The Convict and the Cattleman (6 page)

He took the tongue lashing without comment. Natty had worked on the station when he was a boy and Jonah knew him well. He liked and respected Bess because she didn’t complain about living in the bush. She could easily persuade Natty to move to town. Stopping here had almost guaranteed Bess would take Bridgit under her wing. If the mistress of the house insisted Bridgit needed some time to herself, there was no winning the argument.

Natty cast him a sympathetic look. “Careful, mate. She’ll toss you out on your ear and won’t even allow you to lick the dirty pots.”

Bess wouldn’t serve until everyone was at the table and as the minutes crept by, Jonah’s annoyance heightened into a gut feeling Bridgit would skip out on him. What did he truly know of her? He pushed his chair back, ignoring Bess as she glared daggers.

“Don’t look at me that way, this is your–” His voice died as the door opened.

Bridgit stood there looking uncertain. Her face was pink from scrubbing, her still-damp hair neatly plaited. The shoulders of her plain gray dress were wet. A timid smile reached the occupants of the table and her green gaze settled on Jonah.

He closed his mouth with an audible snap. She barely resembled the girl he’d last seen a couple of hours ago. The dress was wrinkled, but it was neat and not as vulgar as the brown one.

“Sorry for the holdup. You could’ve started without me.”

“Sit down, dear. We’re having a decent meal as friends. Ain’t that right, Jonah?” Bess smiled, but her tone made it clear she wouldn’t tolerate any rudeness.

He frowned, trying to remember if she had always been this pushy. He pitied Natty for putting up with it every day. “Right.”

Bridgit sat on the only remaining stool, next to him. The homemade soap she’d used had a faint floral scent that made him think about her legs. As Bess offered a prayer for the food, he bowed his head but didn’t hear the words. Bridgit’s folded hands drew his gaze. Her nails were short and clean. The blisters on her fingers didn’t appear very old, an indication she’d once had soft hands. The hands of a lady. Her face relaxed as she listened, putting aside her troubles. Without the dirt on her skin and tangled hair–even covered by another ugly dress–she looked more like the person she claimed to be. He knew well enough that proper ladies fell on hard times too.

Bess’s prayer ended and they passed around wooden bowls. The Paynes ate what the land gave them. Vegetables were abundant, in addition to the salt pork that seemed a staple at every table except his. “You’ve outdone yourself with the meal, Bess.”

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled and turned to Bridgit. “Tell us the latest news from Ireland? Natty and I miss the old country. The poor children never knew her.”

“It’s as bad as ever, almost no honest work is available. People are ill and out on the streets begging. You’d think something could be done.”

Natty reached for the damper pan. “You still have family there?”

Bridgit took a deep breath. A tear escaped one eye. “Aye. Two younger brothers and a sister. Collin’s two years younger than me. A man now and too stubborn for his own good.” She smiled half-heartedly. “My mother’s sister and husband took Donovan to work their farm. I apprenticed as a milliner for two years before my da died. The lady who owned the shop offered a place for Bonnie. She’s the youngest.”

Jonah’s spoon paused in midair. The way she described her family’s situation implied her mother either couldn’t care for the young ones or she was no longer alive.

“What of your mother?” Bess voiced the question that Jonah couldn’t ask.

“My da was robbed and killed for his pocket watch over a year ago. Mum died–” Her voice broke and she stopped for a moment. “She died of pneumonia just a few days after I was arrested. She was beyond the help of any medicine by then.”

Silence pulsed around the table. Pity tugged at Jonah’s heartstrings. The story made her seem less like a criminal. Her siblings had names. They’d gone hungry and she’d done the only thing she knew to keep them fed.

Bess’s meal turned to ashes in his mouth. He tried not to remember the things he’d said at their meeting. Damn Bess for dragging the truth out of Bridgit. Her shoulders slumped and her face crumpled.

“Is there anything you can do to bring your brothers and sister here?” Natty asked.

Bridgit shrugged, a small, hopeless gesture. “I doubt it. My aunt and uncle wouldn’t bring Donovan to visit at the gaol. They’re ashamed of what I did. It’s better that way, though it was hard being without them. I don’t have the means to care for them out here, much less pay for the voyage. It’s for the best, I’m sure. Mrs. McMann will bring Bonnie up right and proper. She’s a good woman. Bonnie is young enough she might yet forget what went on.”

She sounded brave, so accepting of the fact that her life was in shambles. That she’d never see her family again. His own loss burned his stomach. Charlotte was gone, and all he had left of her was a young child he didn’t know how to take care of alone.

Bess, always optimistic, patted Bridgit’s arm. “It seems hard now, but with Jonah teaching you the ropes and showing you New South Wales isn’t all that bad, you’ll do fine. Someday you might see your family again. Don’t give up hope, child.”

He ignored Bess’s gaze. Bridgit wasn’t a book on a shelf or a vase on a table; she was a woman and looked every inch of it. She cared for her brothers and sister. Protected them when her parents couldn’t. If she cared for his niece the same way, she’d be worth every miserable mile he’d driven. Pity she wasn’t old and wrinkled. He’d feel more certain he’d done the right thing.

6

“Jonah, you bring that gel back here as soon as you’re able. I like the company. Don’t hide her away until you decide you don’t need her anymore.”

Bess’s statement was more of an order than a suggestion. It warmed Bridgit’s heart. The older couple seemed strange at first, but they’d treated her well.

Bess hugged Bridgit and then stepped away. “If you need anything, tell Jonah. Make sure he sends for me. It only takes a few hours to reach the station by horse. I can get there quickly.”

“I will. Thank you for being so kind.”

Bess looked at Mr. Andrus before she answered. “Anyone would do the same. Especially if he was raised up proper.”

