Chapter Seventeen
Dropping the kindling for the fire outside the kitchen door, Edwina backed away before Mrs Ryan asked her to fetch something else. The Scotswoman was in a right foul mood on account of having to cook for Will and complained that a joint of mutton was missing from the food safe. The cook wasn’t the only unsettled one in their household. Her father and brother had returned from Ridgeway Station an hour earlier, with Father stomping into his study and slamming the door, before immediately heading out on horseback again with Davidson. In contrast, Aiden was dawdling about the place with a dreamy expression she’d not seen before. It seemed that Mr Somerville had not ventured north to the property and that in his place were the visiting Ridgeway children.
‘And that’s who we saw last week with the car?’ probed Edwina once their father was riding away.
‘It was,’ Aiden told her. ‘It was a business meeting, E. Really, you wouldn’t understand.’
‘I wouldn’t understand? Did you?’
Her brother shoved both hands in his pockets.
‘Well, as Father slammed the door to his office, I assume it didn’t go well.’ Really, her brother could be so painfully exasperating at times.
‘No, it didn’t,’ he admitted, then in a rush of beneficence Aiden explained that their father was owed a great sum of money and the Ridgeways had no choice but to pay by the agreed deadline, Friday. ‘The son, Charles, will put up a fight though. He’s that type of person.’
‘So you didn’t like him?’
‘No, I didn’t. He’s different. I got the feeling he thinks he’s better than us. By the way, I was thinking we should block the creek so we have a bigger waterhole near the new paddock we’re clearing. Some people spend an awful lot of money scooping out dams and that would be a lot cheaper and easier, don’t you think?’
It was impossible to work out how Aiden’s mind functioned at times. ‘And what happens to those people depending on the creek further downstream?’ asked Edwina. ‘Not to mention we already have a bore drain out there which is currently only watering the wildlife.’
‘I’ll speak to Father about it.’
She shook her head. ‘You do that.’
Edwina walked back to the chicken pen musing on the shiny Ford and the man that had made her feel so uncomfortable when she and Aiden had come across the party while out riding. Now she understood why. Not that it mattered, for there were more important things to think about. Firstly, her brother’s admittance into the holy sanctum of their father’s world outside the property. Secondly, the surprising news that their father was involved in business with the Ridgeways and that they owed him money.
The hens squawked in annoyance at her intrusion. Racing towards the rear of the coop to their timber roost, they soon lost interest in Edwina as she began scooping shovelfuls of dried manure, dirt, grass and hay into a bucket. She wondered how many other people her father had loaned money to. Not the small-time clients which he alluded to occasionally, but the large landowners, the prominent graziers like those who owned Ridgeway Station. Those people had money. Generations of money. And if their father was doing business with the likes of these people, then it only stood to reason that he would undoubtedly be making money from such associations.
How many times were she and Aiden told that they must live sparingly, that every enterprise must pay for itself, that they were fortunate to have the comfort of a home and food on the table? Edwina always believed that a money-lender made a modest living. And their lives were certainly frugal. But perhaps she’d been naive.
Closing the latch on the gate, Edwina walked across to the vegetable garden and began scattering the manure she’d raked from the chicken pen across the recently turned earth. Something small and round caught her attention and, scraping the soil away, Edwina snatched up the marble with a smile. ‘A cats-eye,’ she murmured, pleased at the find. The yellow-green interior glinted prettily and Edwina happily pocketed the object. There would be no last-minute search tonight for something that could be left at the base of her mother’s tree tomorrow morning.
‘Edwina, have you got that washing yet? And what are we doing about the water?’ Mrs Ryan stood with her arms crossed, her laced shoes planted shoulder-width apart. Aiden called it her angry stance and today the woman was making good use of it.
Sitting the bucket on the ground, Edwina rubbed at the back of her head. There was still a lump from the attack at the circus and the residual dull pain was yet to totally disappear. ‘I just have to finish up here first, Mrs Ryan, and Aiden fetched the water. See?’ She pointed at the barrels lined along the outer kitchen wall next to the food-keeper. ‘Will is to start on the new well any day now.’
