by Bonnie Leon
The gate swung open, and Daniel’s horse blasted out of the chute, pitching first left, then right. Daniel managed to maintain his seat. Determined to dispose of his passenger, the animal leaped, twisting and turning. He jumped straight up, then landed on straight legs before bounding sideways. The last move launched Daniel. He landed hard on his back.
The horse bucked his way across the arena. Daniel didn’t move. “Dear Lord.” Rebecca clutched Willa’s hand.
Men hurried to the downed rider. Bertram knelt over his son. Finally Daniel pushed himself up on one elbow and managed to find his feet. He grabbed his hat from the dirt and offered the crowd a smile and a wave. Spectators cheered. Rebecca caught his eye, and although he managed bravado, she knew it was artificial. He was let down.
Daniel was quieter than usual that night and retired early. The following day he was up before Rebecca and had already left to meet with some of the men from other stations. She had no opportunity to speak to him.
“There’s tea,” Willa said, joining the family group.
“None for me,” Rebecca said with a sigh.
“Daniel’s pride is hurt, but he’ll be fine.”
“He won’t speak to me.”
“Be patient. He’ll be right as rain in no time.” Willa sat on a chair beside Rebecca. “He wanted to impress you. After all, it was the first time you’ve ever seen him compete.”
“I’m proud of him. I want him to know that.”
“You’ll have your opportunity.”
All that day Daniel kept to himself. Once when he rode close to the surrey, Rebecca said, “You did well. I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah. But I lost to a Yank . . . twice. And it’s a Yank with eyes for my wife.” He rode off before Rebecca could reply.
That night Daniel stayed in Thornton Creek while Rebecca and the rest of the family traveled the last miles home. Confused and worried, Rebecca climbed into bed alone. She couldn’t rid Daniel from her mind. Where was he? What was he doing?
To calm her fears, Rebecca read a few chapters from the book of Psalms, rereading Psalm 27 several times. The final words she read in a whisper, “Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.” Setting the Bible on the bed stand, she lay down and closed her eyes, feeling the promised strength. Sleep quickly overtook her.
Sometime during the night Daniel stumbled in. Something crashed to the floor, and Daniel let out an oath. “Can’t someone put things where they belong?”
“Are you all right?” Rebecca asked, sitting up and staring into the darkness.
“Fine. Just fine,” he said, slurring his words. He climbed into bed, the smell of spirits accompanying him. He nuzzled Rebecca. “I love you. I love you.”
“You’re drunk,” Rebecca blurted.
“I had a few pints with the boys. No worries. Had a fine time.” He kissed her.
“You smell like a pub.”
“Too right.” He laughed. “A bloke’s got to get out and have some fun now and again, eh?”
Rebecca climbed out of bed, and Daniel followed, draping his arms around her. Rebecca pushed him away and managed to light the lantern.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel swayed while he stared at Rebecca. “Not good enough for you, that’s it. I’ll never be good enough. Not for my father and not for you.”
“Daniel, you’re making no sense. What are you talking about?”
“Jim. That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. He’s got eyes for you. And you like him. I can tell. After losing to that . . . that Yank . . . well, he’ll never let me forget it. And he’ll go after you too.”
“What would make you think such things?”
Daniel staggered toward Rebecca. “He wants you.” He stopped and deliberated as if he’d lost his train of thought. “You can’t know what it means . . . to lose to a man who covets your wife.”
“Daniel . . .”
“I know how he feels ’bout you. Any man in his right mind would want you.”
This was a part of Daniel Rebecca had never seen. She was repulsed by this display. Barely able to keep her voice calm, she said, “Even if that were true, which it is not, that doesn’t mean I want anything to do with him. And he’s never done anything improper!” She folded her arms about her waist. “I thought we’d already talked about all of this. You know I have no interest in him. I explained—he’s American, I’m American. We have our homes in common . . .”
“This is your home!” Daniel blurted.
“Yes, of course it is.” Rebecca steered him toward the door. “Please, Daniel, you’re drunk. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” While trying to avoid his embrace, she opened the door and pushed him through it. “And tonight you can sleep elsewhere.”
