When the Storm Breaks

by Bonnie Leon

  “Just came off a drive.”

  “Bad timing. Ghastly storm.”

  “Too right.”

  “Heard Rebecca’s gone off ta America.”

  “Yeah. She’s visiting her aunt.”

  Rush glanced up the street and then said, “Also heard there was more to it than that. Ya having trouble?”

  Daniel wasn’t ready to ask Rush for help. He hadn’t even thought over what he ought to say. “I’m in a bit of a scrap, but we’ll work things out.”

  “What, a scrap between you and Rebecca?” Meghan asked, unable to mask the hope in her voice.

  “No. It doesn’t have anything to do with Rebecca.”

  The light in Meghan’s amber eyes dimmed.

  Daniel turned his attention to Rush. “I did want to speak to you though.”

  “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any, eh?”

  Daniel watched dust whirl up in a wind gust. The current of warm air carried debris down the street. He looked at Rush. “I’m in a bad way, what with the drought and then the fire.”

  “Drought’s easing. The rivers are coming up.”

  “Right. But I had to rebuild the house, the cottages, and the barns. I went to the bank for a loan . . .” Daniel hated to go on, loathed exposing his weakness. “Anyway, I got turned down, and Charles Oxley gave me the name of a man who might help. I went to see him—”

  “Marshal? Robert Marshal?”

  “Right. How did you know?”

  “Word gets out.” Rush scratched at a day’s stubble. “He’s a bad one.”

  “He’s that, all right. He’s been giving me a hard time. Killed one of my roustabouts. I figured on making enough on the sale of cattle to pay him, but the dust storm ended that. Killed more than half the herd.”

  “And what is it ya want from me?”

  “I was hoping for a loan. I’m good for it. You know that.”

  “I do know that, lad. And I wish I could help. But we’ve been hard pressed by the drought. Just getting back on our feet.”

  “No worries, then. I’ll manage.”

  “Don’t know that you will.” Rush spit, then looked up at Daniel. “Couldn’t abide yer dad’s place going to the likes of Marshal. If ya need me for anything else, I’m ready ta help.”

  Daniel’s hopes of an easy answer evaporated. “Right, then.”

  Rush nodded, and he and Meghan moved on.

  Daniel headed for the pub. It had been too long since he’d had a pint with the blokes.

  Daniel pushed open the pub door and stepped inside. The room was poorly lit and smelled of stale cigars and ale.

  There was only a smattering of men. Women weren’t allowed. Two men Daniel had never seen before sat at one end of the bar, smoking cigars and drinking ale. They were most likely waiting for the stage. John Oliver, one of the local ranchers, and Stephen Burstow were playing a game of cards.

  A bushie sat at the far end of the room, his chair tipped back, his feet propped on a table. His head rested against the wall, and his eyes were closed, his mouth slack. Good a place as any to sleep, Daniel thought.

  Patrick O’Brien, the man who owned the mercantile, sat at a small wooden table with Charles Oxley. Each had a pint in front of him. Deep in conversation, they didn’t notice Daniel.

  Most likely working out some sort of deal, Daniel decided, hoping Mr. Oxley didn’t notice him. He wasn’t in the mood to make polite conversation with a man who could have saved him a lot of trouble if he’d had a mind to.

  Daniel walked to the bar. Resting his foot on a rail just above the floor, he leaned on the countertop and studied notices posted on a board on the back wall—there were herding pups for sale, someone needed a drover, and there was a piece of land for sale up north—nothing of interest.

  Davis Crawford, the bartender, finished cleaning up a portion of the bar and then slung his towel over his shoulder. “Haven’t seen ya in a while. How ya been?”

  “Good,” Daniel said, keeping his voice reserved. He didn’t want to visit.

  “What can I get you?” The bartender smoothed his red beard.

  “Whiskey will do me fine.” He laid down his money.

  Davis took it and then filled a small glass. Daniel stared at the counter.

  “Figure yer missing the wife, eh?” Davis set the drink on the bar.

  Daniel nodded. “Yep.” He stared at the whiskey, contemplating the wisdom of drinking it while feeling miserable. No better time, he reasoned and picked up the glass. Downing the fiery liquid, he choked back a cough.

