“Tell me what’s troubling you, child. I may not be able to help, but sharing your troubles will ease your burden.”
The sacred atmosphere of the church inspired confession. Father Quinlan had a kind face and a warm voice, so Abbey soon divulged her life story in detail, including her awful wedding to Ebenezer Mason and her meeting with Jack and his mother in Clare, when she had fainted outside the employment office. She poured out her heart without reservation. Father Quinlan listened without judgement or comment.
Abbey blew her nose and sniffled at intervals, but by the time she had purged her soul, she did feel better. “Thank you for listening, Father. I don’t know what you must think of me, since we’ve only just met.”
“I’m here to do God’s work, and that includes counseling my parishioners,” Father Quinlan said. “Just remember, whenever you are burdened, God’s love can give you comfort, and I am always here to listen.”
“I miss my father so much,” Abbey said. “I feel so alone.”
“You’re not alone, my child. Remember that. God is always with you, and he will guide and protect you. I believe he guided you to Clare, where you met Jack and his mother.”
“Do you think so?” Abbey asked. She had thought it was just a coincidence.
“Of course I do. You’re right where God believes you should be. Now would you like a wee nip of something to fortify your nerves?” He got up and went towards the pulpit, fishing a bottle out from behind the altar.
Abbey watched in disbelief as he picked up a small chalice from the altar to use as a vessel for the contents of the bottle.
“I don’t think I should,” Abbey said. She thought drinking from the holy chalice was sacrilegious.
“Nonsense. After all you’ve been through, you deserve a wee tipple.”
Abbey still wasn’t sure he was right, and the wine brought back horrible memories, but she accepted the chalice reluctantly and took a small sip of the wine.
“Better?” he asked, swigging straight from the bottle.
“Yes, thank you,” Abbey said, astonished by his behaviour in church.
“I suppose, as you are Mrs. Hawker’s companion, she’ll be missing you.”
“I doubt it. She has Clementine Feeble for company right now,” Abbey said. “I had intended to go for a walk when I met up with you, so I’ll continue on my way.” She stood up.
“I’m going down to see the new lambs,” Father Quinlan said, taking another swig before returning the bottle to its hiding place. “Would you like to come along?”
“Yes, I would,” Abbey said, smiling thankfully.
And so they left the church together.
CHAPTER 11
As Abbey and Father Quinlan strolled towards the paddock behind the shearing sheds, Abbey’s curiosity about the priest was aroused. “Aren’t priests usually assigned to churches in towns, Father? I’ve never before heard of a property having its own church and priest.”
“You’re quite right. After my training, I was sent to five different churches in various parts of rural South Australia, but I was restless and felt something was missing in my life. I had several meetings with the archbishop, and, frankly, he didn’t know what to do with me. I wanted to serve God, I was clear about that, but I also wanted to do more than just say Mass and hear confessions. When this post came up, the archbishop saw the perfect solution. I could say Mass, hear confessions, and counsel my parishioners, but also help out on the farm when an extra pair of hands was needed. I’m now a contented man.”
“It must be wonderful to find your place in life, somewhere you know you are meant to be,” Abbey sighed. “To belong and feel useful is all anyone could ask for,” she added.
“I thoroughly recommend it,” Father Quinlan said. “But don’t worry, lass. You’ll find your place in the world,” he added, sensing a restless soul. “Who knows? It might just be right here at Bungaree. It’s God’s own country. I can vouch for that.”
Initially, settling at Bungaree had seemed unimaginable. Sybil had seemed to dislike her so intensely. But they’d made progress, and Sybil was now being civil, so Abbey thought there was some hope for their relationship if she hadn’t ruined things today. She still had Ebenezer Mason’s death hanging over her head, however. “My future is so uncertain,” she admitted, feeling sick at the thought of what could happen. “Heath Mason is very upset about the fact that I was with his father when he died. He didn’t say so directly, but I know he thinks I’m somehow responsible. I could see he didn’t believe that I was just an innocent bystander.”
