by Bonnie Leon
The wind grew stronger. He could taste dirt. We better find shelter quick, he thought. Already he could see only a few feet in front of him. He sucked in thick, dry air. His throat felt like it was coated in coarse sand. He coughed, but that didn’t help. He pulled his handkerchief up over his face. It cut some of the dust, but he still huffed as he sought oxygen for his lungs.
At the bottom of the ravine, the cattle bunched together. That’s the best we can hope for, Daniel thought and turned his horse toward the embankment, searching for a place of refuge. There were no caves. The only protection was a hollowed-out spot in the bank. That’ll have to do. It would be enough for Woodman. He moved toward it, searching for his men. The only one he could see was Jim. He pointed toward the opening in the hillside and kept moving. Jim followed.
Daniel dismounted and tied his horse to a scrub bush close to the embankment. Crouching against the dirt wall, he tightened his handkerchief, pulling it securely over his mouth and nose. Jim hunkered down beside him. Neither man spoke. There wasn’t enough oxygen for that. And even if there had been, Daniel’s throat was too dry to do anything more than croak.
His eyes met Jim’s. He could see fear in his American friend. He offered a nod of reassurance, although he felt none himself.
Pulling his hat down over his eyes and face, he hunkered down. Wind and dirt pellets pummeled him. His thoughts turned to Rebecca. If he didn’t survive, what would she do? What would happen to Douloo?
Keeping her back straight, Rebecca stared at the heavy curtains onstage. She could barely breathe. Mildred had pulled her stays too tight, saying the Paris fashions required she be securely cinched. Anything less would be inappropriate. Rebecca cared little about the latest fashions but hadn’t wanted to disappoint her aunt, who had paid a considerable amount for the elegant gown.
“Oh,” Mildred said. “Look there. Isn’t that Mrs. Fullbright?”
Rebecca looked in the direction Mildred pointed. “Yes. I believe so.”
Mildred gave Rebecca a secretive look. “I heard her daughter is back from Europe, and that her husband remained behind. I understand they’re still married, but word has it—”
“Auntie! How can you gossip about something like that? I’m in a very similar situation, and I feel utter distress. We should think kindly toward her. We’re in no situation to judge.”
Mildred looked contrite. “You’re absolutely right. I apologize. I just thought it might make you feel better to know that you’re not the only one who had to return home without her husband.”
Rebecca patted her aunt’s hand. “I know your intentions were honorable. I’ll be going home soon, I’m certain of it.”
Mildred settled serious eyes on her niece. “Rebecca, just why are you here? I know you haven’t told me everything.”
“I told you, there was the fire, and all the work still to be done, and it had been far too long since I’d seen you, and then with Audry . . .”
“I know that’s not the entire story. In truth, Audry is too young to travel so far. There’s more to this visit than you’re telling me.” She smiled. “I wish it were just because you longed to see me, but I know that’s only part of it. Why won’t you tell me?” When Rebecca didn’t answer right away, Mildred said, “That’s all right. You don’t have to share your secrets. You’ll tell me when the time is right.”
“It’s a long story. And now’s not the time,” Rebecca said.
She didn’t want to worry her aunt, and she couldn’t bear for Mildred or Thomas to think poorly of Daniel. However, if he didn’t send for her soon, she’d have to give them more of an explanation. She turned her gaze back to the stage. If only the ballet could chase away the loneliness and worry. She wished they’d hurry and turn down the lights so the dancers could begin. She yearned for music that could lift her out of the maelstrom of anxiety she’d been caught in.
Rebecca saw a woman staring at her and knew she ought to smile politely, but instead she looked away. What were people saying? That she’d become a loose woman or that she was seeking to divorce her husband? Were rumors flying like the ones about Mrs. Fullbright’s daughter? Embarrassment and frustration welled up in Rebecca.
Let people think what they like, she decided, glancing about. She didn’t belong in Boston anyway. This wasn’t her life. In truth, she didn’t want to be here among the “best” of Boston. She longed for quiet evenings on the veranda at Douloo. She needed Daniel beside her.
