The Heart of Thornton Creek

by Bonnie Leon

  “What is it?” Willa met her at the bottom of the front steps. “You’re white as a ghost.”

  “There’s a man—he’s dead.” Rebecca pointed toward the barn.

  “Oh my Lord.” Willa glanced about. “Woodman. Where is he?”

  “He’s gone into town,” Callie said from the porch.

  “All right, then,” Willa said with resolve and hurried toward the barn. Callie and Rebecca followed.

  Willa gingerly stepped into the tack room, then knelt and examined the man. “Gandji,” she whispered. “Someone’s murdered him!” She stood and looked at Callie. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  Callie’s eyes seemed to hold a secret, but she said nothing.

  “Do you know what happened?” Willa asked.

  “No, mum.” She turned and started to walk way. “I’ll ’ave someone fetch Woodman.”

  Rebecca couldn’t rid herself of the image—Gandji, blood seeping from the wound, the spear. Later that day she sought out Callie, certain the servant knew what had happened. She found her working in an upstairs bedroom. Standing in the doorway, Rebecca watched quietly. Callie glanced at her but continued her dusting without comment. Finally Rebecca said, “You know what happened, don’t you.”

  “Why ya say that?” Callie picked up a photo and dusted it.

  “It’s in your eyes. Tell me. I need to know.”

  “There’s nothin’ ta tell ya.” She set the photograph back on the bureau. “He’s just a dead fella.”

  “Callie . . .”

  Callie studied Rebecca as if taking stock of her. Finally she walked to the doorway and glanced up and down the hall. She whispered, “If I tell, ya will say nothin’?”

  “I promise. Not a word.”

  Callie closed the door. Speaking in hushed tones, she said, “The Boolyah man says he must die.”

  “But why?”

  “A spirit tells him of an evil done by Gandji’s ancestor. Gandji must pay.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If an ancestor breaks a taboo, there is a penalty. The man chosen to kill Gandji cannot refuse.”

  “Do the Thorntons know about this?”

  “Yais. Thorntons know. It happens before. No one can stop it. It’s our way.” Callie walked to the window and gazed outside. “Sometimes I’m afraid. What if my ancestor did evil?”

  “Oh, Callie. How awful.” Rebecca paced the room. “The whole idea is barbaric. Why does everything here have to be so primitive? I can’t grasp how anyone can tolerate such things.” She stopped pacing and cast a fierce look at Callie. “Well, I won’t. I won’t stay in a place like this. And my child won’t be raised here.”

  Rebecca didn’t know just how she would escape, but she knew it must happen before the men returned.

  A bawling white-faced black calf wandered from the herd. Daniel secured a handkerchief over his nose. There’d been little rain this far south, and the dust was bad. Leaning forward and pressing his feet into the stirrups, he lifted himself a few inches off the saddle. “Back ya go,” he said, swinging a rope over the calf’s head and whistling. The calf tried to dart away. “’Ere, none of that, now.” Daniel’s horse quickly maneuvered around the calf and directed it back. “Stay with the mob, eh?”

  The calf and its mother managed to find each other, and Daniel settled back to follow the herd. His body ached from long hours in the saddle, and his eyes stung from the grit in the air. He’d hoped working on the drive would be a distraction from his heartache, but the discomforts only seemed to magnify his painful thoughts of Rebecca. He missed her, the smell of her, the feel of her. How long had it been since he’d heard her laugh?

  Then the memory of what she’d done pierced him. How could he forgive her? He could never trust her again. Briefly the bitter fog lifted. What if she’s telling the truth and has done nothing? When he remembered the way Jim had looked at her, the moment of clarity evaporated. She liked him fine too.

  For weeks Daniel had avoided Rebecca. He couldn’t bear to look at her. Her unhappiness was stark, and it tortured him. He knew she needed his forgiveness. But each time he saw her rounded belly, he thought about who the father might be and his empathy dissolved.

  What if the child is mine? What will I do then, eh? And what if I never know?

