by Bonnie Leon
Daniel didn’t say anything. He shifted his weight to his other foot and stared at Rebecca.
“You’re not Bertram Thornton. You weren’t meant to be him.”
Daniel took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “I admire my father and what he did ’ere. He took his father’s hard work and sweat and made it into something truly grand. He was a great man. And I suppose there’s some truth in what you say. I do want to be like him. But I know better than to expect that.”
“But you can—”
Daniel cut her off. “I’ve got to do my best, work hard. And if it’s possible, make this place finer than it is now. If I can’t do that, at least I’ve got to keep it going. We’re facing hard times.”
“I don’t think you see what you’re doing. You’re trying to step into your father’s shoes. But you must go about living in a way that’s suitable for you, not him.” Joseph whimpered more loudly, and Rebecca gently bounced him.
“I’m not trying to be him.”
Rebecca didn’t want to argue, but why couldn’t he see the truth? Struggling to keep her voice quiet and calm, she said, “You may not be able to see it, but I can. You want more than to be as good as he was; you want to be better than him.” Rebecca hesitated. Did she dare go further? Deciding there was nothing to be lost, she plunged ahead.
Joseph’s whimpers were becoming more demanding. “You’ve even taken to overseeing people in the district like your father did. Do you also intend, one day, to rewrite the reverend’s sermons?”
“Of course not. You’re not being fair, Rebecca.”
“I’m trying to be rational, but I’m afraid. Remember the mistakes your father made? He cared so deeply for his family and the people in this district that he did too much.”
Daniel glowered at Rebecca. “I’m a Thornton. And people look up to me. Some need help. I must do what I can. Doesn’t the Lord ask us to do for our neighbors?”
“Yes, but—”
“Rebecca, I’ve said all I’m going to. I won’t argue with you.” He placed another nail against a board and pounded it in.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want to fight, but please, can’t we talk about this?” She boosted Joseph onto her shoulder.
Daniel blew out a breath. “All right, then.” He moved his hammer from one hand to the other. “I guess I do feel a bit as if I’m living in my father’s shadow. And it’s frustrating to know that no matter how hard I work, I’ll never be as good as him.” Tormented eyes looked into Rebecca’s. “Don’t you understand? Douloo is my responsibility now. You and Joseph and Mum, you’re my responsibility.” He walked to the window at the back of the stall and gazed out. “Sometimes I wake in the night in a sweat. I dream I’ve ruined the station, lost it all. And then I see my father and my grandfather standing side by side staring at me, their faces filled with disappointment and sorrow. And I know it’s all my fault.”
“Daniel, it’s just a dream. We’re not going to lose the station. You’re doing a fine job.”
“Right. I’m not going to lose it. But it takes hard work to hang on to something like this. I’ve got to make sure everything is being done as it ought to be. Overseeing Douloo is my duty. If I don’t watch over it, who will?”
“Daniel, you’re not alone. You have me, your family, and God.”
He moved to Rebecca and grasped her arms. “I know what you say is true, but it feels as if I’m carrying a great burden. I’ve always known that one day Douloo would be mine.” He straightened and looked at his son. “He depends on me to keep it safe for him.”
Her heart aching for Daniel, Rebecca walked back to the house. She wished there were something she could do to make his burden lighter. Lord, show me what I can do to help.
Willa stood on the bottom step of the porch. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes and no.”
“What is it, dear?”
Rebecca sat on the step and Willa sat beside her.
Willa rested a hand on Joseph’s back. “He’s such a love, so much like his father.”
“In what way?”
“His looks and his disposition. He’s temperate and good-natured.” She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the barn. “And what is troubling you about Daniel?”
Rebecca smiled slightly. “You know me so well.” Taking a deep breath, she continued, “All he thinks about is Douloo and how he must watch over it and help it transcend into something finer than it already is. He’s working too hard. And he worries too much.”
“He takes his responsibilities very seriously . . . as he should.” Willa bent and picked up a slender eucalyptus leaf. “Too much though, I must admit.” Twirling the leaf between her fingers, she offered Rebecca a smile. “In time he’ll find his place. It hasn’t been that long since Bertram died. Be patient.”