So did Joseph. He asked nearly every day how long it would be before they could go home. He talked about his father and all the things he couldn’t wait to do—milking cows, riding, and fishing.
This isn’t fair to him, Rebecca thought sadly. I’m sorry, Joseph. I pray we’ll go home soon.
She leaned close to Mildred. “Auntie, I’m sorry if I was sharp with you. I didn’t mean to be. It’s just that I have a lot on my mind.”
Mildred rested a hand on Rebecca’s arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps if you shared some of your worries, you’d feel less burdened.” She gazed at the stage, and Rebecca could see tears well up in her eyes. “We’ve never had any secrets, Rebecca.”
“I know. And it’s not about us. It’s . . . well, I’ll explain to you later. I promise.”
“If you and Daniel are having marital difficulties, I can understand.”
“Oh no. It’s not that. Not at all.”
Mildred smiled. “Well, thank the Lord for that.”
“Daniel and I are fine. I love him so much, this separation is squeezing the life out of me. You are so dear to me, but I long for home.”
“Then why don’t you go?”
“It’s not so easy as all that.”
Mildred nodded and concentrated on the stage.
From the beginning Rebecca had prayed, and yet God had not acted. He seemed far away; she felt alone.
“Excuse me.” A tall gentleman stood in the aisle. “I apologize, but I do believe you’re sitting in my seat.”
“Oh,” Rebecca exclaimed. She could barely catch her breath. For a moment she’d almost thought Daniel had been standing there. The man was tall and blond like Daniel, and his eyes were almost the same shade of blue.
“I am?” she managed to stammer and looked down the row. “Aren’t these our seats?”
“Oh, it’s my fault,” Mildred said. “I sat down too quickly I’m afraid. My seat is the next one.”
The man smiled warmly. “Then perhaps I could take that one.”
“No. No.” Mildred stood. “It’s my error. I must have been distracted. I apologize . . . sir.”
“Daniel Martin.” He bowed slightly.
Daniel! Rebecca’s mind shrieked. His name is Daniel.
“I’m Mildred Murdoc, and this is my niece Rebecca Thornton.”
“A pleasure to meet you both. Please, sit. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
Mildred and Rebecca took their new seats. Mildred looked across Rebecca at Mr. Martin. “Should I move down one more? Are you expecting someone?”
“No. I’m unaccompanied this evening. My companion became ill suddenly and was unable to attend. I rather enjoy the ballet, so I decided to come alone.” He smiled. “Perhaps you can be my companions this evening.” His eyes rested approvingly on Rebecca.
She felt panicked. Did he think she was single?
“My husband is at home,” Mildred said. “He has no appreciation for the ballet. My niece was kind enough to accompany me. She’s visiting from Australia.”
“Australia, the land of mystery.” Mr. Martin’s blue eyes turned warm. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s an extraordinary country.”
“That it is,” Rebecca said, feeling uncomfortable under his approving eye.
“It’s not possible you left a husband so far behind?”
So here it is, then, Rebecca thought. “I did leave my husband at home but not permanently. I’m here to visit my aunt and her husband.”
“Will you be staying long?”
>
“I don’t actually know just yet.”
“Then I presume your husband will be joining you?”
“No.” Rebecca wished the ballet would begin.
“Perhaps I’ll see you about, then.”
“Perhaps.” Rebecca gazed at the stage.
“I hope I’ll have the pleasure of your company again before you leave.”
Rebecca glanced at Mr. Martin. “You’re very kind, but I doubt we’ll have another encounter, sir.”
Rebecca settled back in her seat and leaned as close to Mildred as she possibly could. She didn’t feel comfortable sitting beside the bold man with the same look and name as her husband. She wished there were some way to exchange seats with her aunt without appearing rude or silly.
Finally the lights were turned down, and soft, lyrical music filled the theater. As the sound of the orchestra swelled, ballerinas glided onto the stage. Rebecca turned her attention to the performance, but only her eyes were on it. Her mind was in Queensland.
