Christmas at Brigadier Station

by Sarah Williams

“No, but the symptoms were similar. Light-headedness, shortness of breath, and chest pain. The disease means he has an increased risk of heart failure, dementia, and stroke.”

  “Oh, no. Poor guy. How old is he?”

  Harriet shrugged. “Our age, I guess. But he’s a fighter. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  Tom nodded. “Yes, I’m sure he will be.” He tilted his head to the door. “We should get going.”

  With boots and raincoats on, they headed outside. The rain had eased a little and no longer felt like wet pellets hitting her face.

  “We should bring the dogs,” she said, pointing to the two wire enclosures where the farm dogs sat patiently waiting.

  Tom nodded slowly. “Good call. Are they well trained?”

  “The best.” Harriet felt her chest puff out. “Darcy trained them himself.”

  They walked to the cages, the black and white kelpies watching hopefully. Their tails wiggled excitedly as Harriet slid the bolt across and opened the door. The dogs scurried out and ran in crazy circles, kicking up mud under their paws. Tom and Harriet stood and watched as the dogs burnt off their nervous energy, playing.

  Harriet sighed. “I feel bad. I should have let them out yesterday. But with everything going on, I plain forgot.”

  “They’ll make up for it today.” Tom whistled and the dogs stopped chasing each other and came to sit in front of him.

  He scratched their heads in greeting.

  “This is Archie and his girlfriend, Harley,” Harriet said, as Tom lavished them each with affection.

  It was hard not to trust a man who treated animals with such tenderness.

  Daniel hadn’t.

  Briefly, she remembered the time when he had whipped one of their farm dogs for bad behaviour. The poor creature had never been the same again and Daniel had ended up shooting it a few weeks later. ‘Not worth the food we have to give it,’ he’d said without remorse.

  Tom went through some basic commands, sending the dogs wide and pulling them back in. Both the kelpies responded excitedly, appearing eager for the opportunity to prove their worth.

  He whistled again and pointed to his ute. The dogs ran toward it before stopping and sitting at the back, eyeing the closed tray.

  “They are well trained.” Tom’s voice was full of admiration. “You could breed them and make a nice profit off the puppies.”

  Harriet smiled. “That’s the idea. Lachie and Hannah plan to train them together, with Meghan and Darcy’s help.”

  “Nice little side business.”

  They joined the dogs at Tom’s ute. He let down the tray and the kelpies jumped on board, sniffing the new smells inside.

  “Good girl,” Harriet cooed as she patted Harley’s wiry fur. Her tongue lolled and her doggy-grin was wide.

  Harriet and Tom climbed into the cab of the ute and Tom drove toward the paddock. The rain drummed on the roof and the vehicle bounced on its squeaky springs as he drove along the rutted road. His four-wheel drive was kitted out for exactly this type of terrain and even it was struggling.

  Rain had started to pool all over the water-logged earth around them. Water splashed against the sides of the ute as Tom negotiated a dip in the road. The windscreen wipers worked hard to clear the spray that funnelled over them.

  When they reached the bridge, Tom shifted the gear into neutral and stared ahead. Harriet followed his gaze.

  Water was flowing straight over it, making the bridge itself impossible to see because it had no rails. “Is there any other way to get to the paddock?” he asked, not turning his attention from the scene in front.

  Harriet shook her head. “That’s it I’m afraid.”

  He let out a low rumble before opening the door and climbing out.

  This time Harriet followed.

  Tom found a stick and poked it through the water, blindly searching for where the bridge was hidden under the rising river. When the stick struck land he would gingerly step there.

  When he’d crossed safely, he turned and repeated the process back the way he’d come, making sure there was enough width for the ute to pass.

  “We’ll have to keep the cattle tight here when we bring them over,” he said when he’d reached her side. “Too bad there are no guard rails here.”

  A few moments later, they were back in the ute, crossing the bridge. Tom took it with speed and they made it to the other side quickly.

  When they arrived, Harriet unlatched the gate to the paddock and let it hang open before returning to the vehicle. They drove farther in until they spotted the cattle, huddled up together against the rain.

  “I’ll let the dogs off,” Tom said.

  Soon the dogs were rounding up the herd. Tom wound down the window and let the moist air flow into the vehicle. He whistled orders to the kelpies as raindrops landed on the ute’s interior.

  “There’s one.” Harriet pointed to a stray and Tom swerved to get it, honking the horn when it didn’t move, then driving around behind it and shepherding it forward to join its friends.

  The dogs kept the animals tight as they exited the paddock and headed for the bridge.

  “Can you drive? I’ll get out and make sure they cross in the right place. It’s not too easy to see.”

  “Be careful,” Harriet said before he got out and she slid behind the wheel.

  From the driver’s seat, Harriet watched as Tom got ahead of the muster and found the bridge. He stood on the right side of it before whistling to the dogs. They knew the bridge well, knew how narrow it was. With legs now covered in mud, the dogs barked at the cattle and pushed them across the centre of the bridge.

  At the back of the mob, a beast went down right in front of Harriet. She glanced at Tom, but he hadn’t seen it. If she didn’t do something quick, the current would sweep it away. It was certainly swift enough.

