Gulda gave a big grin. “We go home now,” he said.
“Good night,” Thomas called as they merged back into the shadows.
Home was a small dwelling of sticks and branches Gulda had made further up the hill. Thomas was pleased Daisy was nearby. He hadn’t been sure Gulda could be relied upon to stay with Lizzie for the duration of his absence. Having Daisy there might mean he would stay put, and his wife might be company for Lizzie.
The next morning, Thomas left as the pink hue of pre-dawn light crept across the sky. Lizzie stood in front of the hut holding Annie and waving goodbye. Gulda and Daisy were a small distance beyond her. He kept twisting back to look at them until he could see them no longer, then he pressed his horse forward.
They had three months after their application to stock their land and already half of that time was gone – he only had six weeks to make it to Encounter Bay, where the sheep AJ had purchased were waiting, then bring them back to Wildu Creek. Jacob and Isaac must do the same. Edmund and Samuel had already gone south to load a dray with provisions and buy more horses. Five men had to bring over six thousand sheep across three hundred miles to stock their new runs. It would be a difficult job.
It had taken a significant portion of his savings to pay the lease and organise provisions. If he didn’t have enough stock or make it back to Wildu Creek in time, someone else could take the lease and all his hard work and investment would be for nothing. The same went for the Smiths.
He hadn’t thought George would have had enough money to back his sons but they had stock waiting as he did. Thomas urged his horse into a gallop once he reached open country. The Smiths’ finances were none of his business. His job was to get his sheep back in time to secure a property for his family. There was no going back now.
Forty-one
Thomas dragged his leg over the saddle and slithered to the ground. His legs were numb. He leaned against the sweat-soaked horse for support. It snorted and stomped one foot but remained firm against his back. They had been droving the sheep for three weeks now and he was beyond exhausted. When they had started out, the days had been warm but with a cooling breeze. The further north they’d moved, the hotter it got. Over the past few days the heat had been oppressive, with no wind.
Edmund reined his horse in beside him, stirring up the dust and flies. “We should stop here,” he said.
Thomas gritted his teeth. He was thankful for the help of Lizzie’s two eldest brothers but they were both pompous and demanding. Edmund was by far worse than Samuel, who could at least manage a smile from time to time.
“There’s a creek several miles ahead,” Thomas said. “We could make that before dark.”
“You’re driving them too hard.”
Edmund’s horse pranced around. Thomas pushed himself away from his own horse and took Edmund’s by the reins. He squared his shoulders and looked up at his brother-in-law.
“We could even cross it if we make good time,” he said.
“Don’t forget Jacob and Isaac,” Edmund persisted. “They’re a day behind us. They will get further behind.”
Thomas looked back in the direction they had come. His stock had been ready to move out as soon as he’d arrived in Encounter Bay. AJ was there to meet him and wish him luck. There had been some delay, however, with paperwork over the Smiths’ sheep. He had set out with his stock and Edmund to help him. Samuel followed with the bullock wagon and the spare horses. Each day two of them would move the sheep forward. Before dark they took it in turns to drop back to the wagon and eat the mutton and damper Samuel prepared. Then one of the three of them would stay with the sheep for the night while the other two got some sleep. It had been Thomas’s turn to keep watch the previous night.
Nearly a week had passed before Jacob caught up to the wagon. Thomas had dropped back and was taking some food when his friend rode in. From then on, Jacob and Isaac rotated the nights in the same fashion as Edmund and Thomas, with Samuel sometimes doing a night for them. Their sheep were following much the same route. Jacob had said they were zigzagging east and west as there was little vegetation where Thomas’s stock had been, but in some cases they had no choice. Thomas knew it would be harder on the second flock. They would have to walk further foraging for food and water.
“Jacob will have the good sense to keep moving them as long as he can,” Thomas said.
“Jacob! Jacob and good sense are often parted. This is where we’re staying. We need to give them time to catch up and rest all the stock”
“Have it your way,” Thomas growled. He was tired and in no mood to fight.
