The Farmer's Wife

by Rachael Treasure

  Andrew pulled a disappointed face. ‘I knew it was a long shot. But I had to ask. You would be a perfect assistant to me. There is so much work to be done. However, I completely understand the time isn’t right.’

  Rebecca wrinkled her nose and shook her head. ‘It’s crazy. I’ll have a baby. And the boys. And, of course, Waters Meeting.’

  Andrew shrugged. ‘Life’s more fun when it’s crazy.’

  She smiled at him apologetically. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

  Andrew shrugged again. ‘We’ll find someone.’

  Rebecca glanced at her watch. ‘Ben’s school bus. We’d better be getting back.’

  ‘Come on, Ms Perfect Poos, I’ll make a start on dinner,’ he said fondly, and together the three of them walked back up to their homestead with the Rebecca River at their backs.

  Thirty-seven

  At the back door, the boys had tumbled inside, Ben excited to be home, back with his little brother and Funny, and to find Andrew still there. Rebecca was about to kick off her boots when she heard the airbrakes of a truck hiss from behind the screen of trees up on the ridgeline. Who could this be? She hadn’t ordered any stock.

  ‘Expecting a truck?’ Andrew asked, his gaze following hers.

  Bec shook her head. ‘I’m not buying any stock. Nor selling any.’

  As the truck neared, they could see it was a horse transport vehicle. It pulled up with a loud shush of brakes and the driver got out. He waved to them where they stood on the verandah and went to drop the back ramp of the truck. By the time Bec had reached the garden gate and was walking over, the driver had already unloaded the most stunning quarter horse she had ever seen. It was the sort of horse Barbie might have, or a warrior princess on a movie.

  The mare was a deep golden blend of palomino chestnut with a long flowing blonde flaxen mane. She carried her head high and looked about with her dark eyes at the hillsides as she swished her full pale tail, which almost fell to the ground. She let out a small nervous whinny.

  ‘What a stunner,’ Andrew said, gawping as the mare dropped her head to sniff at the ground, her long forelock falling across her pretty face. So muscled were her hindquarters, she looked as if she could spin on a dime.

  ‘Here you go,’ the driver said, handing Rebecca the lead rope.

  ‘But I didn’t order a horse,’ she said, realising how stupid she must look and sound.

  ‘You didn’t?’ Andrew asked. ‘So what’s she doing here?’

  ‘I think she belongs on Rivermont, the previous property to this one. You’ve come too far.’

  The driver shrugged and handed Bec an envelope. ‘Says here Waters Meeting.’ He jabbed an index finger at the envelope. ‘Just dropped two off at Rivermont.’

  ‘But she doesn’t belong here.’

  ‘Paperwork says she does.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘Look, little lady,’ the driver shot at her, ‘it’ll be midnight before I get home. My missus is already after my balls. I’m outta here. Do what you like with her. I was just told to deliver her to you.’ And with that he climbed back into his truck and was gone.

  ‘Happy chappy,’ Andrew said, watching the truck lumber away.

  ‘Can this get any stranger?’ Bec laid her palm on the mare’s neck, talking gently to her, trying to settle her a little so she could open the envelope. The mare did settle, turning her nose to sniff at Rebecca, leaning into her touch. Soon, after her long journey, she dropped her head to graze.

  Ripping open the envelope, Bec first discovered the mare’s papers. ‘Why hello, Miss Luella,’ she said to the horse, questions still racing in her mind.

  ‘Miss Luella?’ said Andrew.

  ‘That’s her name.’ Bec read, in a thick Texan twang, ‘Cootibar Ranch Miss Luella USA Import. Says here risin’ five years of age. But what in god’s merciful name are you doin’ here, Miss Luella?’ she said to the horse, sounding like a character from Green Acres.

  Next Bec flicked to the card that was stapled to the papers.

  For my beautiful farm girl (I dare not call you a princess!): you need a decent horse. This is a gift horse you can look in the mouth. She’s dead quiet, but a tonne more fun if you wear spurs! All my love, Sol.

  Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. Sol! First the flowers. That had felt over the top! Now this! A horse! This was too much. Was he trying to buy her? She felt a rumble of irritation, a rush of disbelief, then a quiet fear that he could have fallen for her so hard and so soon. It couldn’t be true.

  She breathed in sharply and turned her back on the horse, towards the mountaintops, where sunlight brushed the Waters Meeting peaks with a soft golden light.

  ‘Are you any more enlightened after reading the card?’ Andrew asked, frowning.

  ‘Yes,’ she said tensely. ‘She’s a gift from Sol Stanton.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ was all Andrew said.

  As Rebecca led the beautiful quarter horse into the round yard, she called over her shoulder to him, ‘I ought to phone Yazzie to double-check there hasn’t been a mistake.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no mistake, I’m sure,’ Andrew said.

  Just then they heard the boys spill out of the house with the bang of the screen door, shattering the difficult mood between them.

  ‘Mum! What’s that horse?’

  As Archie and Ben fired questions about Miss Luella and hung on the rails eyeballing the mare with amazement, Rebecca moved with determined steadiness as she went about filling up the trough and getting hay for the mare. But inside her a torrent raged. What was Sol thinking? Giving her a horse of this calibre? She couldn’t even conceive owning a horse like this. Was he nuts?

  And then there was Andrew. Standing there in his quiet loneliness with his gifts to give to the world. She felt split down the middle. No. She felt split into four. Part of her was still eddying off in the turbulence of her break-up with Charlie. And the other divide was between two wonderful men who had come into her life, one as a lover, the other as a mentor to fulfilling all her farming dreams. And then there were her boys. As she looked at her kids, she felt herself drawn away from the confusion within. She had children to raise. A baby on the way. And now, she not only had a puppy to train, but a mare to get to know. The men and the pressures they placed upon her right now seemed altogether too hard.

  She wanted to allow the joy to wash over her that a man would do this for her. Give her a horse. She wanted to spend hours now with her mare, to celebrate her beauty. The good fortune that life can bring such rich surprises. She wanted to run her hands over her perfect butterscotch coat and brush her luxurious mane and tail and then she wanted to pick up each perfect rock-hard hoof. And to swim in the bliss of knowing Sol would trouble himself so much to send her such a present … but she felt herself shut down. She would not allow it to flow. Andrew was here, the boys needed feeding and deep within her Bec struggled to find the belief that she deserved any of it.

  They sat, a replica of a family, at the kitchen table. Rebecca was torn that her agricultural god was at the head of her table, her husband gone and yet the presence of Sol was calling out from the yard in the form of a glorious, beautifully bred quarter horse. Not to mention the invasive memory of Joey with all his (almost) virile youth. Her head swam with all that had happened this year.

  Andrew had helped her set the meals of steamed vegetables and lamb chops in front of the boys, then sat down. Rebecca remained before her own meal, not feeling at all hungry. Part of her was loving having Andrew here and knowing she was so frequently in Sol’s thoughts, but the other side of her was wishing the boys were already in bed and she could take off and have time to digest the confused thoughts that tumbled in her head. She looked at Andrew. He was beautiful. A different beauty from Sol. Within her she knew she didn’t want a replacement of a husband in any form. Not now. Not yet. It was too soon. But his quiet, pleasant presence seemed to make her realise that her life could be utterly difficult and lonely once the baby came, no matter how much she p
ractised being positive.

  After the meal, Rebecca, for the first time in months, settled herself into a comfortable threadbare armchair by the woodheater. Andrew cleared away the plates while she just sat watching the flames. It was Andrew who made the journey up the creaking Waters Meeting homestead stairs to put the children to bed and to read them their story. He even settled Funny down in a cane basket in the laundry and tipped dried food into her bowl.

  When he came back to Rebecca, he stood in the doorway. ‘All done. All settled. They are wonderful children, the Kelpie included. A credit to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I’m just so grateful for the rest.’

  He moved closer and sat perched on the coffee table next to her. ‘You OK?’

  Rebecca shook her head. The fire whispered as he reached out and patted her hand.

  ‘It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.’

  Tears came to her eyes. The road had been too long. The road had been too rough. She thought she had her life in hand again, but tonight everything was swirling and muddled. Soon the phone was ringing and she was hauling herself up from the chair. Numb. Apologising to him over and over for crying so much. She walked to the phone in the hallway and picked it up. ‘Hello?’ she said.

  ‘You sound tired,’ came the voice of Sol.

  Bec glanced at Andrew. ‘Not really. Just got the kids to bed.’

  ‘Did you get my present?’

  ‘Oh, Sol,’ she said as if it was a trouble to her. Andrew turned his back, cleared his throat and moved away into the kitchen, realising the call from Sol would be personal.

  ‘You sound displeased,’ Sol said.

  ‘Overwhelmed, more like.’

  ‘She’s beautiful, is she not? She is already quiet in her nature, but I’ve had her schooled and schooled so she is safe for you, so you can even ride her while you are pregnant. Yazzie can go with you. It will do you both good.’

  ‘You’ve thought of everything, have you?’ Sol didn’t seem to hear the tension in her voice.

  ‘She reminded me of you the moment I saw her.’

  ‘It’s too much, Sol.’

  ‘Too much? No. Evie says “allow”.’

  ‘Evie said that? Good on her, but giving me a horse? An entire horse? After just one … you know.’

  ‘Well, I would not give you half a horse? Of course I gave you an entire one!’

  ‘Don’t tease, Sol,’ she said.

  ‘Why not give you a gift?’

  ‘There’s every reason why not.’

  ‘I can’t think of one,’ he said with cheekiness in his voice. ‘Ahh! The lady is not used to gifts.’

  He waited for her reply, but she didn’t speak. Sol went on, ‘Besides, Miss Luella was part of a good deal. I wanted a mount that was not a show jumper for Yazzie for Rivermont. We need working horses more suited to that country. I also wanted a stock horse for me. You can read your pastures better from a horse than a ute. And along with the holistic grazing, I want to start practising low-stress stockhandling, and I can do that with these horses. Miss Luella was part of a three-horse deal, so she really is a gift horse. So there is no reason why not. You deserve her. For what you have done for Yazzie. For what you have done for me.’ When Rebecca didn’t reply, he said sincerely down the line in a deep quiet voice, ‘Rebecca, I miss you.’

  ‘Sol. Don’t.’

  ‘What do you mean, don’t?’ he asked, his voice giving way to irritation. ‘Don’t give you things? Like horses? Don’t give you emotions? Like love?’

  ‘Sol. It was only one night.’ She felt her cheeks redden, knowing Andrew was in earshot.

  ‘One night can last an eternity. For me it was more than one night. But obviously for you, it was not.’

  ‘Sol,’ she said sadly, ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Don’t go. Talk to me.’

  ‘Sol. I have to. I’m sorry. I just need some time. I’ll talk to you later.’ And she hung up. Silence filled the Waters Meeting homestead.

  Eventually she turned and looked into the kitchen to Andrew. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, tension firing the muscles in her body.

  He smiled sadly at her. ‘Don’t be. He’s a good guy. A great bloke.’

  ‘I know, but … Sol … well …’ she began, but couldn’t finish.

  Andrew went over to where she stood beside the phone and shook his head. ‘Come with me to the States. Take the pressure off yourself with the farm. The work is so important to the world … and you …’

  He was interrupted by the phone’s insistent ring again.

  ‘Huh!’ said Rebecca. ‘Excuse me.’ As she reached for the receiver, she mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to him again. He shrugged, then motioned to the dishes in the sink, went back into the kitchen and began to run the water. As she picked up the phone, she half hoped it was Sol again, so she could soften the blow she had just dealt him. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Sis,’ came a deep voice on the line.

  ‘Mick?’

  ‘Yeah, well, who else?’