She quickly shut the door, then leaned against it. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she wept. Everything was such a mess. For a moment yesterday she’d almost thought she might love him. Now . . . well, now she wanted nothing to do with him.
Daniel stood in the hallway, swaying and trying to understand what had happened. When the fog lifted just enough for him to comprehend, he yelled, “You can’t do this to me.” He pounded on the door. “Let me in! Rebecca! I demand that you let me in!”
“Daniel, people are sleeping. Please leave. We’ll talk in the morning.”
He leaned against the door. “Please let me in.” There was no answer.
“What are ya doing, son?” Bertram asked in his most authoritative voice.
Daniel looked at his father.
Bertram stood in the center of the hallway, glaring at him. “What is this?” he demanded. “Ya smell like a brewery.”
“I only had a few drinks with the fellas down at the pub.”
“Yer drunk. And from what I can see ya’ve been put out of yer bed.” He glanced at the bedroom door. “Can’t say that I blame ’er.”
Daniel stared at his father. How was it that he always felt small in his father’s presence? He put his hand on the wall to steady himself.
“I’m ashamed of ya.” A verse spilled from his mouth. “‘Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit.’”
Daniel gaped at his father, trying to make sense of what he’d said.
Bertram’s face turned red. “I want ya out of the house. Now! When ya’ve sobered up, then ya can return. And this will never happen again.”
Still swaying, Daniel leaned against the wall. It would take a long while to recover from this. His father wouldn’t forget.
“I don’t want to see ya again tonight,” Bertram said, then turned and stormed back to his room.
Daniel caught a glimpse of his mother as she peeked out at her son. Bertram ushered her inside and slammed the door.
Humiliated, Daniel turned and, gripping the balustrade, made his way downstairs. He reeled toward the front door, stepped into the cool night air, then staggered toward the barn.
Once inside, he didn’t bother with a light. He knew where the hay pile was. He dropped into it and lay with his arms outstretched, willing the world to stop spinning. Filled with self-loathing, he could still see Rebecca’s disappointment and disgust. She’d never forgive him . . . for this or for his accusations. And yesterday when he’d told her he loved her, she’d replied with a warning to remain safe, nothing more.
He squeezed his eyes shut. She didn’t love him.
17
Rebecca awakened early. She ran her hand over the place where Daniel usually slept. The previous night’s episode played through her mind, and she felt sick over what had happened. She threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed, then crossed to the window and gazed down on the empty yard. A soft breeze tickled the leaves of the trees. A cat lying at the corner of the barn uncurled and stretched. It all looked tranquil, so unlike the storm inside Rebecca. She needed to speak to Daniel.
After dressing, she hurried downstairs. Where had he spent the night? She stepped into the kitchen.
Lily patted out dough on a cutting board. “G’day ta ya. Yer up with the chooks this mornin’, mum.”
“Chooks?”
“Ah. Chickens is what I mean.”
“Oh. I’m still learning.” Rebecca glanced out the window. The sun was barely up, and the world looked fresh, almost dewy. She remembered Boston mornings—the moist air and wet droplets on plants and flowers. She’d often taken Chavive for a ride on such mornings. A longing for those days crashed over Rebecca. Sweeping the thoughts away, she reminded herself that she had more important things to think of now. But maybe a ride would clear her mind. “Have you seen Daniel?” she asked Lily.
“No. Mr. Thornton’s already up and gone. I figure Daniel musta went with him.” She pressed the heel of her hand into the dough. “There’re some scones if yer hungry.”
Rebecca had no appetite. However, if she was going to ride, it would be a good idea to eat. She moved to the stove where the pastries rested on a warming shelf. “Do we have any clotted cream?”
“In the ice box,” Lily said without looking up.
Rebecca retrieved the clotted cream, spread it on a scone, and took a bite. “Delicious. You must be the finest cook in all of Queensland.”
Lily beamed. “Thank ya. I like cookin’ well enough.”