He didn’t respond. “Come on, Bridgit. If we linger forever, we’ll be here another night.”

Saying good-bye to the Paynes reminded her of leaving her home. She hoped the other employees at the station would be easy to get along with like her new friend.

She didn’t think of the homestead as it faded into the distance. The view claimed her attention. Beyond the Blue Mountains, the land turned red, the forest less dense as tall grass sprang up. There was no sign of a house or civilization, but somewhere out there was Bridgit’s temporary home.

Mr. Andrus glanced at her. “This is the border of the station. We’ll be at the house soon.”

It was vast and empty, beautiful in a rugged way. “All this land is yours?”

The lines around his eyes softened. “Aye. Laurie Lark. Called after my mother. It’s twenty thousand hectares and four thousand head of cattle. The biggest cattle station in Australia.”

“Cattle? I thought graziers raised sheep?”

“For now most of them do. Someday beef will be big business. It’s a matter of importing the right lines and raising them to withstand the weather and pests. Shipping will improve with time. We’ll send beef to the isles someday.”

She didn’t miss the pride in his voice. “Where did you find four thousand head of cattle?”

It was a number she couldn’t imagine.

“India, mostly. The majority are Brahma, with a few Angus cows. I have two bulls from Scotland. It makes for a hearty breed with plenty of flesh on its bones. My father saw the importance of bringing cattle to Australia. Forty years’ worth of hard work put the station where it is today. For now it’s not as lucrative as sheep, but it holds its own.”

His clothes, gig and horse indicated success. He had every reason to be proud. Bess’s story about his sister interested her more than smelly livestock. “Can you tell me something about your niece?”

He shrugged. “She’s a baby. Three months old. What more is there?”

“Her name, perhaps?” Bridgit suggested.

“Olivia.” His voice was flat and gave no indication that he felt anything for her.

“It’s a beautiful name. Is she called after someone?”

Mr. Andrus’ demeanor turned rigid. “Her mother picked out the name. I’ve no idea why she chose it.”

Bess’s attitude emboldened her. “You never asked?”

“I wanted her to call the baby Laura, but she insisted on Olivia. I’m sure Bess went over the whole story with you.”

She didn’t deny it. “We’ll get along fine, Olivia and I. Until you find the right woman.”

“New settlers are arriving all the time. My solicitor is handling the search for a nursemaid. Olivia is an Andrus no matter what kind of louse her father is. She deserves the best care.”

His tone was edgy and she realized Bess was right. He was afraid people would gossip about his sister. And he was aware of the father’s identity. Parentage made no difference. The job sounded easy enough. If only it was for a longer time.

The best woman for the job wouldn’t come from a gaol. Her scars stood out against her skin. Marks of shame on an otherwise unblemished life. If she hadn’t been frightened of losing Bonnie and Donovan to sickness, if Collin had found work, if a thug with a knife hadn’t murdered Da, she’d be there with them right now. Sewing ribbons on hats and planning for Christmas. A hollow ache settled in her chest.

Mr. Andrus had brought her here, but he still seemed unhappy about it. She had no place and no one to turn to.

The mountains sloped into rolling hills and grassy land. Caught in her misery, Bridgit hardly noticed until they turned off the road on a long drive. At the end of it, a house stood out against fenced pastures.

A massive garden filled with blooming flowers bright as birds caught her eye. She doubted it was Mr. Andrus’s idea to plant and care for flowers. The landscape was impressive, but the house dominated the scenery. The building rose two stories and the exterior gleamed with whitewash. A wide porch wrapped around the front, shading two rocking chairs. They looked so homey and inviting, Bridgit longed to have a seat there. Glass windowpanes reflected the sunlight like glittering jewels. It wasn’t a mansion, although it was more elegant than she’d expected.

Mr. Andrus looked smug and relieved at the same time. The mare, sensing home, picked up the pace until they reached the porch. A dark-skinned man came out of the barn, his smile wide in greeting. A red dog with a long tail and pointed ears trotted after him, barking with joy when it saw them.

“Jonah! We expected you back early this mornin’, mate.”

The black man’s grasp of English impressed Bridgit. He had to be of aborigine blood and apparently trusted by her employer. She felt out of place, knowing the kind of woman Mr. Andrus had intended to bring back. She waited for the man’s assessment of her, but if he was surprised he didn’t reveal it.

“Anything happen while I was away, Rupe?” Mr. Andrus asked, descending from the seat.

The smile faded, replaced by agitation. “Yeah, Rob Langnecker was by. He ain’t lettin’ up, keeps askin’ questions. I told the men to watch out for him.”

Mr. Andrus stiffened, clearly disturbed by the news. “Damn his sorry hide. Martha didn’t let him in, did she?”

“No. We sent him packin’.”

“Good. I won’t have him sniffing around here. If he comes back and looks like a threat, shoot him. We’ll deal with the authorities later, although we’d likely be doing the territory a favor.”

The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Did he mean a bushranger? Would they kill the man?

Mr. Andrus rounded the gig, offered his hand and helped her down.

Surprised, but pleased at the gesture, she smiled.

He dropped her hand when her feet touched the ground. “I’m sure you’re anxious about work. Martha can’t keep up with feeding the wranglers and the other chores.” He strode toward the house and up the porch steps.

She hurried behind him.

The door opened with ease. He held it for her, until the hem of her dress swept inside, and then he hung his hat on a peg on the wall. His boots made heavy thuds on the polished wood floor. Bridgit stood in awe as she looked at the entryway. A colorful woven rug brightened the hall and rose-patterned wallpaper added to the cheeriness of the place. Or it would have been cheery if not for the coat of dust covering everything. Whoever Martha was, she apparently hadn’t learned about dusting.