by Bonnie Leon
“No. It’s fine.” Daniel took a bite of egg. “I’m just a bit weary is all.”
“You’re working too hard,” Willa said. “You ought to slow down.”
“I will . . . soon.” Daniel didn’t know how or when that might happen. There was so much that needed to be done. The responsibility felt overwhelming.
Rebecca pushed away from the breakfast table. “I’ve got a mare that needs to be checked. Today could be the day.”
“The foal?” Willa asked.
Rebecca carried a plate to the sink. “Yes. Miss has been acting restless and her milk is in. I’m sure the foal will be here any time. But I think Miss is waiting until she’s alone. It seems horses prefer solitude for foaling.” She washed her hands. “I’d best go out and see if she’s all right. Can you watch Joseph for me? He’s still sleeping but ought to be up any time. If I’m not back, a bit of mush should satisfy his hunger.”
“I’ll go up and check on him, then,” Willa said.
“I’ll be out after I finish eating,” Daniel said.
Rebecca moved to the table and leaned down and kissed him.
He gave her a crooked smile. “You must be more tired than me. You barely slept.”
“Actually, I’m not tired at all. I think it’s the anticipation.” She smiled and took a deep breath.
Daniel squeezed her hand. “If you need help come running, eh?”
“Is Mildred still sleeping?” Willa asked.
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “She seemed especially tired last night.”
“And where’s Thomas?”
“I expect he’s still sleeping too,” Daniel said. “He’s the reason Mildred was up late. They sat in the kitchen visiting until late.”
“You don’t suppose they have decided to get married, do you?” Willa asked.
“If that were so, I doubt Auntie would still be asleep. She’d have been up with the chickens to tell us all.” Rebecca smiled. “I’m sure an announcement will come . . . eventually. My aunt just needs to say yes.”
“You think she will, then?” Willa asked.
“I do. She’s just a bit confused right now. I know she cares deeply for Thomas, and he obviously loves her.” Rebecca retied a ribbon that held back her dark hair and then turned and headed for the kitchen door. “I’ve got work to do,” she said brightly, stepping onto the porch.
Feeling a disquiet he didn’t quite understand, Daniel watched Rebecca through the kitchen window as she walked toward the barn. She swung her arms freely and her step was light. She seemed to possess an abundance of confidence and trust. His faith felt feeble compared with hers.
A cup of tea in her hands, Willa sat across from Daniel. “Are you all right? You look worried.”
“I’m fine.” Daniel offered what he hoped was a confident smile.
Willa sipped her tea. “I barely see you these days. And I dare say, you see little of your wife and son.” She watched as Rebecca disappeared inside the barn. “You need each other, especially in these hard times.”
“It’s the way of things, Mum. Don’t fret.”
“How bad are things, Daniel? Really?”
Daniel didn’t answer right away.
“Your father used to share troubles with me, and we’d pray together. Now I feel ignorant of our circumstances.”
“We’ve a rough patch ahead, but we’ll be fine.”
“Really?” Willa met his gaze. “That’s not what I see in your eyes.”
Daniel turned his attention to the barn. “The drought’s bad. But we’ll make it. We always have.”
“How bad? What about the wells?”
Daniel pushed his plate aside. “The main river’s real low; the other streams are drying up. But the man who’s drilling the wells will be ’round soon. He’s working for another bloke right now, but he said it wouldn’t be long until he gets to work ’ere.” Daniel picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip. It was cold. He set down the cup. “Wish Dad were ’ere. And I could sure use Elton.”
Sorrow touched Willa’s eyes. “I miss them. And I’m so sorry this trouble has fallen on your shoulders.”
Daniel didn’t speak. He stared down into his nearly empty cup. What would they do if the rains didn’t come? How would they survive?
Willa reached across the table and lay a hand over Daniel’s. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
Daniel nodded. “I think about how Grandfather settled ’ere. He had a vision of what Douloo would be one day. He worked hard, and then Dad made Douloo even grander. Now it’s my responsibility and . . . and I’m afraid I’ll lose it all.”