Rebecca filled a cup with hot tea from the stove, then between sips finished off the scone. She stepped onto the veranda, greeted by the raucous laugh of a kookaburra echoing across the fields. The morning coolness felt good.
As she leaned against the railing, the previous evening’s argument tumbled through Rebecca’s mind. The shock of Daniel’s drunkenness and his accusations still felt fresh. How could he believe she could be unfaithful? Anger and sorrow merged, and like a ragged shawl draped itself about Rebecca. What was to become of this “practical” marriage? It wasn’t working out. She considered speaking to Willa but pictured the submissive, genteel woman and discarded the idea.
A horse nickered from inside the barn, and Rebecca was again carried back to her morning rides with Chavive. If only I could ride. I know it would help. She finished off her tea. If I’m careful no one will know.
She pictured the stunning Meghan riding astride like a man, her mahogany-colored hair flying free in the wind. A longing for the same freedom grew inside Rebecca. I’ll wear britches and ride like a man. If Meghan can do it, so can I.
Still upset with Daniel and driven by the desire for independence, Rebecca ignored her promises of compliance. Exhilaration and liberty was all she wanted to feel. She returned to the kitchen and set her cup on the counter. “I’m going out. I won’t be gone long.” She hurried upstairs.
Digging through her husband’s pants drawer, she found his smallest pair of dungarees and pulled them on. They hung loosely on her. “Well, they’re all I have for now,” she said, bending to roll up the cuffs and thinking about purchasing a pair of her own. She guided a belt through the loops and pulled it snug, then fastened the buckle. Standing in front of a mirror, she chuckled. “I look positively ridiculous.”
Thoughts of what her father-in-law would think disrupted her merriment. He’d be furious, not only because she’d ridden alone but also because she’d worn britches. “Don’t worry,” she told her reflection. “He won’t know.” But what about Daniel? She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair. He’s not willing to ride with me; what can he expect? With resolve, she pulled on a pair of riding boots and laced them, then strode across the room. At the door she hesitated. If she was found out, she’d receive a tongue-lashing of the worst kind. It certainly won’t be my first, she thought, opening the bedroom door and peeking out.
No one was about. She softly closed the door and hurried down the hallway and the stairs, then sped out the front door and ran across the yard to the barn. The pants felt peculiar, but she had to admit they did offer more freedom of movement than her gowns.
She ducked into the barn and headed for Rena’s stall, stopping abruptly when she heard Bertram’s voice. Her heart pounding, she pressed her back against a wall. He mustn’t see her!
His voice sounded gentle. “There now, ya’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Rebecca moved behind some equipment and hunkered down in the shadows. He’d been kneeling beside one of the stalls. What was he up to?
Rebecca heard a whimper, then Bertram said, “I’ve got work ta do. I’ll check on ya later.”
Rebecca heard his steps. Making herself as small as possible, she held her breath until he strode past. She remained there for a few minutes, until she was convinced he wouldn’t return, then stood.
Blowing out a breath, she said, “This is a foolish idea. I’ll only get myself into more trouble.” She wandered down the row of stalls. “Of course, it can’t get much worse than it already is.”
She stopped at the place where she’d seen Bertram. Just inside the stall lay one of the herding dogs. He was black with splotches of white. She’d seen him about the place and had admired him for his power and energy. Now he lay still, his left leg and hip bandaged. He watched Rebecca with dull eyes.
Bertram caring for a dog? I’d never have believed it. This animal would normally have been put down, yet Bertram had tended to him instead. Why? Maybe he does have a heart. Just the possibility made her warm toward the man. And she felt a morsel of hope that one day they might have a real relationship.
She patted the dog. He whimpered softly. “That’s a good boy.” Straightening, her thoughts returned to riding. She checked the paddock. Bertram’s and Daniel’s horses were gone. Most likely neither man would be seen until the end of the day. With nothing much to lose, she headed for Rena’s stall.
