by Bonnie Leon
“I suppose so.” Rebecca glanced at the waiting wagon. “Why are you taking the wagon instead of the surrey?”
“Woodman’s got supplies to pick up.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Is something troubling you, Rebecca? What is it?”
“I’m fine. I’m just going to miss you is all.”
“I’ll be home before you know it.”
Rebecca didn’t reply.
Daniel studied her, sensing uneasiness. “I know you well enough. There’s more going on inside your head.”
Rebecca grasped Daniel’s hand. “I must admit to feeling a bit anxious about this trip.” She leaned in close. “I wish you weren’t going.”
“This is no different from all the other trips I’ve made to Brisbane. Everything will be fine.”
“Of course. I’m sure you’re right. I’m being silly.”
“No worries.”
Rebecca frowned. “But this isn’t the same. It’s about saving Douloo. I wish I were going with you.”
“Best you stay put, luv. The traveling wouldn’t sit well with you right now.”
Rebecca rested a hand on her stomach. “I have been a bit queasy.”
“I’ll tell the driver to hurry so I can get home to you.” He kissed her and started toward the wagon. Woodman sat on the seat, reins in hand.
Rebecca walked alongside her husband. When they reached the wagon, she stood in front of him. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
“Is there another choice?”
“If we’re patient, God may provide a way. Perhaps we should wait.”
“I can’t wait. If the Lord was going to do something, he would have done it.” Daniel cupped the back of Rebecca’s head in his hand. “What if this is his answer?”
“I hope you’re right and it is.”
Daniel dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” he said and climbed up beside Woodman.
As the wagon moved forward, Daniel smiled at Rebecca and waved to his mother and Joseph. He maintained his façade of confidence, but inside he felt as uneasy as Rebecca did. He didn’t like doing business with people he didn’t know, especially when the one who suggested the person couldn’t commend him. It spoke of a dubious reputation. Yet what choice did he have? It was Marshal or nothing.
Willa moved to her tent with Joseph skipping along beside her.
Heart heavy, Rebecca watched until the wagon had rolled out of sight. Why am I so troubled? She walked to Willa’s tent. Perhaps her mother-in-law could offer insight.
Willa took a cloth out of a wicker basket and dusted a table. “I dare say, the dust never relents.”
Joseph grabbed a rag out of the basket and started dusting a box his grandmother had been using as a nightstand.
Rebecca smiled at his devotion and sat on the only chair in the small quarters. Her stomach was queasy. She ought to be resting. “I think I’ll lie down for a bit.”
Willa stopped dusting and looked at Rebecca. “You all right, dear? You look a bit peaked.”
“I’m fine. It’s just my stomach.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I was hoping you’d have an easier time of it with this one.”
“I am, actually. I’m not feeling nearly as sick as I did with Joseph.”
“Good.” Willa returned to her dusting.
Rebecca remained where she was. She needed to talk with someone about her fears.
“Daniel’s going to borrow the money from that man.”
Willa straightened. “I’m sure he’ll do whatever’s best for all of us.”
Rebecca compressed her lips. “I have a bad feeling about it all. I . . . I don’t want him borrowing from someone we don’t know.”
“I understand, dear. I wish Mr. Oxley had been more cooperative, but sometimes circumstances are such that we have no option but to step out into unfamiliar places.”
“I know that’s true.” Rebecca pressed a hand against her stomach. She was feeling quite ill. “But I’m certain this isn’t a good idea. I don’t know why I know, but I do.”
Tucking her dusting cloth into her belt, Willa moved to Rebecca. “Then we’ll have to pray and just see what God does.”
Rebecca nodded. “I have been praying—ever since Daniel told me he planned to go to Brisbane. And I still have no peace.”
Concern touched Willa’s eyes, and then she smiled. “I trust that Daniel will do the right thing.”
“Of course,” Rebecca said, but her unease remained.