‘Well, any day now we could be dying of thirst,’ replied the older woman. ‘And I’m telling you now that not a body in this house will last one minute drinking that brackish muck once the heat comes. And when it does we all know who’ll be the first to complain – your father. His Lordship doesn’t like the taste of his tea, his Lordship finds his lemon cordial quite spoilt, his Lordship –’
‘Yes, Mrs Ryan,’ answered Edwina abruptly. ‘We’re all well aware of our water problems.’ The cook, red-faced from the oven, returned inside the kitchen. Why couldn’t Aiden handle these types of issues? As usual, it would be left to her to address the water problem. To remind her father that work needed to begin on the new well immediately. Flinging the remaining manure across the wilting vegetables, Edwina wondered absently who would fertilise and water the vegetables if she wasn’t here. Did her father ever think of that? No, he was too busy with his trips to Wywanna and dining with his business associates at the Guild.
The Guild. And who were the members of the Guild? Some of the most prominent landowners in the region and beyond. Edwina thought of the fine shirts in his wardrobe, the suits, quantities of neckties and socks and those stays in Wywanna at the guesthouse where rooms were retained. With a start she realised her naivety. This property was more hobby than business. One didn’t have to be a mathematician to understand that their outgoings may well be far greater than the money made from the farm, but that wouldn’t matter so much if there was access to another income. An income that allowed their father to indulge in wheat growing, nice clothes and overnight stays in rented rooms. Was that why he ignored all her suggestions regarding the property, because it was a sideline to his main interest? Well, she’d shown him her plans. And it was a strategy that she was sure would make their holding successful. It was a simple formula that involved branching out into different commodities so that they didn’t have to rely on grain for an income. It might take three or four years before results could be seen, but Edwina knew it was the right decision. The only decision that ensured continued viability.
On hands and knees, she began pulling at the weeds between the onions and turnips. She tugged fiercely at the intruders, crawling between the rows as her anger grew, the soft soil collecting under ragged nails as she plucked out the offending plants, tossing them aside. The afternoon at the circus now seemed a terrible mistake. A mistake that never would have occurred except that her father forbade her to attend. Mason’s friends were right, of course. What woman dressed in second-hand clothes and disguised herself as a man. And what man would want to be seen with someone like Edwina unless it was to either make fun of her or have some fun. Some inappropriate fun. Without thinking, Edwina bit her lip, drawing blood.
‘Edwina, come.’
She looked up from her task, brushing her hands free of dirt. Will beckoned her urgently from the safety of the orchard. Not now, she frowned, waving him away. If her father had let her attend the circus in the first place, she never would have been placed in such an embarrassing predicament.
‘Edwina?’ persisted Will.
After the awkwardness of the morning’s haircut and Will’s delight at her discomfort she was not in the mood for more of his tomfoolery.
‘Edwina, please.’
With a sigh Edwina che
cked her handiwork before brushing the dirt from her clothes. ‘What?’ Having walked through the trees to meet him at the stables, she said, ‘I was busy. Couldn’t you see I was busy?’
The smile on his face fell. ‘Sorry.’ He kicked at the dirt, bending to pick up a stone which he passed from one hand to the other. ‘No-one’s about and I just thought.’ He gestured in the direction of the tack room. ‘You saw him, yes?’ he said hesitantly.
The lion, he was talking about the stolen cub. Edwina thought of the fallen hay bales that she’d neglected to tidy.
‘I didn’t think you’d be able to stay away,’ he rushed on. Ignoring her attempt at a response, Will stepped inside the tack room. ‘Come on.’
Edwina peered into the gloom. There was still the washing to bring in from the line and the hallway to mop. There really wasn’t time for this. ‘Shouldn’t you have made a start on the well?’
‘Come on,’ said Will, taking her arm and dragging her inside.