Edmund pulled his horse around. “I’ll go and eat first.”
Without another word, he urged his horse away. Once more Thomas was surrounded by clouds of dust. He batted the air and stirred up the small black flies that clung all over him. He glanced up at the murky sky and then to the north and the purple haze of the mountains. Not much longer and he wouldn’t have to put up with the officious Edmund.
He took some gulps from his water pouch and dragged himself back onto the horse. AJ had advised he purchase leather leggings and he was grateful for the suggestion. They certainly made full-time life on a horse bearable.
Thomas began to move around the sheep, stopping their amble, encouraging them to stay together in a group and so make Edmund’s night watch easier. The bush was low and thick here and the ground rose and fell in small undulations. It was as good a place as any to hold them for the night.
They’d had breakaways only twice during the journey so far: both times had been after a long stretch without water. Once the sheep sensed it ahead there had been no stopping them. He suspected they’d missed a few in the round up that followed and knew they’d lost a few more to broken legs and wild dogs but he was happy with their condition and progress.
He had six days to make the deadline and by his reckoning he’d only need three to reach the edge of the property he’d marked out as his own. He wondered again how Lizzie was managing. Long days on the horse and even longer nights gave him plenty of thinking time. He ranged from excitement at the prospect of the future they were building to terror at the thought of her alone at Wildu Creek. Almost alone. He hoped Gulda had stayed.
Thomas thought of the presents he had packed in the wagon. When he’d bought the leggings for himself he’d noticed a straw bonnet with a flower and pretty blue ribbons and straight away imagined it on Lizzie. He’d purchased a dress for Annie too. It would be big for her yet but by the summer he was sure she’d wear the soft white fabric. He knew what Lizzie would say about white and spending money, but he didn’t care. He wanted to see his little girl dressed like a princess. He bought a small axe for Gulda and a mirror for Daisy. Thomas knew how much Lizzie valued the mirror she had. He hoped Daisy would like hers just as much.
The sun was low in the sky before Edmund returned to take the watch. His mood was no better. The heaviness in the air added to the tension. Thomas was grateful to leave him and ride back to the wagon.
“Edmund says you wanted to cross the next creek before we stopped.”
Samuel hurled the words at Thomas as soon as he stepped down from his horse.
“We could have,” Thomas said not wanting to argue with Samuel either.
“You’ll kill more sheep with your pushing.”
The sound of sheep bleating close by drew their attention to the bush behind them. There was a whistle and the sound of horse’s hooves, then Jacob rode into view.
“Food,” he groaned as he came to a stop beside them. “What a dreadful day.”
“You’ve brought your sheep right up to the wagon?” Thomas said. He could hear more bleating now and glimpses of sheep in the nearby bushes.
“Edmund rode down and suggested we move up closer.”
Damn Edmund, thought Thomas. That would explain his longer absence.
“We’ve split our mob in two,” Jacob said, accepting the mug of tea Samuel offered him. “I’ve pushed up the weaker on
es and Zac’s back with the rest.”
“They’ll be looking for water,” Thomas said.
“Samuel says there’s a waterhole to the west that you didn’t use.”
Thomas frowned. He’d done wide sweeps of the country in front of the advancing mob and had seen no evidence of other waterholes nearby.
“I rode out for a while this afternoon.” Samuel offered Thomas a mug of tea. “I told Edmund about it. That’s why he suggested Jacob bring the less able animals forward. They can rest near the good water. They’ll be ready to tackle that creek crossing after you tomorrow.”
“Going so far out of our way might scatter the mob,” Thomas said.
“Don’t worry.” Jacob grinned and slapped him in the shoulder. “They’ll be fine.”
“I just want us both to have enough stock to meet the quota.” The Smiths’ sheep had started out in poorer condition than his and Jacob had suffered larger losses on the journey already: they were required to have one hundred sheep per square mile or lose their leases.
“We won’t have any if they die from exhaustion,” Samuel said. He held Thomas’s look.
“Any chance of some food?” Jacob stepped between them towards the fire. “A man’s starving.”