  Hurrying from the vehicle, she made her way through the water. The heifer was struggling on her side, the water and mud making it difficult for her to find a foothold. Harriet stood at her back and started pushing.

  Even using all her strength, the cattle wouldn’t budge.

  Then Tom was by her side. “On three.” He had to yell to be heard over the whipping rain. “One, two, three.”

  Together they pushed and finally the cow moved onto its stomach, then gingerly rose on its feet before throwing them a look and sloshing away to re-join the mob.

  “Good job.” Tom threw her an appreciative smile. “Now, let’s get them home.”

  Chapter Nine

  When the cattle were safe in their new paddock, Harriet and Tom brought bales of hay over from the shed and spread them out for the animals to eat. Next they filled the trough with water before closing the gate behind them and walking back to the ute.

  “Do you mind if we check on Hannah’s pony on the way home?” Harriet asked when they were settled inside the cab.

  The windscreen was fogging up and Tom twisted a button on the dash. “Sure. Show me the way.”

  It wasn’t a long drive to where Molly was being kept. The stocky brown pony’s ears twitched as they exited the vehicle and walked toward her, indicating she’d spotted them.

  Hannah had become quite the cowgirl in her short time in the outback and Molly was the perfect pony for a beginner.

  Molly sauntered over to them, her old age showing in the slowness of her gait and the weariness in her doleful brown eyes.

  Her chocolate brown mane was plastered to her neck and her skin slick.

  Harriet entered the paddock, Tom just behind her, and stroked the horse, sluicing the water from her back and rump. “Hello, old girl. How’s this rain? Haven’t seen it for a while, huh?”

  Molly shook her head, spraying little balls of water on Harriet who stepped back and laughed.

  Tom reached around Harriet and rubbed Molly’s long nose. The horse’s nostrils flared as she took in the new human’s smells. “Do you still ride? I remember you were horse mad as a teenager.”

  Harriet smile
d at the memories. “I was. During the holidays I spent all my spare time riding and going to pony club events. I haven’t been riding in years now.”

  “Maybe we should go together sometime.” Tom’s voice was soft near her ear. “When the weather conditions are a bit nicer, that is.”

  Harriet swallowed as anticipation swelled. “Do you plan on keeping horses at your place? We only have Molly here.”

  “I was thinking of getting a couple. Maybe rehoming them for struggling stations.”

  Harriet let go of Molly and turned to Tom. “Darcy does that. They are always being asked to take more. The poor creatures are practically skin and bone when they arrive.”

  Tom glanced skyward at the dark clouds. Harriet had almost forgotten it was still raining.

  “That might all change now with this downpour.”

  He looked back at her and their gazes held. He reached out a tentative hand and stroked her cheek.

  The sensations it stirred in Harriet caused her heart to somersault wildly in her chest. Then he lowered his hand to her throat, and even though the caress was gentle, it reminded her of another time she had been touched there.

  When it definitely had not been gentle.

  She recoiled at the memory and sprang out of Tom’s reach.

  “Harriet? What’s wrong?” His voice was full of concern, his eyes assessing her.

  She forced the memory from her mind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just …”

  She didn’t want to explain the real reason she had avoided a relationship with a man since Daniel’s death—the abuse and suffering she had gone through at that cruel man’s hands.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.” His voice begged her to trust him. And she wanted to. But what if he hurt her like Daniel had? Deep down she knew that Tom would never yell or scream at her, that he would never hit or beat her.

  What if she let herself fall in love with him and then he broke her heart?

  Bruises would disappear. Bones could be reset. But her heart had been damaged once and it had never fully healed. If it happened again, she didn’t think she would ever recover.

  Tom made sure not to touch her again as they spread out lucerne for Molly. As they worked, Harriet seemed oddly aloof, as though lost somewhere between the past and present.

  What had happened to her? She was as skittish as a lost kitten.

  She had been fine until he’d touched her. Until he was about to kiss her. Had he misread her feelings? This connection between them?

  The rain continued pounding down, rivulets of water getting under his collar. Where before there had been no rain in sight, now there was no telling when it would stop.

  “I’ll go see about moving the cottonseed feeder,” Tom said when they returned to the house. “It doesn’t look like this rain is easing.”

  “Are you sure? It’s not too dangerous?” There was genuine concern in her eyes and voice.

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, you don’t have much hay left and with all this rain the roads might get cut.”

  She nodded. “Make sure you take a radio.”

  “I’ve got one in the ute. My mobile’s charged too.” They reached his ute and he opened the door. “Stay inside. You don’t want to get sick.”

  She returned his smile. “You stay safe. Call if you have any difficulty.”

  “Righto,” he said, before climbing in, winding down the window, and leaning out to speak to her again. “I won’t be long.”

  Then he started the engine and drove along the muddy road. Through the rear-vision mirror he saw Harriet sheltering at the front door, watching him drive away.

  As the homestead grew smaller, he wondered about her past, then it hit him.

  Her husband, Daniel. She’d already intimated that theirs hadn’t been a happy marriage. Had he hurt her? Had he done this to her—made her scared of another man’s touch?

