Heart of the Country

by Tricia Stringer

  Thomas followed him to a pen of sheep, where Zac selected one and made a show of inspecting its mouth. “I found two unmarked bales,” he said. His voice carried to Thomas but was lost beyond that in the shuffle and bleats of the sheep.

  “So, it has to be Fowler or the man he has doing jobs for him.”

  “Or both. They’re the only two who were here last year.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of it right now,” Thomas said but Zac grabbed his arm.

  “Why don’t we let it go?” he said.

  “What?” Thomas looked at Zac. “Have you lost your senses? They got four bales last year. I’m not letting them have two more.”

  “Think about it, Thomas.” Zac kept his voice low. “If we accuse anyone now it will be a mistake. After all, we’re the ones branding the bales. We would only be laughed at for not doing a thorough job.”

  “How are they getting unbranded bales?” Thomas scratched at the hair under his chin. He was looking forward to a shave once shearing was finished.

  “I don’t know: I’ve branded each one myself. At any rate, I think we can put a small mark on the two I’ve found so it won’t be noticed.”

  “How?”

  “With some of Lizzie’s thread.”

  Thomas smiled at Zac’s ingenuity.

  “The trick will be to catch them at the port when our bales are unloaded,” Zac said. “That’s when they must slip the unmarked ones away. Before the agent counts them.”

  “How will we be able to watch? Once our bales are unloaded that’s that.”

  “I think you and I both need to go with the wool this time. Somehow we’ll work it out when we get there.”

  “I’m not leaving Lizzie and Joseph with just a boy to look out for them. Gulda has gone bush again. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “Bring them with us. It’s a long time since she’s been near a town.”

  “Thomas.” They both lifted their heads to see Lizzie beckoning from beyond the yards.

  “I’ll think on it,” Thomas said and climbed over the wooden railing to meet his wife.

  “Are you finished?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank the Lord.”

  “You’ve got a visitor waiting for you by the creek.”

  “Who is it?”

  Lizzie grasped his hand. “Septimus Wiltshire.”

  Thomas raised his eyes towards the house, which blocked his view. “Well, well,” he murmured. “We get to meet at last.”

  Lizzie gripped his hand tighter. “Keep calm, Thomas. We don’t want any trouble.”

  “I’ll be calm. I am curious to meet him.” He slid his hand from hers. “You go back to the house, Lizzie. I’ll take care of Mr Wiltshire.”

  He kissed her firmly on the lips and strode down the hill. He’d placated Lizzie with his words but beneath the surface his curiosity mingled with anger. As he approached the seat where Wiltshire sat, he had a moment to observe the tidy clothes of his visitor. Even though he sat in the shade he still had his hat on his head.

  Wiltshire rose to his feet at the sound of Thomas’s tread and held out his hand.

  “Mr Baker, we meet at last.”

  Thomas shook the hand briefly. Cool, grey eyes glittered beneath Wiltshire’s hat and the scent of spice lingered in the air.

  “Oh, we’ve met before,” Thomas said. “Only then you went by the name, Seth Whitby.”

  “I did have that name once.” Septimus straightened his shoulders. “You asked me to call on you and here I am. Septimus Wiltshire at your service.”

  The sight of the man pretending as if nothing had happened unleashed a fury Thomas had kept at bay for years. “I don’t care what your name is, you blackguard,” he roared, and swung his fist at Wiltshire’s head.

  The man ducked. Thomas only clipped him a glancing blow across his ear, knocking his hat from his head.

  “Thomas, what’s got in to you?” Lizzie called as she came running.

  “Your husband tried to strike me, madam.”

  Lizzie tugged at Thomas’s arm. They both watched Wiltshire bend to pick up his hat.

  “This blackguard sold me a horse that wasn’t his to sell.”

  “I found the horse and sold it to you in good faith.”

  Thomas snorted. “And my trunk? I suppose that happened to walk away with you.”

  Septimus pushed the hat back onto his head. “The trunk was gone when I returned; I assumed you’d found somewhere else to store it.”

  “Yet much of its contents are in your house and my mother’s gold locket hangs around your wife’s neck.” Thomas jabbed his finger at Wiltshire’s chest. The man took a small step back.