Stiff from days of travel, Daniel sat on a straight-backed chair and pulled on his dress boots. Walking to the bureau, he looked in the mirror and straightened his necktie and smoothed his waistcoat. Then he retrieved his suit jacket from the closet and pulled it on.
Returning to the mirror, he looked at his reflection. Holding out his hand, he said, “Good to meet you, Mr. Marshal.” He tried another greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Searching for another acknowledgment, he finally decided he was being foolish and pulled out his pocket watch. “Eight thirty. No time for breakfast.” He didn’t mind. His stomach was unsettled.
Daniel walked out of the room and hurried down the stairs to the first floor of the hotel. Approaching the front desk, he smiled at a tall, skinny clerk. “G’day to you.”
“It’s a fine day, all right.”
“I’ve an appointment this morning, and I was wondering if you might give me directions. I’m hoping to walk. Been riding too much the last few days.”
“Right. Where is it yer wanting to go?”
“I’m supposed to meet with Robert Marshal of Marshal Imports. His office is on George Street.”
“That’s not too far, only a few blocks. You head toward the river, straight down from ’ere. George Street is one up from the quay. The businesses down there have their names posted. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”
“Right, then. Thank you.” Daniel walked toward the door, his steps quieted by a multicolored rug whose brightness had been muted by time and the many footfalls of travelers. Opening the front door, he stepped onto the sidewalk, then headed toward the river.
Daniel breathed deeply. The air smelled clean, without a hint of dust. He liked Brisbane. The streets were lined with a variety of businesses, but the buildings didn’t tower over the roads the way they did in some cities. Most were no more than a couple of stories tall. Brisbane was just city enough for Daniel.
He approached a grand cathedral and stopped to study it. St. Stephen’s Cathedral, so the cabbie had said. It was made of pale stone and had an impressive arched window of stained glass in the front, which was pressed in on both sides by imposing spires. Daniel wondered what Sunday services were like in such a church. It must be a far cry from what he was used to in Thornton Creek.
He continued. He turned onto George Street and made his way down the lane, reading the names of businesses posted above the doorsteps. A cart carrying ice lumbered past. Daniel stopped to take a calming breath. In spite of the cooler temperatures, he felt hot. Sweat trickled down his neck, and he tugged at his collar. It would feel good to get back into everyday clothes.
He moved on and finally came upon a block building with a sign hanging above the front entry that read “Marshal Imports.” Daniel stared at the billboard. It was large, and the yellow on black color seemed abrasive.
Well, this is it. I’ve got to convince Mr. Marshal to loan me the money I need. In his mind Daniel reviewed the positive aspects of Douloo. He tugged at his waistcoat to straighten it and brushed a piece of dust from his jacket. “It’ll be fine,” he told himself, but he wasn’t convinced.
Glancing up the street, he watched as a young man dashed across the dirt-packed road in front of the ice wagon. “’Ey, watch where yer goin’,” the driver yelled. The young man waved him off, then strode down the street toward the Brisbane River.
Daniel took a steadying breath and reached for the door. Before he could grasp the knob, the door opened. A large man,
very red in the face, hustled out and tromped down the street. Thinking the man looked angry, Daniel watched him for a moment, then caught the door and stepped inside. It felt cooler than outdoors. The room smelled of stale cigars and of something else. Was it licorice?
Daniel let the door close and walked toward a desk where a petite, dark-eyed woman sat. Her fingers rapidly walked over the keys of a typewriter. She didn’t look up but kept working. The keys tat-tat-tat-ed while Daniel stood. When the woman didn’t acknowledge him, Daniel cleared his throat.
“I’ll be right with ya,” the woman said and kept typing.Finally her fingers stopped their rhythmic prancing, and she laid her hands in her lap and looked at Daniel. “G’day.”
“That looks like a first-rate typewriter.”
“The best. It’s a Remington. Quite grand.” She smiled. “Ya must be Daniel Thornton.”
“That I am. I have an appointment with Mr. Marshal.”