  Daniel remembered how it had been in the beginning. The day she’d marched into her father’s office, he’d been stunned by the beautiful, intelligent American. At first, infatuation had driven him to seek her out, but over the weeks love had grown. He’d prayed she would return that love. Sadly, it seemed the more passionate his love became, the more she withdrew.

  And then there was Jim.

  Makes sense. They’re both Americans. She never really took to Australia . . . or me.

  Pushing aside the gossip and his own jealousy, he thought of Rebecca the woman. She was strongly moral and principled. Could she have done what she was accused of? There was a time when he’d never have believed it, but his father wasn’t one to toss about false accusations. He might be a hard man, but Bertram wouldn’t lie about such a thing.

  Meghan galloped up to Daniel. “G’day. How ya faring, eh?”

  “Good. It’s a fine day,” Daniel said, keeping his eyes on the cattle and hoping she’d move on. Every day since leaving home, she’d sought him out, making attempts at conversation, occasionally finding subtle ways to remind him that he could no longer trust his wife. He knew she wanted more than a friendship with him. Her desire had frayed the camaraderie they’d shared for so many years. She’d become something of a pest. He wanted to be alone.

  She rode alongside him. “Thankful for good weather. Hope it holds.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s kind of like the old days, eh?” she smiled coyly. “You and me . . .”

  Daniel kicked his horse and moved ahead. “It would be good if ya could ride along ’ere while I go up and speak to my dad,” he called over his shoulder. “Watch that one there.” He pointed at the black calf. “He’s in the habit of wandering off.” He tipped his hat and rode away, leaving Meghan looking out of sorts.

  Meghan wasn’t about to be put off. That night at the campfire, she sat beside Daniel. Rather than asking for help, she leaned across Daniel to reach for a billy sitting among the hot ashes. She pressed her leg against his. After pouring tea into a tin cup, she repeated the familiarity when returning the pot to its place among the embers.

  “Cattle are holding up well. We covered a good number of miles, eh?” she said.

  “Yah. Won’t be long ’til we’ll be heading home.” Normally Daniel looked forward to home; now all it meant was facing Rebecca and her betrayal.

  “Ya have to stop feeling so sad ’bout yer wife. If it was me, I’d divorce her. And the sooner the better. Ya have the right.” Meghan poked a stick in the fire. “Best thing for ’er would be to go home to Boston where she belongs, eh?”

  Meghan’s unpleasantness was too much for Daniel. “What happens between me and my wife is none of your concern.”

  The fire reflected in Meghan’s brown eyes. She looked stunned. “Why, I . . .”

  “I’ve had enough.” Daniel stood. “I won’t have you speaking badly of my wife.”

  He walked away from camp, hoping for solace in the darkness.

  As he moved through the brush, something scuttled across the ground in front of him. He ignored whatever it was and kept walking. Feeling sick inside, he wondered if there was a way to fill the gaping hole he felt. For the first time he could see himself through Rebecca’s eyes. He’d allowed Meghan’s flirtations and had even flirted back. Maybe what had happened was his fault. Had he driven Rebecca to Jim?

  Finally he stopped and sat on a fallen tree. The emptiness burned in his gut. What was to be done about him and Rebecca now? He leaned his elbows on his thighs and rested his face in his hands. I should never have brought ’er ’ere. She told me straight out that she didn’t love me. I was a fool to believe she’d be satisfied
with Douloo and with me.

  23

  Rebecca made plans to escape. The first step was to learn how to harness the horses to the surrey and how to drive the team. She fabricated reasons for trips into town and made sure to watch while Woodman harnessed the horses. She even convinced him to teach her to drive.

  It would have been great fun had she another reason for learning. In spite of all that had happened, the idea of sneaking away weighted her with guilt. Bertram had left her with no recourse.

  Tormented over the idea of leaving Daniel, she nearly decided to stay. However, each time she contemplated the circumstances, she came to the same conclusion—there was no place for her at Douloo and no hope for her and Daniel. Even if he changed his mind and believed her innocent, how was it possible for her to love a man who had so little faith in her?

  On one of her excursions to town, she stopped by Elle’s shop, hoping to meet up with Cambria. She’d not seen her friend since the rumors spread through the church. Since that day Rebecca refused to attend. The accusing stares and whispers were more than she could endure.