‘Will, stop it.’ She rubbed at her forearm.
He let her go instantly and sat cross-legged on the ground, patting the earth beside him. ‘You really want to see this.’
‘See what?’ she said curtly.
‘Come on, I know you’re not really as grouchy as you sound. And this is really something.’
Edwina wanted to leave straightaway, but, intrigued, she joined Will, sitting on the cold, packed earth beside him with a deliberate huff, just so he knew she was doing this under sufferance.
‘See, I told you they’d be friends,’ stated Will.
Under the row of saddles in the shadows lay Jed, side by side with the lion cub. The cub’s head was resting on the soft under-belly of the dog, Jed’s front leg draped protectively across the animal. Occasionally one or the other would yawn and press a paw against his companion but otherwise the two animals dozed together in the afternoon heat. The baby lion was only slightly smaller than the collie dog and Edwina wondered how Will had managed to carry such a weight the night they walked from the circus grounds.
‘The little fella seems happier with some company.’
Edwina wouldn’t admit it but she was sure that her old dog would be pleased for a friend as well. The other collies ignored him these days and if they did pay Jed any attention it was only to annoy him.
‘What happened at the Ridgeway place?’ asked Edwina as they sat companionably watching the animals. ‘Aiden didn’t say much.’
‘Don’t know,’ replied Will, ‘but your father and Mr Fernleigh sure don’t like each other. And your father was really mad when we left.’
It had been something of an adventure for Will. Edwina sensed his thrill at having been a part of the proceedings. She thought of the return of her precious locket. ‘Were you always a ringbarker?’
‘You mean was I born with an axe in my hand?’ Will laughed. ‘I did my apprentice as a blacksmith not eight year ago but lost my job. In the big cities a lot of people have automobiles now; people want petrol pump attendants or electricians to fix their shiny new appliances. The horse transport industry isn’t what it used to be.’
‘Everyone uses horses out here. Surely someone would take you on.’
‘Me and the rest of those children who were dragged out to the middle of nowhere with their hero father in search of a better life? Do you have any idea how many people are looking for work? If asking for a job earnt money I’d be a rich man.’
‘Your father saw service?’ asked Edwina.
‘Regular Anzac, he is. From the slums to Gallipoli to a block of dirt that could barely grow a tree. My pa had no background in farming, no money for help or to buy machinery. That was his reward from the government.’
‘You did have a job,’ reminded Edwina, trying to steer him towards more positive thoughts.
‘You’ve seen that camp. Would you work there? Anyway, I’ve not had much luck with jobs in the bush. I did a stint at a boot factory but they let me go on account of my soles being skew-whiff.’
Edwina giggled.
‘The manager suggested I’d be better suited as a boot-catcher, one of those boys who works at inns pulling off patrons’ boots and cleaning them. My ma raised me better than that.’
‘All mothers want the best for their children.’
‘Here, you better take your brother’s coat with you.’ Will removed the wool jacket, folding it carefully. ‘Last time a person lent me a suit and trousers it was my father.’
Edwina took the still warm garment. ‘You didn’t have one of your own?’
Will laughed. ‘What – with seven of us in the family? There was only one suit in our house and when it was needed for something special, me pa lent us his. Of course it had to be a real special reason because he had to go to bed.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cause he had nothing else to wear. Ma reckoned that’s why he signed up. Never had such flash clobber and a hat as well.’
Edwina drew her gaze from Will back to the two sleeping creatures. ‘It must be very hard to be that poor.’
Will flicked at the dirt floor with a finger, the soil spraying a short distance before settling on the ground. ‘When you’re born in a slum there’s always someone worse off than you. And if I hadn’t been born the way I was, and if me pa hadn’t gone to war, then we never would have settled up-country and I wouldn’t have ended up knocking about the bush, odd-jobbing here and there, and then I’d never have met you or rescued Jim-jam.’
‘You named the cub Jim-jam?’ Edwina thought the choice of name very funny.