“Zac’s not coming?” Samuel followed his brother and gave him a plate of freshly baked damper and cold mutton.
“Not now we’ve split the mob. He’s going to stay back till morning. He’ll move the leftovers forward at first light.” Jacob’s words were distorted by his mouthful of food. “You and I have to move this lot to that waterhole you found.”
“In the dark?” Thomas said. Both men turned to look at him. He couldn’t believe Jacob would do something so foolish. “You’d be best to wait till morning and bring them forward after we’ve moved out. There’s plenty of water ahead.”
“Edmund didn’t think there would be much left by the time your mob has finished,” Samuel said, “and there’s little feed. The place I found hasn’t been touched by stock. It will be just what Jacob’s cut need before they cross the next creek. Zac will bring the rest of the mob straight through. They’re stronger and can manage with the pickings left from yours.”
“You’re more likely to lose them out there.” Thomas waved his hand at the bush, where the last rays of the setting sun cast long shadows.
Jacob shovelled another hunk of meat into his mouth, looking from Samuel to Thomas. Thomas watched the lump in his throat go up and down as he swallowed, then Jacob’s grimy face split in a grin.
“We’ll be right, Thomas. Don’t worry so much.” He strode to his horse, calling Samuel as he went.
“I’ll come with you,” Thomas said. He wished he didn’t have to, but what they were proposing was madness.
“No.” Jacob’s response was determined. “You stay with the wagon. Once we’ve moved the sheep one of us will come back.”
Thomas watched as the two of them rode off. He sat by the fire and pulled the plate of food Samuel had prepared from under its calico cover. Immediately a cloud of black flies appeared. He batted them away and pushed meat into his mouth, trying to get some food before the little black pests carried it away. It was the same fare he’d eaten every night since Lizzie’s picnic under the stars, but it was strangely comforting.
Around him in the bush he could hear the sounds of Jacob and Samuel moving their sheep until finally the ink black of night fell and all was quiet. No stars tonight, not even a moon. With a final burst of energy he checked the horses and the fire. He dragged a bigger log onto it so that it would give some light to lead Jacob or Samuel back. Then it was all he could do to pull off his boots and his leggings. He gave one last brief thought to the Smiths then crawled into his swag, where sleep claimed him immediately.
Forty-two
Lizzie stumbled. She put the heavy bucket down, put her hands to her hips and bent backwards in a stretch. Perspiration trickled from her brow down the sides of her cheeks. She turned her gaze west along the creek. Thomas had been gone so long. She’d been marking the weeks off and hoped it would be only two more before she saw him again. Lizzie knew if anyone could get their stock home in time, Thomas could – and he had the help of her brothers.
She had been so full of excitement to arrive at Wildu Creek. Thomas had told her so much about it and his descriptions had been right. It was rugged country but beautiful. Already she was getting used to the changing colours and hues of the days, though the terrible heat of the previous week had surprised her. She could find no relief from it. A wind had come up, bringing with it such fine dust it crept into everything. And when there was no wind there were flies, little black creatures that crawled into every nook and cranny. Lizzie tried to keep everything clean but even in their hut the dust and flies settled on everything. And Annie was of an age to pull everything into her mouth.
Lizzie lifted her head. Just the thought of her baby had conjured up a cry. She listened, but only the long plaintive call of a black bird could be heard over the gentle rustle of leaves ruffled by the breeze.
She wondered when Gulda and Daisy would return. Everything had gone well for the first few weeks. The two natives had been constant companions: they’d shared both work and meals. The night before, Gulda had said they were going hunting first thing in the morning. He said they would be back by dark. Lizzie glanced in the direction of the sun beating down from the sky. It wasn’t even noon yet.
From the hut behind her came a pathetic cry. She had only just put the child down before making her trek to the creek. Surely she didn’t want to be fed again. Lizzie picked up the bucket. Annie had been irritable for days. Daisy was a wonder at calming the baby, who’d become increasingly demanding with her feeding. Lizzie felt her breasts were like empty bags with nothing left to give. She was going to boil some water to trickle into her daughter’s mouth. The poor little mite was probably as thirsty as she was hungry.