“No. Never, Daniel. That won’t happen.” Willa offered an encouraging smile. “We’ll manage . . . all of us, together.”
“That’s roight, mum,” Lily said, as she scrubbed a cast-iron skillet. “Douloo is like the land. It’ll stay put.”
“I pray you’re right.” Daniel reached for his hat sitting on the end of the table and settled it on his head. “I better see if Rebecca needs me.”
“A new life’s ’bout ta come inta the world,” Lily said. “That’s a good sign, eh?” She smiled broadly.
“That’s right,” Willa said. “It’s the best sign.”
“Rebecca’s happy.” Daniel ran a finger along the brim of his hat, then looked up at his mother. “She has no doubt things are going to be all right. I’m the one who lacks faith. Sometimes I wonder what it’s about, the struggle.”
“It’s the struggles that make us strong,” Willa said. “And here on the flats, that’s important.”
“Right.” Daniel opened the door. “Well, if there’s a foal being born, I might be needed.”
Feeling a bit more optimistic, Daniel joined Rebecca. “How’s she doing?”
“It’ll be soon.” Rebecca moved close to Daniel and leaned against him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Woodman, who had been examining the mare, stepped out of the stall. “That foal will be ’ere in no time.”
Over the next few hours, Rebecca and Woodman waited and watched. Daniel was in and out of the barn, leaving most of the responsibility in Woodman’s and Rebecca’s hands. He managed to be there just before the foal made its appearance. In active labor, the mare lay down. Grunting, nostrils flaring, she pushed. Rebecca knelt beside her and ran a hand over her abdomen. In a soothing tone, she said, “It’s all right, Miss. You’re doing well.”
The horse looked at Rebecca, eyes wide. She dropped her head to the hay bed, then acted as if she might rise when the next contraction hit. She whinnied softly and pushed again and again. A hoof appeared, then another. Finally a nose emerged. With a blast of air from her nostrils and a heavy grunt, the mare pushed, expelling a foal covered in a transparent cocoon.
Immediately Rebecca worked with Woodman to release the baby from the bag of waters and to clear its nostrils. The new arrival took a breath and then lay on its side. Rebecca rubbed down its coat. “It’s a colt!”
“He’s a handsome one,” Daniel said, smiling broadly. “A bay just like his mum.”
“He’s a beaut, all roight,” Woodman said.
Rebecca stood beside Daniel and watched the mare and her foal become acquainted. Miss stood and started licking her baby. For a long while the colt lay quietly in the hay, but finally he stuck his front feet straight out in front and then tried to lift a quaking hind end. He tottered there for a moment and then fell.
“Ah, there he goes,” Woodman said.
The colt lay in the hay, panting. A few moments later he tried again to stand. This time he managed to make it up on all fours, but he’d planted his front legs wide apart, and when his mother licked him, down he went. Not to be defeated, he tried once more.
“Persistent, eh?” Daniel chuckled. “I figure he’ll be a determined one, then.”
The colt got to his feet, and this time mother and son nuzzled each other. The foal searched for a meal and found it, his tail flicking in delight as he took his first nourishment.
“Yes. Fine indeed. He’ll make a good addition to our stock. Course, you might be able to get a fine price for him if you’re willing to sell him.”
“Let’s not talk of selling right now.” Rebecca studied the colt. “He’s quite spectacular. I would like to keep him.”
Daniel draped an arm around Rebecca’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “You have to be practical, luv. He ought to be worth a fair bit. We’d be foolhardy to hang on to him. Douloo will likely need the money. We’ve lost some stock to the drought already. And we’ll be spending plenty on the wells.”
“Have you ever considered selling off a portion of Douloo?” Rebecca asked.
Instantly angry, Daniel stared at Rebecca. “You think I’d do such a thing? Not a piece of this ground will be let go while I’m running this station.”
“But we have so much. We could sell a section and it would never be missed.”
“No! I’ll not sell any part of my grandfather’s heritage.”
“But it makes sense, Daniel.”
