by Bonnie Leon
“It hasn’t even begun. The fire ate up a lot of the city. We’ve barely managed to do the cleanup.” Mildred took a sip of water. “It was frightening. We could actually see an orange glow in the sky from home.”
“It must have been terrifying,” Willa said.
“Very. I was beginning to believe the entire city might go up in flames.” She settled her napkin in her lap. “It burned right down Franklin Street and Congress and included much of Federal Street.”
“It’s hard to believe. One never thinks such misfortune will strike.” Rebecca tried to imagine what the business district must look like. She’d always felt at home there.
After serving herself some carrots, Mildred passed them along. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to postpone my trip. Downtown is quite a mess.”
“Do they have any idea how long it will take to rebuild?” Daniel asked.
“From what I’ve heard, the city commissioners just don’t know. It’s impossible to estimate.” Mildred took a bite of a dinner roll. “Mmm. Delicious.”
“Rebecca made those,” Willa said proudly.
Mildred raised an eyebrow. “So you have been learning.”
“Yes, Lily’s a wonderful cook and teacher.”
“Lily?”
“She’s one of the servants. She keeps to the kitchen most of the time.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Mildred took another bite of roll. “I must admit to being a bit surprised at how big everything is here. It’s wide open and seems to go on forever. And you’re quite a long way from town.”
“That we are,” Daniel said, “but we’ve got the finest station in the district.”
“Really? I’d like to see this place you call Douloo.”
“I’d like to show it to you. We could take the surrey. I couldn’t show all of it, but you could get an idea.”
“That would be lovely. And what does Douloo mean? It’s an unusual name.”
“It means to be bonded to the land,” Rebecca said.
Using her index finger, Mildred bumped her glasses up a smidge. “Intriguing.”
“I’m thrilled you’ll be here for Christmas. We’ve scheduled a special program at church, and of course, there will be a family celebration here at home.”
Mildred’s eyes met Daniel’s. For a moment Rebecca thought some sort of mischievous exchange transpired between them. “Do you two have a secret?” she asked Daniel.
“Us? No. Of course not. What would give you that idea?” He glanced at Mildred.
“Well, I could swear you . . . never mind. It must have been my imagination.”
“Rebecca, you were telling us about Christmas,” Mildred said.
“Oh yes. Well, it will be nice, certainly.”
“This will be our first Christmas without Bertram,” Willa said softly.
The room turned silent. No one seemed to know what to say.
Finally Willa smiled. “I dare say, Bertram would want it to be especially fine this year. He always loved Christmas.” Her voice sounded cheery, a contrast to the sorrow in her eyes.
“We’ll have a first-rate celebration,” Rebecca said.
“Yes. There’s a lot to celebrate. Daniel’s doing a grand job of running the station and watching over us all.” Willa smiled at her son.
Yes, Rebecca thought. But Daniel isn’t Bertram, and he shouldn’t be expected to behave as if he were. She took her husband’s hand and squeezed. So much had been required of him. And his father’s shoes were difficult to fill.
“I do the best I can,” Daniel said. “But I’ll never measure up to my dad.”
Daniel swung up into the saddle and rode to the surrey. “You ready to go, then?”
Woodman glanced back at his female passengers. “Roight, we are.”
“This is quite exhilarating,” Mildred said. “I’ve never had a tour of a station before.”
“We won’t be able to see it all,” Daniel explained. “The surrey can’t go everywhere, and there’s more than can be seen in a day, but you ought to have a better idea of its size and purpose by the time we’re done.” He smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I wish I could ride,” Rebecca said with a pout.
“No riding.” Daniel lifted his eyebrows. “You know what the doctor said. We’re disobeying as it is.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t go,” Mildred said. “I’m not certain it’s wise for you to venture far from home at all.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“How could you even consider riding in your condition?”
Rebecca offered her aunt a sideways grin. “I was teasing. In this condition I doubt I could get on a horse.”
