by Bonnie Leon
“You’ll stay home, then. It’s improper for a lady to ride astride without some type of covering.”
“Where did you find these?”
John grinned. “A fellow I know in Sydney Town had them in his storeroom.”
“They must have belonged to his mother.” Hannah’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
John had no doubts about Hannah’s decency, but he couldn’t allow people to talk. He rubbed his chin and tried to think of a way to convince her of the appropriateness of wearing the garments. “I admire your riding ability and your desire to help drive our flock of sheep home. And it will be splendid sharing your company. But I won’t have you disgraced.”
Hannah took in a deep breath. “All right, then. I’ll wear them, but under protest. You know as well as I that they’re utterly ridiculous.”
Quincy moved his horse closer. “It might be better if you rode sidesaddle.” He didn’t look directly at Hannah, but kept his eyes on the reins in her hands.
“That’s nearly as ridiculous. For a woman to balance herself atop a horse in such a fashion puts her life in jeopardy. And even if I were so inclined, we’ve no money for another saddle. It’s only because of Mr. Atherton’s generosity that I have this mare.”
Quincy simply offered her a nod and rode down the drive toward the road.
John watched Quincy’s back and then turned to Hannah. “You sounded a bit shrewish. He didn’t deserve that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. But . . .” She looked down at her garments and threw her arms wide. “These are so disconcerting. I couldn’t restrain my frustration.” Looking defeated, she added, “I’ll apologize to him.”
“Good. We better be off. The Langtons’ estate isn’t too distant, but if we dally we’ll not make it home before nightfall.” He glanced at the musket in his saddle holster and for a moment rested a hand on his pistol. He hoped there’d be no need to use either.
“Is it dangerous to be traveling?” Hannah’s voice was laced with apprehension.
“No more than usual. But it’s wise to be prepared.”
“I heard Aborigines attacked a family west of here.”
“They did, but there was no loss of life.”
Hannah pulled the reins tighter, and the horse tossed her head in an unhappy response. “That’s true, but it could have been much worse.”
John knew there was reason to worry, but he didn’t want Hannah troubled. “There is always danger; no life is free of it. But all I expect today is an uneventful and pleasant ride with my wife and a successful outcome as we guide a contented flock of sheep home.”
A gust of wind whistled across bare ground and whipped debris into the air and up beneath the eaves of the house. John studied a gray sky. “Smells like rain. Might get wet before the day’s through.”
“We need rain, but I hope it holds off until we get home.”
“Right.” John kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and trotted after Quincy. Hannah followed.
By the time John, Hannah, and Quincy approached the Langtons’ home, rain had started to fall in large droplets. Undisturbed by the moisture, John pulled back on the reins and stopped. Leaning on the saddle horn, he admired the house and outbuildings. “Fine property. Large home.”
“Not as big as the Athertons’. ” Hannah pulled her horse up beside John’s.
“No. But I’d say they’ve done quite well for themselves.” John let his eyes roam from one barn to another and to a row of three cottages and a work shed. He nodded at a large, long building. “That’s the shearing barn. We’ll be needing one soon.” He pulled his hat down in front, shading himself from the increasing rain. “Charles has done well for himself. And he only began five years ago.” He glanced at Hannah. “With a bit of luck, in a few years, we’ll have a grand place like this.” Feeling the swell of ambition, he moved forward.
Charles Langton, a stocky, redheaded man, stood beside a small stock pen crowded with bleating, jostling sheep. He was known for his good business mind and hard work. Two little boys who looked just like him darted from the house and joined their father. Standing on either side of him, they leaned against the fence in the same way Charles did, with one arm resting on a railing.
John looked over the sheep as he rode up to the stock pen, then turned his attention on Mr. Langton. “Good day to you,” he said, dismounting. He extended a hand in greeting.
Charles Langton shook John’s hand heartily. “Good day. And a fine one it is too. This rain means better grazing.”