“Try not to worry, Abbey. It might take a little time, but he’ll come to terms with his loss.”
“Do you really think so?” Abbey asked, daring to hope the priest was right.
“Yes, I do. His first reaction came from grief. I’m sure it will soon come to light that you didn’t hurt his father in any way.”
“I wish that were true, but how is it possible?”
“Well, for one thing, if he wants to know how his father died, he might ask a doctor to perform an autopsy.”
“He did mention an autopsy,” Abbey said, clinging to a shred of hope.
“There you are,” Father Quinlan said. “If that happens, it could prove your innocence.”
Abbey felt the weight lift from her shoulders just a little. She wouldn’t truly stop worrying until she knew for certain that everything was all right.
When they reached the shearing sheds, they turned and walked through them. The sheds were empty and silent. Shearing wasn’t due to start for a few weeks, Father Quinlan told her.
“The northern end of the shed was built first,” the priest said, stopping and pointing. “And the wool shed was extended not too long ago. Apparently, at one time, only the shearing boards were covered, but then Jack had the roof extended to cover the whole shed. That was about two years ago, about the time I arrived here.”
“How many shearers work at one time?” Abbey asked, looking around her.
“Up to fifty. Two to each pen, along both sides of the shed.”
Abbey could almost hear the clicking of the shears and imagined hundreds of sheep a day coming in woolly and leaving shorn. “Phew, it doesn’t smell too fresh in here,” she commented, putting her hand over her nose. The odor was overpowering.
“Sheep urine is quite strong,” Father Quinlan said, grinning. “But you get used to it.”
Abbey didn’t know about that.
Once through the sheds, they came upon a paddock full of ewes, many accompanied by lambs.
“Oh, look at the lambs,” Abbey exclaimed with delight from the fence railing. “They’re so sweet.” Some were days old, others only hours old. They were snowy white and were either gamboling about in the paddock or snuggled close to their mothers. There was no sign of Jack or Elias Morton, but Abbey could see two men on horseback on the other side of the paddock. Even from a distance she could tell they were Aboriginal men.
“It’s the first time Jack has tried a late breeding,” Father Quinlan said. “He put the ewes to the rams in mid-July this year, whereas he normally does it much earlier. It’s a bit of an experiment.”
“Why the change?” Abbey asked.
“Normally the lambs are on the ground in spring.”
“On the ground?” Abbey hadn’t heard that term before.
“That’s sheep farmer talk for the lambs being born,” John explained. “As you probably know, nights in the Clare Valley can still be freezing in the spring, and in the past, Jack has lost a few lambs to the cold, and he hates to lose even one. The feed is good at that time of year after some winter rain, but as Bungaree has a good water supply, Jack doesn’t have to worry about running short of feed. At this time of year, however, the nights are quite pleasant. If he has a shepherd watching the flock, the shepherd doesn’t suffer the cold, either. And in the heat of the day, there are pl
enty of shady trees for the sheep and lambs to shelter under. I think it’s an experiment that will pay off.” Father Quinlan waved to the men on horseback, and they waved back.
“What are those men doing?” Abbey asked.
“They’re stockmen, and they’re guarding the sheep from predators of the animal and human variety. The other Aboriginal men are fond of spearing the sheep for food, and the lambs are an easy target for them or for dingoes. Haven’t you met them, yet?” The two men on horseback started coming in their direction.
“No,” Abbey said, watching them slowly cut through the sheep. “How long do sheep carry their lambs before they are born?”
“About five months. Jack also had to pick a few cool days to join the ram with the ewes to minimise stress on the animals.”
Abbey hadn’t before realised there was so much to consider when it came to raising sheep. Her aunt and uncle in Ireland had kept a few pigs and a cow, but no sheep, so she had been quite ignorant about them.
“G’day, Father Quinlan!” one of the stockmen said when he reached them. He squinted at them from under a battered hat.
