Sounds of movement outside woke Lizzie from a deep sleep. It took a moment for her to remember where she was. She rolled over to look at the cradle beside her bed. It was empty. She struggled to her feet then sat a moment waiting for the room to stop spinning. A fire crackled and she could hear the soft murmuring of voices. Thank goodness for Gulda and Daisy. They would have Annie with them. She moved outside and squinted in the daylight. How many days had she been sick? At least the sun was hidden behind a thick bank of clouds. Lizzie sucked in the fresh morning air. Even though she felt so weak it was good to be out of the hut.
Gulda was bent over the fire, where the big pot they used for water was steaming.
Lizzie knew she must try again to get some fluid into Annie.
“Mrs Lizzie.” The native stood and studied her, his face full of concern.
“Where’s Annie?”
As she asked, Lizzie saw Daisy coming from the direction of the creek. She held a tiny bundle in her arms. Daisy’s dark face was shining with tears.
Lizzie’s heart thumped in her chest. She took two stumbling steps towards Daisy and then her world went black.
Forty-three
The sound of a wagon rumbling woke Thomas from a deep sleep. He sat up and peered around, stretching cramped arms and legs. The light was hazy and the birds were silent and yet he knew it was morning. The wagon was still beside him. Perhaps the rumbling noise had been in his dreams.
There was no sign of Jacob or Samuel and the fire had burned down to a few coals. Normally, Samuel would have porridge cooking for breakfast by now. Another rumble echoed across the sky. That was the noise that had woken him. He looked to the north and a flash of light briefly lit the dull early morning sky. Thomas pulled on his leggings and boots and strode to his horse. It wasn’t the thunder and lightning that worried him, it was the creek crossing ahead. If rain was falling on the hills he had seen for himself that it didn’t take long for it to turn trickling creeks into raging torrents.
He saddled his horse. Hobbled nearby, the other horses shifted restlessly. He hoped Samuel would make it back swiftly to deal with them and the wagon but Thomas didn’t have time. He had to reach Edmund and get the sheep across that creek.
By the time he got to the edge of the mob, the thunder was louder and the lightning flashes much closer.
Edmund didn’t waste words on greetings. “Where are the others?”
“No sign of any of them.”
“Zac should have had his mob up to the wagon by now.”
“I know but I couldn’t risk going back. If we don’t get this mob across the creek we might have to wait days.”
Edmund opened his mouth but Thomas didn’t wait to hear. He urged his horse on. Edmund could blather all he liked but for now they must move the sheep forward.
Just as the lead animals reached the creek, thunder boomed overhead and lightning forked at a nearby gum. Thomas could see the creek was already running faster. They drove the sheep across in any way they could. In between rolls of thunder, the air was full of bleating, whistling, shouting and cracking whips. There was no time for gentle persuasion. His mob would probably scatter in all directions on the other side but Thomas would deal with that later.
Finally the last one was across. Edmund brought his horse to a stop beside Thomas. “You follow them over. I’m going back to help my brothers.”
Thomas looked to where the last of his sheep were scrabbling up the bank on the other side. The water was steadily rising. He flinched as another deafening roll of thunder sounded overhead and then large drops began to fall.
He turned his horse back. “I’ll come with you,” he yelled.
Edmund nodded and rode ahead.
They hadn’t gone far when they came across Isaac’s leading sheep. He was pushing them and the driverless bullock dray forward – doing the job of two men with fearless determination.
“Where are the others?” Edmund yelled to be heard over the pounding rain.
“I don’t know,” Isaac shouted. “When I reached the wagon, Samuel had it ready to move, then he went back to help Jacob. He said their sheep had scattered in the night.”
“You help Isaac get this lot across.” Edmund’s voice reached them in snatches. “I’ll go and help Jacob and Samuel.” He rode on and soon disappeared behind a curtain of rain.