“It doesn’t appear we’ll have a deluge.” John turned to Hannah and assisted her from the horse. She managed, but in a clumsy fashion because of the stirrup stockings. Once on the ground, Hannah nodded at Mr. Langton and awkwardly removed the protective leggings.
Charles remained straight-faced, but a smile hid behind his eyes.
Free of the ungainly garments, Hannah straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. “Good day, Mr. Langton. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Good day to you, Mrs. Bradshaw. You’re looking well. Have you come along to assist your husband?”
“I have, indeed.”
John nodded toward Quincy. “You know my man Quincy?”
“That I do.” Charles smiled and touched the brim of his hat. “Good to see you.”
Quincy nodded.
Charles rested a hand on each of his son’s heads. “My sons— Ryan and Lewis. Ryan’s the younger one here, just six.” He mussed his hair. “And Lewis is two years older.”
“Nice-looking lads.”
“They’re good boys.” Mr. Langton turned to face the pen. “Well, this is the lot of them. They’re fine Merinos. They’ll give you quality lambs and superior wool.”
John leaned on the fence and studied the animals. His eyes moved from one to another, searching for defects. “Mind if I have a closer look?”
“Go on ahead. You’ll find them all in good condition.”
With Quincy beside him, John stepped inside the pen. They moved among the sheep, studying each and checking for disease or faults. Finally John turned to Charles. “They look fine, indeed. I’m surprised you’re willing to part with them.”
“Need to do some thinning out. I can only handle so many.” Langton opened the gate for John and Quincy.
John reached inside his coat and lifted out a leather purse heavy with coins. “The amount we agreed upon.” He set the coin purse in Charles’s hand. “You may count it if you like.”
“No need.” He grinned. “But if you’ve shorted me, I’ll know where to find you.” He laughed. “Have ye a dog?”
“No. But I’ve been thinking I’ll be needing one.”
Langton eyed the sheep. “It’ll be tough driving them home without one. I’ve got a dog I can throw into the deal. He’s young, but he’s smart and good with the sheep.”
“That would be fine by me.”
“Good then. His name’s Jackson. I’ll introduce ye after lunch. That is, if ye’d care to share a meal with me and my family before ye drive this mob of mutton home.”
John glanced at Hannah who gave an affirmative nod. “Sounds grand.”
Rain came down in a soaking drizzle as John, Hannah, and Quincy headed toward home. The sheep ambled along while Jackson, a long-haired, black dog, skillfully padded along beside the flock. He nipped and barked as needed to keep the animals in place and moving forward.
“It was good of Charles to include Jackson.” John watched the dog. “He’s clever.”
“Lucky for us he’s got a new litter of pups.”
“And he’s got another five working dogs,” Quincy added.
Hannah leaned forward slightly and pulled up on the stirrup stockings. “Having a good dog will be of great help.”
Jackson seemed well acquainted with the sheep. He knew which ones to watch out for, and some of the ewes obviously disliked him and took every opportunity to kick or butt at him.
Water rolled down Hannah’s h
at and dripped onto her face. She’d been waiting for the right time to tell John about Judge Walker and the baby. He seemed in a fine mood. This might be as good a time as any. She studied John, and her stomach tightened at the thought.
John smiled at her. “You’re good and wet.”
“This hat is almost of no help,” she said, eyeing the sheep. “Even they’re having difficulty.” Water didn’t penetrate their dense wool coats, but it did manage to get into their eyes and noses. “I ought to have a wool coat, eh? Or a wool hat.”
She chewed on her lower lip and considered speaking to John. It had been such a good day. She hated to spoil it. I’llwait. It’s not quite right yet.
The wetness and cool temperatures had penetrated Hannah’s coat. She was cold and longed for the warmth of her home.
John and Jackson took off after two mulish ewes that seemed determined to go their own way. When John came back around, he said, “That was a fine meal Mrs. Langton served, but I’m already hungry.”
“I quite like Ella. She’s very nice and friendly. I hope we’ll have an opportunity to visit again.”
