Free The River Charm by Belinda Murrell

does the wool look so far?’ she asked, feeling the dirty fleece of an unwashed ewe pressed against the railing.
    â€˜It looks excellent,’ replied Mr Ash. ‘We should get a good yield.’
    â€˜Well, let’s pray the wool prices improve,’ said Mamma with a frown. ‘The prices in Sydney so far this year have been dreadful. Our agent says if they do not improve soon it will not be worth shipping the wool to England.’
    â€˜It’s much worse out west where the drought is really bad,’ said Mr Ash. ‘At least we’ve had rain. Things must improve soon.’
    Mamma bit her lip and pushed away from the railing.
    â€˜How are the men?’ Mamma asked briskly. ‘Are they managing tolerably?’
    â€˜They are tired and hungry, so I hope you have loads of food for us!’
    â€˜Enough to feed an entire army, I assure you,’ Mamma replied.
    â€˜I’m starving,’ chipped in James, looking at the baskets with hungry eyes.
    â€˜It’s not time for the meal break yet, dearest,’ Mamma reproved. James looked crestfallen. ‘But here is a little morsel to keep you going.’ She tore off a crust of bread and handed it to James, who gobbled it down. ‘There is beef and mustard and plum pudding to go with that when the job is done.’
    â€˜We’ll just finish this pen of sheep and then we’ll break for dinner,’ said Mr Ash. ‘There’s a nice shady spot under that tree where you’ll get a good view without being in the way.’
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Ash,’ said Mamma.
    â€˜Come, on Master James,’ said Mr Ash. ‘Time to get back to work.’
    James ran back to join Charley at the fire.
    The girls spread a blanket under the shade of one of the trees and watched the action in the waterhole below. One by one the sheep were urged down a timber race towards the creek. Once in the water, all the air in the fleece made the sheep float.
    The men stood thigh-deep in water in a line across the waterhole, swinging each sheep from hand to hand and vigorously rubbing their woolly coats to wash away the dirt and muck. On the other side of the creek, two burly shepherds pulled the drenched sheep from the water and squeezed the excess water from the fleece with their hands.
    It was hot, exhausting work as the unwilling sheep struggled and the sodden coats made them even heavier. Once the sheep had been rubbed down, they were reunited with their lambs on the other side and released into the grassy paddock to dry in the sunshine.
    The girls watched until the pen was empty and the last sheep was released. Then they helped Mamma and Bridget serve the midday meal for the men, carrying around the baskets of bread and platters of roast beef.
    Charlotte overheard Dandy Jack talking to one of the convict stock hands sitting on a rock overlooking the waterhole.
    â€˜Another two days of this, a week to dry them off, then shearing starts next week,’ complained Dandy Jack. ‘I’ll be glad when the whole lot is sold off.’
    â€˜We’ll just be consigned to someone else when the stock is gone,’ replied the other. ‘I hope the lawyers find someone decent to lease the property and they keep us on.’
    â€˜I heard the sheep were passed in at the auction in Sydney last week,’ retorted Dandy Jack. ‘No one bid on the sheep or the leasehold on the property. They didn’t think the stock could be much good with Barton in charge.’
    Charlotte stiffened, her heart lifting with excitement. The sheep haven’t been sold. Perhaps if no one buys the sheep, they can stay here and we can stay too.
    â€˜Humph,’ snorted the stock hand. ‘As if he’s in charge. He hasn’t come out to see the stock in months. He’s only interested in hunting and drinking.’
    â€˜It’s better when he stays away,’ said Dandy Jack. ‘He’s a harsh