“I’m afraid. Is this how things began to change with Bertram? Was he different in the beginning?”
Willa’s eyes teared. “I must say, in the early years we had quite a lot of fun. Oh, Bertram was serious minded, but he also knew how to play. He spent quite a bit of time with the boys.” A frown furrowed her brow. “Gradually he moved away from us.”
“I’m afraid that’s how Daniel and I will end up.”
“He’s always been quite different from his father. Bertram had a forceful presence. He was driven. Since Daniel was a lad he’s always been a follower, never a leader. Although when he found something of real interest, he’d give it his all.” She patted Rebecca’s arm. “And I dare say, I’m sure that’s what he’s doing now. Taking care of Douloo isn’t just for him but for you and me.” Her eyes fell upon Joseph. “And for his children.”
“I think he feels a need to live up to his father’s memory. He’s working to please Bertram.”
“He and his father didn’t settle things before Bertram died.” Willa dropped the leaf. “I wish they had. There was so much that needed to be restored.” She rested a hand on Rebecca’s arm. “Daniel always wanted to please his father and never felt that he could. Whatever he did never seemed to be enough for Bertram. He may still be working that out. Pray for him and love him. I’m convinced things will get better.”
“And if they don’t? What am I to do then?”
“He’ll come around. His father’s only been gone six months.” Her eyes glimmered and she brushed away tears.
Rebecca felt a rush of grief. “I can’t imagine what it is like to lose your husband.”
Willa straightened slightly and smiled. “And you won’t have to know for many years, I’m sure.” She stood. “Well now, the picnic things are ready; would you still like to go?”
“Absolutely.”
The sound of an approaching rider echoed from the road. Rebecca shaded her eyes and looked toward the drive. A man riding a short, stout horse galloped over the rise and into the yard.
He stopped a few feet from Willa and Rebecca. Removing a black bowler hat, he said, “Good afternoon. I’m Thomas Murdoc. I was hoping I might find Mildred Williams here.”
Rebecca felt a pulse of surprise. Obviously this man was not a local. What could he want with her aunt? She stood. “Yes, she is visiting here. She’s my aunt. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I’ve come all the way from Boston to see her.”
Curiosity replaced Rebecca’s suspicion. “Did you say your name is Thomas?”
“Yes. I’m a friend of Mildred’s.”
“I believe she mentioned you.” Rebecca smiled. “Please, won’t you come in out of the sun. Let me get you something to drink.”
Thomas dismounted. He wasn’t a very large man and couldn’t have been more than two or three inches taller than Rebecca. He bent forward slightly, obviously stiff from his ride. Pressing a hand against the small of his back, he forced himself erect. “I’m not used to riding much. I came all the way from Thornton Creek.” He dusted off his shirt and pants. “That’s quite a road you have. Several times I nearly lost my way
.” He smiled and his lined face looked friendly.
“I’m Rebecca Thornton, and this is my mother-in-law, Willa Thornton.” She hefted Joseph slightly. “And this is Joseph, my son.”
“Oh yes. It’s so good to meet you. Mildred’s spoken of you.”
“You must be thirsty.”
“Yes, very.”
They walked toward the house. When Rebecca reached the stairway, she hurried her steps, anxious to surprise her aunt. “Auntie . . . Auntie Mildred,” she called as she crossed the veranda and opened the front door.
Willa stepped inside. “She must be upstairs. I’ll go and find her. You two sit. I’ll have Callie bring you something to drink.” She disappeared indoors, leaving Rebecca and Thomas on the veranda.
“This is a fine place,” Thomas said, gazing about.
“Thank you. Won’t you have a seat?” Rebecca laid Joseph in his cradle and then sat in a wicker chair.
Thomas hobbled across the porch and dropped into a chair across from her. He gazed out over the plains. “A lot of open country here. And I must say, everything looks very much the same—it’s easy to get lost.”
“That’s true. It takes time to learn your way about. I hadn’t lived here long when I lost my way. If not for a friend of mine, I might have perished.”
