Heart of the Country (42 page)

He looked briefly at her fingers fiddling with the locket, glanced again around the room then turned for the door.

Harriet moved swiftly to shut it behind him and draw the bolt. Thomas Baker hadn't threatened her and yet she felt uneasy. She put her back to the door, closed her eyes and leaned against it. “Septimus, what have you got us tangled up in?” she murmured.

A small sound made her eyes flick open. Standing in the kitchen doorway was Henry, his train hanging at his side, one thumb in his mouth, watching her with big round eyes.

“Ready, Timothy?” Thomas lifted his hat and raised his eyebrows at the young man driving his new cart.

The lad gave a nod and encouraged the horse forward. Thomas took his horse to the front, leading the way as he'd done each day since they'd departed Port Augusta. His visit to Wiltshire's house had answered none of his questions. He'd stalked back into town with frustration gnawing in his chest. Unable to have it out with the man, he'd thrown his energy into completing his business in the port and left that same afternoon.

He had selected Timothy Castles as the best of a motley group of young men eager to work as a shepherd. He was the youngest of a family of seven boys and his parents were happy for him to find work away from the port. He was confident with horses, and went with Thomas to select a gelding to pull the new cart. Thomas hoped that understanding would also transfer to the sheep that Timothy would be working with.

The cart was partitioned with a wooden gate. The ram Thomas had bought was tethered in the back section and the front was piled high with provisions, including a small mulberry tree wobbling along on the side where the ram couldn't reach it. It wasn't ideal but he wanted to travel quickly and get home as soon as possible.

They had made good time. Timothy had been efficient and eager to please. He was up and ready to go first thing each morning. Thomas hoped they'd make Wildu Creek before nightfall.

The thought of Terrett, what he'd done and the threats he'd made, still troubled Thomas. He'd called in to see the constable and explained what Zac had told him about Terrett's treatment of the native girl. The constable hadn't been too interested and even less so when he remembered Zac as a drunkard. He'd told Thomas that without a reliable witness there was little he could do. Thomas had been enraged: something had to be done about the girl's fate. Thomas just hadn't worked out what yet. After that he hadn't bothered to mention the theft of his mother's possessions. He had no way to identify the items. It was this Septimus Wiltshire he needed to meet. Every troubled thought led back to him.

Between Wiltshire, Terrett and the loss of the income from four bales of wool, Thomas had plenty to occupy his mind on the journey home. They made the dry creek that marked the beginning of Wildu Creek just after midday. Thomas resisted the urge to gallop ahead and instead reined his horse in under the shade of some trees.

“This is where Wildu Creek begins,” he said.

Timothy climbed down from the cart and rubbed his behind. “I'm glad to be here at last,” he said. “It looks like good country.”

“It's much drier than it was when we first arrived, but there are permanent waterholes for the sheep and plenty of bluebush for them to eat when the grass is low. This creek marks our southern boundary. To the east and north we're hemmed in by mountains and vegetation; to the west our boundary lines up with a small ridge. That's the start of our neighbour's lease – Smith's Ridge.”

Thomas cast his eyes in the direction of the hazy brown outcrop above Wiltshire's run. With the help of another shepherd, Thomas planned to spend more of his own time along that boundary. He didn't trust Terrett. He looked in the direction of his home. Now that he was on his own land again he was anxious to see Lizzie and Joseph.

His horse turned in a circle, stirring up the dust. Thomas could wait no longer. “I'm going to ride ahead,” he said. “Once you've rested, work your way across the plain. You'll see the tracks made by our wagon. You'll come to a creek. Follow it up through the low hills and our little settlement will be visible through the trees.”

Timothy nodded.

“If you tether the ram to the back of the cart it can walk the rest of the way.”

“Good idea, Mr Baker. I might do the same. My behind's still numb from the seat of that cart.” He gave Thomas a wry grin.

“Mrs Baker will have a meal ready for you when you arrive.”

Thomas gave Timothy one last look then turned his horse for home. Unease had built in his chest. He wouldn't be happy until he saw his family again, safe and sound.

