Daughter of Australia

by Harmony Verna

  Tom drank as ordered, his body unclenching slightly.

  “This might sting a little.” She cleaned the area around the wound with hot water, bit her lip as he writhed. “I’m sorry. I know that hurts.”

  “Tickles is all,” he lied through clenched teeth.

  “How’d this happen?”

  “My own stupid fault. Damn bull! Agh . . .” He breathed through the pain. “I was tryin’ to separate him, put him in the pen. He’s in heat.”

  “Guess you aren’t his type,” she teased.

  He laughed, then grimaced. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry.”

  The bleeding slowed from a stream to a trickle but still soaked every new gauze strip. With the hot water she wiped the blood off his chest and arms, the basin turning bright red with one squeeze of the soft cloth. She pulled out the bandage. “Tom, you’ll need to lean up so I can get this bandage around you. I’ll go as quick as I can.”

  He moaned while she wrapped him tightly. “This will hold you until the doctor gets here. You probably have some broken ribs, but overall you got off lucky. Any higher and that horn would have got you in the stomach; any lower, well . . .” She smiled timidly. “Well, just be glad it wasn’t. You can still carry on the Shelby name.”

  “Crikey!” He grinned. “Be a fate worse than death.”

  She leaned him back onto the pillow, the tight bandages keeping his ribs from shifting. “How’d you learn all this?” he asked. “You a nurse?”

  “No. Would have liked to be, though.” She held up the whiskey to his lips again. “I volunteered with the Red Cross back in the states when the war broke out. I liked working with the soldiers. Tried to help out the nurses as much as I could.”

  “James and I were gonna sign up. My brothers went instead. Lucky bastards.”

  “Don’t say that, Tom. This war is awful. People say they’ve never seen anything like it.” Tom’s eyes turned soft and she added lightly, “Of course, your brothers are probably faring better than you right now.”

  Tom grinned. “They’d be giving me a good ribbin’ if they saw me. Bunch of foolhardy brutes, those two.” A great missing took over his features. “Almost feel sorry for the Turks.”

  “You have two brothers?” she asked.

  “And five sisters.”

  “Eight children! Your mother deserves a medal.”

  “She does.” Pride etched the lines of his face. “Hell of a lot of mouths to feed. I don’t know how Mum does it by herself.”

  Leonora touched his bandages. “How about some tea? Or soup?”

  “Can’t drink anything. My stomach’s all swirly.”

  “You did okay with the whiskey,” she teased again.

  “Never tasted whiskey so smooth.” Then he winked. “Alex got good taste.”

  She took the compliment and smiled, tried to keep his mind off the wound. “Have you and James known each other long?”

  “Since we were kids. Like a brother to me.” Tom gave a strong nod. “Do anything for that bloke. Gawd knows he’s always been there for me.” Tom watched her for a long time. “I can see why he likes you so much.”

  Leonora met his gaze. “Did he tell you about me—about us?”

  “Told me before he was even sure himself. I won’t tell a soul. Promise.”

  “I’m glad you know. And I’m glad he’s had such a good friend in his life.” The blood spread in the seams of the bandage. “Sorry, Tom. Time to change out the dressing again.”

  “Can’t keep your hands off me, eh?”

  She laughed and unwrapped the line from his ribs. “So, any ladies in your life?”

  “Me? Lots of ladies.” He smiled devilishly, then winced as the gauze pulled at his wound. “Too many ladies. That’s the problem. Can’t just pick one. They’re all so damn pretty.”

  “Don’t you want to settle down someday?” She put the soiled dressing on the floor and cleaned the wound with warm water again. “Have a wife and eight kids of your own?”

  “Eight! Never. One or two at the most. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get tired of playin’ an’ let one of the sheilas tie me down.”

  “How generous of you.”

  He gave a tight laugh, tried not to spurt out more blood.

  “And what about James?” She tried to sound disinterested. “Is he a ladies’ man as well?”

  “The ladies love James.” He rolled his eyes. “Think he’s dark and mysterious.” Heat grew to her ears, the look not lost on Tom. “But,” he said slyly, “James is a hard nut to crack. Like he’s always comparin’ the poor girl to someone else.”

