by Bonnie Leon
“Thank you.” Rev. Cobb placed a hand on his stomach. “I’m looking forward to dining with the Thorntons. I’ve tasted Lily’s cooking before. And there’s none better.”
Meghan stepped up and stood in front of the minister. “My mother asked if I could extend an invitation to you, Reverend, to join us for dinner.”
“I’d be delighted, but I’ve already had an invitation. Perhaps another time?”
Meghan’s brown eyes narrowed. “Oh. Of course.” She glanced at Rebecca. “I’ll tell Mum.” She brushed at something on her skirt and then looked back up at Rev. Cobb and gave her head a slight bob. “G’day ta ya, then.” With that, she flounced off.
“Reverend, I am so pleased you’re coming to our home, but now I wish I’d chosen another day,” Willa said. “I don’t want any more animosity between the Thorntons and the Linnells. There’s too much hostility already. And now it seems our invitation has set Meghan off.”
“No worries, Mrs. Thornton. I’m sure she’ll get over it. I’ll speak with her mother before I leave. I’m confident I can smooth things over. So if you’ll excuse me, then.”
Rebecca watched as the reverend walked toward Mrs. Linnell. They exchanged a pleasant greeting and chatted amiably. “Well, it appears all is well.” Rebecca shook her head. “No matter what we do, it seems to provoke the Linnells.”
“The reverend’s right. We shouldn’t fret about such things,” Willa said.
“Yes, that’s true. And no amount of worrying will ever change Meghan. She’s spoiled and always will be.”
“She may come ’round one day.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not holding my breath.” Rebecca climbed into the surrey.
When Rev. Cobb returned, he was smiling and relaxed. “Two Sundays in a row I have the privilege of eating at the best tables in the district. God is good.”
That afternoon the Thorntons and Rev. Cobb gathered for the midday meal. Daniel managed to make it to the table just as the food was served. “Sorry for my tardiness,” he said, sliding into his seat. “I didn’t know we had a guest.”
“Oh, I thought I told—” Willa began.
“It must have slipped my mind.” Daniel took a long drink of water.
“You look like you’ve taken on a bit too much sun, Daniel,” Rebecca said.
“Probably have. Stubborn mob kept me out longer than I planned, and rather than wearing my hat, I was waving it much of the time, trying to keep the beasts moving.”
“Where are you moving them to?” the reverend asked.
“Just upstream a bit. There’s a little more water and grass there.”
Daniel seemed out of sorts. Rebecca wondered if something had happened.
“You going to hold out, then?” the reverend asked.
“We’ll hold on, but things aren’t looking good.” Daniel rested his palms on the table and settled his eyes on Rebecca. “I was thinking it might be a good time for Rebecca to make a trip to Boston.” He looked at his mother. “And, Mum, you might like to see America. It’s grand.” He tried to smile. “I’m sure Thomas and Mildred would be pleased to see you both. And you’d be able to attend their wedding.”
Silence settled over the table, except for Joseph who banged his spoon against his wooden tray.
Finally Willa said, “You can’t be serious, Daniel. You know I’d never leave.”
“Just for a while, Mum.” Daniel leaned on the table and let his eyes slide away from his mother’s.
“No, Daniel,” Willa said firmly.
“And I’m not leaving you either.” Rebecca laid her hand over his. “To abandon you when you need me most . . . I could never do that.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Rebecca. You haven’t seen it. The flats are already littered with carcasses. And it’s going to get worse. Disease will come. I don’t want you ’ere. I don’t want to worry about you and Joseph.” His eyes rested on his son. Joseph was busy pushing his green beans across his tray.
Rebecca turned to the reverend. “It’s not right for me to go . . . is it?”
Rev. Cobb dipped his spoon into his bowl of soup. “A wife is to be a helpmate to her husband. I don’t see that you can do that very well all the way from Boston. But if Daniel insists, then you should go. A husband is the head of his family.”
“I don’t want anyone to leave,” Daniel said. “But I see no other choice. I’ll not watch the people I love suffer.” He pushed away from the table. “I can’t be worrying about my family while I’m trying to save Douloo.”
