Frontier Wife (14 page)

“Sophia.” Adam's voice cut in, sharp as a razor, reducing her to silence.

“Is my stock whip made yet?” Jamie continued blithely, unaware of the animosity simmering between the two women.

“Yes, I'll have it sent over soon.”

“Couldn't you bring it over? Tommy made a Christmas cake, plum pudding and everything. We're having roast chicken tonight because it's too hot at lunch time. You can come too.” He turned his back on Sophia, clearly indicating the invitation did not include her. A wave of jealous fury passed across the young woman’s face, as Adam kept giving Jamie his full attention.

“Tell Adam he can come,” Jamie pleaded.

David coming over saved her from replying. “Hurry up, you two. A man feels like an idiot hanging around here. Munro, Miss Bothroyd. Merry Christmas.” He touched his hat.

“Why don't you have another chat with Fiona Lawson?” Tommy teased him.

“Belt up, Thomasina.”

She smiled at his embarrassment. Sophia stood with a bored expression on her face. Adam glanced speculatively at David then Fiona, who stood next to her parents.

“You idiot.” David gave her a none-too-gentle shove to increase her pace as they headed towards the buggy. “How could you, with Munro standing there?”

She stifled another laugh behind her hand, trying not to enjoy his embarrassed discomfort too much. “I'm sorry, I forgot about him for a moment.”

“Did you see the way he stared at me, then her? He tumbled straight away to what you were implying.” He helped her into the buggy, but gave her the distinct impression he would have liked to shove her out the other side.

“Come along, Jamie, hurry up!” David yelled.

She knew he loved their little brother, yet he had no patience with him, whereas, much as she hated to admit it, Adam did.

They journeyed home in silence. The dry countryside shimmered in the distant haze, as if the heat was being sucked up from the center of the earth itself. Even the birds hung listless in the trees now, waiting for something to happen.

They arrived at the homestead. A wisp of smoke, drifting up from the kitchen chimney, hung on the air for a moment before disappearing into the haze.

“Maybe it's a good thing we don't have much livestock,” David mused. “There's little feed about. Munro inadvertently did us a favor when he impounded those few steers that wandered on to his land. There wouldn't be enough grass around here to keep them and the horses going for long.”

“There seemed quite a lot of grass when we first arrived, even if it was a bit dry looking,” she said.

“Yes, strange how it disappeared so quick. I heard a couple of chaps talking outside the church; they said it's the worst drought in living memory. Some of
the squatters are driving their cattle and sheep up into the mountains hoping to find feed. I don't envy Munro at the moment. He’s got eight thousand head of sheep and heaven alone knows how many cattle.”

“Wealthy men like him can afford to hire people to take them to other pastures.” She tossed her head. “I feel sorry for the small farmers who stand to lose everything if the bank forecloses. If they leave their properties to take their livestock on to the roads, who runs their place while they're gone? Many wives wouldn't be up to it.”

When they pulled up in the front yard, Tommy climbed down without help. Jamie dived out and rushed off to let Touser off the chain.

She went inside to change out of her church clothes, and slipped into a light cotton gown faded from frequent washing. Before their guests arrived she would change again.

For lunch they shared cold mutton with some of yesterday’s left over scones. Tommy couldn’t help admiring their Christmas tree every time she walked past. It had been one of several fir trees planted by Uncle Henry in the far corner of their property. Jamie’s paper chain decorations gave the tree plenty of color, but the beautiful angel doll adorning the top of the tree caused her eyes to moisten. It brought back vivid memories of a white Christmas and her parents. If she closed her eyes she could almost hear the soft patter of snow on the roof tops, smell the roasting chestnuts and taste the mulled wine.

Through the open widow the red fireball sun, burning like a furnace onto a parched and dying landscape, brought sudden waves of homesickness flooding over her. Oh, for gray English skies and glistening snow-covered fields. The sounds of jingling sleigh bells, laughing children, rugged up against the cold, pelting each other with snowballs; numerous parties and balls in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

Jamie's excited chatter put a stop to her yearning. He loved it out here. He had grown taller, filled out a little even, and his skin glowed with good health. David gained in strength with each passing day, his limp nowhere near as noticeable as before. Since the race his depression had lifted also. To be honest, they all thrived. Deep down, she knew something important was missing from her life, but dared not dwell on exactly what. Would Adam be spending Christmas with the Bothroyds?

When Mary and Jim arrived she would put the vegetables on. The pudding, still in its cloth, hung suspended from a hook on the back verandah, and her Christmas cake, as always, nothing short of a culinary masterpiece.

Later, sitting in the parlor waiting for Jim and Mary, Tommy heard the sound of horse's hooves beating a tattoo on the rock-hard earth outside. Who could that be?

She let David go to the door. Jamie had wandered off into his bedroom to play with some of his presents. She stood up when she heard the murmur of male voices. Thank goodness she had changed into her blue muslin gown with the pretty white lace trim. It gave her the confidence to face their visitor—none other than Adam Munro.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lindsay.” He walked into the parlor.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Munro. Anything we can do for you?”

“No. Except sell me this place. Where's the boy?”

“In his room playing with his presents.”

“I've brought the stock whip over for him.” He stood with his feet apart, tapping the handle of the whip on a shiny black boot. Tight fitting dark trousers, stretched across his thighs. A cambric shirt with the sleeves rolled up showed off his tanned, muscular arms. His dark hair just managed to curl onto his collar, and his side-whiskers were trimmed. What long thick eyelashes he had. She dragged her gaze away from his handsome face and focused it on the Christmas tree. Yes, the little English angel looked exquisite.

“Would you care to sit down?” David invited.

“No, just get the boy.”

“Could I get you some tea?” She couldn’t believe how husky and tremulous her voice sounded.

“No, thank you, Miss Lindsay.”

Jamie skipped into the parlor. “Adam.”

“Here’s your very own stock whip.”

“Thank you. Look, I've got a real stock whip, not just a pretend one.” Jamie cradled it in his hands, his eyes wide.

“I suppose you want me to smoke a cigar, so you can crack it out of my mouth?” David grinned.

“I'll teach you how to use it, so you can come out mustering with me again. Would you like that?” Adam ruffled Jamie’s hair.

“Yes, please. Are you going to have some of Tommy's Christmas cake?”

“I'm on my way out.”

“You must have time for a drink before you go,” David insisted. “After all, it is Christmas.”

“All right, thank you; black tea with one sugar.”

David motioned him to a chair, but he did not sit down until Tommy left the room.

She made the tea, using her Wedgewood tea service. The Christmas cake was moist and fruity just as she hoped it would be. Cutting several pieces, she arranged them on a leaf-shaped dish. After setting everything up on a carved silver tray, she returned to the parlor.

“I'm going to send my sheep away. I sent one of my men over the Great Divide and he said there's plenty of grass there.” For a frontier man Adam spoke well. His pleasant sounding voice held just the slightest hint of a drawl.

“Have you lost much stock, Mr. Munro?” She set the tray down on the table.

“A few; fortunately I had plenty of feed put aside.”

“And you have plenty of land, forty thousand acres, isn't it?”

“I'd have more if you sold me this.” He compressed his lips.

“Come on, pour the tea. It's Christmas day. Peace and goodwill, all that kind of thing.” There was an impatient edge to David’s voice.

“Sorry. I’m baiting you on purpose.” She gave a breathy laugh. “You seem to bring out the worst side of my nature, Mr. Munro.”

Adam gave her a long, speculative look.

“I wonder why that is?” David gave a sudden grin. “They say love and hate are closely aligned.”

Embarrassed heat swamped her face at his comment. Pay back for the earlier incident at the church.

Jamie stared first at Tommy then Adam. “Tommy doesn't hate you. Do you?” He turned beseeching eyes towards her.

“No.” She gave a strained laugh. David was so close to the truth she broke out in a cold sweat. She almost felt the moisture running between her breasts.

“Have a slice of Christmas cake, Mr. Munro.” She plastered a smile on her face, holding the plate out in such a way their hands could not possibly touch.

He hesitated for a moment before accepting. “Thank you, Miss Lindsay.” He spoke with studied politeness, his smile as insincere as hers.

Jamie chattered away, oblivious to the strained atmosphere. When the squatter drained his cup and stood up to go, she could have screamed with relief.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lindsay.” He inclined his head before following David and Jamie out of the room.

****

Their guests arrived late in the afternoon. Poor Mary looked hot and exhausted as Jim helped her onto the verandah.

“Merry Christmas.” Tommy embraced Mary. “Come inside out of the heat; it’s hot enough to fry an egg.”

The roast chicken
and vegetables were cooked to perfection, hot plum pudding slathered with cream, finished off the meal.

“I couldn’t eat another thing.” David leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach.

Tommy sewed some nightgowns for the coming baby and Mary went into raptures over them. Even without much money to spend they enjoyed themselves.

After they left, David said, “Jim’s helping drive some cattle up into the high country in the next couple of weeks. He’ll be gone for ten days or more, but they need the money. I promised him you'd be a frequent visitor.”

“It's the least I can do after all the help they’ve given us. It’s a shame he has to go away with the birth so close.”

“He should be home well before she's delivered. Must be hard on women bearing children in such isolation, makes me glad I'm a man.”

What would a child of Adam’s be like? Tommy inwardly raged at herself for thinking such ridiculous thoughts.

Chapter Seven

A few days after Christmas, Tommy took an early morning ride. Jamie and David had ridden over to a clearing sale, leaving her to her own devices. For the sake of comfort and modesty when riding astride, she wore breeches under her skirt.

It was hot but not unbearable as yet, and she would be home before the worst heat of the day. Mary mentioned a mineral spring just a few miles away and she wanted to find it. Aboriginal people had used the medicinal properties of this underground water for centuries. They were a nomadic people who nevertheless had a strong attachment to their tribal land, according to a book she had recently read. Many of them had been displaced, persecuted and killed by the white man’s greed for more and more land. Why couldn’t people learn to live in harmony with each other?