by Amanda Deed
‘What do you see?’ Tension wound like a coil inside her, ready to unravel at any moment.
‘You are unhappy.’
The simple statement from her father snapped the last of her resolve. As if he even cared. ‘How many years has it taken you to figure that out? Look at me.’ Jane gestured to her body and then swiped at an angry tear. ‘But you can’t even do that, can you? I’m too ugly even for you.’
Pa appeared startled and … and hurt? No, that couldn’t be. Jane clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d once again blurted out her feelings. What was happening to her of late? Things kept bursting out of her. Things she’d managed to keep hidden and buried for a long time.
Pa shifted from one foot to the other, uneasy. ‘Did one of your drover friends die?’
Jane stared at her father, bewildered. He changed the subject, just like that. Pa couldn’t even give her an honest answer, or deny his revulsion. Instead, he asked her about the drovers? ‘No.’
Pa’s brow furrowed then, angry. ‘That lying mongrel. He told me …’ He stopped short, as if he’d given away something he shouldn’t have.
‘Who told you what?
Her father shifted his glance from Zai to Moses to the ground, then lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I stopped at the barbershop today.’
‘You saw Mr Moreland?’ The smallest ray of hope shone into her tumultuous emotions.
‘He seemed to think you were grieving over one of the drovers.’
Jane shook her head in astonishment. ‘Wait. Am I hearing right? You asked Mr Moreland about me? Rather than ask me yourself?’
Pa shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable again. ‘Is it true?’
Exasperated, Jane threw her head back and looked up into the grey clouds. ‘Yes, but not because he died.’ She didn’t want to explain her feelings for Danny to Pa. She crouched and gave Zai a scratch around the ears.
Her father was silent for a moment, and then let out a grunt. ‘I see.’
Clearly, he didn’t want to delve into her reasons, or didn’t care enough to know.
‘What do you think of Mr Moreland?’
Jane didn’t answer right away, although the words ‘I like him’ wanted to burst from her lips. Did Pa want to hear that, though? Or did his expectations line up with her stepmother’s? He might be angry if Jane admitted to befriending Mr Moreland. Hadn’t Pa called him a lying mongrel a few minutes ago? Perhaps it was best to keep it secret, the same as Danny had been. Jane offered her father a shrug and turned to throw one of the sticks again.
‘I understand you’ve been exchanging letters.’
Jane held her breath as she faced him again. So much for keeping it secret. Pa must have had a long chat with Mr Moreland. What had Mr Moreland told him? Was she to receive an imminent and harsh scolding? She nodded, her eyes lowered, bracing herself against the barrage of reproachful words that she expected to follow.
‘He asked me for permission to court you.’
At that Jane’s head snapped up and she stared at him. For once, Pa looked her in the eye in return, searching. The heavy rock sitting in the pit of her stomach took flight and her heartbeat rose with it. ‘He did?’ The simple question came out as though there was a rasp in her throat.
‘Aye. But I’ll not allow it unless you wish it so.’ Pa fiddled with the rim of his hat for a moment, then glanced back up at her. ‘Do you?’
Jane could barely breathe, let alone speak. Mr Moreland wanted to court her? Danny had never taken their friendship that far. And why was she thinking of Danny at all? Mr Moreland wanted to court her! That meant … oh, she couldn’t think about that now. It was too much. Too much to hope for. Jane let out a choked gurgle of laughter and nodded to her father.
Pa pressed his hat back on his head. ‘So be it then. He’ll be here next Tuesday evening.’
Jane couldn’t believe it. She wanted to throw her arms around her father and thank him, but he was already walking away. Not that he would appreciate her leaping on him anyway. But she had to do something to release her excitement.
Essie. Jane could ride until her hair flew out behind her and she would fill the Hay Plains with whoops of joy. ‘Moses.’ She put out her arm for him. ‘We’re going for a ride.’