  A bell hanging from the door jingled as Rebecca stepped into the shop. “I’ll be roight with ya,” Elle called from a back room. When she stepped through a door leading from the back of the building, her eyes lit up. “How grand ta see ya.” She hurried to Rebecca and hugged her. “It’s been too long.”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  Holding Rebecca away from her, Elle turned serious. “How ya been?”

  “I’m managing. But I’ve missed seeing you and Cambria.”

  “Ah, Cambria. She’s deeply grieved over all of this. Ya need ta know she ’asn’t turned ’er back on ya. It’s ’er father, me fool brother . . . he won’t let ’er see ya. If I’d known ya were coming in today, I could ’ave told ’er. I’m sure she could ’ave found a way ta make a visit.”

  Heartened, Rebecca nodded. “Tell her hello for me . . . and that I miss her dreadfully.” She wanted to say a proper farewell, but she couldn’t trust her secret with anyone. “I better be on my way. I hope we’ll see each other again someday.”

  “Wal, of course ya will. This ugliness will blow over, and things will right themselves.” She studied Rebecca closely. “Or is there something else brewing?”

  “No. Nothing.” Rebecca clasped the woman’s hand. “Thank you for your kindness.” She blinked back tears.

  Elle scooped her into a hug. “Ya just keep rememberin’ that ya know the truth, and so does the one who really counts. Mind ya don’t forget that.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  Rebecca left and walked across the street to the bank. She needed money. However, women couldn’t make withdrawals without their husbands’ consent. She hoped that since Daniel was out of town, Mr. Oxley would make an exception.

  She stepped inside the small establishment. Dark wood floors matched dark cabinets and counters. Mr. Oxley, who always wore a suit and bow tie, stood at one of two teller windows. Ignoring her, he counted bills into neat little stacks. Hoping to get his attention, Rebecca cleared her throat. He continued to count. Finally she said, “Mr. Oxley, I would like to make a withdrawal.”

  He stopped and looked at her through insolent eyes.

  “Presently my husband is out of town, but I need to make a withdrawal.”

  “You know our policy—only clients are allowed to withdraw money. You are not on your husband’s account.”

  Rebecca could feel herself growing angry. The bank’s policy was ridiculous. “I understand, but Daniel is on a cattle drive. He can’t sign for the withdrawal.”

  “Well, then there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ll have to wait until he returns, eh?” He compressed his lips and went back to counting money.

  “I can’t wait. I need the money now. And I know Daniel wouldn’t mind.”

  “Look here, young lady, I told you what our policy is, and if you don’t like it you can take it up with your husband when he gets home. I’m sure Mr. Thornton didn’t leave the house without providing for his family. I recommend you speak to Willa Thornton.” He picked up a stack of currency and placed it in a drawer.

  Rebecca knew it was no use and walked out. There must be money in the house somewhere, she thought, but the idea of taking it made her uneasy. She’d never stolen anything in her life. It isn’t exactly stealing—more like borrowing, really. And besides, what choice do I have?

  It was midafternoon and the house was quiet when Rebecca returned. Probably everyone was napping. Rebecca walked quietly toward the library and stopped at the door. Glancing about to make certain no one saw her enter, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

  Every nerve on end, she closed the door softly and moved to her husband’s desk. The room seemed hushed.

  She quickly opened the top drawer and scanned the contents—pen and ink, a smattering of papers and envelopes, and a letter opener. Reaching toward the back, her fingers closed on a bulging envelope. She held it up to the window light. There didn’t seem to be any money inside. She rifled through the other drawers. Nothing.

  Standing with hands on hips, she scanned the room. Where would they keep household money? Her eyes rested on Bertram’s mahogany desk. She hadn’t wanted to invade his property.

  “He must have left money for Willa,” she said, moving to the desk. She rested her hands on the dark wooden surface, blew out a breath, then willed herself to explore. As she pulled open a drawer, she imagined Bertram stepping into the room and discovering her intrusion. The hair came up on her arms. You’re being silly. He’s nowhere about. I’ll be on my way before he discovers I’ve borrowed the money. She’d return what she’d borrowed even if it meant paying on the loan the rest of her life.