Isaac and Thomas herded the sheep to the creek. To his dismay, Thomas could see the water was flowing even faster and already carrying pieces of vegetation and debris in its brown wake.
“You take the wagon across,” he said to Isaac. “I’ll round up the stragglers.”
Isaac didn’t argue. He set about getting the wagon to the other side.
By the time Thomas got the sheep across, he thought it too late for the rest to attempt it. He and Isaac watched from the inadequate shelter of a tree as Jacob’s lead sheep reached the torrent.
“It’s too late,” Thomas yelled, but his words were lost in the pounding of the rain and the roar of the creek. The three men on horses on the other side drove the mob harder. He watched for a moment as the first sheep plunged into the water. They were quickly swept along but managed to find a foothold and, to his amazement, scrabbled to safety. More came but some were too weak to swim against the force and were swept away. Thomas leaped from his horse and waded out to a tree trunk. He clung to it and caught some of the sodden creatures as they lost their footing. Isaac joined him and together they managed to pull a few more out of the water.
The three horsemen plunged into the torrent after the last sheep. It was hard to make out who was who. Thomas saw the lead horse falter halfway across. The other two came up beside it and together they surged forward. They were almost to the other side when a large log tumbled past, clipping one of the horses and sending the rider into the water. The terrified horses scrambled onto the bank.
As the rider came towards him, Thomas stretched out and grasped a handful of fabric. He slipped and then steadied as Isaac grabbed him by the back of his pants. Together they heaved a bedraggled and spluttering Edmund to the bank. He rolled to his knees and staggered to his feet. Isaac put out a steadying hand but he shook it off.
“You should have found a safer place to cross,” Edmund snarled when he finally gained his breath.
Thomas clenched his jaw. He obviously wasn’t going to get any thanks for dragging his brother-in-law from the creek.
“We should have crossed yesterday,” he said.
“The sheep were too tired.” Edmund rounded on Thomas, thrusting out his chest. “They’d spread too far.”
Thomas held his ground. “I wasn’t the one who told Jacob to cut some sheep and take them miles out of the way. They would have been at the creek well before if you’d just let them follow mine.”
“They needed water and your stock hadn’t left enough.”
Edmund jabbed again. Thomas slapped his hand away, conscious that Samuel had come to stand beside his older brother.
“Stop it,” Jacob yelled. “Stop blaming each other. What’s done is done. There’s plenty of water to be had now.” Rain ran down his face and dripped off his chin. They were all wet through and near exhaustion.
“We can do nothing more today,” Isaac said. “Help me rig up a shelter, Edmund.” He pulled his brother behind him back to the wagon.
“I’ve got tinder to get a fire started if you can find some dry wood,” Samuel said.
Jacob immediately set off. Thomas turned in the other direction. He pulled his oilskin collar higher and poked about beneath the trees, looking for any wood that might have been sheltered from the deluge. Damn Edmund. Everything he did only strengthened Thomas’s dislike of him. He’d made things worse with his meddling. Jacob had lost a lot more sheep to the raging water. Thomas could only hope there’d be enough left for the Smiths to reach their quota once they rounded them up again.
When he got back, Isaac and Edmund had dragged a canvas from the wagon and strung it to a tree. The ground was wet underne
ath but at least it kept more rain from falling on their heads. Samuel had managed to coax his tinder alight. Thomas produced the driest of the wood he’d found and finally the fire gave out a little heat. Jacob returned with more wood and they each managed to find a spot under the canvas. With their smoking fire and some cold damper, all they could do was huddle together and wait for the storm to pass.
The next morning, weak sunlight shafted through a patchy sky. The dark clouds of the day before were rolling away to the south. Still wet and miserable, the five men took in their surroundings. The bleats of sheep told them there were some nearby.
“The sheep are most likely scattered to the four corners of the earth,” Edmund said.
“They may not have gone far,” Thomas said. “In a storm they’re more likely to bunch together.”
