “I have news of my own.”
Septimus eyed her a moment then did as she asked. A short rest wouldn’t hurt. He was feeling a little weary himself. “We can’t sit long,” he said.
“You’re going to be a father, Septimus.” Her gaze locked with his.
He held her look a moment then glanced at the hand she placed across her waist. “You are with child?”
“Our child. The house has come at just the right time.”
Septimus scrambled to his feet. “This is why you haven’t been well?”
“I’ve been a little off-colour, but that will pass. Aren’t you pleased? You will have a son to carry on the business.”
Septimus watched her pull herself up against the wall. A son – that would be something; but it could be a girl and what use would she be to his business? Then again there could be no child at all. He studied Harriet’s waistline but could see no change. Many a woman had lost a child before it got the chance to take air in its lungs.
“When are you expecting this child?”
“I saw a doctor when we were last in Adelaide. Six months from now we shall have our baby boy.” Harriet’s face gleamed in excitement.
“Well, best not to look too far ahead.”
“We must find a priest, Septimus. I don’t mind for myself but I won’t have our son born a bastard.”
Septimus paused. He’d never planned to marry Harriet. She’d been goods to be used just like any other possession and yet she had become very useful.
“We shall see.” He straightened his shoulders and tugged down his jacket. “In the meantime we’ve got a property to fix up. Mrs Bull has kept this hut neat and tidy but the same can’t be said for her husband and the rest of the place. If you’re feeling better, there’s a wagon to unload. I’m going to inspect our holdings.”
“Of course,” she said all too quickly. “I’m much improved. I will unpack our provisions first and prepare some food for your return.”
He nodded and left her. Somehow her news had dampened the brightness of his day. They’d managed very well with just the two of them. Having a pretty woman like Harriet with him had worked to his advantage on many occasions, but she would be no use to him swollen with child. He could only hope she would lose it.
Harriet watched through the window as Septimus mounted his horse and rode around the hut out of sight. When she could no longer hear the sound of hooves she turned to inspect her new home. The structure was made from sturdy wooden planks and it had a wooden floor, unlike the dirt that covered so many she’d seen on her journeys with Septimus. There were two main rooms. The one she stood in was quite large and it had a fireplace built into the back wall. Shelves ranged down one side of it but apart from that the room was empty. The Bulls had taken everything with them. It would make a spacious living area. She crossed to the only internal door. It opened into a smaller room, which would be their bedroom.
There was not a speck of dust or a cobweb to be seen. Septimus had been right when he said Mrs Bull was a tidy housekeeper. Harriet turned slowly and took in her new home again. She had hoped she would be living in Adelaide when their son was born but she had to agree, this was a start, and a better place to raise a child than in a wagon.
She took another swig from the water pouch then set to the task of unloading their possessions. Several hours passed. She unloaded as much as she could on her own. Septimus didn’t return and her hunger made her nauseous. She sat on the verandah and ate a hunk of bread spread with pickle.
Above her, clouds began to gather and the day lost its brightness. The sad cry of a black crow wailed across the valley below. The hut was nestled in the foothills. Behind it was rugged, impassable country and in front, a large plain stretched to the sea. They’d travelled across the plain on several occasions, visiting properties dotted between the hills and the gulf.
The late afternoon breeze strengthened. The noise it made as it passed through the trees so
unded like a person moaning. She shivered at the sound. Septimus had been gone a long time.
Perhaps she had been wrong to tell him about the baby so early. She had thought his exuberance at finally owning his own property would extend to a child, but he hadn’t seemed pleased. She had managed to keep her nausea hidden from him but her skirts were getting too tight and he would have noticed her growing belly soon enough. Best he knew now. Septimus didn’t like surprises.
She pressed her hands gently against her stomach. It was hard for men to understand when there was nothing to see. Once she produced their son she knew Septimus would be pleased. The baby was a boy, she was sure of it. She gave no thought to the possibility of a girl. It was most important this baby was a son for Septimus – a son for him to teach and be proud of.