“I’d probably have a better chance of accomplishing such a feat.” Mildred sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “Well now, I thought we were going to take a look at this grand station.”
“Right.” Daniel turned his horse and trotted toward the road.
Woodman flicked the reins, and with a click of the tongue the horses set out.
“It’s such a shame Willa was unable to join us,” Mildred told Rebecca. “I would have enjoyed her company. I’m sorry she’s feeling poorly.”
“I think she just wanted to give us time to ourselves.”
Mildred took Rebecca’s hand. “Very wise. It is wonderful to see you.” Her eyes bright, she added, “I’m still having difficulty believing I’m here.”
“Well, I’m glad you are.” Rebecca squeezed her aunt’s hand. “What made you decide to come? It’s a long journey.”
A flicker of secrecy touched Mildred’s eyes. “I missed you and wasn’t about to neglect the birth of my great-nephew.”
Rebecca had never known her aunt to lie, but she was fairly certain she was holding something back. “I must say, I was a bit unsettled when I received your letter telling me of your visit. I don’t know that it’s safe for a woman to travel so far alone.”
“Oh, I was fine. A spinster like me has little to fear. And besides, I told myself I was coming, and I wasn’t about to let anxieties keep me away.”
Daniel rode ahead and turned his horse onto a narrow road that cut across a field. Woodman followed. “It’s goin’ ta get a bit bumpy, lydies,” he called over his shoulder.
“It certainly can’t be worse than the sea voyage I just had. Or that trip overland from Brisbane.”
Woodman offered her a friendly grin, and she smiled in return.
“He’s quite nice,” she whispered to Rebecca.
“Yes. He is.”
“I’ve never been around blacks much.” Mildred scanned the partially cloudy sky. “Thankfully, it’s cooler than yesterday. How do you tolerate such heat?”
“One does adjust, and the veranda is usually cooler than most places. I must admit to still yearning for the cool breezes of Boston. However, during the winter it’s much cooler than now. Actually chilly at times. Strangely, we generally have more rain during the summer months than during the winter. We usually get a fair number of storms during the hot season.”
Daniel pulled up alongside the surrey. “Thought you might like to see some of the cattle right off,” he said, nodding toward a nearby herd. “This is a small mob. We’ve a fair number of them about the place.”
Mildred fixed her eyes on the grazing cattle. “My, there seem to be a lot of them. And you say you have many more?”
“Right.”
She gazed at the open spaces about them. “I can’t remember ever seeing anything quite like this. Everything seems so . . . unrestrained.”
Daniel grinned. “We Aussies are a bit unrestrained, eh, Woodman?”
“Yais, a bit wild ta be sure.”
“You seem quite civilized,” Mildred said, then pointed at a grove. “And what kind of trees are those? We’ve nothing like them back home.”
“Gum trees and acacia.” Daniel peered across the baking plains.
Mildred’s eyes automatically followed his. “It’s very flat, isn’t it.�
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“We’ve some knolls, and there’s a river or two, even a gibber now and again.”
“Gibber? I’ve never heard such a word.”
“Means large rocks or boulders.”
“Hmm. How interesting.”
The sound of the wind was all that accompanied the creaking of the wagon and jangling of harnesses. It cut across the open land, buffeting the sea of grass. Daniel rode quietly alongside the surrey.
Mildred rested her head against the back of the seat. “This is quite peaceful.”
“That it is,” said Rebecca.
“It is very different from what I’m used to, but I rather like it.”
“Really, Auntie?”
“There’s a certain tranquillity to it.”
Daniel grinned. “Too right. Ya might be a true Aussie, eh?”
“You think so?” Mildred asked, clearly pleased at the label. “I do believe I’ve a distant cousin who lives in Australia.” She smoothed back wisps of loose hair.
“There you go, then. You do belong,” Daniel said. “We’ve one of our barns right up ’ere.” He nodded at a large structure, open on two sides. “Every now and again we’ll come across a storage barn like this,” he explained. “We’ve got them scattered about. They’re good for laying up hay and sheltering other odds and ends.”
