by Bonnie Leon
“No.”
“Daniel, they look as if they’re afraid, don’t you think?” Rebecca asked.
“Too right. And they’re smart to stay out of sight, I’d say.”
“Why is that?” Mildred asked, partially standing in the surrey to get a better look.
“Some blokes ’round these parts just as soon shoot ’em as look at ’em,” Woodman said, his tone surly.
Daniel rested his hands on his saddle horn. “Shame too. They’re no trouble, really.”
The color had drained from Mildred’s face. “Doesn’t the law have something to say about that?”
“Out ’ere the people are the law. We pretty much take care of ourselves.”
“And who takes care of them?” Mildred nodded toward the aborigines, who were now cautiously moving away.
Daniel didn’t have an answer. It’s not something he’d ever given much thought to. “I guess they take care of themselves pretty much.”
The blacks continued moving until they disappeared into the shimmering heat rising from the flats.
Mildred sighed heavily and sat down. “I must say, Rebecca, I have some qualms about you . . . and the baby living here.”
“There’s no reason, really, Auntie.”
“I’m concerned about your safety.”
“You’ve no worries,” Daniel said, riding alongside the surrey. “Rebecca and the baby will be well looked after.”
“I admit this is a tremendous place, but it’s quite wild. What about medical facilities? Are there any?” Without waiting for an answer, Mildred continued, “When a woman’s having a baby, you’re never certain what emergency might arise.”
“We’ve a doctor. He’s been looking out for my family a good number of years. When her time comes, he’ll be sent for. He’s a fine doctor.”
“I mean no disrespect. I’m sure he’s a fine doctor, but you must admit, the facilities in Boston are . . . superior. What if something goes wrong? Or what if the baby’s not quite right?”
Daniel squeezed the reins and forced down defensiveness. “Women have been having babies out ’ere for generations, and quite successfully, I might add.” His eyes went to Rebecca.
“Auntie, I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid.”
“Well, you might want to rethink that.” Mildred set her jaw. After a moment she conceded, “I suppose we must trust in the Lord.”
“Rebecca’s a strong one,” Daniel said. “She’ll be fine.”
“I pray you’re right.” Mildred sounded solemn.
“I know it must be hard for you to understand our ways. I suppose it seems isolated, but this is home to Rebecca and me. We feel secure ’ere. There are dangers, but then there’s troubles everyplace. I’d say it’s better for a bloke to live out in the open among God’s creation than it is to be crushed in the middle of a city. More than likely, mankind began in a place like this rather than a place like Boston.” He grinned.
Mildred pursed her lips. “I’m sure you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we were meant to remain in such surroundings.” Her eyes took in the barren spaces. “Adam and Eve started out in the Garden of Eden. And as much as I admire this station . . . to be perfectly honest, this looks more like the place Adam and Eve were banished to.”
Daniel chuckled. “You may be right. But Rebecca and I aren’t afraid. Living ’ere makes a person stronger.”
“I don’t know that Rebecca needs to be any stronger,” Mildred quipped, a half smile on her face.
Wagon and rider continued moving through the grasslands until a green smudge appeared in the distance. Daniel reined in his horse, and Woodman stopped the team. “This place is grand. You’ll like it,” Daniel said before moving on.
Following a river, a strip of lush grasses sliced through yellow fields. The waterway widened and seemed to rest in a patch of green before continuing. The sightseers moved closer. There amidst dry ground and gnarled trees lay an oasis. The trees looked stronger and healthier. There were gum trees and acacia, shrubbery, and green grasses. It was shaded and cooler. The small river drifted into the lushness, then curled back on itself, creating a pool before flowing on again.
“Why, I never,” Mildred said. “What is this place?”
“It’s a billabong,” Rebecca said, standing. “Isn’t it lovely?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Daniel climbed off his horse. “For us, it’s kind of a secret garden. Except it’s no secret, really. This is a place we come to rest and cool off. The pool is good for swimming.”