Harriet had thought a baby would have him looking to make their arrangement official. That was something she would have to work on. There was no way her child would be born a bastard like she had been. Still, it had been a shock to Septimus. There was time enough to organise a marriage.
The sun disappeared behind a cloud, sending a chill over her shoulders. Even though they were only midway through autumn, the warm days gave way to cool nights. She cast one last look in the direction Septimus had taken then went inside in search of her shawl.
Septimus sat back from the table and looked around the room once more. A piece of checked cloth hung in the window to hide the ink-black night beyond the glass. The china tea set adorned the shelves along one wall, and most of their pots and pans, along with their meat safe and chairs, had already been brought inside when he finally returned just before dark. Harriet even had a fire going, which took the chill off the room, and she had boiled the kettle for his cup of tea. On his return he had helped her bring in the table and they had sat down to a meal of mutton and pickles and a piece of her delicious fruit scone.
“You’ve accomplished so much already, Harriet.”
“Is there much to be done outside?”
Septimus snorted. “The fool of a man has let the place go. The shearing shed is sturdy but the yards are in disrepair and there are sheep carcases everywhere. Wild dogs have been having their pick and probably the blacks as well. I will have some work to do before I set off on the road again.”
“On the road?”
“I still have my customers, Harriet. This place alone won’t get you a fine house in Adelaide.” He leaned closer to her across the table. “I’ve a chance at more land. I need income to be able to expand.”
“I had thought we’d stay here a while.”
“You will.”
“Me?” Harriet’s mouth formed a circle of surprise. “I can’t stay here alone.”
“I need someone to keep an eye on the place and the sheep once I get more.”
Harriet’s forehead creased. “I can’t do it alone.”
“Of course you can.” Septimus thumped the table with his hand. He felt a small ripple of pleasure that it made her jump. “This is our future.”
Harriet sucked in the edge of her lip and chewed it. Septimus watched. He felt the stirrings of desire. He liked it when she did that same thing with his ear.
“I won’t be gone long,” he said, softening his voice.
There was silence except for the crackle of the fire and the moaning of the wind through the trees outside.
“This is a fine hut,” he said brightly. “We should be celebrating.”
“There is sherry in the wagon.” Harriet started to rise from her seat.
Septimus smiled at her. “That’s for our customers, Harriet. We don’t need alcohol to enjoy our good fortune.”
She sat back.
“The only thing we need is a proper bed,” he said thinking it was time for them to retire to it. When Harriet deferred to his every wish like she was doing now she became even more desirable.
“We’ll make do as we always have with our simple travelling mattress.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I’m sure I can make you comfortable.”
She leaned forward a little and her plump breasts bulged from the top of her bodice. How he loved smothering them with his lips, kissing and – he flicked his eyes lower. How had he not noticed she was filling out? For a moment he’d forgotten the baby she carried.
“You’re with child, Harriet,” he huffed. He shifted on his seat, trying to ease the discomfort of his arousal against his pants.
“I was with child last night and the night before. It made no difference.” Harriet moved slowly towards him then lifted her skirts and straddled his lap. “My body is still yours,” she said. She cupped his face in her hands and covered his lips with hers.
Septimus groaned. She was right. While there was no sign of the baby he could still have her as often as he wanted. Perhaps he would marry her. It made no difference to him but if it made her happy … Her tongue probed his mouth. He stood up, clasping her buttocks to him as she hooked her legs around his hips. In the meantime there was no point in wasting an opportunity.
Thirty-seven
The last rays of the sun reflected off the thick cloud bank in orange hues. It had been a dry autumn so far and even though the clouds had been thick all day they hadn’t opened into rain as the previous year’s had. Lizzie could hear the axe. Thomas was determined to make a mountain of wood for her before he went.
