Free Haunted Creek by Ann Cliff Page B

said he preferred them because it was often too wet for the heavy-woolled Merino that was so popular in other parts of the country. The butcher at Haunted Creek would take all the mutton he could produce.
    Rose looked longingly at the sheep. ‘I hope that we can keep sheep … but fencing them in will be a problem. If they escape into the bush they might never come back.’ She sighed; it all came back to fencing, to keep farm stock in and wildlife out. ‘Do wallabies eat onions?’
    Erik laughed. ‘I’ve never given them the chance … probably not, I should think. But they eat our good grass, I know that much.’
    Luke muttered to Rose, ‘That bit about fencing was meant for me, I know it.’
    Maybe it would shame him into doing some more work, although Rose hadn’t meant any criticism. The fact remained that fencing was the most urgent job for them and Rose could not do it.
    ‘We’re learning, all the time,’ Erik said before they left. ‘I wish I knew more … it’s new for all of us – this country hasn’t been farmed before. It needs careful handling, we’re finding that out. I’ve got a long way to go to be a good farmer.’ How could such a large, handsome man not be confident? With such a tidy farm, he must be a perfectionist.
    As they walked home Luke said, ‘That Erik was looking at you a bit too friendly for my liking. I wonder why he doesn’t go and start a farm of his own instead of hanging round his mother.’ He’d taken a dislike to the Viking, which was a pity. Erik could have taught Luke a lot: perseverance, for one thing. Sticking at a job until it was finished.
    ‘This is his farm,’ Rose pointed out, refusing to quarrel. ‘He came up here on his own at the start and then his mother joinedhim when the school was opened. They were looking for a good teacher …’ But Luke had lost interest.
    ‘Oh, they’re so pleased with themselves! Nobody else can farm like they can.’ Luke was irritated by the Jensens and Rose decided to say no more about them. ‘Let’s go for a walk, Rose, on a new track, let’s explore a bit.’
    They were wearing their best clothes but if they stayed on the tracks they could keep dry. The ground dried out so quickly here after rain. Rose trotted after Luke as he strode out on his long legs, hoping that a walk would put him in a better humour. Luke could be moody at times, and very possessive. She hadn’t expected that.
    Luke turned off the main Haunted Creek track and headed down a narrower one. ‘I think someone lives down here, but I’m not sure.’ They heard the insistent plopping of frogs and soon came to a watering hole, full with the recent rains. Several black ducks swam on the water and Luke’s eyes shone. ‘Good dinners there – you’d like roast duck. Wish I had my gun.’
    Rose was thinking about the work she would do in the week ahead and hardly noticed the enormous dead tree standing in a little clearing at the side of the track. It took her a while to realize that it was a house and people lived in it. The top of the tree had been cut off and a slab roof sheltered the hollow trunk. A man and woman sat on stumps beside the tree and a child played on the grass at their feet.
    ‘This is the place!’ Luke was suddenly animated. ‘Good day!’ He must have taken this direction on purpose, to find these people. Why?
    The woman nodded shyly and the man, who was probably in his forties, took the pipe out of his mouth and moved his wide-brimmed hat to the back of his head. ‘You’ll be yon couple from Teesdale’s, I reckon.’ Already their bit of land had acquired their name. ‘Dressed up too! Must a bin to church.’
    ‘And you’ll be Tom Appleyard, that does the tree felling,’ Luke responded. ‘How’s business?’
    Mrs Appleyard stood up and rearranged her shawl, then gave the fire a kick and pulled a kettle over it; they were going to be given tea. Her husband grunted and pointed to a rough bench. ‘Sit yourselves down.