For the Love of the Land

by Bonnie Leon

  © 2005 by Bonnie Leon

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-3940-2

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

  Scripture is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Mike Martin, my friend and equine practitioner. You lent me your expertise, and because you were willing to help, the horse savvy characters in this story became real people. If there are any errors, they are on my head.

  Kudos to my editor, Lonnie Hull DuPont. You made me work hard. Sometimes I growled at you, but you stuck to your guns and required more from me. Tenacity is a valuable asset, and yours made for a better book.

  Also, to Kelley Meyne, my copyeditor. You went above and beyond the call of duty to ensure that the scenes in this book fell together just as they should, and your eye for detail kept my characters true to themselves. Your commitment to quality gave me confidence that this story would shine. Thank you.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  The Thornton kitchen smelled of stew and rising bread. Rebecca pressed the heel of her hand into a lump of dough, then folded the resilient mass and pressed again. “What time is it?”

  Willa’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’d say about ten minutes later than the last time you asked.” She crossed the kitchen, placed an arm around Rebecca’s waist, and gave her a squeeze. “I thought baking might take your mind off your aunt’s arrival. I should have known better.”

  “The minutes are passing too slowly.” Rebecca rolled the dough into a ball and set it in a ceramic bowl.

  “She’ll be here soon enough, I dare say.” Willa smiled.

  “I can’t stand this waiting.” Looking into her mother-in-law’s kind eyes, Rebecca said, “It’s been three months since I received word that she would be visiting. I’ve been anxious ever since.” She glanced out the kitchen window. “I can’t imagine Aunt Mildred traveling all that way by herself. If only I could have gone along to meet the stage.”

  “It appears boldness runs in your family.” Willa steered Rebecca to the table and sat her down. “Now, you know what the doctor said. And if I don’t keep you close to home, he’ll have my hide.”

  Rebecca leaned an elbow on the table. “I know . . . no trips into town, keep my feet up . . . rest.” She laid a hand on her rounded abdomen. “The baby isn’t due for another few weeks.” As a familiar pain pulled at her lower back, she said, “Maybe the doctor’s right. I haven’t been feeling quite myself today.”

  “Are you unwell?” Willa eyed her.

  “I’m fine, but I think the baby is preparing for its arrival.” She stared at her stomach. “It will be nice to have my body back to myself.” The pain subsided and she let out a slow breath.

  “Are you laboring?”

  “No. I don’t believe so.”

  “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  Rebecca nodded. “You worry too much.”

  Lily, the cook, picked up the bowl with the dough Rebecca had prepared and placed it on the warming shelf of the oven. “Looks just roight. Ya done a good job.” She grinned, revealing a gap in front where teeth belonged. Lily’s smiling dark eyes were spaced far apart in her square black face, giving her a friendly appearance.

  “I thought myself a fair cook when I arrived, but you’ve taught me so much more. Aunt Mildred will be pleased, I’m sure.”

  “Ya’ve learned roight well. Daniel ’as every roight ta be pleased with ya.”

  “Only because you took the time to teach me.” Rebecca gazed out the window at the dusty yard. Her eyes rested on the place where the drive disappeared over a small rise. “Woodman must be driving especially slow today. The stage was supposed to be in two hours ago.”

  “I expect he’s being exceedingly careful with your aunt,” Willa said, walking to the stove.

  “Auntie must be exhausted,” Rebecca said, remembering her own arrival more than a year ago. The ache in her back returned, and she rubbed at it.

  Willa placed a cup of tea on the table in front of Rebecca. “Maybe this will help some.” She settled a gentle hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Your aunt will be here in no time, you’ll see.”

  Rebecca covered her mother-in-law’s hand. “You’re so good to me.”

  “You’re a love, so it’s easy.” Willa returned the teakettle to the stove, then removed a lid from a hefty pot. Steam puffed into the air. She stirred the contents, then peered inside. “This looks wonderful, Lily. And smells heavenly.”

  “Just a stew, mum. Hope it’s ta yer likin’.” She looked at Rebecca. “And I hope yer aunt will like it. It’s one of me specialties.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Rebecca said. “In fact, it seems to me that when I lived in Boston, Auntie made a rather good stew.” Rebecca stirred a half teaspoon of sugar into her tea. “They must be nearly here, don’t you think?” She looked at Willa.

  “Perhaps.”

  Rebecca set the spoon on the saucer and sipped her tea. Stretching out her legs, she cradled the cup in her hands and closed her eyes. “That’s better. I practically feel calm. How is it tea nearly always seems to help?”

  “Can’t say, dear, but it’s what my mother always gave me. Whether it was a stomach ailment or nerves, it would be just the thing.”

  Rebecca took another drink. “I wish my father were alive,” she said sadly. “I miss him terribly.” She rested a hand on her abdomen. “He would have made a wonderful grandfather.”