For the second time since leaving America, Price wished for his wardrobe back home. One of his dashing coats and satin brocade vests would impress Miss Jane. But then he reminded himself that she was not a woman who sought material status. She wouldn’t care if he came to visit wearing patches on his elbows. Besides, she might be daunted by such a display, since she appeared not to own a single new gown. That was something he would remedy as soon as appropriate. He imagined how stunning her looks would be against a deep green fabric, tailored to her tall slender frame. Miss Jane would leave the people of Hay speechless. No one seemed to appreciate what he had observed beneath her ill-fitting, colourless dresses. They might have noticed her pretty face if she lifted her chin for long enough, but how would anyone recognise the strength of her beauty dressed as she was?
Tuesday had taken what seemed forever to come around, but now it was here and Price’s nerves were unaccountably on edge. It was because he hadn’t seen Miss Jane for at least a month. That’s what he told himself as he ran a comb through his hair and oiled it to sit right. Was Miss Jane as tightly wound as he? Would she be more talkative tonight, since they had communed so much via letter, or would she be as reserved and quiet as when he saw her last?
Price shrugged into a warm coat, collected his hand lantern and made his way out into the dark evening. Although cold, it was by no means freezing, not by his standards at any rate. But the lack of a moon of any kind to brighten the night, made it seem colder. His breath came as mist on the air as he walked by the light of his lamp toward the O’Reilly farm.
Before long, he heard the jingle of tack and the grind of wheels on the road behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a bullock team approaching, the driver sitting on the empty dray, holding aloft his own lantern. It took but a moment to recognise the wiry form of Mr Clark.
‘Well now, how are you this fine evening, Clark?’
With a surprised, but not unhappy snort, the carter jumped from the moving cart and jogged to the head of the team, where Price waited for him. ‘On my way home, Bobby, as any man in his right mind should be. But you look like yer on yer way out.’
‘That I am.’ Price grinned at him in the dim lantern light.
‘On a dark, moonless night in the middle of winter?’
‘Well, yeah. Mind you, I’m used to far colder winters than this.’
Clark shrugged. ‘I s’pose ya have a point. Where are ya off to?’
‘Seamus O’Reilly’s place. I’m joining them for supper.’
‘Really?’ Clark looked sideways at him. ‘An’ what do ya make of that odd girl, Plain Jane?’
Price took a moment to reply, considering how much to tell. ‘Keep this to yourself, Clark, but I’m courting her.’
The carter stopped dead in his tracks, astonished. ‘Courtin’ her? Are you serious? I mean, she’s pretty enough, but don’t ya find her strange?’
Price ground his teeth as the muscles across his back and down his arms became taut. ‘I’d be careful what you say right about now, buddy.’
‘I don’t mean to offend,’ his friend was quick to reply. ‘It’s just that everyone says how strange she is an’ she wears clothes unfit for a scarecrow, an’ she don’t talk to anybody an’ carries that bird ’round with her everywhere.’
Price clenched and unclenched the fist of his free hand, the tension in his body barely restrained. But he couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. ‘Because, the same as everyone else in town, you haven’t taken time to know her, but instead make judgements on what you perceive.’
Clark raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
‘All ri’. All ri’. I’m sorry. I had no idea you had it that bad for the girl.’
Price drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, then offered Clark a grim smile. ‘Yeah, well I do.’ He shook the tension from his shoulders, rolling them in large circles.
‘Well, all the best with it then. An’ I really mean that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re right about the people in this town, though. Everyone seems to be stuck in their own circles an’ don’t take to anyone outside of it.’
Price released a snort of laughter. ‘Yes, and I don’t think they’ve decided which set I fit in yet.’ He glanced sideways at Clark. ‘Not that I wish to belong to any of them in particular. God loves all mankind equally.’
Clark nodded in the faint light. ‘Yeah. I’ve heard you an’ the pastor say that before.’
‘Try to keep it in mind when you meet someone outside of your circle.’ Price was still stinging from Clark’s attack on Miss Jane. Not that there was any real malice in the man’s words, but it bothered Price just the same.