Abbey was surprised to see he was carrying a rifle. Soon after, the other stockman cut through the flock of sheep and rode along the fence railing to reach them. He, too, was carrying a gun. This stockman was a little older, possibly middle-aged, with a hint of grey hair poking out from beneath his worn hat.
“G’day, Ernie.” John Quinlan turned to Abbey. “Abbey, this is Ernie Carpney and Wilbur Mandawauy. Boys, this is Abbey Scottsdale. She’s Mrs. Hawker’s companion.”
“What’s the missus need a companion for?” Ernie asked in all seriousness.
Father Quinlan laughed, which made Abbey smile, too.
“She’s from the city, so she’s been finding the quiet life on a station a bit boring,” Father Quinlan tried to explain. He could see the explanation went straight over Ernie’s head. Ernie brushed flies from his face and looked bewildered at the notion that someone would need a person for company.
“Where’s Jack?” Father Quinlan asked Wilbur.
“He’s ridin’ the boundary fence with Elias,” Wilbur said, waving his arm in a vague direction. He’d no sooner said the words before Abbey and Father Quinlan saw a cloud of dust coming over the slight rise in the landscape. It was Jack and Elias on horseback. When Jack got close, they could see he was holding a baby lamb, which, sensing the flock of sheep nearby, began bleating loudly.
“Hello,” Jack called when he saw Abbey.
“Hello,” she replied. “That little one is not an orphan, is it?”
“I don’t think so. It looks like it must have been born during the night, but became separated from its mother somehow and wandered in the wrong direction. Hopefully, she’s amongst this lot because she needs milk rather urgently, or she’s going to die.”
“Could its mother have abandoned it?” Abbey asked, worried for the lamb.
“The flock might have been frightened by a snake or a rustler, and scattered,” Jack said. “And being a newborn, it got left behind.”
Just listening to the lamb’s cries was heartbreaking. “How will the lamb find its mother amongst this lot?” Abbey asked seriously. “They all look alike.”
Jack laughed, and so did the stockmen, but Abbey noticed that Elias wasn’t amused.
“Like you white fellas,” Ernie said. “Your mob all looks the same, too.” He laughed again, and so did Wilbur, but Jack could see by the flush that had crept into her cheeks that Abbey was embarrassed.
Jack dismounted with the lamb in his arms. “Don’t worry, Abbey. If the ewe that gave birth to this little one is here, the lamb will find it,” he said, putting the lamb on the ground gently.
Abbey watched as the puzzled lamb looked around. On wobbly legs, it began wandering from ewe to ewe, bleating.
Suddenly a ewe that was also bleating broke through the flock, and the lamb ran to it, with its white tail wagging like a happy puppy. The mother sniffed it, and the lamb hurried to feed.
Abbey sighed with joy, her eyes misting with moisture. She was so pleased to see the ewe and lamb reunited. She imagined that the ewe had been so distressed to lose its young.
“The ewe wouldn’t allow it to suckle unless the lamb belonged to her,” Father Quinlan told her.
Abbey was so happy watching the ewe and lamb together that she didn’t notice Jack looking her over approvingly.
“You scrub up well, Abbey,” he commented.
It took a moment for his words to register as a compliment, but then Abbey smiled with pleasure. “Thank you,” she said blushing, this time with delight. “Your mother gave me this gown.”
“I don’t remember seeing it on her, but it looks lovely on you,” Jack replied. “What’s the occasion? Are you and Mother going into town?”
“No, Miss Feeble is having lunch at the house,” Abbey said, realising in that instant that he’d obviously forgotten.
Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! I’m in big trouble,” he said. “I’d better get up to the house right away.” He took hold of his horse’s reins. “Are you coming?” he asked Abbey.
Abbey hesitated. She didn’t want to go back after embarrassing Sybil, but she couldn’t explain that to Jack. “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “But you go ahead. I walked down here with Father Quinlan.”