Rebecca put a working saddle on the mare and cinched it tight. She grabbed hold of the saddle horn, placed her foot in the stirrup the way she’d seen the men do, then swung up and into the seat. Once steady, she pushed her right foot into the other stirrup. She felt a bit awkward but was certain she’d adjust. She pushed against the stirrups and raised herself off the saddle, then sat and seesawed sideways, getting a feel for this new way of riding.
Deciding she was ready, Rebecca turned Rena toward the barn door and clicked her tongue. The horse stepped into a trot, and almost immediately Rebecca slid sideways. She grabbed the saddle horn and pulled herself upright. This would be more difficult than she’d thought.
At the door she pulled back on the reins and stopped. The yard and the veranda were empty. Willa would still be reading her Bible and wouldn’t find her way to the veranda for a while yet. Rebecca wasn’t worried about Willa anyway. The only ones to be concerned about weren’t anywhere around.
Nudging Rena in the sides, she moved out of the barn at a fast trot. Rebecca’s backside bounced hard against the saddle. This would take some practice.
She passed by two aborigine boys playing in the shade of a tree. They looked up and stared, obviously shocked to see a mistress of the house riding astride. Rebecca smiled. “Good morning.”
“G’day,” one of the boys said.
Along the side of the main house, Callie beat a rug. She glanced at Rebecca, then acted as if she hadn’t seen her. Rebecca thought she saw a smile on the woman’s lips. Callie and I are really not so different, she thought with satisfaction.
When she’d neared the roadway, Rebecca gave Rena a kick with her heels, and the horse stepped into a canter. She squeezed her knees tightly against the mare’s sides, enjoying the sensation of closeness with the animal. Rebecca could feel the power and energy of the horse. Rena wanted to run full out but obediently held back. “Soon, Rena, soon.” Rebecca patted the mare’s neck. When she felt comfortable riding astride, it was time to try a run.
The house disappeared behind the trees, and Rebecca leaned forward, touching Rena’s flanks with the riding crop. The horse was ready and strode out, kicking up dry earth.
Hoping to avoid any chance encounters, Rebecca turned off the road and galloped across a field. Rena quickened her pace. The familiar sense of indep
endence and exhilaration returned. Wind tugged at Rebecca’s hat, and wisps of hair flew free. Her anxiety faded.
The more Rebecca rode, the more comfortable she became with riding astride. She felt more in control and better able to read the horse’s intentions. The connection between horse and rider was much better riding astride than riding sidesaddle. Imagining Daniel’s surprise at her new skill, she smiled, certain he would be amused. If only his father were. There must be some way to convince Mr. Thornton that this is appropriate and acceptable.
Her need for a run satisfied, Rebecca slowed Rena. Animal and rider walked. Wind whipped across the flats, cooling them. An occasional blast of air swirled up from the ground, carrying dust and twigs as it moved across the plains. Rebecca wondered if she could find her way to the billabong. It would be nice to spend some time in the cool of the shaded oasis.
She glanced about and felt a horrifying sense of being misplaced. Nothing looked familiar. The house was gone, along with its grove of trees. There were no barns or cottages. She couldn’t see the trees that lined the roadway near the house. In fact, she had no idea at all which direction the road lay. After drinking from her canteen, she hooked its strap over the saddle horn and turned back the way she thought she’d come.
“I’ll simply retrace my steps,” she said. Her voice sounded hollow in the open terrain. Rena’s trail was easy to follow for the first several yards. Then the hoof prints diminished and bit by bit vanished all together, whisked away by the wind.
Rebecca stopped, looked at the sun, and tried to figure out just where the house should be. I’m in no danger, she told herself. There’s no need to panic.
Time passed, and the sun climbed higher into the sky, baking Rebecca’s skin. Its heat penetrated her clothing, and she felt as if she were being cooked inside them. If only there were a shady place to rest. She thought about the veranda—its shade, breezes, and greenery. If not for her foolishness, she could be resting there now.
Stopping occasionally to drink from her canteen, Rebecca kept moving. Wind-swept dust turned gritty in her eyes and made her nose itch. It crept under the collar of her shirt and chafed her neck. She continued on but only became further confused. Finally she stopped and studied the landscape.