“I’m sure you will. I’ll most likely be doing business with Charles in the future, especially now that we have use of the adjoining property. Good of Mr. Jones to lease it to us.” John rested a hand on his stomach. “What did you plan for dinner?”
“I’ve fresh bread and a stew warming over the fire. That should see to your chronic hunger.” She smiled. “I don’t know where you put it all.”
The drizzle had slowed and a breeze parted the clouds, exposing a deep blue sky. “Perhaps it will warm up a bit,” Hannah said.
“I’d rather have the rain. We’ve a need.” John glanced up at the brim of his hat where droplets dripped onto his face.
Quincy rode up alongside John. “There’s a stream just ahead. Ye want to stop and let the sheep drink?”
“Good idea.”
Quincy rode off and with Jackson’s help headed the sheep toward the stream.
Hannah and John separated and rode along either side, helping guide the flock. As if knowing their way, the animals waded into the calm stream, put their noses into the water, and drank.
Hannah and John dismounted and led their horses to the water. This would be a good time, Hannah thought. Quincy was farther downstream. They were alone.
She glanced at her stirrup stockings. “We’ve not seen a soul. Do you mind if I take these things off?”
John glanced about. “I don’t see any harm. I doubt anyone will be traveling this way today.”
Hannah gratefully removed the hideous attire and handed the leggings to John. He rolled them up and tied them behind her saddle. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad to be rid of them.” Her gaze fell over the mob. “These Merinos seem a bit more gentle than the last ones you brought home.”
“They’re good stock. And with these we’ll have fifty—long as they stay healthy. Quincy said he spotted a couple of dingoes eyeing the flock a few days ago. They could do some damage, especially when the lambs come.”
Hannah’s mind wandered to what she ought to say to John. How could she phrase her confession so that he’d understand?
“Where are you, luv?”
“What do you mean? I’m right here.”
“I’ve been talking to you, but you’ve not heard a word I’ve said.”
“I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something Lydia said when she came to visit.”
“Any sort of trouble going on?”
Now. Tell him now. “No. No trouble. Except that David wants her to be more genteel. And she’s worried that he’s spending time with Deidre.” Hannah’s horse yanked up a mouthful of grass, pulling on the reins. “Do you think she has reason to fret?”
“Can’t say, really. David didn’t mention anything. But Deidre might be a temptation to a single gent like him.”
Hannah suddenly felt angry. “Why?”
“She’s comely.” John looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“Why is it men care only about a woman’s outer beauty?”
“That’s not true. There are a lot of other things that matter to us.”
“There’s so much more to a person than their appearance.”
“I agree.” He took Hannah’s hand. “But beauty is of some consequence. I fell in love with you, but as a man I can’t help but appreciate your beauty.” He smiled devilishly. “And would you want it any other way?”
Hannah’s anger dissolved, but she didn’t answer John’s question. Instead she returned to Lydia and her troubles. “I do hope he doesn’t break Lydia’s heart. She truly loves him.”
“I’m sure he must see what a fine woman she is.” John’s eyes settled on something in the distance.
Hannah’s heart picked up. “What is it? Aborigines?”
“No. A kangaroo. Looks like a fine one too. We could do with a bit of fresh meat.”
“Must you? I’d rather eat rabbit. Or perhaps we could butcher a sheep.”
“You don’t like kangaroo?” John shot her a surprised look. “You’ve never said anything.”
“It’s not that.” Hannah followed her husband’s gaze. “Sometimes they seem almost human. They’re intelligent and . . . well, I find it hard to look into their eyes and then kill them.”
“You don’t have to do any killing. That’s my job. And it makes more sense to take something wild than to butcher one of our ewes. I paid dearly for them and can’t spare a one. When the lambs are born, we’ll slaughter some of the tups, though.”
“Lambs are so dear. Must we kill them?”
“We don’t need a flock of rams. And no sheep remains dear forever. By the time they’re big enough for butchering, they’ll have lost their cuteness.”