In spite of this optimism it took the five of them the best part of the day to round up all the sheep. He knew his animals had been far healthier from the outset but now they had one big mob. They’d made a narrow gap to drive the sheep through aided by a fallen log and some thick bush, and Jacob and Thomas did the count. There was no way to say definitely which beasts were whose and they had lost more stock since the last count. To add to Thomas’s worries, some of the sheep didn’t look as if they’d survive the rest of the journey.
Edmund was suddenly keen to press on, but by late afternoon the rest of his brothers agreed with Thomas: they should rest the stock and move in the morning.
As he rode back to where Samuel still had the wagon set up high above the creek, Thomas noticed Jacob sitting atop his horse, further along the bank. Thomas rode to him.
“We must have left some back there when we lost them in the night.” Jacob nodded to the other side. Below them the creek was still running fast, the banks filled to the top.
“There’s no way you can go back unless you wait for the water to drop,” Thomas said.
“I’ve lost a lot of stock, Thomas. I don’t think I’ll have enough for my quota.”
“There’s still over five thousand head between us.”
“But not enough of them are mine.”
Thomas studied the side of his brother-in-law’s face as he continued to gaze across the creek. He was likely to do something stupid like try to cross back. Then they’d all be held up and probably for no good result.
“I had plenty of extras when I left,” Thomas said. “We’ll share them between us to get the numbers. Besides, who’s to say which sheep belong to who?”
Jacob slowly turned desperate eyes in his direction. “That’s very generous.”
“We’re family now.”
“Let’s hope our final count will get us across the line then.”
For a moment they held each other’s gaze.
A whistle pierced the silence between them, followed by Samuel’s bellow. “Tucker time!”
Jacob’s face split in a small grin. Some sparkle returned to eyes that reminded Thomas so much of Lizzie’s.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Mutton and damper or maybe damper and mutton?”
Thomas reached across and grasped his shoulder. They turned their horses to the wagon.
Two days later they reached the watercourse with the large rocky outcrop that marked the beginning of Wildu Creek. Water was flowing steadily but here the creek bed opened out wide; Thomas would be able to get his sheep across with no difficulty.
Jacob turned his mob west. They counted just over two thousand head, which was enough for the smaller run they were calling Smith’s Ridge. The rest, which numbered more than three thousand, were for Wildu Creek. Jacob waved and kept moving. Samuel followed with the wagon.
Edmund glared at Thomas. They had barely spoken since the storm. “You don’t need me any longer.” He wheeled his horse around and rode up beside the wagon.
“I’ll come with you,” Isaac said to Thomas. “Get them across the creek.”
Thomas watched his sheep streaming through the shallow water and spreading out among the blue bush on the other side.
“Thanks, Zac, but there’s no need. They’re home now.”
Isaac pulled his horse in next to Thomas. Together they watched the last of the sheep cross onto Wildu Creek land.
“Say hello to Lizzie for us,” Zac said. “We’ll come for a visit once we’ve set things straight at the Ridge. We’ll be hoping for one of her pies.” He grinned and shook hands with Thomas then turned to follow his brothers.
Thomas trailed his sheep across the creek. Once on the other side he remembered the gifts, still packed in the wagon. No matter, he thought. All he wanted was to hold his wife and daughter in his arms. Presents could come later.
Forty-four
Thomas looked eagerly ahead, scanning the trees for the first glimpse of his hut. A small waft of smoke appeared and then he could see the roof. He encouraged his poor horse on. He’d only taken little more than a day to cover a distance that normally took two. He was desperate to see his women.
The sound of the hooves must have alerted Lizzie. He saw her stop part way to the creek. She put down the basket she was carrying and put her hand up to shade her eyes.
“Lizzie,” he called. He slid from his horse before it had come to a stop.
He threw his arms around her and pulled her close. “We made it,” he said. “We’ve got enough stock and with two days to spare. Your brothers have too.” He nestled his face into her hair. “It’s so good to be home.”