“Enough.” Shocked and angry, he stared at her. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the barn.
Willa stood just outside the door. She leveled a questioning look at her son.
“How can she not understand?” he muttered, glancing back at Rebecca. “I’ll let none of it go. I’ll keep this station in fine shape. Just have to work harder is all.”
“Daniel, there’s a limit to what a man can do. If it’s God’s will that we preserve Douloo, then he’ll see to it. This is bigger than just one man. You can’t rely on your strength only.”
“And what am I to do, then? Throw up my arms and say, ‘Do it for me, God’? No. I’ll have to work for it. It’ll take more than a bit of faith to hold on to Douloo.” He pulled off his hat and swiped a hand through his hair. “And where is God? Already we’ve lost a portion of the herd.”
“Daniel,” Willa said, grasping her son’s arm.
Daniel took a deep breath, blew it out, and then continued more calmly. “Everything will be fine. Douloo will be fine. Please don’t worry. I’m sorry for my outburst.”
“I’m all right, but it frightens me to see you losing heart.”
“I’m just frustrated.” He turned and faced the barn, folding his arms over his chest. He truly didn’t know what to do other than to keep going one day at a time. Finally, he turned and looked at his mother. “We’ve a fine new foal, reason to rejoice, eh?” He managed to smile. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”
Daniel and Jim rode toward the southern edge of the station. Cattle had been spotted wandering beyond its borders, and they needed to be rounded up. Daniel’s mind, however, wasn’t on the misplaced stock but rather on his mother’s words of faith. He’d acted as if he agreed with her, but in truth he’d been tussling with God. Why did hardship touch the faithful?
I’ve done nothing to deserve your reproof, Lord. I’m not faultless, but I’ve done my best to obey you and to trust you. I’ve worked hard. I’ve watched over my family and Douloo. And I’ve not missed church nor forsaken my prayers.
Daniel gazed at withered grasslands, his mind turning to a Scripture that taunted him. “He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.” Daniel knew he possessed no guarantee of protection from hardships.
“Hard to know just what you’re getting with scrubs,” Jim said. “Could be someone else’s cattle.”
“No one grazes that area. Wild or not, I figure they’re ours.”
“They’re liable to give us trouble.”
“And if we leave ’em, we’ll be facing poddy dodgers.”
“S’pose you’re right. Better to deal with a rowdy scrub today than be forced to run down thieves tomorrow.” Jim grinned.
“Right.” Again, the words “He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust” rolled through his mind.
“Everything all right?” Jim asked.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“You’ve just been quieter than usual.”
“Been thinkin’. There’s a lot needs to be done.” Daniel lifted his hat and smoothed back his hair. Squinting into the sun, he studied the empty plains. “We ought to come across that mob any time.”
“I’ll wager they’re down at the creek.”
“Not much out ’ere for them. Even the cool weather doesn’t help, not without rain. I was out at the billabong yesterday. Even it’s drying up.” Daniel replaced his hat. “We’d better find water in the boreholes.”
“Drilling going on yet?”
“Soon.” Daniel’s eyes settled on a grove of gum trees huddled together as if seeking shelter from promised winter storms. “Time for a rest, eh?”
As if understanding his rider’s words, Daniel’s horse picked up his pace and headed for the grove. Daniel and Jim dismounted, tied the horses, and sat on a log in the sunshine.
After gulping water from a canteen, Daniel screwed the lid back on and rested his arms on bent knees. “The horses will be needing a drink too.”
Jim sat on the ground and leaned against a downed tree. “I feel as parched as the land. Sometimes I dream of rain. When I was growing up back in New York, seemed we always had more than enough of the wet stuff. A summer storm was a playground for us kids. The wetter we got, the more we liked it.”
Daniel nodded and gazed at a hazy sky.
“Got to admit, at times like this I wonder why I stay.”
“You thinking about going back to the States?”
“Nah. Not really. Been here too long.” Jim took a drink. “Don’t have anyone there anyway.”
“Right. And Cambria’s ’ere, eh?”