“Well, we can thank the Lord you didn’t.”
Thomas seemed a very nice man and must certainly have some sort of intentions toward Mildred to have followed her halfway around the world. Rebecca studied him from beneath lowered lids. Although his hair was thinning a bit on top, he was quite nice looking, with warm brown eyes. And he looked like someone who smiled easily.
The front screen door creaked open. “Rebecca, did you call me? I thought . . .” Mildred stopped and then slowly stepped onto the veranda, allowing the door to clap shut behind her. She stared at Thomas, who stood to greet her.
“Mildred, you remember Mr. Murdoc, don’t you?”
Mildred glanced at Rebecca, then looked back at her guest. A bright flush lit her face. “Why, yes. Thomas, what are you doing here?” Her hand went to her neckline.
“I came to see you. And I haven’t done much in the way of traveling, so I thought it was about time I had a look at Australia.” He smiled, then added in a tender voice, “I missed you and hoped you’d be kind enough to show me a bit of the countryside.”
“Certainly, Thomas.” Mildred said his name as if it were honey in her mouth. She moved to a chair and sat. “I wasn’t expecting you. You should have written and told me you were coming.”
He pulled a crumpled letter from his breast pocket. “I did, but I decided rather suddenly to travel here and thought I’d just hand deliver it.” He extended the letter.
Mildred took it. “I’ll read it later, if that’s all right?”
“Of course—whenever you like.”
Callie stepped onto the porch with a tray of filled water glasses. She set it on the table.
“Thank you,” Thomas said, taking a glass. “I can’t remember being this thirsty.” He took a drink, then another and kept on until the glass was empty. He held it out to Callie. “Do you think I could have a little more?”
“Roight away.” Callie took the glass and disappeared indoors.
Thomas settled his eyes on Mildred. “You look fine. Seems the Australian sun has been good for you.”
“Why, thank you, Thomas.” She pursed her lips. “But I still don’t understand why you’re here.”
Thomas glanced at Rebecca, then looked back at Mildred. “Perhaps we could take a walk?” He stood and held out his arm.
Still flushed, Mildred said, “Of course.” She stood and rested her hand on his arm. Looking like a much younger woman than she was, she glanced at Rebecca and said, “We won’t be long.”
Thomas stayed close beside Mildred as they walked toward the corral adjoining the barn. Mildred suddenly felt bashful and embarrassed. She removed her hand from his arm and made certain there was enough space between them that they couldn’t touch. Thomas didn’t speak. Mildred searched for something intelligent to say but couldn’t think of a thing. She was still astounded by his surprise appearance.
Thomas stopped at the corral and leaned against the fence. Mildred rested her arms on the top railing and stared at Chavive, who pranced around the edges of the enclosure, as if showing off for her audience. “She’s beautiful, don’t you think?”
Thomas’s affectionate brown eyes rested on Mildred instead of the horse. “Yes, handsome.”
Glancing at Thomas, Mildred could feel her face heat up and quickly returned her gaze to Chavive.
The mare trotted toward her visitors and thrust her head over the top of the fence, nuzzling Mildred.
“Oh my. Why, hello there.” She patted the mare’s neck. “You seem in high spirits today.” She glanced at Thomas. “This is Chavive, Rebecca’s horse.”
“She’s a beauty, all right.” Thomas studied the animal. “I seem to recall you mentioning a horse called Chavive. She had been sold from your brother’s estate. Is this the same one?”
“You have a good memory. When Rebecca married Daniel and moved here from Boston, she was forced to sell her. To Rebecca it was like losing a friend. And an additional sorrow after losing her father.” Mildred felt the sudden sting of tears. “Silly of me. I still miss my brother.” She forced a smile and blinked away the tears.
“We never stop missing the ones we love.”
Mildred only nodded. What could be said? She knew about Thomas’s wife and child. Gwenn had died giving birth; the baby, a little boy, had died along with her. Mildred continued as if nothing had been said about death. “Daniel purchased Chavive for Rebecca this past Christmas. But of course Rebecca was in no condition to go riding then.”
“Why not?”
“She was expecting Joseph.”
