The Great Plains (33 page)

‘Me too, Dad.'

‘You're too young for smoking and drinking.'

‘But you said that during the war –'

Marcus's brow crinkled. ‘This ain't the war, Will. Be damn grateful for that.'

Flossy stirred her tea. ‘And do you get paid, dear?'

‘Well we didn't discuss money, but there's a horse and stores to start with. You should see the place, Mum, it's like a town.'

Marcus drank the scalding tea down in a series of noisy gulps and began sipping the brandy. ‘While you're swanning around over at that place, don't forget your poor old dad and mum.' He blew out a smoke ring.

Will's cheeks reddened. ‘I'd never do that.'

‘Mind your manners, look after yourself, say your prayers and stay out of trouble,' his mother reminded him. ‘That's all I ask.'

‘Come on, bed then,' Marcus ordered, finishing the half glass of brandy and taking two quick drags of his smoke. Will said goodnight and closed the door to his room as Flossy began to tidy the table. ‘Leave that, love, and come to bed.' Marcus stubbed the cigarette out.

Flossy looked up shyly from the dishes. ‘But what about …?'

‘I'll be gentle, Floss.'

His wife rested a hand on her belly. ‘Maybe everything will be better now, especially with Will getting a bit of work and Mr Stevens paying more for what we send him.'

Marcus held out his hand. ‘Come on.'

Adding two pieces of wood to the stove, Flossy closed the vent on the flue to slow the fire. ‘Do you really think it will be all right?' She took his hand somewhat reluctantly and he led her to the bedroom, lighting the way with a lamp.

‘Of course.'

‘But we've never done it when, you know.'

No, they hadn't. Marcus always abstained from his husbandly rights as soon as Floss told him she was with child. He sat the kerosene lamp on the hardwood dresser and cupped his wife's chin. ‘I can't see what harm it will do.'

The room was sparsely furnished and cold. Goosebumps popped up on Flossy's skin as, one by one, Marcus removed each layer of clothing. She gave a girlish giggle. ‘Don't start getting all coy on me now, Floss.'

‘Sorry, love.'

He took off his strides and shirt and lay back on the bed. The brass bedstead knocked the tongue and groove walls behind as Floss stepped out of her knickers. Marcus rested his hands behind his head. There were signs. Her belly bulged just a little and her breasts were fuller.

‘I don't know, Marcus, I worry that we might hurt the baby.'

Marcus's thoughts were far beyond that of a baby. ‘If it's meant to be, Floss, it'll happen. There's not much point worrying about it every moment of our lives.' Her features tightened and Marcus wondered if, for the first time in their married lives, she might refuse him. Strangely, the idea that he may well have to be adamant only increased his ardour. He blamed the brandy he'd consumed and Wes Kirkland, who'd done him out of some extra coin, but a man had to be grateful for the little things and the money Will brought home would amount to more over a year than the paltry sum he'd once brokered with Hocking for river access. ‘Come here, Floss.'

She walked obediently across the bare floor, the light from the lamp outlining her body.

Marcus pulled her towards him. ‘Sit straight down, yeah, that's my girl.' He tugged the ribbon from her hair. It floated to the floor. For the moment he would forget about those bloody Americans.

June, 1935 – Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Edmund sat quietly under the redbud tree. In his hand was a picture of Tobias and Wes taken many years ago at a fair in Oklahoma City. It had been an enjoyable afternoon made more poignant now by the memory of that day and the loss of both young men to the great southern land. Tobias had set sail for Australia with Serena's daughter in tow, and it was with a heavy heart that Edmund finally realised that his son had fallen for the girl, as he had fallen for Serena's grandmother.

‘Ah my dear,' he spoke to where Philomena lay, ‘I thought I could save Tobias from heart-ache, I thought I could spare him the angst of the albatross that has burdened my family these many years. I am a stupid old man.' He gave a little laugh. ‘It's pathetic really, but I did have a plan of sorts. To firstly obtain medical treatment for Abelena, and then to send her away to an institution for a number of years. Was I wrong? I simply wanted to rid that god-damned Indian blood from your last female descendant, and in the doing give her a chance at a normal life.

‘Tobias disagreed. Abelena is all that is new and mysterious to him. The lad only knows of your story through me, of Serena's life through the scant memories he has of her from his childhood, and more recently of the woman she had become. So Tobias has left me. Chosen Abelena over me and fled to the land that was my dream for us. It is of small comfort knowing that we have been replaced by the next generation. Knowing that a young man, my only son, has stepped into my shoes in the hope that he can both save and love your great-granddaughter.

‘I see Tobias's folly. I see him as I now see myself when I thought you and I would leave this land of The Great Plains and journey south to a new life. He and I did not speak the day of their leaving.' Edmund paused. ‘After all this family has been through I am still stunned by Tobias's disloyalty to me, by his inability to accept that no good can come from a life with that girl. I wish I had not saved Abelena now. I wish I had not purchased Condamine Station. I wish I had sent Tobias to join Wes years ago instead of keeping him here for my own selfish reasons. I wish for so many things that my head grows fuzzy at times with thinking.' Edmund looked across to the stables. The horses were whinnying and nickering. Overhead the clouds swirled and darkened.