  In the distance a swirl of dust rose into the air. Setting her cup in its saucer, Rebecca stood. “That must be her!” She pushed out of her chair, and as quickly as her added girth allowed, she walked to the front door. Pushing open the screen, Rebecca stepped onto the veranda.

  Callie, the housemaid, hurried down the broad staircase leading from the second story. “They’re comin’, mum! I saw them from the upstairs window!” She joined Rebecca on the porch. “They’re not far.”

  Keeping her eyes fixed on the drive, Rebecca moved toward the steps.

  The front door opened and closed again, and Willa stood with Rebecca and Callie. “I wish Bertram were here.”

  “We all do,” Rebecca said, remembering her powerful father-in-law, Bertram Thornton. Their first meeting had been painful, but in the end they’d le
arned to love one another.

  “I dare say, I feel badly for your aunt—I know how miserable the trip from Brisbane can be.”

  Rebecca’s mind reeled back to the days she’d spent traveling from Brisbane. The journey had been nearly unbearable—dust, heat, and several days in an uncomfortable coach. “I arrived in November last year. Remember?”

  “Indeed I do,” Willa said, her eyes soft with the memory.

  Dust churning, the top of the surrey appeared just above the rise. Then a set of stallions and Woodman sitting in the driver’s seat came into view. Rebecca strained to catch a glimpse of her aunt. She sat beside Daniel.

  “There they are, mum,” Callie said, sounding nearly as excited as Rebecca felt.

  Gripping the handrail, Rebecca walked down the front steps and waited at the bottom. Her heart drummed. Smiling broadly, she waved and called, “Auntie!” She hurried toward the surrey.

  Daniel stepped out and offered Rebecca’s aunt a hand. She looked a bit undone and worked to straighten her bonnet before taking the proffered hand. Then she stepped out with as much dignity as she could muster.

  When her eyes found Rebecca, the weariness evaporated. “Oh, Rebecca! How wonderful you look!” She folded her niece in thin arms and held her tightly. A few moments later she stepped back, holding Rebecca away from her. Blue eyes brimming with tears, she said, “Let me get a look at you. In spite of everything you are as beautiful as always and seem in quite good health.”

  “And you look just as you did. I declare, you haven’t changed a bit. I’ve missed you so.”

  “Oh, you’ll never know just how much I’ve missed you.”

  “And life at your sister’s?”

  “It’s not been so bad.” Mildred smiled. “I rather enjoy the children.”

  Rebecca hugged her again. “Sometimes I’ve wondered if I’d ever see you again. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  Mildred chuckled. “I must say, I’m a bit surprised myself.” A shadow touched her eyes, and she quickly went on. “It was quite an adventure. And I’ve had few adventures in my life, so I suppose it was time.”

  Her gaze moved to Rebecca’s abdomen, then back to her face. “You’re feeling well?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “It’s hard to believe so much time has passed. When I saw you last, it was the day of your wedding. And now here you are having your own child.” Using a handkerchief, she dabbed at tears.

  Daniel stepped up. “I’d like to introduce you to my mother, Willa Thornton. Mum, this is Mildred Williams, Rebecca’s aunt.”

  “A delight to meet you,” Willa said. “Welcome to Douloo.”

  “It’s a pleasure to be here.” Using the handkerchief, Mildred patted her moist neck and squinted at the bright afternoon sky. “It’s quite warm. There was snow on the ground when I left Boston.”

  “You’ll adjust,” Rebecca said. “Somewhat.”

  “I’m sure I will.” She smiled brightly. “I’ve had quite an exciting journey.”

  Daniel took Rebecca’s hand. “Seems she had a time of it crossing from Hawaii. There was a gale much of the way.”

  “Oh no. Was it awful?”

  “Dreadful. Most of the passengers were ill. Like them, I spent much of my time in my room.” She dabbed at her forehead with her handkerchief. “I pray the seas will be kinder when I travel home.” Her eyes took in the dry, flat world surrounding Douloo, and Rebecca understood she would be happy to face the trip home if it meant leaving this place.

  “Please, come in out of the sun,” Willa said. “Let me show you to your room.”

  After getting Mildred settled, Rebecca joined Daniel and his mother on the veranda. “She’ll be down shortly.”

  “I like her,” Daniel said. Removing his hat, he combed back his blond hair. “She did quite well on the way out of town—she’s a real trooper.”

  “She has a bit of brass to her, even for a Bostonian,” Rebecca said.

  “Well, I should say so; you’re a Bostonian and full of brass.” Daniel chuckled.

  “She seems like a fine person,” Willa said, glancing at the front door. “I hope her room is comfortable enough.”

  “Oh, I have no doubts. I’m sure she’s impressed.” Rebecca crossed her swollen ankles. “She loved the flowers you put on her desk. Presently in Boston nothing is blooming.”

  “Of course. It’s winter there now.”

  Looking somewhat refreshed, Mildred appeared at the door.

  “Are you faring well, then, Miss Williams?” Daniel asked.