She pulled back from him. It was then he noticed her pale face and the dark shadows under her eyes.
“Thomas,” she murmured. Tears brimmed and began to trickle down both cheeks. She batted them away.
Instead of joy in her eyes he could only see sorrow. His chest tightened. He looked past her towards the hut. “Where’s Annie?”
“Thomas,” she said again.
He gripped both her arms. His robust Lizzie felt so thin beneath her sleeves.
“Where is she?” he whispered.
“She’s … she’s left us –”
“No.” Thomas shook his head and looked around. A lump formed in his chest. His body felt clumsy, heavy with dread. He gave Lizzie a little shake. “No,” he said again but the look in her eyes told him it was true. “Not Annie.”
Lizzie’s face creased in sorrow. “She’s with the angels now.”
“She was born too soon and yet she survived.”
“She wasn’t strong enough for this.”
“What happened?” he asked, needing to know the answer but not wanting to hear it.
“It was so hot.” Lizzie swayed slightly.
He guided her to a tree and sat her in the shade. She looked steadily ahead past his shoulder; he knew she was gazing at the distant mountain range.
“Lizzie?” he pressed gently.
She brought her eyes back to his. “The heat and the flies and the dust were so bad. I couldn’t keep anything clean. She took sick.” Lizzie shook her head. “We both got diarrhoea and then nothing would stay in her. Daisy and Gulda helped me but there was nothing we could do. I think I would have died as well if it hadn’t been for them.”
Thomas felt his mouth fall open but no sound came out. Lizzie put her hand on his.
“We only buried her a week ago. Up on the hill. There’d been a big storm the night before. The air was fresh and the sun shone gently instead of the pounding heat we’d been having. She’s resting now, looking at that magnificent view.” Once more, tears rolled down Lizzie’s cheeks.
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. Pain surged through him as if a knife were cutting out his heart. His baby girl was dead and he’d nearly lost his wife. His mother-in-law had been right.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said. “I must take you back to your parents.”
Lizzie pulled back. There was anger in her eyes. “Don’t say that,” she snapped. “If you say that, it’s as if Annie’s life was for nothing.”
“But what will we do, Lizzie?” Thom
as slumped forward and put his head in his hands.
“We will go on as we’d planned.”
“How can we?” He rubbed at the tears he could no longer hold back.
“We’ll do it for Annie,” she said gently. “And for the children we haven’t had yet and for their children.” She slid a hand under his chin. “Look up, Thomas.”
Slowly he raised his head. Through the trees he could see the valley. There were sheep there now and beyond the wide plain were the mountains, appearing brown and green in the afternoon light.
“This is our home now,” Lizzie said.
Thomas felt as if his shoulders would collapse under the weight of his sorrow and yet her words roused something deep within him. The dream that he’d kindled with Lizzie to have their own place was still alive, just.
“We mustn’t look back,” she said.
Once more he wrapped his arm around his wife and held her close. How precious his Lizzie was and how brave. If she could lose her firstborn and keep going then he must too.
“Thomas?” She was frowning up at him. Her cornflower-blue eyes had lost a little of their spark but none of their determination.
“No looking back,” he murmured.
*
Gulda and Daisy welcomed him home later that day. The sadness brimming in their deep brown eyes told him of their sorrow without a need for words. That evening, as the sun set in a glorious array of orange and pink, Lizzie took him up the hill behind their hut. He held her tight as she cried over the pathetic pile of rocks that marked the spot where their daughter was buried. His own grief was raw pain, burning in his chest.
The next day he fashioned a cross out of some native pine and carved Annie’s name on it. Each evening he made the trip up the hill alone to keep watch over her until Lizzie called him to eat. She moved like a shadow around their camp and between them they ate little. One day rolled into the next. Somehow they got through the first few weeks after his return, all of them bumbling along together in their grief.
Heart of the Country Page 27