“Do you cut your own hay?” Mildred asked.
“Right, we do, except for bad years.”
“Does that happen often?”
“We usually have enough rain for growing hay. Bit dry this season though.”
When they reached the huge barn, Daniel dismounted and then walked around to help the women out of the surrey.
Mildred was the first to step down. “Oh, that feels much better. I needed to take a stretch.”
Daniel gave Rebecca a hand. “You feeling all right?”
“Fine, just a bit uncomfortable.”
Daniel led his horse inside the barn. “A bit cooler in ’ere.”
Mildred’s eyes roamed through the interior of the large structure and to a mountain of hay piled beneath a lofty ceiling. “Unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Daniel grinned, pleased with Mildred’s admiration. “Figure it’s easier to keep feed in several places on the station. That way we can get it to the cattle easier.” He plucked a piece of hay from the stack, stuck one end in his mouth, and chewed on it.
“That makes sense.”
“In spite of the lack of rain, we managed to get a fair amount cut this year. We’d be hard done by if not for the moderate rainfall last season.” With a sense of apprehension, he gazed outside into the burning sunlight. “Seems we might be in for it this year though.”
“In for what?” Mildred asked.
“Drought. We get enough clouds but no rain. They move along without giving us even a small drink.”
“What will you do if you don’t get rain?” Mildred furrowed her brow.
Daniel shrugged. “Not much we can do, except pray. If it gets real bad, we’ll sell off some of the bullocks.” Daniel didn’t want to talk about drought; he already spent too many hours thinking about it. He walked toward a small doorway. “We keep medicines and such in here—lot easier when the stock needs doctoring.”
“That seems prudent.” Mildred gazed out at the land stretching away from the barn. “Just how big did you say Douloo is?”
Daniel leaned on the wall. “According to your American measurements—I’d say about five hundred thousand acres. A fair bit to look after, eh?” He lifted a canteen off the saddle horn.
“It’s a bit daunting. Seems a lot for a man to manage.”
“I’ve plenty of help, and my father taught me well.” He took a drink. “We better be off, then.” After taking another drink, he replaced the lid on his canteen and led his horse outside. Helping Rebecca and Mildred into the surrey, he said, “You might want to have a go at some of that water of yours.” He looked at Woodman. “Could you get the ladies a drink?”
“Yais, sir.”
“This heat will get the better of you if you don’t take care to drink.”
“No fear of that,” Rebecca said, swallowing a mouthful. “I think I’ve had more than my share already.”
“Do you need to go back, Rebecca?” Daniel asked.
“No. I’m enjoying myself. I’ve been cooped up inside far too long.” She glanced at Mildred. “Would you like to return to the house?”
“Absolutely not. I find this far too interesting.”
Daniel remounted. “Right. Well, if you get too hot or uncomfortable, tell me.”
He led the way, moving toward what looked like a cloud of dust. He stopped at the top of a low rise. A sea of mooing, tail-swishing cattle moved across the dry ground, their noses close to the earth, biting off precious clumps of grass. Dirt sifted about the sightseers.
“Oh my, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many cows at one time,” Mildred said.
“We’ve a fair number of calves this year—ought to do well at the market,” Daniel explained. “We’ll be moving them south to the train in a few months.”
Keeping her eyes on the herd, Mildred said with obvious admiration, “You seem to be handling things quite well without your father. I’m certain he would be proud of you.”
“I’m giving it a fair go.” He pressed his feet down against the stirrups, straightened his legs, and pushed himself up off the saddle. “Sometimes it feels like my father’s ’ere watching me.” He settled back into the saddle and rested his hands on the saddle horn.
“That must be comforting,” Mildred said.
Daniel nodded, but rather than feeling peace at the idea of his father’s presence, he felt exposed and deficient. No matter how hard he worked or prayed, he knew he’d never be good enough to replace the man who’d overseen Douloo for so many years.