  “Who we got ’ere?” a booming voice asked from across the room.

  Daniel didn’t look up, hoping the voice wanted someone else.

  “Come on, now. I never knew you to be unfriendly,” John Oliver said. He crossed to Daniel, then slapped his back and draped an arm over his shoulders. The reeking odor of beer and foul breath descended on Daniel.

  John grinned broadly. “Long time since I seen ya. Ya been good?”

  “Fine.”

  “Not what I heard.” He slapped Daniel’s back again. “Come on over ’ere and join us. We could use another player to make the game interesting.”

  Before Daniel could object, John tightened his arm about his shoulders and hauled him across the room. When Daniel moved past Oxley, the banker smoothed his mustache and nodded at Daniel. He couldn’t hold his gaze. “Daniel.”

  Anger rising, Daniel stared at the man. He wanted to tell him what he thought of his loaning practices.

  “Daniel. Good ta see ya,” Mr. O’Brien said. He glanced at John. “Seems he’s had a bit too much grog, eh?”

  “A bloke can never have too much,” John said.

  “I just came in for one drink. I’ve got business at home.” Daniel tried to walk to the door, but John’s grasp was too tight.

  “Stay for a game of cards, eh? Heard ya been having a hard time of it. A little fun would be good for ya.”

  “Another time.” Again Daniel took a step toward the door, but John held him fast.

  “Heard yer having trouble with a snake from Brisbane. Figured it’s time we showed him how we do business.” John laughed, then looked around the room at the others. “What do ya say, eh? How ’bout we give our mate ’ere a hand.”

  “You got my help any time,” Mr. O’Brien said.

  “And mine,” Stephen added, leaning so far back in his chair that he fell over backward. Wearing a sheepish grin, he quickly jumped to his feet.

  “Ya ’ave my help too, lad,” Davis said. “Heard what’s been going on at your place.” His eyes went to Mr. Oxley. “Crying shame, I say. Too bad no one could give ya a loan.”

  The room turned quiet, and every eye went to Mr. Oxley.

  He stood. “I’ve got a business to run. Can’t be making bad loans, no matter who it is.” He grabbed his hat off the chair next to him and pressed it down on his head. Without another word, he strode out of the room.

  “Got no money, but we’ll help ya any other way,” John said. “Ya can count on me. I’m a pretty good shot.” He grinned. The others added their assent.

  “Well, I hope it won’t come to that.” Daniel moved toward the door. “Have a fine night, eh?” He tipped his hat. “I’ll be on my way.” Daniel stepped outside and breathed deeply of the early evening air. He felt stronger. He wasn’t alone.

  “You’re quiet this evening, Callie,” Rebecca said.

  “Got nothin’ ta say, mum.” Callie carried a gown to Rebecca’s closet and hung it up.

  Rebecca returned to her embroidery, then watched Callie tidy the room. “I can take care of that.”

  “I like ta keep busy.” She smoothed the skirt of another gown that had been draped over the back of a chair. “Roight pretty. I remember when ya wore this. It was the first night ya came ta Douloo.” Her voice sounded sad. “It was a hot one, that day. The dress was too heavy, but I figure ya wanted ta look grand for Mr. and Mrs. Thornton.”

  “Yes. I remember. It was hot, and I
was certain they hated me. Well, not Willa, but Bertram. And he did, actually.”

  “He was roight unhappy.” Callie grinned.

  “Oh yes, Bertram was fit to be tied. He’d had Meghan in mind for Daniel.” Rebecca thought back to her early days at Douloo. She’d been miserable.

  Callie stared at the gown. “I thought Mr. Thornton might send ya packin’.” She looked at Rebecca. “Glad he didn’t.”

  “I was afraid of him. He was rather intimidating. Even in the beginning, it wouldn’t have taken much to convince me to go. Everything is so different there than here.” Rebecca pushed her needle through fabric stretched across an embroidery hoop. “Of course, it wasn’t long before I was devising a plan to escape. I thought Douloo was ugly and desolate.”

  “I remember when ya asked me ’bout life there. I was shocked ya wanted me ta answer yer questions.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Now all I do is dream about Douloo. I miss it so.”