“Oh yes. Of course.”
“Rebecca’s been anxiously awaiting the day she’ll be recovered enough to ride.” Mildred glanced back at the house and at Rebecca, who sat on the porch. “That should be any day now. She’s doing quite well.”
Mildred plucked a handful of grass from alongside a watering trough and offered it to Chavive, who greedily took the tidbit. Mustering her courage, Mildred asked, “Thomas, it’s lovely to have you here, but I’m not quite sure why you’ve come.”
Anxiety flashed across Thomas’s face. He managed a smile. “Actually, I’m a bit surprised to find myself here as well.” He looked at Mildred, unable to disguise his devotion, then rubbed Chavive’s nose. “After you left, I imagined what my life would be like without you . . . and . . . well, I decided I couldn’t manage.” His lips turned up in a crooked smile, and he lifted his eyebrows slightly. “So I decided to come after you and make you understand how important you are to me.” He acted as if he might touch her but refrained.
Mildred felt panic close in. “I’m not sure what to say, Thomas. On one hand, it’s wonderful to see you, but on the other . . . I wish you hadn’t come.” Seeing hurt in his eyes, she quickly added, “It’s not that I don’t care for you; I do.”
“Then what is it? Why won’t you marry me?”
Mildred didn’t know exactly why she didn’t want to marry Thomas. He was kind and considerate and attractive for an older man. It’s his wife. He still loves her. Mildred had never been courted, not since she was young. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if Thomas was trying to replace his wife with her. If I ask him, I’m sure he’ll deny it. What would be accomplished by bringing it up? And I haven’t known him long enough to speak of such personal things.
“I’m not certain I can answer your question,” she said. “It’s difficult to imagine myself married . . . to anybody. I’ve been on my own for so many years; it just seems absurd that a spinster like myself should suddenly find herself married.” She straightened her spine, bringing herself nearly to the same height as Thomas. “And I’m used to being independent, and . . . well, to be honest, I spent so many years caring for m
y parents that I don’t relish the idea of looking after a husband.” She gripped the fence so tightly a sliver jabbed her palm. “Ouch!”
“What is it?” Thomas asked, the lines in his face deepening with concern.
“Nothing.” Mildred studied her palm. “Just a sliver.”
“Here, let me see.” Thomas took her hand. “Hmm, this may require minor repair,” he said with a grin. Taking a small knife out of his pocket, he opened the blade and gently probed. “Hold real still. It’ll only take a moment, Gwenn.” He stopped and stared at her palm.
Mildred sucked in her breath. “What did you call me?”
“Oh.” Thomas looked at her. “I . . . I’m sorry. I just had a memory of doing this same thing for Gwenn.” He smiled. “She was quite brave just like you.”
Mildred wanted to pull her hand away, but Thomas had returned to his ministrations.
“These little pocketknives can come in handy,” he said, lifting the splinter from her hand. “That’s it, slick as a whistle.” He smoothed her skin. “You wouldn’t have to look after me.”
Mildred took her hand back and examined the spot where the sliver had been lodged. “I can see that you’re quite self-sufficient.” She nodded at the knife. “You’re very good with that thing.”
Pressing the back of the blade against his pant leg, he closed the knife and then returned it to his pocket. “I’d be handy to have around.”
“You certainly would at that, but . . . Thomas, I don’t know that I ever want to marry.” She met his brown eyes, knowing that what she had to say would wound. But it was clear that Gwenn was the one he loved.
“When I was young I planned to marry someone very charming and raise a family.” She smiled. “I had all the silly dreams that most girls do. But then Father took sick and Mother couldn’t cope; I stayed to help. After Father’s passing Mother needed me. She never stopped needing me. When she died I was no longer young.”
“I’m sorry, Mildred.”
She rolled back her shoulders and turned to study Chavive. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve had a full life. After Mother died I went to live with my brother and his family. When his wife, Audrey, passed, I stayed to watch over Rebecca. It was like having my own family. And I couldn’t love Rebecca more if she were my own.” She plucked a piece of straw from a crib of hay. “My life has been satisfying.”
