Frontier Wife (2 page)

Her eyes grew round. Even she had heard of Ned Kelly and his notorious outlaw gang. “Uncle Henry actually knew them, how exciting.”

“Don't think for one minute he did it for the excitement, just another thing to annoy the Munro’s with. The Kelly gang stole their horses and cattle.”

“Uncle Henry died six weeks ago, has someone been minding the place?”

“Yes, Mary and I have been keeping a watch on things. Our place is only a few miles from yours. We’ve only got about thirty acres, so Munro doesn't worry much about us. It is poor land but all we could afford. Your place is the one he wants. It has a creek running through it, and he’s desperate to get his hands on the water, especially with this drought.”

“Do you know Mr. Munro well?”

“I work for him sometimes. He doesn't bother much about folk like us. You better watch him, Miss Lindsay. A mighty powerful man is Adam Munro.”

“Sounds like a grasping, land-hungry snob.”

She suddenly saw their new home, nestled amidst native trees with green gray mountains a panoramic backdrop in the distance. Smoke drifting upwards from a stone chimney bid them welcome. Both Jamie and David were awake now and surveying the place with interest.

The slab homestead, its timber weathered to silver gray by the elements, had a shingle roof. The verandah running across the front was supported by grooved corner posts. White and red roses scrambled around the verandah posts, while some kind of hedge fenced off the front yard.

A young, heavily pregnant woman waddled to the cart the moment they pulled up. The sleeves of her blue gown were rolled up to the elbows, the top couple of buttons on her bodice undone in an attempt to keep cool.

Jim helped Tommy down before making the introductions. “This is my wife Mary.” He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Lindsay.”

“And I’m pleased to meet you. Call me Tommy, and may I call you Mary?” Tommy smiled, causing the young woman to relax. They headed toward the homestead to get out of the blazing sun.

“I'm David Lindsay.” David limped onto the verandah to stand next to Tommy, sweeping his hat off as he did so. His blond hair, ruffled and darkened with perspiration, made him look younger than his twenty-three years. They all had the same thick, straight, corn-colored hair. David and Jamie wore theirs collar length, whereas hers touched her waist when released from its chignon.

Tommy followed Mary inside the homestead. Calico lined the ceilings and newspapers covered the walls. She’d never seen such a thing before. The floor appeared to be made from wooden, butt-jointed boards. The parlor contained a round table covered by a white cloth. The chairs were of dark oak, upholstered in faded brocade.

She took off her bonnet and appraised everything carefully. Solid and dull, just how she imagined a staid, old man like Uncle Henry would live. It wouldn’t take much to turn this place into a pleasant welcoming home. Her heart gave an excited little skip because she virtually had a blank canvas to work from.

“The bedrooms are through here.” Mary took her into a short passageway.

“You have two bedrooms. I thought this could be yours.” She opened the door, stepping back a few paces so Tommy could squeeze past.

The room contained an iron and brass bedstead covered with a patchwork quilt. A washbasin and jug rested on a chest of drawers.

New curtains for the windows, one or two of the watercolors she had brought out from England, perhaps a mat or two. It wouldn’t be hard to pretty up this room. Things were starting to fall into place nicely. Only one cloud appeared on their horizon—Adam Munro.

“What's Adam Munro like? Your husband told us Uncle Henry had a lot of trouble with him.”

“Well, he's arrogant and has little to do with us. Jim gives him a hand at branding time, or whenever he needs extra help. Your uncle waged a constant war against him. They loathed each other.” Her brown eyes sparkled with good humor and Tommy instinctively knew they would be friends.

The kitchen, situated at the back of the homestead, had once been separate, but a closed in verandah now made it part of the main building. Everything appeared clean and tidy. The kettles and saucepans gleamed from much polishing. A colonial pine dresser, chairs and table were scoured white, and Tommy felt pleased with everything.

A whitewashed stone chimney took up almost the whole of one wall. Prime joints of dried beef, filches of bacon, pumpkins, melons and an assortment of other foodstuffs hung from the sturdy roof beams. Carved wooden canisters stood on the dresser. The one valuable item Uncle Henry must have brought out from England was an engraved silver candle holder with a matching snuffer.