  “I have been a hawker for many years. All kinds of items come into my possession.” Septimus’s lips turned up in a sly grin. “People will trade anything if their need is great enough.”

  Thomas felt his hand clench into a fist again but Lizzie kept a firm hold of his arm.

  “And what about the rotten deal you did with my father-in-law?”

  “It was all perfectly legal.”

  “You are a liar.” Zac stepped up level with Wiltshire.

  “Ah, the drunken brother-in-law.”

  Zac lurched at Wiltshire but Lizzie grabbed him with her spare hand. Septimus took another small step backwards.

  “Now of course there is the matter of the debt on Wildu Creek.”

  Thomas pulled himself from Lizzie’s grasp. He took a step towards Wiltshire. “Not for long,” he growled.

  “Ah.” Septimus smiled. “You think you have the money to pay.” He ran a finger over his moustache. “Since I have held the debt the interest has been growing.”

  “What’s he talking about, Thomas?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” he said but he didn’t take his eyes from the loathsome man gloating in front of him. “Hand over the paper, Wiltshire. You’ll have your money.”

  “Thomas?” He could hear the hurt in Lizzie’s voice.

  “Surely you didn’t go into debt to this man,” Zac said.

  “Not intentionally,” Thomas snapped. “I will explain later. Hand over the paper, Wiltshire.”

  Thomas watched as the man extracted a paper from his pocket.

  “I understand times have been tough.” Wiltshire’s voice was smooth. “If you need longer to pay –”

  Thomas snatched the paper from his hands, cutting off his words. He wanted this man off his property for good. The figure on the paper was a ridiculous amount; far more than he would have paid back to Grant. It would take him to the brink again but Thomas had no choice. He crushed the note in his hand and locked his gaze with Wiltshire’s.

  “You’ll have your money as soon as I can get to Port Augusta.”

  Zac stepped up beside Thomas. “You’ll not steal Wildu Creek like you did Smith’s Ridge.”

  “Smith’s Ridge is mine through a legal document, signed by your father.” Wiltshire smiled. “I can’t help it if his sons didn’t do their job properly.”

  Zac lunged. He threw a punch, which Wiltshire sidestepped. It took him to the edge of the bank. With a small cry of surprise, the odious man disappeared over the edge.

  “Mr Wiltshire,” Lizzie called in alarm.

  They all stepped up to the edge of the bank to see Wiltshire getting to his feet. There was no water in this part of the creek, just sand and leaves and sticks.

  “I’ll go and deal with him,” Zac said.

  “We will have no more violence here.” Lizzie stood hands on hips. “Zac!” She turned back to Thomas, eyes blazing. “I mean it.”

  They all watched as Wiltshire brushed off his jacket and tugged at his sleeves. He walked along the edge of the creek and back to the bank where the slope was less steep. From that distance he glared from Thomas to Zac.

  “I came as a neighbour to talk like gentlemen but I see there are no gentlemen here. Don’t call at my home again, Baker. If there are any matters regarding Smith’s Ridge to be brought to my attention
you may do so through my new overseer, Mr Rix, and his assistant Mr Pavey. And your debt had best be paid before the end of the month or there will be the next round of interest to add.”

  Thomas uttered a low growl. Zac punched his fist into his hand. Wiltshire turned on his heel and scurried away to his horse.

  “Thomas?” Lizzie’s quiet voice broke the silence

  He glanced from Lizzie to Zac then back at the questioning look from his wife.

  “I borrowed a small amount –”

  “Oh, Thomas.”

  “From Wiltshire?” Zac stared at him with sadness in his eyes.

  “Let me finish,” Thomas said. “I borrowed from Mr Grant against our next wool cheque.”

  “Why?” Lizzie shook her head slowly.

  “We’ve had some tough years but our stock numbers were growing. I knew it would be all right, and Grant is an honest man.”

  Zac snorted.

  “Seems he overstretched himself and sold off some of the debts he held. That’s how Wiltshire got our note.”

  “Now we are in debt to that man.” Lizzie’s hand went to her stomach.

  “Not for much longer. I will pay what he asks as soon as I make the trip to Port Augusta.”

  “Why did you do it?” Lizzie asked softly.

  “We had to keep this place running; there were things we needed.”

  “You gambled with Wildu Creek.”

  Her words stabbed at him. Thomas knew he shouldn’t have taken such a risk.

  “It’s all right, Lizzie. I’ll pay him and we’ll be back on our feet in no time. We’ve got all this wool to deliver. It’s been a good year for us in spite of the stock losses.

  “You should have told me.”

  He looked down into the sad eyes of his wife. “I know.”

  He reached out. He was hurt by the hesitation in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I promise I’ll never take such a risk again. Not without talking it over with you, at least.”

  She gave a small nod then took the step into his arms. Over her head he looked out across the plains and ridges of Wildu Creek. He’d had a lucky escape.

  “Have you met Rix?” Zac had been standing silently beside them.

  Thomas looked at his brother-in-law. “No but let us hope he’s a better man than Terrett.”

  “Oh.” Lizzie shivered in spite of the heat still in the air.

  Thomas kept an arm around her.

  “Why did you stop us from thumping the man, Lizzie?” Zac complained. “Wiltshire’s a thief and a liar.”

  “It’s all in the past,” Lizzie said. “What’s done is done. Beating Mr Wiltshire black and blue won’t change anything.”

  “Perhaps not, but I would have felt better.” Zac grinned.

  “Anyway, he’ll have a few bruises and scratches to remind him of his visit,” Thomas said, and was surprised by the urge to smile.

  “Oh, Thomas.” Lizzie began to giggle.

  They laughed together. It was Lizzie who drew breath first.

  “I have better news to brighten our day,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for shearing to be finished to tell you.”

  Thomas looked into her dancing blue eyes.

  “I’m going to have a baby.”

  “That’s wonderful news, Lizzie,” Zac said. “We’ve cause for a grand celebration tonight.”

  She frowned at her brother.

  “Don’t give me that look.” He laughed. “I’m going to break out the cordial.”

  He shook Thomas’s hand, kissed his sister on the cheek and walked away, chuckling to himself.

  “Aren’t you happy, Thomas?” Lizzie gazed up at him.

  He pulled her close and hugged her tight. “Of course I am.”

  “Joseph needs a brother or sister,” she said. “He’s far too spoiled.”

  Thomas looked over her head to the verandah where Zac had found his nephew and hoisted him aloft. Joseph’s delighted squeals echoed back to them.

  “I must get on,” Lizzie said. “There’s still so much food to prepare for tonight’s cut-out feast.” She stretched up and kissed him. Her eyes sparkled. “Come on, husband,” she said. “We’ve all got work to do.”

  Thomas followed her up the slope. Alongside his joy at the prospect of a new baby there also simmered a little fear, but he would never say as much to Lizzie.

  A few days later he stood with Lizzie and Joseph, waving goodbye to Zac and Timothy. Gulda was there as well with Tommie and Daisy, who had a new baby in her arms. They’d returned as soon as the shearers had moved on in the direction of Smith’s Ridge. Lizzie had been so excited to see Daisy’s new daughter. She’d suggested the name Rose, another floral tribute for Gulda’s bunch. They weren’t sure Daisy and Gulda understood the joke but they liked the name. It had made Thomas’s heart ache to see the joy on Lizzie’s face. Once again he’d felt fear for the fragility of her happiness.

  Zac cracked the whip. Thomas cast his eyes over the wagon as it lurched forward, followed by the dray and the new cart. They were all loaded high with wool bales, two of which had had the tiny initials WC sewn into their seams in blue thread by the nimble-fingered Lizzie.

  Thomas had been torn between going with the wool and staying with his family. The trip would be too strenuous for Lizzie in her condition, so it was decided Zac and Timothy would take the wool to Port Augusta. Zac had reassured Thomas he was up to the job and they all knew he’d been sober for several months. Thomas had written a letter to Mr Grant, the commission agent, outlining the situation and entreating him to assist Zac in finding the culprit. Zac also had his authority to pay the debt owed to Wiltshire.