“He’s waiting for you.” The woman pushed back her chair and stood. “This way, please.” Taking short, quick steps, she moved toward a long hallway.
As they walked down the corridor, Daniel had a sense of being swallowed up by the building. It was much larger than it had looked from the front. He considered turning around and leaving but knew he had no choice but to follow the young woman.
She stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and knocked. From inside a brusque voice called, “Come in. Come in.”
The secretary turned an ornate bronze doorknob, and the door swung open. Stepping inside a large office, she said, “Mr. Thornton is ’ere ta see ya, sir.”
A boxy-looking man stood. He didn’t look pleased.
The woman moved past Daniel and disappeared down the hall. Daniel sucked in a lungful of air and stepped into the room.
He’d never seen such a sizable office. Everything about it was large—an oversized desk and chair sat in the center, three huge armchairs were scattered informally, a straight-backed chair perched against the wall near the door, and an enormous oaken bookcase took up much of the opposite wall. Everything was so big, Daniel felt small.
“So you found me. I hope you didn’t have any trouble.”
“No. None. I’m staying just up the street.” Daniel offered his hand, but Marshal didn’t seem to notice. Daniel’s hand hung uncomfortably in the air. Finally he tucked it into his pocket.
Marshal wasn’t a large man, maybe five feet ten inches. He looked square in build, and his brown hair was thin. He was balding so badly in front that his forehead appeared overly large. The man’s eyes were small, and his lids seemed half closed. He studied Daniel.
“Have a seat.” He waited for Daniel to sit before he dropped into the extra-large desk chair. Lifting a crystal candy dish, he offered it to Daniel. “Licorice?”
“No. Don’t like it much.”
“I can’t get enough of it.” Marshal took a piece and stuck it in his mouth, then poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher sitting on the desk. “You thirsty?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Marshal set the pitcher down. Pushing his candy into his cheek, he sipped the water. “So your wire said you have a cattle station west of here, on the flats.”
“Right. A fine station too. My grandfather bought the land and built a first-rate house and put together a fine mob of cattle.”
“A cattleman?” Marshal lifted his right eyebrow. “Thought most folks out west of Toowoomba raised sheep.”
“Most. But not all. The cattle business is a good one.”
Marshal nodded. “And now . . . there’s a drought. And you’re in trouble?”
The idea of talking about his hardships with a stranger didn’t set well with Daniel, but he had no choice. “Right. There’s been a drought. Looks like Brisbane has been spared though.”
“One of the benefits of living on this side of the Great Dividing Range.”
Silence settled over the men. Finally Marshal said, “Go on. You were telling me about the troubles you’ve had.”
“Right. Well, there’s the drought, and then we had a fire. The fire hit us hard.” Daniel wanted to get on to what was good about Douloo. “The station usually has plenty of water and good grasslands. It’s one of the best producing stations in all of Queensland and has been for a good long while.”
“I’m not interested in what it was. I want to know what it is. How many cattle do you have?”
“We’re down a bit. Got hit by red water, and then . . .”
“Right—the drought and the fire.” Marshal leaned back in his chair. Unconsciously he stuck his licorice out on his tongue, then sucked it back into his mouth. “How many head you have right now, today?”
“Maybe five hundred.”
“Not much of a station. What else you have?” When Daniel didn’t answer right away, Marshal continued in an annoyed tone, “Livestock, house, barns, you know . . . what might you have that would be considered valuable?”
“Everything burned. But we have some fine horses . . .”
“And what is it exactly that you want from me?” Marshal eyed him contemptuously.
Daniel wanted to get up and walk out, but he didn’t dare. He had to have the money. “I need a loan to get the station back on its feet.”
“Ah, money. And just how much do you think you’ll need?”
“I’ll have to replenish the herds, and we’ve got to rebuild . . .”
The door opened, and a young man walked into the room. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you—”
“No. Come in,” Marshal said. “The other boys too.”
The man glanced over his shoulder. “Boss wants us all.”