“I love that you care so deeply,” Rebecca said. “But I can’t leave you, not like this. And Christmas is only weeks away. Perhaps things will improve.”
Daniel walked to the window and gazed outside, then turned and looked at Rebecca. “Have you thought about what you’ll do when the water is gone? Today I put down a whole mob of cattle. And Noble will have to be sold—along with some of the other stock.”
“Not Chavive,” Rebecca gasped.
“No, she’ll stay,” Daniel said.
“We’ve a well, and it’s still providing enough for our needs,” Willa said. “And I thought Jessop promised we’d have water soon.”
“He’s still drilling. And he doesn’t know. Like us, he can only hope.”
“All right then, we’ll stay until we must leave.” Willa picked up her spoon and resumed eating.
Daniel folded his arms over his chest and looked straight at the reverend. “I don’t know why God is allowing all of this. He could fix things if he wanted to.”
“We cannot lean upon our own understanding, Daniel,” the reverend said.
“Right now, that’s all I’ve got.”
Daniel put a foot on the bottom rail of the corral fence and laid an arm on the top rail. “With things the way they are, I’d say you’re right smart to move on. Can’t fault you.”
The drover shifted his hat forward and scuffed the dry ground with the toe of his boot. “Hate ta go. Yer a roight good man ta work for. But I figgered ya’d have ta let me go soon anyways.” Squinting, he looked into the early morning sun. “Might get lucky though. There’s reports of gold up ’round Cloncurry.”
Daniel stepped away from the fence. “Right.” He extended his hand.
Grasping it, the drover shook it.
“Good luck.” Daniel managed a smile.
“If the weather changes and favors ya, I’ll be back. Ya can count on it.”
“Right. I’ll be looking for you.”
The young man turned and walked away.
Daniel watched until he disappeared around the corner of the barn, then gave his attention to Chavive as she trotted across the corral. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he and Rebecca had ridden in the forest outside Boston. He’d brought her so far from home—and to what? A dying station.
His thoughts turned to Rebecca’s early rebellion, and he smiled. She’d been like a wild filly. She was spirited, all right. Wouldn’t take to a bit. He grinned. She could still be stubborn, but Daniel was proud of her. She’d made Douloo her home, and she’d done right well with Noble and the other horses.
A pang of grief hit him. Noble was gone—sold just after Christmas. Fine Christmas gift, he thought with derision. He grasped the wooden fence, barely feeling a splinter that jabbed his palm. What would he do if he lost Douloo? How would he take care of his family? He tried to pray, but there were no words, only an ache inside.
Woodman joined Daniel and leaned against the fence. “He’s goin’, eh?”
“Yeah. Can’t blame him.”
“Goin’ up with the other blokes in search of gold?”
“Yep. I’ve even given thought to having a go myself.”
Woodman’s eyes glinted with amusement, but his plump face remained unchanged. “Minin’s dangerous work. And up that way there’re crocs. If a bloke’s not careful, he’ll end up croc tucker.” He chuckled.
“No worries. I’ll be staying ’ere.” Daniel’s eyes scanned the cloudles
s sky. He turned and folded his arms over his chest, resting his back against the fence. “Things got to get better, eh?”
Woodman didn’t answer. His dark eyes held only a question Daniel couldn’t read. Unable to face what the man really thought, Daniel changed the subject. “Mr. Linnell invited me out to have a look at a bull of his. I’d like you to come along.”
“Probably good that I do. I’ll ’ave ta keep an eye out for that Miss Linnell. She ’asn’t landed a husband yet, and I’d say she’s still noticin’ ya.” Woodman grinned.
“That’s long past. She and I been mates since we were kids. Figure we know better how to be friends than anything else. She’ll understand that.”
Daniel looked up into the branches of a scorched acacia. Squawking rose from its upper branches. In the nearly bare limbs, a well-fed maggie looked down on him. “Only animals eating good these days are the scavengers.”