‘I will, mate.’ Clark gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. ‘Well, here’s where I turn off. I’ll see ya ’round.’
Price nodded to him and stopped to watch him lead the bullock team off toward his home. A few minutes later Price turned off the road as well and his heart kicked up a notch as he approached the gate. The glow of another lantern shone from the other side of the gate, silhouetting in part a feminine form. And he made out the shape of two scamps bounding at her heels. That alone told him what he needed to know.
He held up his lantern and leaned on the gate. In the lamplight, her face glowed and a shy smile even graced her mouth, although her eyes went no further than his chin. But to him, she was beautiful. Words of greeting died in his throat as he took in every detail of her fresh face.
Price watched as her green eyes roamed over his face, too, stopping briefly at his own eyes, whereupon they dropped to his coat lapels. Who knows how long he might have stood there staring at her? Price didn’t care, and Miss Jane didn’t seem to care either. Until he noticed her shiver and fidget with her sleeves. She was cold and standing out in the darkness without a heavy coat. The sun set so early on these winter days.
‘Well now, are you going to open the gate and let me in?’ Price broke the spell that had come over them, smiling at her broadly.
Miss Jane became flustered at that, perhaps embarrassed for the oversight. ‘Of course.’ She unlatched the gate and together they swung it open.
Now without the wooden barrier between them, temptation to take her in his arms assaulted Price. Fighting the impulse, he busied himself by closing and fastening the gate, while the two terriers pounced on him in greeting.
‘Zai. Jem. Down.’ Miss Jane tried to chastise the pups. They backed off for a moment, raced around her ankles a few times, then resumed leaping at Price.
‘Who needs a chaperone with those fellows for company?’ He laughed as he scratched them both behind the ears. If he wanted to try and embrace Miss Jane, very likely the energetic pets would interfere. Price straightened to look at her again. ‘It is good to see you at last, Miss Jane.’
‘Is it?’ Her eyes widened, searching his face again.
Price took one of her hands in his, realising at once that no glove covered her soft skin, and lifted it to his lips. He brushed the back of her hand with a kiss but let his grasp on her fingers linger. ‘How could you doubt?’ It wasn’t an accusation, but more of a promise. He hoped so at any rate. It was hard to gauge how she received things when she rarely gave him a direct gaze. Right now, she stared down at her hand as it rested so snugly in his. Would she learn to trust him with her heart?
‘I … I’ve missed you.’
It was a simple statement, but Price suspected it took a huge effort for her to make that admission. And it was enough to make him almost lose his composure and take her in his arms. Alas, the time was not right. Not yet. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her fingers. ‘And I you.’ Glancing at the warm glow of light, which emanated from the homestead, Price drew Miss Jane’s hand through his elbow. ‘We should go inside.’ Before I do lose my resolve.
16
For the next few weeks Jane walked as though the clouds were beneath her. On Sundays she still received a handwritten letter from Mr Moreland and then on Tuesdays, he came to the house while Mother and the girls went to town. She lived for those moments. And in between, she relived them often. Especially while she forged her way through tedious chores, such as scrubbing clothes on the washboard.
At first Jane was uncertain of Mr Moreland’s thoughts about her. She suspected he considered her dull company—only happy when other folk surrounded them. It was not until after the first few visits, while they said their good nights one evening that the truth dawned on her. Something entirely different might be keeping him distant.
As she worked to the rhythm of cotton against the washboard corrugations, Jane remembered that night.
She had walked Mr Moreland to the fence line and the night had already frosted over, making the grass crunch underfoot. Their breath filled the air around them like fog and they walked as near each other as they dared. Jane gripped his arm tighter than usual and with both hands, trying to maintain warmth in them. Every now and then they bumped into one another, and Jane thrilled at the sense of dependable strength beside her. It would have been so easy to tuck her arms inside his coat and snuggle into his chest.