“Absolutely lovely,” Mildred said, allowing Woodman to help her out of the surrey. “If I had a blanket I think I could just lie down right here and take a nap.”
“Brought one,” Daniel said, grabbing a blanket out of the back of the carriage.
“Oh, how wonderful, Daniel,” Rebecca said, taking Woodman’s hand and clumsily stepping out of the surrey.
Daniel spread out the blanket beneath a tree. “Have a seat, Mildred.”
“I think I shall.”
“Oh, I’d love to put my feet in the water,” Rebecca said. “Will you join me, Auntie?”
“No. I think not. I’ll be just as happy to remain right here.” Mildred leaned back on her arms and closed her eyes.
“Daniel?”
“Can’t wait,” he said, taking Rebecca’s arm and guiding her toward the water.
Leaning back, Mildred stretched out her legs in front of her. She watched as Rebecca and Daniel disappeared down an embankment. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes. “This is quite marvelous. Do you come here often?” she asked Woodman, who sat at the base of the tree with his back pressed against the smooth bark.
“Now and then.”
“Does Rebecca?”
“Yais, mum. As often as she can.” He smiled and his dark, round face crinkled into deep lines. “She feels closer ta Boston ’ere, I think.”
“I suppose she would. Back home she and that horse of hers, Chavive, traipsed through the grounds at every opportunity. She loved that animal. It nearly broke her heart when she was forced to sell her.” She gazed at the water, a small smile playing at her lips. “Why does it pool up that way?”
“Can’t say exactly. Guess it’s what the river wants ta do, eh?” Woodman rested his arms on bent knees and studied cattle farther downstream that stood on the bank slurping up water from the river. Their soft mooing sounded like a lazy song.
All of a sudden a raucous cry splintered the air.
Mildred startled. “For heaven’s sake, what was that?”
“A kookaburra.”
“A what?”
Woodman laughed. “It’s a bird. Kind of sounds like they’re laughing, eh?”
“I suppose it does.” Mildred looked up into a nearby tree. A stocky white and gray bird sat in its upper branches. Once more it let out its discordant cry. “It doesn’t look particularly distinctive, but its voice certainly is.”
“Too roight,” Woodman said and then returned to staring at the river. His eyes drooped.
Mildred said, “This is a fine station. Daniel must be proud of it.”
“Yais, mum. That he is.”
She plucked a piece of grass and twirled it between her fingers. “Can’t say I’m completely comfortable with Rebecca living way out here, but . . . she seems happy.”
“I’d say she is. She and Daniel ’ave a fine life.”
Mildred gazed at the surrounding countryside, which was nearly hidden by the greenery. “I must admit, Douloo is quite spectacular, even beautiful in some ways. I might actually miss this place after I return to Boston.”
“What’s there that ya ’ave ta return to?”
“Why, I have a life there. Of course I must return,” she said, but inside Mildred considered the secret thought she’d been afraid to look at squarely. She had hoped this would be a suitable place where she might stay. She’d missed Rebecca terribly, and although her brother-in-law had offered her a comfortable place to live, she felt smo
thered by his constant attention. And then there was Thomas. She didn’t know what to do about him.
“Woodman!” Daniel’s voice sounded sharp. He ran toward the shaded area where Woodman and Mildred sat.
Woodman stood.
“Smoke! There!” Daniel pointed at a billowing white cloud rising up from the ground several kilometers south.
Mildred pushed to her feet and leaned against the tree. “Oh, dear Lord!” she said, gazing at the apparition.
“I’m going to take a look.”
“Ya best not go on yer own.”
“And whose ’ere to go with me?” Daniel asked. “You get the women back to the house.” Daniel untied his horse and climbed into the saddle.
“Daniel?” Rebecca called, clambering up the bank as quickly as she could. Breathing hard, she lay a hand on the horse’s neck. “Please be careful.” She grasped Daniel’s hand.
“I’ll be fine. No need to worry.”
“I’ll be there straightaway,” Woodman said.
“Right. And bring any roustabouts or drovers about the place, eh? Might need them.” Daniel kicked the stallion in the sides and galloped off.