  Her fingers slipped and she dropped the bandage. Tom grinned. Quickly, she wrapped him tight and handed him the whiskey bottle. “All right, Casanova. That’s enough talking out of you,” she scolded gently. “One more sip and then get some rest before the doctor arrives.” She stood slowly to leave, gathering the bloodied basin and rust-colored gauze strips in her hands.

  “Yes, Mum,” he answered drowsily. “Whatever you say.”

  Four hours passed before James returned with the doctor, a hunched, sturdy little man with red-rimmed eyes. Leonora met them on the verandah and extended a hand. “I’m Leonora Harrington. Thanks so much for coming out.”

  “Dr. Meade,” he greeted quickly. “Know your husband.” He shuffled past her, the smell of mothballs wafting from his worn suit. “Where’s the patient?”

  “On the sofa. He’s asleep.”

  The man entered the house. James turned to her. “Is he all right?”

  “I think so,” she answered. “Lost a lot of blood, but luckily the horn didn’t hit an organ. He’ll be laid up for a while.”

  They sat on the verandah steps, sank into the even, warm air. James leaned his back against the porch post, rubbed one raised knee. “Thanks for helping him.”

  She smiled. “He’s a good man.”

  “He is.” James turned his face to the door. “We owe you a new couch, by the way.”

  “I don’t care about the couch.” She stared at her hands. “I don’t care about the couch, the mirrors, the rugs or anything in there.”

  James watched her carefully and she fell into his gaze as if it were a pillow. “You’ve been riding for nearly two months,” she noted, resting her head against the sun-drenched wood. “You must be exhausted.”

  James smacked the dust off his shin. “Need a long, warm bath. Might soak in the tub for a couple of days straight.”

  Her mind blinked to him immersed in the tub, his eyes closed in the comfort of the steam, his arms wet. She blinked the image away just as quickly and busied her hands in the folds of her dress. “How do you like the managers’ quarters?” she asked.

  “All the comforts of home and then some.” James shot her a grin. “You should come over for tea one day.”

  “I’d like that.” She laughed. “Maybe I’ll make you some curtains.”

  “Curtains!” he scoffed playfully. “Stockmen’ll run me off the ranch.”

  “All right, all right.” She smiled. “No curtains. How about a pie then?”

  He grinned broadly, showing the edges of his white, straight teeth. “I like pie.”

  The silence settled easily this time without a rim of tension. They blinked and breathed lazily among their thoughts.

  “How are the horses?” James asked.

  “Good. Alex has been watching them like children.”

  “Anything else happen around here while we were gone?”

  For a moment, she wondered if he knew about the Aborigines—wondered if he had been aware, even supportive, of the horror. The very idea hurt like ice pressed into the skin. She swallowed, pushed it away, couldn’t think of it. “No,” she said softly. “Nothing new.”

  They grew silent again. James raised his chin toward the cloud of dust coming from the distant road, his brows inching together almost angrily. “Your husband’s back.”

  Sweat dripped down Leonora’s nose as she plunged the hoe hard b
etween the lines of vegetables. The plants thrived in the shaded spot. Without rain, the ground dried, but she didn’t mind carrying a watering can from the rain barrel. Alex didn’t know about the garden; he was gone for full weeks at the mine. When he returned, alcohol hung on his skin like cologne. At times, his face was warm and bright with its effect; at others, cold and dark—either way, unsettling. Often his clothes reeked of women’s perfume; lipstick smeared the collars of his white shirts, but for this she only felt relief.

  A slow gallop came from the west. Leonora stopped her work, wiped her hands on her dress and looked up through the trees. A nervous flutter rose in her chest as James rode up through the clearing, strong and graceful, his body lean and shimmering with good health. He pulled up the horse and leaned forward casually. “Thought I saw someone moving over here.” Then, with an agile twist, he was off the horse and walking her to the shade. “House garden not big enough?” he asked.

