Free Sunset Ridge by Nicole Alexander

youth’s bloom. If a woman’s future was tied to her looks, then fate had been quick to ensure hers would be forever joined to her husband.
    The sound of crashing pots and pans emanated from the kitchen. It was hardly the pleasant evening hoped for. The wait for tea was now straggling towards the ten-minute mark, thanks to their wayward sons who had only just managed to join them at the table. They were now being subjected to five minutes’ silence, a punishment that Thaddeus, Luther and Dave were quite used to. The boys sat quietly, occasionally flashing covert glances at each other, while G.W. had the familiar tight-eyed expression of a gentleman unused to being delayed.
    Although not handsome in the dashing, hero-type mould young women dream of, G.W. had been kind and courteous in the early days of their marriage. Such beginnings suggested a rosy future, and at eighteen Lily had known nothing of life. Her aspirations had centred round an ideal of love, not the reality of it. He had been searching for a bride, and she, eager to escape a coddling, music­ally inclined yet drink-addled family, was not slow in displaying her interest. It was a pity that their relationship had lost its bloom so quickly. G.W. was distracted by the management of the property and it quickly became apparent that he did not have the patience for children. It was also quickly becoming obvious how little they had in common.
    Another crash sounded from the kitchen. Considering Cook’s domain was separated from the main homestead by a twenty-foot covered walkway, the noise was impressive.
    â€˜This is ridiculous,’ G.W. announced.
    â€˜I’m sure Cook is doing her best.’ Having entered the kitchen earlier to see Cook retrieve the mutton chops from a boiler of fat-laden water, Lily’s enthusiasm had waned. Cook detested fat, and her habit of par-boiling every piece of meat before baking or frying left choice cuts tasteless.
    G.W. began to drum his fingers on the table. Lily patted the sweep of auburn hair gathered into a low roll at the nape of her neck and thought of the vast acreage surrounding the homestead. At times she loathed the property, at others the land soothed her, yet always it shadowed and controlled their lives, its unrelenting presence serving to remind them all of the great drama that had befallen the family. In a long-running feud with a neighbour over the placement of a boundary fence erected by G.W. Senior in the late 1880s, G.W. had foolishly bet ten thousand acres of the property that the placement was correct. The Lands Department said otherwise and the dirt was lost by way of a gentleman’s handshake. Consequently, 1900 was a dire year. They had been in the grip of the Great Drought since 1895 when this calamity befell them, and whether stress played a part in G.W.’s reckless actions, or he was merely exhibiting inherited tendencies passed down from his forefathers, Lily would never know. She did know, however, that life had not been the same since. Her husband lived in the shadow of his forefathers, and they cast their disapproving gazes from the red ridge in which eight of them were buried.
    Cook entered the dining room with two large covered dishes and plonked them unceremoniously in the middle of the table. ‘I’m not to be blamed for the state of the tatties, missus. I’ve done me best but a person can’t be expected to keep things ’ot and tasty when these young rascals are late.’ Cook wiped her hands diligently on a less-than-clean apron.
    â€˜I am aware of the difficulties you work under, Cook,’ Lily said stiffly, giving each boy a singular stare. ‘Had Mr Harrow and I been blessed with girls, your job, I’m sure, would have been far easier.’
    The older woman lifted the lids from a platter of gravy-swimming mutton chops and another of vegetables, and then left the room.
    As each serving was passed along, Lily added the soft