‘Well, I thought about Pickle,’ said Will, ‘seeing as he was in one, but I figured Jim-jam was better.’
‘Yes,’ Edwina laughed softly, ‘it probably is.’
‘You smell of chicken poo, you know.’ Will brushed a strand of hair from her face.
Edwina drew back from his touch. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ he asked.
‘I’m dirty,’ said Edwina softly.
‘So am I.’ His fingers touched her chin.
Will’s face grew closer until his features blurred. Edwina closed her eyes instinctively, knowing he was about to kiss her, understanding she would let him. His mouth touched hers. Gently at first, testing, and then the pressure increased and his tongue tenderly parted her lips, lapping and flicking. She opened her eyes at this unexpected penetration, readying to push Will away, but his eyes were firmly closed, his arms protectively encircling her body, dragging her towards him, until one of Edwina’s legs was across his lap. Edwina relished the sensation that she could barely explain, delighting in the moment. So this is what it felt like to be kissed.
The door to the tack room opened with a bang. Will was standing in an instant, fiddling with Aiden’s spare coat, which lay on the ground, and mumbling about not having found the rasp he’d dropped.
Edwina got to her feet immediately. ‘Not there,’ she said as if she too had been scrounging about in the dirt for the missing tool.
The figure in the doorway stepped forward. Edwina’s shoulders sunk in relief as Davidson dropped a length of rope in the corner of the room and left soundlessly, closing the door.
Will let out a loud rush of air. ‘Well, that was close.’
Edwina didn’t know what to say or where to look. Snatching Aiden’s coat from Will’s grasp, she opened the tack room door. ‘I, I better leave.’
Will reached in front of her, shoving the door closed before she could escape. Edwina turned slowly to face him, not knowing what to say, noting his palm on the door. She was caught between him and the timber door of the tack room and her chest began to heave at the thought of what may happen next. ‘Let me go, Will.’ Her words were a whisper.
He studied her carefully. ‘I’m not good enough, am I? Oh, maybe for a bit of fun, but that’s all, eh?’
‘Will, don’t say that.’
‘Isn’t it the truth?’
What could she say? A boundary had been crossed that shouldn’t have been crossed
. Surely he knew that. She was Edwina Baker, after all, and he was just a worker on their land. A young man from nowhere with nothing to offer, a man who’d caused her trouble.
With an expression that could only be described as wounded, Will stared at her for a long moment, before opening the door and stepping back.
Edwina wanted to explain. Needed him to understand the wrongness of what they’d done. Instead, she turned and walked away.
Chapter Eighteen
Hamilton pushed through the merinos to the far end of the makeshift yard, muttering under his breath as they brushed his legs, occasionally off-balancing him. The sheep enclosure was situated on a ridge a good distance from the house. With the area surrounded by a forest of prickly pear it was a difficult place to access, unless you knew the route and had Davidson to guide you. The pear filled the understorey of the timber surrounding them and had been so difficult and costly to control in this area that Hamilton had abandoned attempts to clear it. Instead he concentrated on the periphery, trying to stem the spread of the weed, while silently deciding that with this well-hidden location finally some good was coming from the uncontrollable plant. He hoped, of course, that the famed cactoblastis would destroy the prickly pear but he wouldn’t mind so much if this area remained undisturbed.
The enclosure was partially contained by towering trees on two sides. And those woody monsters with their knobbly bark and inter lacing boughs provided a natural barrier, concealing what lay within while also providing support to a section of Davidson’s version of a post and rail fence.
Initially Hamilton had expected to eventually return the sheep in exchange for a payment for damages, but there’d been no-one to deal with at Ridgeway Station over the years except the manager. Somerville certainly wasn’t interested in livestock matters and it seemed Charles Ridgeway did not realise how untrustworthy Fernleigh was. So here he was, the owner of some three hundred sheep that needed to be sold.
Suddenly Davidson was at his side and pointing into the distance. Hamilton looked across the grassy plain in the direction of the road that led into the farm.
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