  “Maybe ya ought ta think ’bout goin’ home, mum?”

  “I want to, but I’d be disobeying Daniel.” She let her embroidery rest in her lap. “I wonder if he would be terribly angry with me if I went against his wishes.”

  “It takes a while for a post ta reach us. There’s probably a letter on the way roight now askin’ us ta return.”

  “And what if there isn’t?”

  Callie shrugged.

  “You received a message yesterday.”

  “Yais.”

  “I can guess who wrote to you,” Rebecca teased.

  A soft smile touched Callie’s lips. “Koora wrote it ’imself.”

  “He must have sent it the day we left.”

  “He wants us ta come back. And I’d like ta be home again.”

  “Hopefully, everything will be settled soon.”

  Callie compressed her lips, and the brown in her eyes looked almost black.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Yes. It is something.”

  “None of this is me business.” Callie turned to leave. “I best get ta bed.”

  “Wait. Please, Callie. I need your opinion. It’s important to me.”

  “It’s not me place, mum. I’m no more than a servant.”

  “You know better.”

  Callie didn’t speak.

  “I want to know what you think about my going home.”

  Callie stared into the mirror on the bureau.

  “Callie?”

  She turned and looked at Rebecca. “Ya ought ta be with yer husband. Husbands and wives should be together in bad times.”

  “I agree, but if I return, I’m going against Daniel’s wishes. And I endanger my children.”

  Callie glanced at the floor, then looked back at Rebecca. Finally in a hushed voice, she said, “Ya speak ’bout God and how great he is, and then ya don’t trust him ta help. Daniel, he went out and borrowed money from a bad man, and then he stands by and lets the man run yer life. That Mr. Marshal’s tellin’ ya what ta do. He killed off Dusty, and then he takes yer horses.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. If ya believe and are prayin’, then why ya here hidin’?”

  Rebecca felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She didn’t know how to reply.

  “I shouldn’t ’ave spoke,” Callie said.

  “No. You said what you thought. And what you said is right.” Rebecca crossed to the window, pushed a heavy brocade drapery aside, and looked down on the street. Snow had turned the city white. Three boys had built walls of snow and now hid behind them while they pummeled each other with a stockpile of snowballs.

  “It’s true, we need to stand up to evil, not run from it.”

  Callie’s eyes widened. “Mum, I’m confused. I’ve seen ya strong and brave, and I’ve seen ya act scrawny too. Sometimes it seems as if ya don’t believe the things ya say ’bout God. Daniel needs ya now, and yer ’ere instead of there. I don’t understand.”

  Guilt deluged Rebecca. She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. “I’m sorry. I guess it must seem confusing.” She turned to face Callie. “I do believe in a great and powerful God, and I know he loves me. Still, there are times when I lose sight of him and I’m afraid. It’s human, I guess.” Rebecca placed a hand on Callie’s arm. “Please don’t judge God by my weaknesses or Daniel’s.”

  “I don’t see ya as weak, mum. But yer scared when ya shouldn’t be.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath. “I’ve been a poor example to you. I’m sorry.” Rebecca walked to the bed stand and picked up her Bible. “This must be your truth, Callie. Not me. Not Daniel. The Word of God is the only truth.”

  “I can’t get hold of it all. ’Ere people have so much—big houses, fine clothes, lots of food. But people aren’t happy. The aborigine way is better.”

  “But aborigines aren’t always happy either. Nor are they without hardship. They experience hunger and sickness, hatred and evil.”

  Callie nodded slightly. “I don’t know what ta believe.”

  Rebecca gazed at her Bible, ran her hand over the black leather, and then looked at Callie. “God will speak to you. He always speaks to those who search for truth.”

  Rebecca stood at the window and looked out on the street. Wind swirled snow into heaps that piled against buildings and fences. Feeling the chill, she pulled her shawl closer.

  November had rolled into Boston with uncommon force and hadn’t relented. Icicles hung from eaves, and fresh snow piled on top of frozen heaps left from previous storms. Rebecca’s mind roamed to Queensland and Douloo, where the summer season was upon them. The idea of sunshine and heat was appealing. Dust seemed more tolerable than the icy cold of Boston. No matter how well tended the fires were, cold seeped into the house.