  She searched through a collection of pens and business papers and discovered a small key. She picked it up and wondered what it might belong to. A cash box perhaps? She gazed about the room. Where could he have hidden it? She saw nothing that even faintly resembled a money box. She pulled open another drawer—more papers, but beneath them was a leather pocketbook. She searched through it—nothing.

  “There must be funds somewhere,” she muttered.

  The library door opened and Callie stepped in. Rebecca quickly pushed the desk drawer closed and straightened. “Why, Callie, I thought you’d already cleaned this room.”

  “Nearly. I just need ta do a little dusting.” Callie studied Rebecca, a question on her face. “What might ya be doin’ in ’ere, mum?”

  “Oh, I was just looking for . . . a letter. I’m sure I left it here somewhere.” She feigned a search.

  “In ’ere, mum?”

  Rebecca knew her charade was easy to see through. She dropped into Bertram’s chair and rested her hands on the large armrests. Maybe Callie can help. She looked at the aborigine. Could she trust her? Deciding she had no other choice, Rebecca took a calming breath.

  “In truth, Callie, I’m not looking for a letter.” She glanced at the drawer she’d just searched. “I need money.”

  “Why, mum? Ya ’ave everything ya need.”

  “I’m leaving Douloo and returning to Boston.”

  Callie’s eyes widened. “And Mr. Thornton’s all right with that?”

  “He doesn’t know.” Rebecca stood and moved around the desk. “Callie, I need your help. You work all over this house. You must know where Mr. Thornton keeps . . . things.”

  Callie didn’t respond.

  “I need money for passage. As soon as I arrive in Boston, I’ll return what I’ve borrowed.”

  “Can ya go ta the bank?”

  “I tried that. They wouldn’t give me any money . . . not without Daniel’s signature.” Rebecca clasped Callie’s hands. “Please. Help me.”

  “Why can’t ya stay? There’s the bybie . . .”

  “That’s why I must go. I can’t have Mr. Thornton dealing with my child the way he’s dealt with his own. And I don’t think this wild place is a fit home for a child. It’s much too uncivilized.”
>
  “I can’t say ’bout Mr. Thornton, but what happened to Gandji . . . Wal, ya don’t need ta fear such things. Ya won’t never be touched.”

  “It’s more than that . . . it’s everything. I simply can’t stay. I won’t.”

  “Yer brave ta go on yer own, but . . . I can’t help ya. If Mr. Thornton found out . . . Wal, I’m ’fraid what he’d do.” Callie glanced at the floor. “I’m roight sorry.” She walked to the door, then stopped and looked at Rebecca. “I’m proud ta ’ave known ya. Yer a fine person.”

  I’m not fine. I’m a thief and a coward, Rebecca thought, watching Callie retreat and realizing how much she’d miss her aborigine friend. I’ve no time to think about such things now.

  Hoping Daniel might have left money in his bedroom, she went there next. She sneaked into the room, hurried to his bureau, and opened the top drawer. She rummaged through socks; then her hand closed over a bundle. Pulling it from the back of the drawer, she realized she held a leather pouch. She loosened the drawstring and looked inside. A wad of paper currency had been stuffed inside, and coins lay at the bottom. Taking only what she thought she’d need, she shoved the money into her dress pocket and returned to her room. I’ll send him a letter from the ship, she decided. She could post it from San Francisco.

  “Tomorrow. I’ll go tomorrow,” she said aloud to bolster her courage. But the idea of leaving didn’t feel the way she’d expected. Rather than anticipating liberty, she was frightened and uncertain. Sorrow pressed down on her. Most likely, she’d never see Daniel again.

  The following morning the taste of dust and a sighing wind woke her. Curtains fluttered, and outside grit was carried inside.

  Rebecca scrambled out of bed and ran to close the windows. Dust sifted in along the bottom lip and around the edges of the window. Rebecca stuffed towels around the frames, then turned to survey a cloud of dust hovering in the room. There was nothing more to be done here. She hurried downstairs.