Worn out and lonely, Daniel rode across the yard and to the barn. None of his men had died in the dust storm, but that was about all he could be thankful for. He’d lost a good number of cattle. Lifting his hat, he shook off lingering dust. Dirt caked his hair, his clothes, and his shoes. A bath would do him good.
Woodman met him with a smile. “Ya look a bit done in. Ya ’ave a rough time of it?”
Daniel replaced his hat, dismounted, and handed the reins to Woodman. “It was bad.”
“The dust storm?”
Daniel nodded. “How was it ’ere?”
“Roight unpleasant, I’d say. But we managed ta hang on ta most things. House was filled with dust, and we lost a few animals, but we done all roight.”
Daniel nodded. He felt so weary that even the walk to the house seemed too much. He loosened the handkerchief around his neck and slipped it off. The inside was caked with dirt and sweat. Daniel glanced at the filthy cloth, then wadded it up in his hand.
“You don’t suppose Mum’s got any lemonade, eh?”
“I’d bet on it.” Woodman smiled, and his brown face rounded.
“Good. Been thinking about Lily’s lemonade for the last twenty miles.” Daniel walked toward the house.
“I’ll make sure yer horse is brushed and fed.”
Daniel kept moving.
Willa met her son at the top of the steps. Ignoring the dirt clinging to him, she pulled Daniel into a motherly embrace. “So good to have you home. When that storm came through, I knew you’d be out in it. Did you lose any men?”
“No. Everyone made it.”
“And the herd?”
“Didn’t fare so well. Managed to get what was left to the stockyards though.”
A crease of worry crossed Willa’s forehead. “Is there enough to pay Mr. Marshal?”
“No. Can’t keep on living and pay him.” He frowned. “Course, if we don’t pay him, we might not live anyway.” Misery choked him.
“Come on, then. Have a seat. I’ll get us something to drink.”
“You have lemonade?”
“As a matter of fact, Lily made some this morning.” Willa smiled. “I was hoping you’d show up.”
Daniel dropped into a chair. “Thanks, Mum.” He removed his hat and fanned himself with it. “Right hot.”
“That it is,” Willa said and stepped inside the house.
Daniel stared at the dirt yard. Renewed heartache swept over him as prior homecomings played through his mind. Joseph always rushed out to greet him, calling, “Daddy! Daddy!” The youngster would lift his arms, and Daniel would sweep him up and lift him over his head. Joseph would giggle and then hug his father about the neck.
Thinking of Rebecca, he dragged in a slow breath. Brown eyes radiating pleasure, she’d always meet him with Audry in her arms. After a kiss and a kind word, her questions about his well-being would begin.
Daniel returned to the present. Wind gusted, and heat radiated off the empty, quiet yard. There were no children now, no wife, and no idea of when they would return. Douloo felt bleak.
His mother stepped onto the porch. Handing Daniel a glass of lemonade, she said, “Perhaps this will give you a boost.”
“I’ve been dreaming of it. Lily makes the best this side of the Great Dividing Range.” He sipped, then took a large swig and downed nearly half the glass. “Good.” He leaned back in his chair.
Willa took a few sips from her glass and then set it on the table between them. She studied Daniel, then asked gently, “Are you all right?”
Daniel didn’t answer right away. What could he say? He nudged his hat up. “I’m tired, Mum. It was a long trip.”
“And . . . ?”
“And I’m full of grief. I miss Rebecca and the children. And what am I going to do about Marshal? I promised to pay him after this run. We could lose Douloo.”
“I don’t know what to do about Mr. Marshal.” Willa picked up her lemonade and studied the glass for a moment. “But I know about grief. Sometimes I think if only I could bring back your father, then everything would be set right again. Only, it’s not possible for him to return, and even if he were here, life would still not be just right. This side of heaven it never will be. We’d be struggling; we always did.”
Letting out a slow breath, Daniel leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “This is bad, Mum. Don’t know how we’ll keep going. And I want Rebecca home.”
“Then you should send for her.” She smiled softly. “If only I could send for your father.”