  “Haven’t gardened in so long.” She propped the hoe against a tree. “I’ve missed it.”

  “Manual labor suits you.” He smiled, then came close, so close his frame blocked out the sun and carried its warmth with his body. He reached over her shoulders and picked up the hat that had fallen against her back, resettled it upon her head. “You’re getting sunburned.”

  She stepped back flustered, fixed her hat. “I should probably get out of the heat.” She sat on the cool ground under the shade, shifting her knees to the side.

  James followed, leaned his back against the tree near his horse, his body sturdy and tan next to the light bark. “Garden much in America?” he asked.

  “No.” She peered into the branches. “Let’s see—there was piano, French lessons, literature, watercolors and, oh yes, sometimes a little sewing or tea with the old society ladies, but gardening, no.”

  “Too bad. You’re good at it.” James squinted from under his hat. “So, what’s America like?”

  “Hmmm.” She thought about this. “It’s a beautiful country. The Rocky Mountains, the California coast, the Florida Keys. I lived in Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh. If you don’t mind the soot, it’s lovely, and so green with rain it looks like Ireland.” She turned to him then and asked tenderly, remembering, “Did you ever go?”

  “To Ireland? No.” He scratched the base of his slick throat. “Never been out of Western Australia.”

  She nodded, watched him. “What’s your family like? The O’Reillys.”

  “Passed on.” His brows knit, the smile lines erased. “It was a while ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The Shelbys took me in.” James shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Don’t know what I would have done without them.”

  A slight breeze tickled the hair around their faces, cooled the sweated fabric of their clothing. Leonora wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Here.” James handed her a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. “Can’t promise how clean it is.” He smirked.

  The cloth smelled of soap and hay and earth, manly and rich, and she breathed in its scent with closed eyes and hoped she wouldn’t need to give it back. She dabbed her forehead and nose, winced. “My face hurts.”

  “You’ve got a good shade of red. Be in some discomfort tonight, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll be a freckled mess.”

  “Aw, don’t judge the freckle so harshly!” he scolded. “Some men find them quite enchanting.”

  “Is that so?”

  James nodded. He walked over to her and extended a hand. “I better get back and make dinner for the princess. She gets cranky sitting in bed all day.”

  “Poor Tom.” Leonora took his hand, his long fingers gripping her firmly and pulling her to her feet. “I’ll stop over later and check on him. Oh, and I’ll bring that pie I promised.”

  Their eyes locked. He slid his fingers from her hand. “Looking forward to it.”

  The sound of workingmen quieted as it always did before twilight. In its place, the insects took over in a worldly purr; a kookaburra cackled between the ghost gums. Lights shone from the managers’ house in the distance, warm and glowing. Tom’s dog barked, charged, but once recognition took over the dog whimpered and wagged in apology, escorted Leonora over the footbridge while her heart knocked in her chest and she balanced the pie in her hands.

  Tom limped out to the porch and smiled widely. “Hey, gorgeous!”

  He calmed her instantly. “Hello, Tom. You look all better.”

  He put his hands up and spun around. “Nearly right as rain, thanks to you. Even rode out with James this mornin’.”

  She patted his arm. “Just don’t push it.”

  “Felt good.” He stretched. “Stung a little but just felt good movin’ again.” Tom pointed to the pie. “Something sure smells sweet.”

  She raised the pie self-consciously. “It’s cherry.”

  “My favorite. You’re an angel, you know that? Let me go grab James.”

  “Is he busy?”

  Tom grinned. “Just hangin’ out with his girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” Leonora grew rigid; her stomach dropped. “I . . . I’ll come back later.”

  “Nothin’ doin’. Stay put an’ I’ll bring him out.” Tom jumped up the steps and shouted into the house, “James, put a shirt on an’ come out. Somebody wants t’see you. Oh, an’ bring Josephina out!” Tom winked at Leonora. “You’ll like her.”

  Leonora swallowed and touched her stomach. She was going to be sick, wanted to crawl under a rock. She turned to leave.

  “Hey, Leo,” James greeted from the door, slid his shirt over his chest. Her stomach dropped farther and landed in her knees.