“Something smells good,” Jim remarked as he and David entered the kitchen.

“Where's Jamie?”

“Don't fret, sis, he's making friends with the dog out back.”

“I thought he was hungry.” She smiled, feeling relieved now their journey had ended.

“That boy is always hungry.” David grinned. Thank goodness he seemed less drawn and anxious now.

“These people must be choking for some tea,” Jim said, turning to Mary.

“Won't be long, I'm getting ready to pour now. Tommy and I have been getting acquainted.”

Mary set out baked scones, which she spread with jam and cream.

“I used to make all the jams and preserves for your uncle when I made my own,” she explained. “I did the cooking, he supplied the sugar and we pooled our fruit.”

Jamie rushed in when they called him, grabbed a scone in either hand and with a grin, dashed back outside to be with the dog.

“Seems like young Jamie has found a friend,” Jim said to Tommy.

“Jamie adores animals. I think the hardest thing for him when we left England was leaving his pets behind. We had two beautiful English sheep dogs.”

Mary topped up their cups with fresh tea. “Touser out there has no pedigree. He's a mixture of several breeds.”

After an hour or so, Jim decided to leave. Both he and Mary brushed aside David's thanks, refusing to stay for the evening meal. Tommy and David waved the couple off from the verandah, promising to pay them a visit once they settled in.

“What nice people, no wonder Uncle Henry liked them so much.” Tommy buried her face in the sweet smelling roses entwined around the verandah post.

David limped up behind her and rested his chin on her head.

“We're lucky to have them as friends. Jim says Munro will try to make things so bad for us we'll sell out. He flew into a rage when you refused his offer to buy the place; stormed off to Melbourne to confront the lawyers.”

“I hate that man.” Tommy stamped her foot. “Land hungry old despot.”

“Land hungry old des, des.” Jamie trotted up to them. “Who's that, Tommy?”

“Adam Munro.”

“What's a des?”

“A despot.”

“Tommy!” David reprimanded.

“Despot, Jamie. It means Adam Munro is a mean old man.”

“If you hate him, I do too.” He rubbed his cheek against her skirt.

David muttered something uncomplimentary when she made no effort to retract her angry words.

Feeling something warm and wet against her hand, she glanced down and saw a large black dog. “Good dog.” She patted his head. Hard to decide what breed he belonged to, but he looked at Jamie with such devotion she felt moved.

“He's called Touser, Mr. Cavendish said.”

“How are you, Touser?” He licked her hand in a great display of affection.

“I like it here. Warrior likes his stable, too. There are chickens, ducks and everything.” Jamie jigged up and down.

“I wondered where you put Warrior,” Tommy remarked as they re-entered the homestead. Red and pink still streaked the sky, although the mountains had now darkened to purple. Night fell quickly in the Australian bush.

After Jamie went to bed, they sat in the parlor with a cup of tea, discussing their impressions of the farm so far.

“I'm going to enjoy living here. The only sour note is that Munro creature. It makes my blood boil just thinking how any man could be so land hungry. Forty thousand acres yet he wants our land as well. It's disgraceful.”

“They need more land out here,” David mused. “It's a big country, probably imagines himself lord of the manor. I only hope we can manage. If my wretched leg would only mend, and I could throw off this fever, we could do quite well here, as it is…” The bleakness returned to his eyes.

She covered his hand with her own. “You will get strong, it just takes time. You know something? I think Lord Chelmsford sent you back to England so you could die there.”

“I know.” His hands balled into fists. “Maybe I should have died with the rest of the regiment.”

“Don't say that.” Tears pricked her eyes.

“What use am I, a fever-racked cripple?”

“Cheer up, you’ll get better. Why don’t we advertise in the papers about Warrior? You could ask a good service fee for him.”

“Good idea. What would I do without you? I just hope you don't meet some wealthy land owner, no, squatter's the word, and get married.”

“Maybe you could put a notice in some of the store windows, or spread it by word of mouth about Warrior.” With a toss of her head she ignored his comments on marriage.

If and when she did marry, it would only be for love, and the man would have to be fond of Jamie, as well. In this rough frontier land would she be able to find a man prepared to take on a wife with a child dependent on her?