His eyes remained on the kangaroo. “You stay here.” John moved to Quincy, spoke to him a moment, and then set off in the direction of the kangaroo. He slipped into a grove of gum trees and moved closer to the unsuspecting animal.
Hannah knew John was doing what he must, yet her stomach ached as she watched him. He disappeared inside the grove. An excellent hunter, Hannah knew he’d manage to get off a good shot.
She heard the blast of the musket and saw the animal fall. She ought to be thankful for the meat, but the sight of the motionless creature only made her feel sick.
This is foolishness. A kangaroo is only an animal and good forour table. I ought to be helping my husband. Tying the horses to a tree alongside the creek, she hurried toward Quincy. “I’m going to give John a hand. Watch over the sheep.”
“Glad to, ma’am.”
She moved toward John. When she was close, she thought he looked distressed. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She ran toward him.
John stood. “No. Stop. Best you don’t come near.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Ignoring his order to stop, Hannah rushed to him. “What is it?” She looked at the animal and then saw what John had seen—a joey, its head draped over the edge of its mother’s pouch.
“Oh no!” Hannah knelt beside the kangaroo and lifted the baby out of the warmth of his home. He struggled and kicked at her, but she bundled him inside her petticoat and held him close. “Calm down, now. I’ll not hurt you.” She stood, still holding the little one close. He quieted. “What shall we do with him?”
“There’s nothing to be done.”
“What do you mean? We can’t just leave him to die.”
“Put him down. I’ll end it.” John’s voice was heavy.
“No. You can’t. He’s a baby.”
“He’s an animal with no mother. There’s nothing to be done.”
“If it was a lamb or a calf, you’d do everything you could to save it.” Hannah held the creature protectively.
“He’s a wild animal. And too little to live without his mum.” “I’ll take care of him.”
“You can do all you know to do and he’ll still die. I’ve never heard of anyone who has successfully tended one this young.
He needs only what his mother can give him.”
Hannah looked at the tiny creature in her arms. “We can’t just give up. I’ll give him milk and keep him warm.” She cradled the little thing the way she would an infant.
John’s expression was somber. With a heavy sigh, he surrendered. “I suppose it won’t hurt to try.” He turned back to the mother. “I’ll take care of her. You go on.”
Hannah kept the tiny kangaroo bundled tightly against her the rest of the way home. That evening, she tried to feed it, but each attempt was refused. As the hours passed, the poor creature became weaker and less responsive.
“I don’t know what to do,” Hannah told John. “He’s dying.” John spoke quietly. “I tried to tell you. They don’t live without their mums.”
Hannah made a bed out of a box, putting wood chips and hay in the bottom and settling the joey inside. She placed him near the hearth and then sat up and watched over him. She tried to coax him into eating, but he wouldn’t accept even a drop of milk. In the early morning hours, the joey stopped breathing.
Hannah hugged it to her and sobbed, wondering why she felt such heartache for an animal.
John climbed out of bed and kneeled beside her, laying an arm over her shoulders and pulling her close to him. “I’m sorry, luv.”
“It’s gone. I couldn’t save it.” I can’t save anything.
John took the limp creature out of Hannah’s arms. “I’ll take care of it.” He carried the joey across the room, opened the door and stepped outside, quietly closing the door behind him.
Hannah stared at the dying embers in the hearth. She’d not wanted her own child. Perhaps it had been her wish for its death that had killed it. Now this creature had been placed in her care, and she’d been unable to save it. How could God trust her with a child of her own?
There’d be no babies for her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why, Lord? Why can’t I have a child? Please, please don’t leaveme barren. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, knowing that no matter how much she longed for a baby, she’d never have one.
8
Hannah set a plate of sliced bread on the table and then moved to the hearth. She hooked a cooking pot and lifted it away from the fire, then grasping the handle with a heavy cloth, she carried it to the table and set it in an iron trivet. She lifted the lid and steam carried the aroma of vegetables and cooked meat into the air. Rather than kindling her appetite, the aroma served only to remind her of the previous day’s distress. Using a wooden spoon, she stirred the stew and replaced the lid.