Flies swarmed the spectators. Mildred sputtered and swatted at the niggling pests. “I don’t mean to whine, but could we move on?”
“Sorry about the flies,” Daniel said. “I’m used to the little beasts.” He turned his chestnut stallion away from the herd and prodded him forward. Woodman followed, and they moved along yet another dirt road, leaving most of the flies behind. They started across a shallow river, stopping midstream to allow the horses to drink.
Rebecca and Mildred also took the opportunity to sip from their canteens. “Rebecca dear, is the water in the river always this low?” Mildred asked.
“No. As Daniel said, it’s been a bad summer—not enough rain. I’m sure it will come though. It always does.”
Daniel plucked a burr from his mount’s mane, then glanced at the blue sky. “It will. I’m sure of it.”
“I did some reading about Australia before setting out on this journey. One of the books said you sometimes have droughts.”
“We get ’em, all right. No worries though.”
“You seem very nonchalant about the whole thing. Seems to me without water your station could be ruined.”
“Could be. But it does me little good to worry.” Daniel smiled. “My grandfather started this place more than forty years ago. I figure it’ll take more than a drought to run us out of ’ere. In fact, I’ve plans for improvements.”
“Improvements? Really?” Mildred looked at Rebecca. “Seems you’ve married an ambitious man.”
“I’m building up the herd—got my eye on a fine bull. He’ll add life to the mob.”
Daniel’s gaze moved across the open land. “Figure on putting in some wells too.”
“Why, that makes wonderful good sense. But will there still be water if there’s a drought?”
“We may be hard done by, but we’ll manage.” Daniel pulled up on the reins and nudged his stallion forward, splashing through the stream and climbing up the bank.
Woodman expertly steered the horses up the rutted incline and followed Daniel, who silently led the way along the eastern boundary of the station, then followed a path cutting diagonally across
the grasslands. The wind sighed, and it sounded as if the flats were breathing.
“There’s a place close to home that I’d like to show you,” Daniel said, studying the three in the surrey. “From the looks of you, it’ll do you some good.”
“What’s wrong with our looks?” Rebecca teased.
“You seem a bit done in.” He looked at Woodman. “A bit overheated, wouldn’t you say?”
Woodman glanced back at the women in the surrey. “Too roight.” He grinned.
“I must admit to feeling slightly overheated. And my feet are swelling.” Rebecca lifted her right leg and examined her puffy ankle and foot.
A mob of kangaroos bounded across the field in front of them. Daniel pulled back on the reins, and his horse danced. “Well, have a look at that, will you,” he said, wearing a grin.
“Kangaroos!” Mildred exclaimed. “I saw a picture in one of the books I read.”
“Roight,” Woodman said. “Roos. Big reds.”
“How wonderful. I never actually believed I’d see one close-up. They’re somewhat peculiar looking though, don’t you think?”
“Peculiar? How?” Woodman asked.
“They look strange. Up on their back legs like that, I mean.”
“They’re good eatin’.”
Mildred blanched.
Daniel pointed at one. “That one there’s got a joey.” A tiny head protruded from a pouch in the front. The small roo peered over the edge of its mother’s pocket, seemingly content to ride.
“The babies stay put til they’re big enough to keep up on their own. That one looks like he might be adventurous.”
Mildred laughed. “Amazing. I never thought I’d see the day.” She shook her head side to side. “This place is full of surprises.”
“That it is,” Daniel said with a smile, feeling proud of his home and pleased that Mildred was impressed. “Come on, then.”
He spurred his horse forward. About a kilometer farther on, they stopped to watch a group of aborigines in the distance. They’d been quietly moving across the grasslands until they caught sight of Daniel and the surrey. Now they crouched and stared at the travelers.
“Ought to give them their space,” Daniel said.
Mildred had gone slightly pale. “Why is that? Are they dangerous?”