  “Better, I think. I just needed to get in out of the sun. And my room is lovely,” she added, turning to Willa.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  Looking at Rebecca, Mildred asked softly, “Can you tell me where the necessary is?”

  “We don’t have indoor facilities, Auntie, but there is a dunny. It’s alongside the house.”

  Mildred paled slightly but started down the steps. “And which way is it?”

  “I’ll show you,” Rebecca said, following her aunt. “It’s just as well I go along. I’d hate it if you had an encounter like I did on my first day here.”

  “And what encounter was that?”

  Realizing the last thing her aunt needed to hear was a story about local snakes, Rebecca hesitated. “Well . . . when I got inside the outhouse, I discovered I had a visitor.”

  “A visitor?” Mildred’s skin tightened over the bones on her face.

  “Yes . . . a snake had sought shelter indoors.”

  Mildred blanched. “A snake? You never mentioned snakes in your letters.” She glanced about the grounds. “Are there many?”

  “Some,” Rebecca hedged.

  “Poisonous?”

  “Most of them aren’t,” Rebecca answered, sorry she’d mentioned her first day’s excitement. “I’ll make sure to check inside for you.” Another pain tightened Rebecca’s abdomen. It was nearly enough to make her stop, but she managed to maintain a normal façade. She didn’t want to cause a stir without reason.

  With a smile, Rebecca said, “It’s quite all right, Auntie. Woodman sees to it that the snakes and spiders near the house are destroyed.”

  “Spiders?”

  “Yes . . . I’ll tell you all about that later.”

  When they reached the dunny, Rebecca glanced inside, then threw open the door. “See, no snakes,” she said brightly.

  Mildred leveled a serious look on Rebecca. “What is this place you’ve come to? I’ve been so worried about you, and now to discover my fears were valid, well . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s not so bad as it seems. I have a fine life here, and this is home to me now.” Rebecca knew she wasn’t being completely truthful. Although she’d adjusted to living at Douloo, it wasn’t exactly home. She still missed Boston.

  With a stiff nod, Mildred disappeared inside the dunny.

  Rebecca strolled to the garden along the edge of the house and with some effort kneeled and plucked emerging weeds from their beds. She pressed her nose to a batch of lavender, breathing in its sweet fragrance.

  The outhouse door creaked. “I can’t imagine living so primitively. How do you do it?”

  “We manage. Truly, you become accustomed. And it’s really not primitive. Of course, we haven’t the conveniences you enjoy in Boston, but it’s satisfactory.” She walked beside Mildred as they made their way back to the porch.

  “I should think you might be a bit anxious about having a baby in such a primitive setting.”

  “Not really. I feel quite at home here.”

  Stepping out of the front door, Lily said, “Supper’s ready, mum.”

  “Wonderful.” Willa stood. “Shall we go inside? Lily’s a marvelous cook.”

  “She’s been teaching me, and I’m not doing too badly,” Rebecca said.

  “When you lived in Boston, you were quite accomplished in the kitchen, as I recall,” Mildred said.

  “Yes, but I should have spent mo
re time under your instruction.” Rebecca linked arms with her aunt.

  “I do remember some adventurous cooking lessons,” Mildred said with a smile.

  Willa sat next to Bertram’s place at the head of the table. Since his death, it had remained empty at every meal.

  After everyone had seated themselves, Willa looked at Daniel. “Could you say the blessing? And please, remember your father. This is an especially joyous occasion.”

  Daniel glanced at his father’s place. “Of course.”

  Mildred settled concerned eyes on Willa. “I was terribly sorry to hear about your husband’s passing.”

  “It was a shock to us all, but we’ve managed quite well.” Glancing at Daniel, she added, “Of course, I never would have gotten by without my son. He’s been a great help to me.”

  Rebecca caught Daniel’s pained expression. So much responsibility had been placed on his shoulders since his father’s death. His mother depended upon him a good deal of the time.

  “We miss my father terribly,” Daniel said solemnly, then bowed his head. The others at the table did likewise. “Thank you, Lord, for bringing Mildred here safely. It is truly a blessing, especially as the day of our child’s birth approaches. Thank you, Father, for this food, and may you bless those who prepared it. And I ask that you would bring much-needed rain to the district. There are some who have already lost their water supply. Also, Lord, this is an important occasion . . . and we think of the man who for so many years watched over this family. He is greatly missed—let him know how much we love him. And may you bless us all. Amen.”

  Willa dabbed at tears. “I apologize. It hasn’t been long since his passing, and I’m still struggling a bit.”

  “That’s to be expected,” Mildred said. “I remember how my brother Charles grieved when his dear wife died. It will take time.”

  Willa offered what looked like a forced smile.

  While Callie circled the table filling water glasses, Rebecca helped herself to some carrots and then passed them on. “I was stunned when I heard about the fire. Was it as bad as the Chicago Fire?”

  “Not that bad, but it was horrible. I believe it took three days to get it under control.”

  “How is the reconstruction coming along?” Daniel asked.