She put a hand to her stomach. Since she’d found out she was pregnant he had forbidden her to do any heavy work. She smiled. There were so many jobs that required lifting and shifting – just to get enough water to wash their bedding was a huge task. He really had no idea of how much she did each day, but she loved that he tried to spare her as much as he could.
“Thomas,” she called as the sound of the axe paused.
He came down the hill, a dark shape in the dusky light.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
The cold air suddenly made Lizzie shiver.
He was beside her, putting an arm around her.
“There’s nothing wrong,” she said. “It’s almost dark. I want you to come inside. You’ve chopped enough wood for several families and there will only be me and Wick to use it.”
“He can chop more if you need.”
Lizzie chuckled. “We’ll be fine, Thomas.” She prised his sweaty arm from her shoulders. “You wash up. I’ve made us a nice stew for our last night together.”
He took both her hands in his, his rugged face lit by the lantern behind her. She could see the tenderness etched into his eyes.
“I hate leaving you, Lizzie.” He dropped one hand and placed it on her stomach. “Both of you.”
Lizzie laughed again. “You won’t be gone that long. We’ll both be perfectly fine. This baby is going to need clothes. I have lots of sewing to keep me busy at night while you’re away.”
His face pulled into a teasing smile and she noticed the glint in his deep brown eyes before he pulled her close.
“But you’ll have no one to keep you warm,” he murmured in her ear.
Once more she shivered, though not from the cold. How she loved this man. She would be happy for him to take her to bed right then but there were still things to do before he left early in the morning.
She slipped away from him. “Go and wash up, Thomas,” she chided. “Or I might make you sleep on the floor tonight.”
He tapped her on the bottom. “No chance of that,” he said and did as she bid.
Lizzie sang to herself as she served up two plates of steaming stew. In the mornings she still felt quite unwell but by evening she had an appetite.
Thomas came in and sat opposite her at the rough wooden table.
“Your bedroll is ready and I’ve almost finished packing your food supplies.” She nodded at the mountain of stores stacked in the corner of the room.
“Lizzie, that will be more than enough. Poor old Derriere makes a good packhorse but he’s only one beast.”
“You need provisions.”
“Don’t forget your mothe
r will be loading Jacob up in the same way. There are abundant animals where we’re going and Gulda will be with us. We won’t go hungry.”
Lizzie fiddled with her fork. The native hadn’t been around for a few days.
“Where is Gulda?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Gone to organise his family before he leaves with us to go north, perhaps.”
“Does he have family?”
Thomas frowned. “He has cousins. I’m not sure about a wife or children.”
“Margaret Gibson called in yesterday while you were out with the stock.”
“What did that sourpuss want?”
“Company, I believe. Mr Gibson is away from home a lot.”
“I don’t blame him. He’s such a cheerful chap and she’s so glum.”
“She wants a child, Thomas, but cannot get far enough along in her confinements for them to survive.”
Thomas stopped eating. “I didn’t know. No doubt that’s the reason for her sadness.”
“Yes, but not the reason for her call.”
Thomas looked at her across the table, his eyes dark in the soft light of the lantern.
“There’s been an increase in sheep pilfering. Evidently Mr Gibson and a few others rounded up several natives and gave them all severe beatings.”
Thomas thumped the table with his hand. “When will they learn?” he growled.
“Margaret hinted it was partly our fault.”
“What?” Thomas got up from his chair. “How can that be?”
“They know Gulda works for us. They think it encourages him to take what he likes and to get his friends to do the same.”
“Gulda earns the sheep he gets.”
“I know that.” Lizzie went to stand beside her husband. “But –”
“But what, Lizzie? Surely you don’t begrudge the few supplies we give Gulda in payment for his work. He has no use for money.”
“Of course I don’t. Gulda works as hard as you and Wick when he’s here. I just wonder whether he might respect you enough not to steal from here but perhaps feel differently about our neighbours. It was him Edmund caught that time taking one of our sheep.”
Heart of the Country Page 23