He stepped into the room, followed by two other young men. Dressed in work clothes and in need of a bath, they were obviously not Marshal’s partners. More likely roustabouts.
“I’d like to introduce Daniel Thornton, boys. He’ll be doing business with us.”
Daniel felt his hopes rise at Marshal’s reference to their doing business. That sounded like someone who’d decided to loan him the money.
The men stared at Daniel. “This is Jack,” Marshal said. The tallest of the three nodded. “Luke.” The man brushed long blond hair off his forehead and sneered as he nodded at Daniel. “And Wade.” Wade seemed a bit less surly than the other two and nearly smiled.
“They help me run my business. Good blokes. They’re tough when they need to be though. If we have any trouble, they take care of it.”
Daniel wondered what kind of trouble. “Good to meet you,” he said.
The three didn’t respond but stood sullenly just inside the door.
Daniel looked from them to Marshal. His stomach felt as if he’d swallowed rocks. He knew he ought to leave and forget he’d ever heard of Robert Marshal. His brain said go, but his need held him there. Douloo depended on this man.
“I’ve been watching you, and I can see you’re an honest sort. I’m good at that, figuring people out.” Marshal chewed on his piece of licorice, and the odor of it intensified. “Everyone comes up against hard times. And I like to help the ones I know really need it and are good to their word.” He smiled, but the gesture didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ve decided to give you a loan. I’d hate to see you lose that station of yours, especially since it came from your grandfather.”
“That would be grand,” Daniel sputtered.
“I’ll have the papers drawn up and sent to you. I expect payments to be made on time and in the amount agreed upon. Understood?”
“Yes and no. We haven’t decided on the amount or the terms.”
“Not a problem. You come by tomorrow morning, and we can go over those details. I’ll see to it that Margaret has the contract ready by the time you get here.”
“What would you consider as collateral for the loan?” Daniel asked.
“Why, the station, of course. That’s all you have that’s of any value.”
“I can’t risk the station.”
“I’m the one taking the
risk. Am I right to assume that if not for me you would lose the place?”
Daniel didn’t like Marshal, and he hated needing him. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He replaced his hat and started out the door. He glanced at the three men lined up against the wall and knew that when he walked out of this room, he should keep walking and never return. But he also knew he’d be back in the morning.
Rebecca rode Chavive to the makeshift corral and dismounted.
“I’ll see to ’er,” Woodman said, taking hold of the halter.
“Thank you, but I’d like to brush her myself.” Rebecca patted the mare’s neck. “I could use help with the saddle though.”
“Roight.” Woodman uncinched the saddle and hefted it off the horse’s back. “She’s lookin’ fine, mum.” He set the saddle on a sawhorse. “Doesn’t seem the foal is takin’ too much from ’er.”
“She’s in fine condition. And I can hardly wait for the foal—Noble’s foal.”
Woodman grinned. “Ought ta be a beaut.”
Rebecca ran her hand along Chavive’s side, smoothing the chestnut coat. “It’ll be a fine one, all right.” Her mind carried her back to the death of her mare Miss. Before foaling, Miss had seemed fine, and then so quickly she’d been taken. Fear rolled through Rebecca. “I just pray everything will be all right.”
“No reason ta doubt that, mum. Chavive’s strong and healthy. There’ll be no troubles with this one.” Woodman smiled, his dark eyes offering sympathy.
“I’m sure you’re right and I’m worrying over nothing.” Grabbing a brush out of a bucket of tools, Rebecca started brushing Chavive. “No use fretting about it.”
Woodman picked up the saddle. “I’ll put this away, and then I’ll be goin’ inta town ta pick up Daniel.”
“I wish I were going along.”
“Ya can if ya like.”
“I don’t know if I ought to. That ride unsettled my stomach a bit.”
“Seems ta me the doc said no riding last time, with Joseph. How’s he feel ’bout it now?”
“I’m allowed to ride, just not to overdo. I was good. I only went for a short ride, and it was leisurely.”