Indeed, that image was foremost in her mind when they stopped at the gate to say their farewells. The idea of being that close to him rendered her speechless. Jane lifted her hands to breathe warm air onto them, then rubbed her arms.
‘Well now, you are too cold.’ Mr Moreland took her hands between his and rubbed them. ‘You’ll freeze on your way back to the house. Perhaps I should escort you back and keep you warm.’
A tingle of pleasure shot through Jane’s body, especially at the earnest gaze that accompanied his words. But she didn’t want him to trouble himself over her. ‘But then you’ll be cold longer than you should be. Don’t you want to go home?’
‘Never.’
Jane happened to glance into his eyes at that moment and she saw that fervent burn that she had noticed a few times now. The expression she’d been afraid to analyse. In this instance, she allowed herself to put a name to it, at least in theory. Did she recognise desire in his gaze? Did he actually see her as attractive?
‘Never?’ Could it be possible that this growing friendship held more promise than simply a couple who believed they might be comfortable together for the long term? Was it possible that he …? Jane swallowed. It was too much. But she forced her overwhelming epiphany aside and made herself take a long look into his eyes.
‘Don’t you know it, my dear?’ He still held on to her hands, so warm, so secure. And his eyes were brimful of longing.
Jane’s stomach churned with terrified wonder. Mr Moreland called her dear. This tall, gorgeous, kind, generous man cared for her, Plain Jane, the dowdiest girl in town? It was beyond what she ever dreamed might happen for her.
As if to emphasise his point, Mr Moreland then kissed both of her hands—twice each—sending spirals of heat through Jane’s body. When he spoke next, his voice had been hoarse. ‘Unfortunately, if I walk you back to the homestead it could be my undoing. And so, I shall bid you good night and count the minutes until I see you again.’
Since that evening, Jane’s spirits had remained high, no matter what her sisters said to her, or how they teased her. It didn’t matter what horrible drudgery Mother sent her to do. None of it mattered. Mr Moreland was her beau, a real beau, not just one she imagined, and nothing could bring her down.
Jane hummed as she carried her basket full of clean washing to hang on the lines behind the cookhouse. Moses sang along in his raucous, out-of-tune fashion, perched on her
shoulder. Though it was nippy, the sun shone and the cloudless sky stretched blue from horizon to horizon. The washing might take two days to dry, but at least it would dry. As she neared the corner of the building, hushed voices drifted to her. Hushed but with a note of urgency. Jane slowed and then paused. She didn’t want to interrupt and she recognised the voices of Aunt Ruby and Old Darcy. She meant to turn away when her own name froze her feet to the ground.
‘Hush, Moses.’ She clamped fingers around his beak to give the bird a strong message. Surely, they must have heard her coming with Moses making a riotous noise. But no, they continued, engrossed in their conversation.
‘I worry about her, Darcy.’ Concern filled Aunt Ruby’s voice.
‘She’s happy, love.’
‘She speaks nonstop of Mr Moreland when we’re alone. She’s building all her hopes and dreams on this man.’
Jane furrowed her brow. What was wrong with that? Had she talked too much? Aunt Ruby was the one person who listened to her when she needed to talk, seriously talk.
‘He seems a decent man. I don’t think she could have picked a better fellow.’
Jane smiled. Yes, Mr Moreland was the best of men.
‘What if he breaks her heart?’
‘What do you mean?’
Yes, what do you mean, Aunt Ruby?
‘What if this courtship comes to nothing? What if he changes his mind? What if … what if he died? Who would pick up the pieces?’
Silence fell between them for a moment, but panic rose in Jane. Why would Aunt Ruby imagine such things? Mr Moreland wouldn’t change his mind, would he?
‘Ruby, love. You’re thinking about your own past now, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, in a way. I tumbled into love with Doctor Weaver so quickly. He was the only man who ever showed he cared. And we shared a happy life together. But when he died …’
Aunt Ruby paused. Jane guessed her emotions were surfacing. She had mourned her first husband for a long time. But what has that to do with me?