Daniel straightened. “I can’t. If Marshal or his men show up and something happens to Rebecca or the children . . . well, I couldn’t live with that.”
“I’m not sure I don’t agree with you, but it doesn’t feel right having them gone. And it’s at times like this that families need each other.” She ran a finger along the rim of her glass. “There’s a fine line between being practical and being faithful. Sometimes it’s not easy to make the right choice.” She crossed her legs at the ankles.
Daniel stared at his mother. “I feel selfish bringing her back. Especially when I figure we’ll be having another go ’round with Marshal. Soon as he finds out I can only pay a portion of what I owe, he’ll be having a go at us.” He shook his head. “Can’t risk it. I’ll have to do this without her.” Daniel rotated his hat in his hands, then looked at his mother. “Don’t know just what to do.”
“You start by praying. Then you wait, and God will show you.”
“I’ve been praying and waiting.” Daniel thrust his feet out in front of him and leaned back into his chair. “I’m waiting to hear from God, but . . . I don’t hear him talking.”
“It’ll come. He’ll speak through his Word and through circumstances as well as wise counsel. And then you’ll have peace when you know his will.” Willa was quiet for a long moment, then added, “I think you ought to speak to Rush Linnell. He and your father were mates a long while. Maybe he can help.”
“He’s been mad ever since I brought Rebecca home. You know he wanted Meghan and me to marry. Don’t think I can count on any help from him.”
“I should think he has some loyalty to Douloo.”
“Rush? No. His loyalty was to Dad.” Daniel took another drink. “And that won’t carry far. He’s a businessman before he’s anything else.” Daniel set his glass on the table. “No. We can’t rely on him.”
“Daniel,” Willa huffed. “Don’t be so stubborn. Ask him. It won’t hurt to ask.” She studied him a moment. “Well, it won’t hurt anything but your pride. Can’t you lay that aside to save Douloo?”
Daniel felt the sting of her words. He was being stubborn and prideful. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good.” Willa pushed out of her chair and moved to the porch railing. Resting her hands on it, she gazed out over the open prairie. “I’ve been thinking about poor Dusty and what happened to him. It would be a tragedy if something like that were to happen again. We can’t allow it.”
“W
hat do you think we should do?”
“Accept help from the men in the district. We must unite and stand against Marshal.”
“I thought you were against violence.”
“I believe in avoiding it when possible. But there are times when it’s all a man will hear.” She turned and looked at Daniel. “If Rush won’t give you the money, I think you need to challenge Mr. Marshal.”
“How do I do that? We can’t storm his office. He’s got the whole constabulary in Brisbane on his side.”
Willa chuckled. “I don’t think it has to be all that dramatic, but you must do something. Rebecca, the children, and Callie need to come home.” A breeze caught her skirts, and she smoothed them down. “You’re not the only one missing your family, you know. Just this morning Lily was telling me how bereaved Koora is over Callie’s absence.”
“He’s a good roustabout, that one,” Daniel said. “He’ll make a good husband to Callie one day.”
“He has hopes and dreams bigger than that. He’s counting on Rebecca returning to teach, and one day he hopes to know enough to do business with the men in the district. He’s planning on having his own station one day.”
“That’s a big dream for a black man.”
“Maybe so, but I think he can do it.” Willa smoothed her hair back off her face. “And Callie would be just the one to be at his side. Wouldn’t it be grand?”
“He’s a fine bloke.”
Willa turned her gaze toward the corral. “Chavive and her colt belong here. We need to bring them home too.”
Daniel let out a sigh. “Don’t know that we can do that, Mum.”
When Daniel rode into Thornton Creek, he could still see his mother standing on the veranda, her soft features touched with hope. He’d also noticed more gray in her hair. The troubles were taking a toll on her. The time for waiting and praying for a solution was past. It was time to do something.
Rush Linnell and his daughter, Meghan, rode toward Daniel. He hadn’t planned on speaking with Rush so soon, but it seemed God had other plans.
The Linnells slowed and stopped their horses. Facing Daniel, they waited in the street. “Ya look a bit done in,” Rush said.