“You can ride up with me,” Jack said, leading his horse through a gate that Elias had opened. “You’ve saved my hide by coming down here to remind me about lunch.” He mounted his horse and hoisted Abbey up behind him. She rearranged her skirts to get comfortable, at the same time wondering if Clementine had a fiery temper that Jack feared.
“Hold on,” he said, taking her arms and wrapping them tightly around his waist.
Abbey had actually forgotten all about Clementine when she saw the baby lambs. She felt a little guilty that Jack was thanking her for something she hadn’t intentionally done.
“See you tomorrow at Mass,” Father Quinlan called after them as they rode off.
***
Jack cantered the horse back towards the house. “Mother reminded me this morning that Clementine was coming for lunch,” he said. “I don’t know how I could have forgotten.”
“You were thinking of the sheep,” Abbey said, conscious of how close she was to him and how warm his back felt pressed against her chest. “Those adorable lambs would make me forget everything.”
Jack turned his head and smiled at her. At such close proximity, she could see flecks in his eyes. “Not many women like sheep,” he said, obviously surprised.
“I’ve always had a soft spot for animals. Father and I lived with my aunt and uncle on their farm before we migrated to Australia. They kept pigs. Most people don’t like pigs, but they’re very intelligent and quite charming in their own way.”
Jack laughed. “I think you must be pulling my leg, Abbey,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m not,” Abbey protested. “I was very fond of them.”
Jack couldn’t imagine Clementine saying something like that. He thought that was a shame.
Jack pulled up beside the gate that led to the back yard and dismounted. He then helped Abbey down, gripping her narrow waist in his broad, tanned hands. The warmth from his skin seemed to burn through the material of the gown; it was a strangely enjoyable sensation. She couldn’t meet his gaze, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.
Jack tied the horse to a rail, and they went into the back yard. He stopped by the laundry to wash. Abbey waited, and then they went into the house together. Abbey stayed in the background as Jack went into the dining room, where his mother and Clementine were seated.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jack said, kissing Clementine on the cheek.
Abbey watched the woman’s eyes light up when she saw him, but she still pouted, disapproving of his tardiness.
“What kept you, Jack?” Sybil asked.
“I was checking the boundary fences when I found a newborn lamb,” Jack replied.
Abbey saw Clementine roll her eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t an animal lover.
“Don’t fret, Clementine,” Sybil said. “Jack would cross the Simpson Desert barefoot for one of his sheep.”
“Haven’t you got stockmen to do that sort of thing?” Clementine said with just a hint of lingering annoyance.
“Yes, but they’ve got thousands of sheep to watch, and I’d rather they kept an eye out for sheep rustlers. It’s also rather easy to overlook one newborn lamb in the dark. I believe a snake might have scared the flock during the night, and the ewe and her lamb became separated. The lamb must have wandered away in the confusion. I took it back to the flock, and luckily it was reunited with its mother.” Jack looked in Abbey’s direction and saw her smile at the memory of the ewe and its lamb.
Clementine noticed and felt a stab of jealousy that they’d obviously shared a private moment.
Jack felt her watching him closely and thought he had better explain. “Abbey found their reunion quite moving, didn’t you?” he said, turning to face Abbey.
Sensing Clementine’s scrutiny, Abbey only nodded.
Sybil turned to her. “I wondered where you were,” she said.
“I thought I’d give you and Miss Feeble time to talk,” Abbey explained. She hadn’t wanted to further embarrass Sybil, so she had decided to leave her alone with Clementine. “I went for a walk and met Father Quinlan. He showed me the church. The stained-glass windows are beautiful.”
“They were made by locals,” Jack said.
“Father Quinlan told me,” Abbey said. “And then we went down to see the lambs,” she said to Sybil.
“I hope Father Quinlan didn’t offer you liquor to drink,” Sybil said.
Abbey hesitated to answer. “Umm” She didn’t want to get the priest in trouble after he’d been so kind to her, and she already felt she’d made such a mess of things earlier.
“Mother! I don’t think that comment was necessary,” Jack admonished.
Shadows in the Valley Page 17