Edmund tucked the photograph of Wes and his son into his father's diary. He'd stopped writing in Aloysius's book fifteen years ago; the day after Serena and the Indian had come to his home begging for money. Resting the diary on the grass beside him, Edmund looked across the land that was now dotted with houses and small mobs of cattle. He could remember a time when he drove a surrey with a fringe and the prairie moved like the living thing it was, rolling across the curves of the earth towards the river. Now he owned a T-Model Ford and there were strangers living in his street. Everything had changed.

When the wind picked up, Edmund grew mesmerised by the changing sky. Clouds gathered in the distance. They grew purple-blue and billowy in a matter of minutes and then the base of the clouds began to lower until a tell-tale funnel began to emerge between land and sky. The funnel grew in both length and width, darkening as the twister gathered dirt and debris. The swirling column scraped across the ground, a veil of wreckage and dirt obscuring the wrath of the angry torrent moving towards him. Edmund felt compelled to watch the storm unfold, became immersed in the wind and rain that began to drive down upon him. His clothes grew sodden as the noise of the tempest intensified. Like an approaching freight train it grew louder and stronger, a whooshing rush of sound that reverberated across the land.

The twister uprooted trees. It careered through a house, splintering timber and glass and roof tiles. It was so close Edmund could see the remnants of people's lives being sucked up and then spat out by the moving mass. And still it kept on coming. Edmund lay a hand on Philomena's grave as his father's diary was gathered up by the wind.

Sheriff Cadell picked his way through the wreckage of the Wade home. Around him people were emerging dazed from their untouched houses, others screamed for loved ones feared trapped in the rubble of partially collapsed dwellings. The twister had torn across the area, leaving a trail of ruined houses, roads and farmland forty feet wide. It was a narrow band for such a ferocious storm but in its path it had not left anything untouched. Cadell stepped over timber boards and broken window frames and guessed he was standing in the sitting room, for the partial remains of a fireplace still stood. Caught beneath bricks and mortar was the now water-stained and broken portrait of Edmund's uncle and his dead family. He'd recognise the silver-haired child, Serena, anywhere.

‘Edmund? Edmund?' he called.

‘We checked the stables, Sheriff,' a newly appointed deputy told him. ‘Nothing. The horses managed to get out but we haven't found the stable boy. Is there anyone else?'

Cadell shook his head. ‘The housekeeper has the day off on Sunday so there'd only be Mr Wade.'

‘He's here, Sheriff,' another deputy called from a section of the demolished garden. ‘Sorry, Sheriff Cadell, he didn't make it.'

The sheriff left the decimated home and walked towards what was once the rear of the garden. His men lifted a section of a collapsed wall and dragged Edmund out by his boots.

‘Leave him,' the sheriff ordered. ‘Go across the road and see if you can give someone else a hand.'

The two younger men dutifully obeyed. Cadell waited until he was alone before dragging Edmund's body completely free of the ruined wall.

‘I should have guessed that you'd be out here with Philomena.' Removing a handkerchief, he got down on bended knee and cleaned the dust from his friend's face. There was a single cut to Edmund's cheek. The sheriff guessed he'd been crushed. ‘I could strangle that son of yours, Edmund. I could strangle myself for agreeing to track down Abelena.' Removing his brimmed hat, he dropped it in the dirt. ‘Damn it.' He stayed motionless for a few minutes, remembering their friendship, remembering his friend. ‘A man could have no better companion on the trail.' Sitting the hat back on his head, he lifted Edmund in his arms and carried him across the wasted area and out onto a clear section of the road. He lay Edmund down tenderly, draping his battered suit coat across his face.

Tomorrow Edmund Wade would be buried in the family crypt alongside his parents, Annie and Aloysius. Sheriff Cadell briefly wondered if Philomena should be uprooted from her resting place and also condemned to the chilly vault, but he figured that the two lovers would be better off keeping to their own worlds, Indian and white.

Overhead a golden eagle circled once, twice and then flew towards the North Canadian River. The sheriff observed the bird's graceful flight and then turned back to where Edmund lay on the ground. ‘Guess I'll write to that son of yours, although I always figured Wes was the pick out of the two of them.' He would have said a final goodbye if he were able but his eyes were growing glassy and Cadell knew he'd be better off heading home and downing a couple of straight shots.

As he crossed the road to where an ambulance waited to load the walking injured, he turned one last time to look at what remained of the Wade residence. If he concentrated, Cadell could almost imagine Annie and Aloysius on the porch with Edmund. Maybe it was best that Tobias had taken Abelena to Australia. Perhaps now the family could finally rest in peace.