Woodman gazed at the bird. “With so much of the mob dyin’, why ya thinkin’ ’bout buyin’ a bull?”
“I know I’m taking a chance, but it’s now or never. If times were good Rush Linnell wouldn’t sell him.”
Jim ran his horse into the yard and stopped at the foot of the front steps. Willa had been sitting on the veranda. She stood. “Ma’am,” Jim said, “can you tell me where I might find Daniel?”
“I believe he’s in the barn. Is there something wrong?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and turned his horse toward the barn.
Daniel met him outside the door. “What you in such a hurry for?”
“Trouble. You better come with me.”
“What is it?”
“That bull you bought a few days ago. He’s sick. Looks like redwater.”
Daniel’s throat constricted. “Can’t be. He was fine.”
“Well, he’s not now.”
Daniel ran to his horse, which was already saddled and tied at the railing outside the corral. He shoved his foot into the stirrup and pushed up into the saddle. “Let’s have a look, then.”
The two men galloped toward the pasture where the bull had been released. When they reached the field, Daniel could see right away the animal was sick. He stood with his legs locked and his head down, and he was breathing in a fast pant. Daniel looked at Jim. “Why do you think it’s redwater?”
“I seen his urine—dark red and foamy.”
Daniel climbed down from his horse and slowly approached the animal. The bull seemed unaware of him. Before Daniel reached him, he dropped onto his front hocks, then onto his side. Daniel moved closer, shaking his head. How could this happen? There hadn’t been a case of redwater in the district all year.
The bull would be gone in a matter of hours, and the rest of the herd would follow. He pulled his hat from his head and swiped it across his pant leg. “We better get the rest of the mob moved,” is all he said, but inside he was angry. What had he done to deserve this?
As Daniel had predicted, the bull lived only a few hours. And in the weeks that followed, much of the herd sickened and died.
Daniel took to spending more and more time on his own, riding alone in the desiccated grasslands, searching for solace somewhere in the open country. In the past it had always been there for him. But now all he could see was a frightening future, one without Douloo. Why would God allow such hardship to come upon his family?
Rebecca sat on the veranda with Willa. Joseph toddled across the wooden planking toward his mother. When he reached her, she scooped him up.
“He’s such a big boy for a one-year-old,” Willa said.
“He’s going to be tall like his father.” Rebecca cuddled him. “Hard to believe a year has passed since his birth.”
Wanting his freedom more than he wanted his mother, Joseph wriggled free and scrambled off her lap. Taking lurching steps, he moved toward the staircase. He dropped to his hands and knees and backed up toward the first step.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Willa said, catching him before he started down. “I’m not about to chase you around the yard, not in this heat. You have more than enough to entertain yourself right here.” She carried him to a box of toys sitting against the house and offered him a wooden horse. He grabbed it and banged it against the porch planks.
Rebecca sipped from a glass of water and gazed out at the dry land. “It’s probably icy cold and snowy in Boston,” she said, her heart longing for a true winter.
“Sounds marvelous.” Willa smiled. “Never thought I’d say that.”
“It does sound good.” Rebecca wondered if she’d find herself back there one day. No, she told herself, remembering Daniel’s suggestion that she return to Boston for a time. I can’t leave him while things are so bad. So much had gone wrong, and she’d started to believe that he might actually lose Douloo. With a sigh she gazed out over the open ground. He was out there—somewhere—alone.
Willa rocked forward and laid a hand over Rebecca’s. “He’ll be right as rain. Don’t you worry about him.”
Rebecca offered her mother-in-law a faint smile. “I just wish it weren’t so painful for him. Nothing I say or do seems to help.”
“He’s not alone. God knows his struggle.”
Rebecca nodded. “I’ve been thinking about Mildred a lot lately. I miss her.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“Yes. I meant to tell you. She sent a letter.”
“I hope all is well.”
“Yes. She and Thomas are doing wonderfully. Thomas’s business has picked up, and Mildred said they’ve enjoyed the holidays. They’ve planned the wedding for April.”