The small relief he felt at the first sign of smoke above the trees turned to suspicion at the sight of a strange horse tethered in the bush well before the house. Whose was it, and why would someone leave their horse such a distance away?

Thomas moved his own horse at walking pace. There was no sign of the rider. He rode on, searching the bush and trees as he went. It was very quiet: too quiet. Just before he reached the place where his house would come into view, he dismounted and tethered his own horse. He slid his whip from its holder and made his way on foot. He rounded the last of the thicker bushes and looked up the slope. There was no sign of Lizzie or Zac or Gulda. He shook off his fear. The men were most likely off with the sheep and Lizzie out the back in her garden.

Thomas reached the clear ground in front of his house. There was no one at the seats by the creek where Lizzie often worked in the fresh air. The silence was unsettling. The door to the house was open. His heart gave an extra thump at the sight of a basket of washing tipped over on the verandah with its contents spilled out onto the dirt. Then he heard a laugh that made his blood go cold.

Terrett's goading voice came from somewhere beyond the house.

“Come on, you weak excuse for a man.”

Thomas edged along the side of the house, his whip firmly gripped in his hand. He peered around the corner. Fear flooded through him. Lizzie was sprawled on the ground, not moving. Zac stood just beyond her. His back was to Thomas but he held the firearm pointing off to the side. Thomas couldn't see what he was aiming at but he assumed it was Terrett.

Lizzie's head was twisted back towards Thomas. He scanned her again. The bodice of her dress was ripped and there was blood on her cheek, but he saw her eyelids flutter then the small movement of one hand. Thank the Lord she wasn't dead. Thomas cast another look over his wife then eased his way back around the house to come at Terrett from the other side.

Zac had the gun but Thomas wasn't sure of his state of mind. Terrett was goading the younger man, calling him all kinds of names. The noise he was making, he wouldn't hear Thomas coming. Thomas reached the other side of his house and once more peered around the corner. Terrett was just in front of him and further to the right was Zac, side on.

“You'd trade your sister for some booze, wouldn't you, Zaccy boy?” Terrett said.

Thomas saw the muscles in Zac's arms stiffen, as did his own.

Terrett howled in surprise and fell to his knees as the whip wrapped around his body.

Thomas stepped up in front of him, gripping the handle of the whip as Terrett twisted back and forth. “If you've harmed my wife, you mongrel, I'll horsewhip you from here to Port Augusta.”

“She'll be all right.” Zac's voice was low but edged with steel.

Thomas flicked a glance at his brother-in-law. He had stepped closer, his finger rested on the firing pin of the weapon he aimed at Terrett's head. Beyond him Lizzie was struggling to sit up.

“The same can't be said for the poor native woman you brutalised, Terrett,” Zac growled. “You'll die for that and for coming here, wanting to do the same to my sister.”

Thomas felt a small ripple of relief. It sounded as if Zac had stopped Terrett from harming Lizzie.

“You haven't got the guts,” Terrett spat.

Thomas looked back to Zac. Terrett was wrong. He'd only ever known him as half the man he was capable of being.

“Don't do it, Zac,” Thomas said quietly. “We'll hand him over and let the law deal with him.”

Zac snorted but he didn't shift his look from Terrett. “The law doesn't care about the natives,” he said. “You know that. The only justice she'll get is whatever I dish out.”

“You're not man enough,” Terrett sneered. “If your brother-in-law hadn't come along, I'd have done you by now and then had your sister.”

Zac's finger moved slightly on the firing pin.

“It takes a bigger man to hold off, Zac.” Thomas spoke again. “I'll make sure they listen.”

His brother-in-law kept his steely glare on Terrett then he lowered the firearm a little.

“I told you you were too weak.” Terrett began to laugh a terrible laugh that was cut short as Thomas's fist connected with the side of his face. He fell to the ground, where Zac kicked him in the stomach. They stood over him together. His piggy eyes rolled in his head, then shut.

“Stop.”

Thomas and Zac both turned at the sound of Lizzie's voice. She had made it to her feet. Thomas groaned at the sight of her ripped blouse and bloodied cheek. He crossed the space between them and wrapped her in his arms.

In the brief silence, Joseph's sleepy cry came from the direction of the house.

