Read Heart of the Country Online
Authors: Tricia Stringer
Heart of the Country (55 page)
“Is it bad news, Father?” Ellen asked more gently this time. “You've gone quite pale.”
Thomas picked the paper up again. “Not bad news exactly,” he said.
“Read it, Thomas,” Lizzie urged from across the table.
Thomas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he began.
“Dear Mr Baker,
I trust this finds you well in these difficult times.
I am writing to tell you the sad news of my husband's passing, although I am well aware now that he has done you several disservices in the past and you may not react unhappily to the news of his death. Septimus had been finding it difficult to make a living like so many at this time and had taken up his hawking trade again. His body was found in a dry creek bed some miles from an inn he owned in the hills across the plain from Port Augusta. His body had been in the elements for some time before he was found and the police can only assume he took ill and became disoriented. They think he died from exposure to the elements.
By the time this letter reaches you I will have left Port Augusta with my son to take up residence in Adelaide. Without Septimus to look out for us I feel we will fare better in a larger town. I have sold my house and the inn and a small farm nearby, but I do not intend to renew the lease my husband held on the property near yours called Smith's Ridge.”
Lizzie gasped and Thomas looked up from the page.
“What's the matter, Mother?” Ellen asked.
“That's the man that stole Smith's Ridge from Uncle Zac and Uncle Jacob,” Joseph said.
“Finish it,” Lizzie said.
Thomas cleared his throat, knowing already what the next lines contained.
“I have left the paperwork with Mr Grant the commission agent in Port Augusta, whom I believe you know. It was Mr Grant who told me where to address this letter. I want you to have the option of renewing the lease in the hope it may go some way towards righting a wrong that my husband has caused you in the past.
I don't imagine we will ever meet again. It is not my intention. Should there be some need to correspond, Mr Grant will know where to forward the letter. He also holds a box for you containing a china tea seat and some books.
I remain yours faithfully
Harriet Wiltshire.”
Silence followed Thomas's folding of the letter.
It was Ellen who broke it.
“I don't understand. What wrong did the man do to you, Father?”
Lizzie held his gaze across the table. Tears brimmed in her eyes and her lip trembled. Thomas turned to his daughter.
“Mr Wiltshire did some unkind things in the past, Ellen. They are best forgotten. But Smith's Ridge was supposed to belong to your uncles. Mr Wiltshire was underhanded in the way he managed the lease, and they lost their money.”
“Much more than money,” Lizzie murmured.
“Does that mean Uncle Zac and Uncle Jacob will come back?” Ellen asked.
“I don't know, Ellen,” Thomas said. “There's more to it than the land. They have no stock or equipment. They might not want to start again.”
“Perhaps we could take up the lease,” Joseph said. “Manage it for them.”
Thomas looked at the anticipation on his son's face. He couldn't help the chuckle that gurgled from his throat. “You've raised an optimist, Lizzie, I'll give you that. Who else would want to take on more land in a drought?”
“Listen,” Ellen said. “What's that?”
They all looked up as something made a clattering sound across the tin roof.
“It's
rain
.” Joseph jumped up and poked his sister. “I told you it would rain.”
The clatter was accompanied by the rumble of thunder. By the time they all got outside, rain was thrumming down beyond the verandah. They could see nothing but grey and the occasional flash of lightning.
The young ones jumped around in excitement and Thomas grabbed Lizzie and pulled her close.
“We've survived, Thomas,” she said and he kissed her.
“One shower of rain isn't enough, Lizzie.”
She looked at the downpour and back to Thomas and tweaked his nose. “I think it's more than a shower.”
They held each other and watched as Joseph and Timothy took turns to dash out into the rain, shout at the sky and run back onto the verandah. Ellen squealed in delight as they splashed her with their wet clothes.
“You're still not smiling, Thomas,” Lizzie said.
“I was pondering the letter. Mrs Wiltshire didn't mention the locket. If she was returning Mother's things, I had hoped to recover it to give to you.”
Lizzie lifted her own locket from her neck. “You've already given me a locket, dearest. I don't need any more.”
“You're a wonder to keep smiling through everything, Lizzie Baker.”
“Why wouldn't I smile? It's raining. We can get Smith's Ridge back. Our troubles are over. We'll be back on our feet in two shakes of a lamb's tail. You'll see.”
Thomas gazed into Lizzie's cornflower-blue eyes. Even after all their hardships those eyes still sparkled. “If I've learned anything from living here, Lizzie, it's that nothing is predictable. In this country we will always be at the mercy of the land.”
Thomas paused and turned his head. Over the noise of the rain he heard another roar, a sound he hadn't heard in a long time.
“Watch,” he said and pointed to the creek.
They all craned over the verandah as water began to flow down the dry bed and then build until it was a raging torrent carrying years of debris in its muddy waters.