  In spite of the sour taste Thomas still got when he thought of Septimus Wiltshire and his unease about an unknown overseer on Smith’s Ridge, he felt a surge of optimism as the little convoy set off. The price of wool had gone up again since his last delivery although he would have to wait several months to collect his cheque. In spite of the dry winter he was hopeful the rains would come again in the new year.

  “We’re doing well, Thomas.” Lizzie sighed. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “It’s hard work,” he said, lifting a hand to wave as Zac turned back one last time before disappearing into the trees.

  “No one’s complaining about that. We’re very lucky.”

  Joseph pulled on his hands and Thomas lifted his son to his shoulders and wrapped an arm around his wife.

  “Very lucky indeed,” he said as the last wagon rolled out of sight.

  Fifty-seven

  Septimus watched Fowler inspect the shed.

  “You’ve made no improvements since last year.” The shearer crossed the rough wooden floor and came to a stop barely a foot away from Septimus, forcing him to look up.

  Septimus stood his ground. He wasn’t going to back away. They had a partnership but he carried the trump card. Fowler knew it, for all his bravado.

  “My overseer was carted off by that pompous neighbour of mine,” Septimus said. “Neales has been little more than useless in Terrett’s absence. It took me a while to find a replacement. Now that Rix is here, I expect the situation to improve. Besides, my money’s gone into stocking the place, not making it look fancy.”

  Fowler lifted his huge head and looked again at the basic structure Septimus called a shearing shed. “It’ll have to do,” he snarled. “But rougher conditions means rougher work.”

  “I hope these shearers are better than the mongrels you brought last year. We had to kill a lot of stock, from what I remember.”

  “My men will do the best they can with what they’ve got. I’ve taken a look at some of those miserable excuses for sheep you’ve got in the yard. They’re lucky to grow wool, let alone survive having it cut off.”

  “It’s been dry,” Septimus snapped. “There’s been hardly a drop of moisture fallen in a year. Some of those sheep I got cheap from another farmer because he couldn’t feed and water them.”

  “Yo
ur neighbour seems to have done all right, and he’s had no rain either.”

  “Luck,” Septimus said. “Baker’s got permanent water on his property and more bush growth in his hills. Smith’s Ridge is aptly named. Nothing much grows in the rocks.”

  The reminder of his neighbour rankled yet again. It had been a few days since he was pushed into the creek, but his arm was still sore and bruised. He could have broken a limb. They all but drove him off their property. Baker would be sorry. Septimus had ridden straight back to Smith’s Ridge to give Rix full encouragement to do what he could to undermine Baker’s apparent good fortune at Wildu Creek. Rix would be a thorn in Baker’s side, one not easily discovered or extracted.

  “If our luck holds he’ll have two fewer bales of wool to feather his nest with.” Fowler’s voice was a loud rumble.

  Septimus glanced around. The rough-looking group of men Fowler had brought with him were resting, talking among themselves; no one was paying much attention to their boss. They’d have plenty to do soon enough.

  Septimus kept his own voice low. “You managed to swap a couple of bales then?” He needed the extra money Fowler brought him with the unmarked wool.

  “Just two this time: don’t want to arouse suspicion.”

  “And you’re sure they didn’t notice.”

  “They would have spoken up but nothing was said. I was surprised. That brother-in-law of Baker’s stamped every bale and kept checking them. I was sure he’d notice the two we swapped but I got ’em loaded while he was busy elsewhere. He’ll be delivering them to the port for us by now.” Fowler laughed. It was a deep guttural sound.

  “Just one of many little discrepancies that Baker won’t notice but that will bring him down.” Septimus smacked a fist into the palm of his hand. “Thomas Baker doesn’t know it, but one day Wildu Creek will be mine. I will enjoy sending him and his pathetic family packing.”

  “All of the bales from here will be marked.”

  Septimus opened his mouth then closed it again as he saw the smirk on Fowler’s face. He glared at Fowler. “Don’t forget who pays you. And I need at least half of these sheep to survive to get my money back. Make sure your men take care.”

  Fowler gave a snort then strode away, barking orders at his men.