“We'll let the law deal with Mr Terrett,” Lizzie said.

Joseph's wail grew louder. She eased from his embrace and limped inside.

Thomas watched the door close behind her before he turned back to the vile man spread eagled at his feet. He poked Terrett with his boot. He didn't move but Thomas could see the rise and fall of his chest.

Zac broke the silence. “I'm sorry. I wasn't gone long, but he must have been biding his time, watching the place. He knew you were away and must have seen that Gulda and Daisy are working the east side.”

“What happened?” Every muscle in Thomas's body tensed. Anger continued to simmer inside him.

“I came back from checking the sheep down by the house creek.” Zac paused and gripped the firearm so tightly his knuckles went white. “I was just in time to see him dragging Lizzie around the house.”

“Dear God.” The thought of Terrett even laying a finger on Lizzie had Thomas's hands curling into fists again.

“He didn't see me.” Zac's lips turned up. “She bit him and he gave her a backhander just as I got there with the firearm.”

“He'll pay for that,” Thomas snarled.

“A few bruises and scratches. I'll live.” Lizzie was back with a fresh shirt, the blood gone from the cut on her cheek and a bleary-eyed Joseph in her arms.

“What about your head? You were knocked out.” Thomas put a finger to the cut on her cheek.

“I must have hit my head on the wall when he shoved me away. Caught my cheek on a rock. I feel fine, Thomas, really.”

They stood in a circle, all looking down upon the motionless form of Terrett.

“What'll we do with him?” Zac asked.

“Hello?” a voice called. Thomas's new shepherd walked around the hut. He stopped, his face full of alarm.

“You found your way then, Timothy.” Thomas grinned. The tension eased out of him. “This is our new shepherd, Timothy Castles.” Thomas put an arm around Lizzie. “This is my wife, Lizzie, my son, Joseph, and the fellow with the firearm is my brother-in-law, Zac.”

Timothy looked at each of them then gaped down at Terrett. “And who's that?” he asked.

They all stared at Terrett, who was beginning to moan.

“Our neighbour.”

“An animal.”

Lizzie and Thomas both spoke at once.

“He's lower than an animal.” Zac growled and pushed Terrett back as he tried to sit himself up.

“Bring me that rope by the back door, Timothy,” Thomas said.

They bound Terrett's feet. Thomas removed the whip and then used the rest of the rope to tie his hands.

“He can stay out here under the tree for now,” Thomas said once they had the groaning Terrett securely tethered. Thomas rolled his shoulders and looked around. The last of the light was quickly leaving the sky. “I'll take him in the new cart to the constable in Port Augusta tomorrow.”

“You've just got home.” Lizzie looked at him, her face full of concern.

“I'll go,” Zac said.

“I know you would.” Thomas shook his head. “I'm sorry, Zac, but after your last trip to Port Augusta, the constable won't take your word very easily.” He turned to his new shepherd. “Timothy, it will have to be you and me. You can ride ahead. I'll write a letter for you to give the constable. Get him to come and meet me along the way.”

Timothy beamed. “Sure thing, Mr Baker. A horse will be better than that wooden cart seat. My backside's still numb.” He paused and looked at Lizzie. “Beg your pardon, Mrs Baker.”

Lizzie laughed. How Thomas loved that sound and how relieved he was, she appeared unharmed.

“I think we'll all need a decent meal tonight,” she said.

Joseph was happier now, and squirming to get out of her arms. Thomas saw her wince. He took the child from her but before he could speak, she cut him off.

“I'll go and prepare the meal while you men show Timothy where he's to sleep, and get yourselves cleaned up.”

Thomas watched her walk away. She wasn't moving at her usual quick pace. Joseph began to wriggle, trying to get to the ground. Thomas let him slide down his body then took him by the hand. Zac took his nephew's other hand. The little boy swung between them all the way to the original hut, where Zac now slept. The men had added a second room for the new shepherd.

“It's nothing fancy, I'm afraid,” Thomas said as the lad stepped inside.

Timothy turned full circle then looked back at Thomas, his mouth open. “But it's my own room,” he gasped. “I've never had a room all to myself before.”