“Oh, how wonderful. A spring wedding should be lovely. It is spring in Boston in April, right?”
“Yes.” Rebecca sighed. “I wish I could be there.”
“Perhaps you ought to go. I know Daniel would feel much better if his family were out of harm’s way.”
“I know. And I’ve considered going. But Daniel needs me. Every time I think of how hard he works and how much he’s losing every day . . . well, I just can’t bring myself to leave him.”
“Daniel has faced difficult times before. He won’t collapse without you.”
“I know that. But if I’m gone all I’ll do is worry about him and Douloo. And if you stay I’ll be worrying about you and wishing I were here to help.”
Willa watched vultures circle, gliding on the heat drafts rising from the flats. “You must do as God directs.” She looked at Rebecca. “I’ll be thankful for your cooking skills. Lily is leaving us.”
“Lily? I didn’t know.”
Willa pushed to her feet and crossed to the railing. “Her family needs her. They live west of here.” She gazed at the dry land stretching out to the horizon. “The drought has touched everyone.”
Dust billowed in the distance, and a few moments later a carriage appeared on the road. “Now, who can that be on such a hot day?” Willa leaned over the porch slightly to get a better look. “Why, it’s the reverend,” she said, moving to the stairway.
He stopped the buggy, climbed down, and secured the horse. “G’day,” he said, easily taking the steps.
“Good day to you. What a lovely surprise.”
“You look well, Willa.” He nodded at Rebecca. “As do you.”
Rebecca picked up Joseph. “How nice to see you, Reverend.”
“It’s a hot one, eh?” Rev. Cobb said, glancing at Rebecca and then smiling at Joseph.
“Quite,” Willa said. “Can I offer you something to drink?” Her sky-blue eyes were warm and friendly.
“Yes. The drive here has given me a real thirst.”
“Will water do? Or would you prefer tea?”
“Water sounds grand.”
Rev. Cobb stepped into the shade of the veranda and removed his hat.
Joseph wiggled free of his mother and tottered toward the man. “He’s growing like a weed, eh?”
“Yes. And he’s showing me he has a mind of his own.”
Jabbering, Joseph moved tow
ard the reverend. When he stood in front of him, he looked up and smiled and then held up his arms.
“Does he want me to pick him up?” the reverend asked.
“I believe so.”
“Friendly lad.” Rev. Cobb bent and hefted Joseph with a slight groan. “Sturdy too.” He held him at arm’s length and smiled. “He must be about a year old, then?”
“Yes. He turned one on January sixth. Just two days ago,” Rebecca said.
Willa returned with a glass of water and offered it to the reverend. He set Joseph back on the porch and accepted the drink. After taking a drink, he smiled and said, “Just what I needed.” He took another swallow.
“Reverend, won’t you have a seat?” Willa asked.
Sitting, Rev. Cobb said, “I got up this morning and thought it had been too long since I’d visited Douloo.” He glanced at the yard and barn. “I was hoping I might find Daniel about.”
“He’s working,” Willa said. “I’m sure he’ll be disappointed at having missed you.”
“He’s probably burning dead cattle,” Rebecca said, unable to disguise her angst.
“That bad, eh?”
“Yes. And he won’t let me help him. He says it’s too ghastly for a woman.” She looked out over empty fields. “I’ve never seen a man so filled with sorrow.”
The reverend nodded. “I’ve been praying. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Rebecca settled her eyes on him. “Answer one question. Why? Why would God allow this to happen to a man like my husband? He’s good and faithful. It doesn’t seem right.”
“I wish I had a definite answer for you, Rebecca. Every time I see this kind of thing, I’m tempted to question God.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs. “What I know is that we live in a world of sin. And sin touches everything.”
He pressed the palms of his hands together. “God doesn’t always shield us from the pain of life, but he always uplifts and encourages us in the midst of our troubles. And he’ll walk through this with you and Daniel. You can count on his wisdom and strength. He loves you both.”
Rebecca could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. “I’m beginning to fear what each new day will bring. My faith is waning.”