  James stepped out. “Leaving so soon?” His shirt stayed untucked from his moleskins, his suspenders hanging behind his hips, ruggedly relaxed, the outline of his chest visible through the thin cotton shirt.

  She wasn’t sure where to set her eyes. “I . . . I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she floundered. Her face burned and she touched her palm against her cheek.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She closed her eyes and blindly sat down on the step, feeling such a fool for being there, feeling even more a fool for being upset. James went to the door again. “Wait a minute, all right? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Leonora bent forward and tightened her grip around her stomach. She practiced smiling so she wouldn’t look a complete mess when she met the woman.

  A second later, James stepped out, his coat bundled in his arms, and sat down next to her, so close his biceps rubbed against hers. “Meet Josephina.” He opened the coat and a tiny, furry kangaroo head peeked out.

  The relief that flooded was audible with exhale and Leonora covered her mouth, laughed between her fingers. “Josephina’s a kangaroo.”

  He eyed her quizzically. “Of course. What’d you think?”

  “Thought you had . . . a lady friend.”

  “Ahhh.” He nodded and watched her with humor and raised eyebrows. “No such luck.” He turned to the animal and scratched her fondly behind the ears. “Found the little thing out in the bush. Orphaned.”

  “I like the name.” The relief was still so warm and fresh she couldn’t stop smiling. James’s face was so gentle, the lines strong without a hint of arrogance.

  “Thought Joey didn’t quite suit her.” James held Leonora’s gaze, smiled. She reached over and petted the peach fuzz of the kangaroo’s nose, her arm grazing James’s chest, the heat warming the length of her arm.

  It was so comfortable sitting there. So easy. Too easy. She wanted to lean her head against his shoulder, snuggle into it like a blanket. “How long will you keep her?” she asked.

  “Until she’s eating on her own and grown a bit. Then send her on her way. She wouldn’t have made it through the night.” His eyes fell over Leonora’s face without hurry and she dropped her head. A strand of hair fell to the edge of her nose. James reached over and tucked it behind her ear, leaving a trail of fire across her skin.

 
; A voice called from inside, “Where’s my nurse?”

  “I guess I should check on the patient,” she said with a short laugh.

  “Come on in and I’ll slice up that pie.” She followed him into the small house, the front room smelling like warm bread and fresh-cut wood.

  Tom sat up in bed and held his side, his chest bare except for the bandages. “Knew I’d get yeh into my bedroom sooner or later.”

  James stood directly behind her, reached an arm over her head and held the door frame. “Be good or she’ll send Dr. Meade back.” His breath tickled the top of her hair. The warmth of his body made her stance uneasy.

  “I’ll be good.” Tom crossed his heart. “Promise.”

  James tapped her shoulder, his fingertip leaving a spot of heat upon her skin. “Watch him,” he warned, then turned for the kitchen.

  “He’s just jealous.” Tom leaned back.

  “Heard that!” James shouted.

  Tom mouthed again silently, He’s just jealous.

  Leonora sat on the edge of the bed and gingerly unpeeled the bandages. “You’re quite terrible, you know that?”

  “Och! Not me! You know I’m growin’ on you, love. Admit it.”

  “Yes. You’re growing on me,” she said straight-faced while unwinding the bandages. “Like mildew.” They heard James chuckle from the kitchen. She pulled the bandages from his bruised ribs. A spot of blood appeared under the thinning gauze. “Sure you’re not pushing it?”

  “I’m orright. Ribs don’t hurt as much. Can breathe without screaming.”

  She reached for a new bandage from her purse. “You’re a fast healer.”

  Tom leveled his eyes, the joking face gone. “Don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I mean that.”

  “Leave the bulls alone from now on, all right?” She patted his leg, then stood to go. “Stick with the sheilas.”

  James waited for Leonora on the porch. “You’ve taken good care of him,” she announced as she stepped into the warm night air.

  He watched her for a moment, seemed lost in a thought, then cocked his head to the door. “Pie’s almost cool. Can I bring you a piece?”