Riding hard, Daniel moved toward the billowing smoke. Anxiety and his worst imaginings fed his racing pulse.
Purposely he turned his thoughts elsewhere, to the early days with Rebecca in Boston. At her father’s estate they’d ridden with abandon, racing across open fields and tramping through forests of oak and fir. It had been an enthralling time. He’d been mesmerized by Rebecca. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. He’d fallen in love with her playfulness as well as her stubbornness. Now a fire threatened Rebecca and the child she carried.
He approached the blaze. It was sizable, spitting and hissing as it ate up dry grass. The fire moved toward a mob of cattle a kilometer away.
The muscles in Daniel’s stomach tightened. This was one of the most formidable adversaries he’d ever face. He watched while it gained momentum and threw flames several meters in front of its path.
He searched for some means to stop it. There were no streams or ponds, and all that stretched out in front of the flames were dry grasses. If he wanted to put down this monster, he’d need help.
Daniel glanced in the direction of the house. If the fire couldn’t be stopped, it would destroy his home. Lord, no, he thought, watching for riders. He needed help.
He moved toward the grazing livestock. The fire moved closer. The animals mooed anxiously, switching their tails and eyeing the approaching flames. If he didn’t get them moved, they would likely stampede, injuring themselves and at the very least scattering away from his land and onto his neighbors’. In the maelstrom that could ensue, some might even flee directly into the flames.
Without help, there was little Daniel could do, but he couldn’t afford to wait to move them. He approached slowly, and as he got closer he talked to the mob, careful to keep his voice calm. He glanced at the fire. It was moving fast and getting close. Smoke drifted toward the mob, and the cattle were becoming agitated.
Once more he searched the grasslands toward home, hoping to see Woodman and a mob of other riders. The plains were empty. Come on, Woodman. I need you.
With a quick look at the encroaching fire, he continued to move in on the cattle. Lifting his rope and swinging it over his head, he rode up to a young bullock. “Come on, now, move along. Hep, hep, hep.” He kept his voice calm, although his insides felt tight as a string on a crossbow.
The bullock sauntered forward; others joined him. Daniel moved back and forth around the animals, trying to keep them close together. All the while, he kept an eye on the menacing fire. He’d have to move faster if he wanted to save the cattle.
Again he looked across the flats, hoping to see help approaching. In the distance dust swirled up. Daniel kept working but watched the brown cloud. Soon he could make out a rider. It was Woodman. A group of other riders rode alongside him.
“Good to see you!” Daniel said as Woodman rode up with Jim at his side.
Jim glanced at the fire. “Figured you could use some help.”
“That I can.” His tone turning serious, he said, “We’ll need men fighting the fire and men moving the mob. You drovers look after the cattle. The rest of you need to go to work on a fire line.” He glanced around at the group of riders. “Glad you came prepared. Use your shovels to dig up the grass and turn the sod. If luck goes our way, we’ll stop this right ’ere.”
Woodman dismounted and tied his horse to a thatch of brush. Several men did the same. Jim and a group of drovers set off toward the herd.
“Steer them toward the north,” Daniel called as he untied a shovel strapped to the back of a saddle. “Woodman, glad to see you were thinking ahead,” he said, holding the shovel slightly aloft.
“Brought all I could find. Figured ya’d need somethin’ ta fight with. It’s not much.”
Daniel trudged closer to the blaze but made sure to stay a good distance ahead of it. “Let’s dig a line along ’ere,” he said, pointing at the place he wanted the men to work. “Make the patch as wide as you can. Less chance of flames jumping the line that way.” He pushed his shovel into the earth. “We got to work fast,” he said, turning over his first clump of sod.
Too soon the fire was so close that choking smoke whirled around the men. Daniel tied his handkerchief over his mouth and nose, but it did little to keep out the pungent smoke. His eyes burned and teared, and his throat felt raw. Coughing, he kept working. The flames were moving fast.
