“You’re a wonder to keep smiling through everything, Lizzie Baker.”
“Why wouldn’t I smile? It’s raining. We can get Smith’s Ridge back. Our troubles are over. We’ll be back on our feet in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. You’ll see.”
Thomas gazed into Lizzie’s cornflower-blue eyes. Even after all their hardships those eyes still sparkled. “If I’ve learned anything from living here, Lizzie, it’s that nothing is predictable. In this country we will always be at the mercy of the land.”
Thomas paused and turned his head. Over the noise of the rain he heard another roar, a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Watch,” he said and pointed to the creek.
They all craned over the verandah as water began to flow down the dry bed and then build until it was a raging torrent carrying years of debris in its muddy waters.
He put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder and pulled Lizzie close. “That’s Wildu Creek,” he said. “Our life blood.”
“It flows through Smith’s Ridge as well,” Joseph said. “We’re much better at managing this land than anyone else. We can improve it can’t we, Father?”
Thomas looked into his son’s searching gaze and remembered his own youthful enthusiasm. He wasn’t an old man yet, even though he’d felt ancient of late. He tugged Joseph into his embrace.
“Together, son, the Bakers will do it together.”
“And Gulda and Timothy.” Ellen glared at him with her hands on her hips.
Thomas smiled. She was the image of her mother. “There will be work for everyone.” He hoisted her onto his shoulders. “Including you, miss.”
“I know, Father, I know,” she said in a voice much older than her nine years.
Lizzie raised her eyebrows at him; her lips turned up in a smile then she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Life will be better now, Thomas,” she murmured as they looked out over the muddy waters of Wildu Creek. “We’ve been tested and this is our reward.”
“I hope you’re right, sweet Lizzie.” He couldn’t imagine what his life would have been without her by his side. “Whatever the future brings, we’ll face it together.’
Time would tell but as Lizzie had said, they had survived this far. He looked forward to restocking, not only Wildu Creek but Smith’s Ridge. He’d often thought the neighbouring property cursed. However Joseph was right: better management would improve it.
“Look at that,” Ellen squealed.
A huge branch floated past as if it was nothing more than a twig. It rolled with the force of the water, rammed into the bank opposite then broke free and continued down the creek.
Thomas wondered if he wasn’t so different to the log, propelled along by the forces of nature with very little power to change course.
Beside him Lizzie shivered. “It’s getting cold out here. Everyone inside. We’ll eat early tonight.”
Thomas slid Ellen from his shoulders.
“Tomorrow everyone can have a proper bath,” Lizzie said as she ushered the children and Timothy inside.
Joseph and Ellen protested.
Thomas stared at the creek a little longer. Thunder rumbled close overhead. A shiver ran down his back. He hunched his shoulders. Thank goodness they now had a stone house with a tin roof. He followed the others inside and shut the door on the storm. Tonight they could have a small celebration. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
Author’s Note
The people and places in this story are all fictitious except in the case of place names and well-known or documented people of the era, such as the governor of the day, which help set the scene. The dates of real events, such as the naming of a town, may not be completely accurate; this is to permit flexibility within the story.
This is a work of fiction but it became obvious to me early in my writing that one could not tell a story about early European pastoralists and leave out any mention of indigenous Australians. My research revealed much documentation of early encounters between Aboriginal and European people. I have used this research to try to give some sense of realism to my story.
While I read widely on the life and times of the era and have tried to bring it to life with authenticity, any mistakes are my own.
Acknowledgments
This story has been a long time coming. I fell in love with the Flinders Ranges in the north of South Australia on my first visit there in 1989 and I have been going back ever since. After so much time spent exploring the beautiful yet rugged country of the region it didn’t surprise me that a story would develop. What did surprise me was Heart of the Country was not where my tale originally began. I gave some early chapters to my husband to read and he encouraged me to write Thomas’s story. So thank you Daryl, without your encouragement this tale would not have been told.
Research has played a huge part and as I love history, I lost myself in books about the early days of South Australia at the time of European settlement. The biographies and diaries were my favourites. What hardships those early settlers lived through. I spent a lot of time in libraries and I want to particularly thank the delightful Rosie at Hawker library, who pointed me in the right direction with several great books and also allowed me extensions when my reading got held up. Also heartfelt thanks to Andrew and Joy Hilder, who have a great personal local history collection and for providing accommodation and guided tours over the years.
Writing historical fiction is quite a different experience and I am grateful to Kate O’Donnell whose initial editorial skills and attention to the detail of the era were much appreciated.
Once again I am indebted to the fantastic team at Harlequin. Sue Brockhoff believed in the early manuscript, and Annabel Blay, Kylie Mason and Jo Mckay cast their clever editorial eyes over it and were so helpful in tidying things up. Alongside them there is a wonderful band who have helped me in various ways, Adam, Caroline, Louise and many more. Thank you all for embracing this new genre of writing for me.
Margie Arnold champions my books around South Australia. Margie has taken me on tour many times to meet readers and I’m so grateful for her support and encouragement.
Writing can be a solitary profession but I am thankful to the many writers I’ve met who have become a supportive network over the years. They’re all over Australia so it’s great when we can meet face to face over a coffee or a wine and share our writing highs and lows.
I am so lucky to have the backing and love of my dear family, close and extended, and wonderful friends who encourage me to follow my dream and cheer me on. My thanks and love to you all.
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ISBN: 9781488797811
Title: Heart of the Country
First Australian Publication 2015
Copyright © 2015by Tricia Stringer
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher:
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Heart of the Country Page 43