  Bec instantly felt her hackles rise. There was another brother once. Another who would ring just for a chat, and write her letters and emails, not like this one who only called when he wanted something. It took all her resolve not to spit out angrily, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘How are you?’ she said instead, picking up a pen and flicking it end on end.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Truds? The kids?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s good,’ said Mick, sounding impatient. ‘Kids are good. Danny’s just been expelled from the best school in the city and David’s on an obesity program, but other than that they’re good. Least Trudy tells me they are. I hardly ever see the little — or rather big — buggers. Work. Always work. You know the drill.’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’ Rebecca began to doodle on a school newsletter, etching deep sharp lines into the paper.

  ‘So you up for a meeting then?’ he asked suddenly.

  She stopped drawing. ‘What?’

  ‘A meeting,’ Mick repeated. ‘About the farm.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, after you and Charlie splitting up.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘With Dad’s will and all.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Charlie called me about the divorce and Dad’s will. Mum and I have got together and checked it out. According to Dad’s wishes, Waters Meeting was only secure in your ownership so long as you were married. And now that Charlie’s filed for divorce, well, you know, she’s all over red rover, according to Dad’s will.’

  Rebecca absorbed his words and felt panic rise like a plague upon her body. She felt her skin run hot and cold.

  ‘Didn’t you know that?’ Mick asked. ‘Coz if you didn’t, you really should have made it your business to know it, sis. I mean, really? You’re always one for putting your head in the sand, aren’t you?’

  Rebecca sucked in her breath and her eyes travelled to the ceiling where cobwebs hung onto dust. She swallowed down nausea.

  ‘Bec?’

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Well, in light of this, Charlie and I planned to come out tomorrow for a meeting with you. A Waters Meeting meeting. OK?’

  Rebecca couldn’t speak. She felt ambushed. By her own brother, in cohorts with her ex-husband. And even her mother. Couldn’t Frankie have called her about this?

  ‘Sis?’ Mick said into the silent gap.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘OK then? Tomorrow, mid-morning?’

  ‘Sounds like I don’t have a say.’

  ‘All right then, tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Fuck off, Mick.’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not like that. But fuck off anyway.’

  ‘OK then,’ he said, adding tersely, ‘So typical of you. See you tomorrow.’

  Rebecca put down the phone. White-faced, she stood numbly with her back to the kitchen, where Andrew, sensing something was wrong, had turned
and was surveying her from where he stood at the sink.

  ‘Are you OK? Come here …’ He stepped forwards and came out to the hallway. He moved to put his arms about her.

  She raised both hands. ‘No. Stop. Just leave me.’

  He froze and frowned. ‘OK.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, tears filling her eyes, ‘I didn’t mean to snap.’ Her hand massaged the beginnings of a headache on her forehead. ‘That was my brother. He and Charlie are on their way tomorrow. They say I have no right to the farm once I divorce.’

  ‘But that’s —’

  She cut him off, not wanting to talk about it, too raw from the shock of the news. ‘I have to go out, get away for a bit, to think. OK? Can I ask you to watch over the boys this evening? They shouldn’t wake. I’ll be back later.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, bewilderment on his face. ‘Do whatever you need to do.’ And then Rebecca turned and walked out of the kitchen, grabbing her coat and beanie on her way, feeling as if her father, from the grave, had just stabbed her in the back.

  Thirty-eight

  In the stables, Rebecca dragged out Ink Jet’s old bridle and gathered up the worn, cracked leather stock saddle. She stooped and buckled the spurs around her boots.

  The old gear stirred memories of Inky and Hank and their horrible end by Charlie’s hand. She felt fresh fury rise again. She felt furious with herself. She had trusted her family. And now this! She gritted her teeth and strode out of the stables. She knew that saddling Miss Luella and riding her out was a lot to ask of the new horse, but she just had to get away. To clear her head. And besides, when it came to horses, Rebecca trusted Sol. She knew the mare would be near perfect. It gave her comfort knowing she had him to trust on that level.

  She went to the round yard and sat the saddle on the top rail, then hung the bridle on an old bridge spike. Miss Luella seemed pleased to have some company, whickering at Rebecca in greeting and ambling over as she slipped through the rails.

  In the gleam of dying daylight, she took in the mare’s pretty-girl looks and fancy appearance. Bec could also sense a strong calmness and a friendly curiosity held within the animal. She seemed self-contained and confident.