  He would have to earn her trust. Prove that he would never hurt her.

  If it took the rest of his life, he would spend every day of it showing her how much he cared for her.

  Because he did care.

  He had never stopped.

  Chapter Ten

  While Tom was out, Harriet tended to the chores. On her way to the chicken coup, she paused to admire the tree house Lachie and Hannah had built together. Lachie was embracing fatherhood with genuine love and enthusiasm. He surprised everyone, possibly even himself, with how good he was with his daughter—how natural and instinctive parenting came.

  She continued along the path until the coup appeared. After opening the door, she dumped scraps on the ground. The six feathered fowls ran to it and started pecking at the vegetable peelings and clucking at each other. Turning to their nests, Harriet collected their brown and cream eggs before leaving the chickens to enjoy their meal in peace.

  Passing the treehouse again, she thought about all the changes that had occurred at Brigadier Station in the decades she had been here. With the rise in technology, they had moved many things online, including book work and shopping orders. But there were physical changes too. The ringer’s quarters had been moved and rebuilt after falling into disrepair. There was a new machinery shed and, of course, Darcy had built the stables himself.

  Daniel would be turning in his grave if he knew how much time and effort his middle son had put into his horses and camp drafting. ‘Bloody waste of time and money,’ the man used to say.

  Harriet tried not to spend much time thinking about her late husband. But sometimes she would see something he would disapprove of and it was as though he were right there, telling her so.

  He had disapproved of a lot of things.

  Especially her and their two younger sons.

  Sometimes she was sure he had disapproved of things just so he had a reason to hit them. If he’d had a bad day on the station, he would take it out on them. If the wrong political party had gotten into power, he would take it out on them. If the winds had picked up and a fire watch was announced, he would take it out on them.

  Daniel’s memory had been particularly haunting the last few months. Harriet had hoped to banish it by opening up and finally telling her children her deepest, darkest secret. But even after she had told the boys about the rape, Daniel had remained. Quieter, for sure, until today.

  Tom had been about to kiss her too. Bloody Daniel, invading her thoughts at that particular, life-altering moment.

  She had so desperately wanted to kiss Tom back. For it to be the beginning of something truly special.

  Would it always be like this? How could she let a man kiss her, touch her, when all it did was dredge up the pain and suffering in her past?

  Didn’t she deserve a little happiness in her life? After all she’d been through?

  Back at the house, Harriet put the eggs away and texted Lachie to let him know the cattle had been moved safely. He replied straight away with a thank you and an update that Adam was looking much better.

  Harriet fired up Lachie’s computer and brought up the Bureau of Meteorology website. As the satellite images loaded, she looked out the window. Was it just her imagination, or were the clouds darker now than they had been earlier? She hoped Tom was okay out there on his own.

  Turning on the desk lamp, she focused her attention back to the computer screen.

  Uh-oh.

  The multicoloured patches hovering around the Julia Creek region on the map showed just how much rain was being dumped.

  The interactive animation played the next few hours’ forecast. It’s not going to stop.

  Clicking on the links for a more detailed forecast, she read and then re-read it.

  This is bad.

  The front door banged and she jumped from her chair, walking quickly to the kitchen.

  Tom stood there, wiping his face with the towel she had left out for him. “I managed to move the feeder,” he told her. “Almost got bogged a few times but got there eventually.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Relie
f that nothing bad had happened to him only briefly relaxed her. “I just checked the weather. There’s a flood warning active for the region. A storm is coming and … it looks bad. Really bad.”

  He turned wide eyes to her. “Are they evacuating?”

  “People who want to and who can get out are. But I checked the roads from here and they’re all under.”

  Tom moved to the radio. He positioned it on the kitchen bench and turned the volume up. The chatter of their neighbours talking to each other filled the room.

  “Yep, we’re stuck here. Thunder just started, so we’re buckling down for the night. Over.”

  “Stay safe out there. Over.”

  Tom turned the volume down again. “Where’s the generator? I’ll check it’s working.”

  “Don’t you need to get back to your place and prepare for the storm?”

  He closed the gap between them and placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. His firm touch didn’t scare her this time. “My place is fine. I probably can’t get back there anyway. I’d rather wait out the storm here with you.” He tipped her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. “If that’s okay?”

  Her heart cartwheeled in her chest. “It’s okay.”

  “Alright then. We’ll probably lose power so I’ll get the generator ready and fuel it up with diesel. Can you fill some bottles of drinking water?”

  She nodded. Harriet had been through storms before; she knew what to do. But this was the first time she would be confined to the house, alone, with a man who wasn’t her husband.

  She directed him to the generator and everything else he would need, then started filling up bottles with tap water.

  Check the cupboard for tinned food; find the gas stove; check there is still plenty of gas in the bottles; get the spotlights and some candles ready.

  Tom came back a little while later. “I fed the dogs while I was out there,” he said as she handed him a cup of tea. “The generator is all plugged in and ready to go. It’s been kept in good condition.”

  “You never know when you’ll need it out here.”

  “That’s the truth,” he replied. “Thanks for this.” He raised his cup.