Lizzie set the bucket by the fire in a swirl of ash: the breeze had picked up. She covered it with the calico bag to keep out the dust and tied down the sides so it wouldn’t blow off.
Inside the hut the air was cooler. Annie gave a sharp cry; her arms flailed against the side of the cradle then flopped. Lizzie stretched a hand to the baby’s forehead then tugged back the blanket. Annie was burning up. Her clothes were soaked.
“No, no,” Lizzie muttered. There was something very wrong.
She scooped Annie from the cradle, laid her on the bed and stripped her. Her soiled napkin was streaked with blood.
“Dear Lord, help us,” Lizzie said.
She ran outside for fresh water and bathed the listless baby before wrapping her again. Lizzie put Annie to her breast. She prayed there would be some sustenance for her child. Annie made several feeble attempts to suck then fell back, limp in her arms.
Lizzie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer over her daughter. She wanted to hold her close but the baby was so hot in her arms. Lizzie thought of Thomas, but he wasn’t here to help her. She had to face this fight alone.
The sun beat down on the little hut, raising the temperature inside, but it was still better than being out where the only respite was the shade of the gums. Out there Lizzie would have to battle the dust and the flies. She kept Annie as cool as she could, bathing her arms and legs and trying to trickle the cold boiled water down her throat. In spite of her efforts, Annie burned with fever and the vile liquid kept coursing from her little body. Lizzie was running out of garments and linen.
By evening, Annie finally drifted into a deeper sleep. Lizzie was exhausted. She gathered up the soiled garments and linen. If she could get them washed she would have supplies for the next day. She couldn’t bear the thought of her precious baby lying in filth.
Outside the air was fresh and cool. She placed her hands on her grumbling stomach. How long since she’d eaten? She wasn’t sure but she felt too tired now to care. She built up the fire and boiled more water. While she was at it she made herself some tea and cut a slab
of the bread she’d made the day before. She didn’t feel hungry but she knew she had to keep up her strength to be able to look after Annie.
The next morning dawned with the promise of another hot day. Lizzie had barely slept. She staggered outside to gather some of the things she’d strung on the clothesline. Pains gripped her stomach. She scrabbled to reach the hole Thomas had dug away from the hut. Waves of heat coursed through her. To her horror, like Annie, she passed vile liquid threaded with blood. Lizzie knew she too had whatever ailed her baby.
She dragged herself to a tree and propped herself against its cool thick trunk. If she could just shut her eyes for a short time she thought she’d feel better, but doubt niggled.
Lizzie woke to gentle hands shaking her.
“Thomas?” she moaned.
“Mrs Lizzie?”
Through bleary eyes Lizzie took in the concerned face of Gulda. She turned her head at Annie’s feeble cry close by. Daisy was rocking the baby in her arms, trying to calm her.
“How long have I been here?” Lizzie pushed herself forward and immediately the pains gripped her. She remembered the bouts of diarrhoea. She hadn’t been able to crawl far.
Daisy put Annie to her breast. Lizzie flopped back in agony: even though Annie’s sucking was pathetic it felt like claws pulling at her burning breasts. She knew there was little there to give her baby.
Daisy lifted Annie away. Immediately she began to cry again. The two natives exchanged words then Gulda was lifting Lizzie and carrying her to the creek well downstream where the water flowed quickly past deep pools. Daisy handed Annie to him. The baby’s wails slowly retreated as Gulda moved away. Daisy began to remove Lizzie’s clothes. The cold of the water was a shock and a relief all at the same time.
Lizzie remembered little about the next few days. Every time she woke she felt hot and her stomach would be gripped with pains. Daisy or Gulda were always nearby. They put cool cloths on her brow and sometimes gave her a vile-tasting liquid to drink. One of them always held Annie. Lizzie could only slip back into the sleep that was her release.
Heart of the Country Page 26