  The front door whooshed open with a swirl of snow and cold air. Thomas stepped inside. “Brrr. It’s freezing out there. And it’s not yet Thanksgiving.”

  “Thomas, you look absolutely frozen,” Rebecca said. “You must be careful. Weather like this can be treacherous.”

  He smiled at Rebecca and unwrapped his neck scarf. “I’m being careful.” He removed his hat and hung it on a stand just inside the door. He smiled. “But thank you for caring.”

  Footsteps clicked across the vestibule tiles. “I was beginning to worry,” Mildred said, stepping up to Thomas and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, you poor dear. You’re freezing.” She pressed her palms against his cold cheeks.

  His brown eyes warming, he said, “I’m feeling warmer already.” He pulled Mildred close and kissed her.

  “Thomas,” she reprimanded playfully, pulling away and then helping him remove his coat. “I thought all you intended to do was purchase a turkey.”

  “Oh. I did that, all right. But I ran into a business acquaintance, and the next thing I knew, we were talking about mergers and the shortage of goods coming into the city. This weather isn’t helping matters.”

  “Well, it would seem best if you did your business indoors on such a day.”

  “We did. But it wasn’t far, and I decided to walk home.”

  Mildred smiled and then studied her husband. “Where is the turkey?”

  “A delivery boy will bring it around tomorrow morning. That should give you enough time to prepare our feast.” He chuckled and patted his stomach. “As if I need more food.”

  Watching them made Rebecca feel almost happy. It was grand to see her aunt and Thomas so content and in love. They’d found each other late in life, but that seemed to only intensify their enjoyment of one another. Remembering Daniel, she sighed. She’d be spending Thanksgiving without him.

  “Oh. I nearly forgot. I have a letter for you.” Thomas reached into his breast pocket and took out an envelope. He handed it to Rebecca. “Hope it’s good news.”

  Rebecca’s heart jumped. “From Daniel?” She glanced at the postal address. Cambria had sent it. Her expectations evaporated. Looking at Thomas, she said, “It’s from my friend Cambria.”

  �
�Oh. Well, perhaps you’ll hear from Daniel soon.” Thomas offered Rebecca a compassionate smile.

  “Perhaps,” she said, walking into the parlor.

  Dropping into a chair close to a stone fireplace, she unsealed the envelope, removed the letter, and opened it.

  “Dear Rebecca,” Cambria began. “It seems so long since you left. I’ve missed you and our afternoon rides. Sometimes I ride to Douloo and visit Willa. It makes me feel better, but as much as I love her, she’s not you. The church feels rather empty without you and the children.

  “I’m getting maudlin. Sorry. I do have grand news. Jim and I have actually set a date for our wedding—July 25. He finally found a piece of land. It’s a fine place, and I’m sure we’ll have a grand station one day. It will take a lot of work, but I don’t mind. The property is east of Thornton Creek and not far from Douloo. We’ll still be able to visit regularly. That is, when you come home. I pray that will be soon.”

  Cambria moved on to Jim and the house he was building. “He’s already started work on our home, and he promises it’ll be completed by July. That’s why we’re planning our wedding on July 25.

  “I consider you my closest friend and can’t imagine your not being here for my wedding. If you’re to be my matron of honor, you must return.”

  Rebecca let the letter rest in her lap. July was months away. It wasn’t possible that she wouldn’t be home by then.

  Rebecca closed her eyes and prayed, Lord, please resolve this matter soon. Don’t allow Mr. Marshal to take Douloo. Provide a way for us.

  She returned to reading the letter.

  “Enough about the wedding. I saw Willa at my aunt’s dress shop last week. She looks well and said she’d started a letter to you. She did admit that she misses you and the children terribly. Don’t mention that I told you. She’d be unhappy with me if she knew.”

  Rebecca smiled. Dear Willa.

  “Daniel joined Jim and me for dinner last week. I could tell you he’s doing well, but that wouldn’t be true. He looks tired and is still trying to scrape together enough to pay that Mr. Marshal. A dust storm destroyed a great deal of the herd he was taking to the sale, and Mr. Marshal won’t wait for payment.”