“That she is,” Jim said lifting a brow.
“When’re you going to ask her to marry you?”
Jim screwed the cap back on his canteen. “Don’t know that she’d have me.”
“Come on, now. She’s smitten. And you know it.”
“Maybe. But I can’t ask her until I have a piece of ground to call my own.”
“’Round ’ere don’t know that you’d want any, not just now anyway.”
“The drought will see its last day.”
Daniel nodded, then turned his attention to something rustling in the nearby brush. “What you think we have there?”
“S’pose we ought to find out,” Jim said, pushing to his feet.
Daniel stood.
The horses nickered and fidgeted. “It’s got them nervous,” Daniel said, grabbing the rifle from his saddle and cautiously moving toward the brush. Jim did the same and followed closely.
Rifle cocked, Daniel walked alongside the scrub and peered into the shadows. Jim moved toward the far end. All of a sudden a dark blur broke out of the brush and hurtled itself straight at Jim. With an angry squeal, a boar hit him below the knees, burying a tusk in his left leg. Jim howled and brought the butt of his rifle down on the animal’s head. The boar squalled and then trotted off. Grabbing his leg, Jim fell to the ground.
Daniel raised his gun and fired. He missed. Knowing the boar wasn’t done with Jim, Daniel reloaded and ran toward his friend. He needed to get between the drover and the angry boar. “Go on! Get!” he hollered.
The animal turned his foul temper on Daniel and rushed him. Daniel leaped to one side but didn’t completely avoid a tusk. It tore into his pant leg and grazed the skin on his calf. Daniel glanced at the wound. Blood oozed through his dungarees, and he could feel it trickle down his leg.
The enraged boar turned and headed back at Daniel. Taking a calming breath, Daniel rested his rifle on his arm and took aim. He couldn’t afford to miss. Over the years, he’d known more than one man killed by a wild boar. Holding his arm steady, Daniel didn’t breathe as he squeezed the trigger and fired. With a thud, the animal fell. He didn’t move.
Daniel ran for Jim.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. I’ll live,” Jim said, wincing as he tried to stand.
“Stay put.” Daniel leaned over him. He pulled out a knife and cut open Jim’s pant leg. “He got you pretty good,” he said, inspecting an angry wound. The boar had managed to sink a tusk into Jim’s calf and had torn it wide open, laying back the flesh clear to the bone.
“Looks bad. We’ll get you back to the house and let the doc have a look at it. He’ll make it right as rain in no time.”
“And what about you?” Jim asked, nodding at Daniel’s bloodied pants.
He pulled up the leg of his dungarees and took a quick look. “It’s nothing more than a scratch.” He shoved down his pant leg and put an arm around Jim. “Can you manage?”
“Yeah. Think so,” Jim said, pushing off the ground. He sucked air through his teeth and closed his eyes but managed to hobble to his horse. “Wish it was my right leg,” he said, eyeing the stirrup. “Make it a lot easier.”
“Mount from the other side. I’ll give you a hand.” While Jim grabbed hold of the saddle horn, Daniel pushed. Jim managed to settle into the saddle but had to leave the injured leg free of the stirrup. Blood dripped from his wound.
“Hold on a minute. That’s bleeding pretty good,” Daniel said, taking off his bandanna. “Hold tight. This’ll hurt.” He tied the kerchief tightly around the wound. “That ought to help.” Jim had broken into a sweat, and his skin looked pallid. “You gonna be all right?” Daniel asked, handing him the reins.
“Yeah, but we better get moving. Don’t know how long I can ride.”
“Right,” Daniel said, his mind returning to the question he had for God. Why? Why the hardships? What good could be served by allowing Jim to be injured? Wasn’t life hard enough?
Daniel favored his injured leg as he and Rebecca moved toward the barn. His encounter with the boar had left a badly bruised and swollen calf.
Still anxious over what had happened, Rebecca kept a hand on Daniel’s arm. “You’re sure you’re all right? You ought to stay off that leg.”
“No worries. It’ll be fine.”
“You and Jim could have been killed.”