With the fire nearly overtaking them, Daniel called, “All right. Get out of ’ere. Let’s go!” Carrying his shovel, he sprinted toward his horse, climbed on its back, and rode to a safe distance. He watched and waited to see if the line held.
Grasses crackled and sizzled as flames gobbled up the prairie. Smoke grew thicker; the world seemed to turn dark. Daniel could barely see. Smoke scorched his throat and burned his lungs. Choking and coughing, he waited. Would the barrier stop the flames?
Jim joined Daniel. “Doesn’t look good.”
“What about the herd?”
“Got ’em moved. They ought to be all right. There’s a couple of drovers still with them. Figured you could use help here.”
More ferocious than ever, the blaze moved toward the barrier. Then, with little more than a pause, it leaped the fire line and caught hold of the grasses on the opposite side, where it moved on.
Daniel stared at the blaze. It seemed fiercer than before.
“What are we gonna do?” Jim asked.
Fighting panic, Daniel didn’t answer right away. Then with ferocity he said, “We dig another line!”
For a moment longer he watched the flames. Hungry, they continued to consume prairie grass and reached for more, moving toward the house. Lord, how do we stop this? Daniel grabbed his shovel and moved farther out ahead of the flames.
“All right,” he called to the men. “I’ll need all of you on this line, digging as if your lives depended on it. They do. We’ve got to stop this thing! Now!”
Immediately the roustabouts and drovers went to work, digging and turning sod. Sweat mixed with soot and dirt trailed down their faces and necks. There would be no surrender.
Flames grew taller and more insistent, pressing closer to the band of warriors. Sparks fell on shirts, hair, and skin, burning through material and flesh. Yet the men continued to battle.
The fire was too close. Daniel realized that to stay and fight could mean someone would die. “All right! We got to find another place to fight. Everyone back!” Some continued to work; he shouted, “Now! It’s moving too fast!”
The men grabbed their horses, swung up onto their backs, and moved away. Holding his shovel aloft like a saber, Daniel shouted, “Get the mob moved.” Using his handkerchief to wipe sweat and dirt from his face, he gazed at the ravenous fire and prayed, God, help us.
Rebecca fanned the hot air and watched the open plains, searching for Daniel. Where was he? It had
been hours since Woodman and the other men had charged out of the yard.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Nearly four,” Willa said. “Try not to worry, dear. I’m sure the men are fine. It’s not the first fire they’ve had to fight.”
“It’s the first time something like this has happened since I’ve been here.”
“Yes. But recently we’ve been blessed with its absence. Fire is something we always watch for. The tall grasses and the eucalyptus are like sweet treats to a fire—they energize a blaze.”
“Really?” Mildred asked, keeping her eyes on the plains. “Could the fire come here?”
“Yes. I suppose so. The house has been in jeopardy before. But I’m sure we’ve nothing to fear. The men are strong, and Daniel knows just what to do.” She turned a reassuring smile on Mildred, who clutched the front seam of her dress.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Rebecca said. She wanted to believe Daniel would be all right, but inside she couldn’t quell her fear. Lord, please protect him, and the others.
“What would we do if the fire came here?” Mildred asked.
“The men would fight it off, and we’d help them.”
“What if they don’t come back?” Mildred’s voice trembled.
“Well, of course they’ll be back,” Willa said. “We’ve nothing to fret about.” She picked up her embroidery. “Perhaps it would be a good idea if we busied ourselves with something other than our worries.”
“They’ve been gone a long time, Willa,” Rebecca said.
“It’s not been so awfully long. And there’s been no sign of fire from here, not even the smallest wisp of smoke. I dare say that if there were a large fire, we’d see smoke.” She concentrated on her sewing. “We’re fine and so are the men. God is looking out for them, I’m certain of it.”
“I pray you’re right,” Mildred said. She walked across the porch and sat in a wicker chair. She sucked in a deep breath and returned to watching the flats.
“You look a bit pale, Rebecca. Are you all right?” Willa asked.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Perhaps a drink of water would be good?”