He put a hand on Joseph's shoulder and pulled Lizzie close. “That's Wildu Creek,” he said. “Our life blood.”
“It flows through Smith's Ridge as well,” Joseph said. “We're much better at managing this land than anyone else. We can improve it can't we, Father?”
Thomas looked into his son's searching gaze and remembered his own youthful enthusiasm. He wasn't an old man yet, even though he'd felt ancient of late. He tugged Joseph into his embrace.
“Together, son, the Bakers will do it together.”
“And Gulda and Timothy.” Ellen glared at him with her hands on her hips.
Thomas smiled. She was the image of her mother. “There will be work for everyone.” He hoisted her onto his shoulders. “Including you, miss.”
“I know, Father, I know,” she said in a voice much older than her nine years.
Lizzie raised her eyebrows at him; her lips turned up in a smile then she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Life will be better now, Thomas,” she murmured as they looked out over the muddy waters of Wildu Creek. “We've been tested and this is our reward.”
“I hope you're right, sweet Lizzie.” He couldn't imagine what his life would have been without her by his side. “Whatever the future brings, we'll face it together.'
Time would tell but as Lizzie had said, they had survived this far. He looked forward to restocking, not only Wildu Creek but Smith's Ridge. He'd often thought the neighbouring property cursed. However Joseph was right: better management would improve it.
“Look at that,” Ellen squealed.
A huge branch floated past as if it was nothing more than a twig. It rolled with the force of the water, rammed into the bank opposite then broke free and continued down the creek.
Thomas wondered if he wasn't so different to the log, propelled along by the forces of nature with very little power to change course.
Beside him Lizzie shivered. “It's getting cold out here. Everyone inside. We'll eat early tonight.”
Thomas slid Ellen from his shoulders.
“Tomorrow everyone can have a proper bath,” Lizzie said as she ushered the children and Timothy inside.
Joseph and Ellen protested.
Thomas stared at the creek a little longer. Thunder rumbled close overhead. A shiver ran down his back. He hunched his shoulders. Thank goodness they now had a stone house with a tin roof. He followed the others inside and shut the door on the storm. Tonight they could have a small celebration. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
The people and places in this story are all fictitious except in the case of place names and well-known or documented people of the era, such as the governor of the day, which help set the scene. The dates of real events, such as the naming of a town, may not be completely accurate; this is to permit flexibility within the story.
This is a work of fiction but it became obvious to me early in my writing that one could not tell a story about early European pastoralists and leave out any mention of indigenous Australians. My research revealed much documentation of early encounters between Aboriginal and European people. I have used this research to try to give some sense of realism to my story.
While I read widely on the life and times of the era and have tried to bring it to life with authenticity, any mistakes are my own.
This story has been a long time coming. I fell in love with the Flinders Ranges in the north of South Australia on my first visit there in 1989 and I have been going back ever since. After so much time spent exploring the beautiful yet rugged country of the region it didn't surprise me that a story would develop. What did surprise me was
Heart of the Country
was not where my tale originally began. I gave some early chapters to my husband to read and he encouraged me to write Thomas's story. So thank you Daryl, without your encouragement this tale would not have been told.
Research has played a huge part and as I love history, I lost myself in books about the early days of South Australia at the time of European settlement. The biographies and diaries were my favourites. What hardships those early settlers lived through. I spent a lot of time in libraries and I want to particularly thank the delightful Rosie at Hawker library, who pointed me in the right direction with several great books and also allowed me extensions when my reading got held up. Also heartfelt thanks to Andrew and Joy Hilder, who have a great personal local history collection and for providing accommodation and guided tours over the years.
Writing historical fiction is quite a different experience and I am grateful to Kate O'Donnell whose initial editorial skills and attention to the detail of the era were much appreciated.
Once again I am indebted to the fantastic team at Harlequin. Sue Brockhoff believed in the early manuscript, and Annabel Blay, Kylie Mason and Jo Mckay cast their clever editorial eyes over it and were so helpful in tidying things up. Alongside them there is a wonderful band who have helped me in various ways, Adam, Caroline, Louise and many more. Thank you all for embracing this new genre of writing for me.
Margie Arnold champions my books around South Australia. Margie has taken me on tour many times to meet readers and I'm so grateful for her support and encouragement.
Writing can be a solitary profession but I am thankful to the many writers I've met who have become a supportive network over the years. They're all over Australia so it's great when we can meet face to face over a coffee or a wine and share our writing highs and lows.
I am so lucky to have the backing and love of my dear family, close and extended, and wonderful friends who encourage me to follow my dream and cheer me on. My thanks and love to you all.
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ISBN: 9781488797811
Title: Heart of the Country
First Australian Publication 2015
Copyright © 2015by Tricia Stringer
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher: