Free A HAZARD OF HEARTS by Frances Burke

she’d
once been.
    Strangely, the idea didn’t bother her. She knew
she’d changed in other ways, was tougher. People would never again have the
chance to ride rough-shod over her. And whatever the future held, it could be
dealt with. How much she would like to show the world what a woman could do in the
field of medicine. She wanted to see women trained to nurse professionally,
competently and with the informed compassion so often lacking in the care of
the sick. She could do it. She knew she could.
    ~*~
    Trotting along in the cool early morning,
with a breeze whispering through the leaves overhead, the horse’s gait smooth
beneath her, Elly had an urge to talk. She missed her conversations with her
erudite father, and she was naturally curious about people. She also found Paul
Gascoigne to be a challenge, polite but irritatingly silent and self-contained.
    However, he proved quite adroit at avoiding her
gambits so she found herself doing the talking, describing her years at The
Settlement, her father’s work and the disasters that had struck them all
recently, decimating the township and draining the humanity from its remaining
citizens.
    When she finally stopped, her feelings and her
story spent, Paul said over his shoulder, ‘You’ll feel better for having
relived it all. Emotions put into words have a way of shrivelling.’ He added in
an under voice, ‘Would that I could follow my own advice.’
    But Elly thought she must have misheard him, as
he then went on to describe some of the sights of Sydney and its lovely harbour
setting. However, their conversation became desultory as the temperature rose,
and soon after midday they stopped to eat and rest the horses. Elly drifted off
to sleep in the shade of a banksia tree, waking surprised to find the shadows
long, with the sun a melting bubble on the western horizon.
    ‘Do you want to go on for another hour or so?’
Paul asked. ‘We can camp here for the night. There’s no urgency to reach the
river.’ He had made a brush from twigs to curry the horses’ manes, which were
badly tangled with dust and burrs. Elly watched the long brown hands stroking smoothly
and wondered why she shivered in the warm air. She tried to read his expression
but it was neutral. Obviously he believed that as a frail woman she needed to
pace the journey.
    She said, abruptly, ‘Let’s go on.’
    ‘As you wish. I’ll saddle up.’
    Elly rushed to help clear the camp.
    The track had changed to an intricate web of
light and shadow through which the horses’ hooves pranced, kicking up puffs of
dust. The daytime bush sounds had ceased, while a breeze now carried the shrill
calls of birds disputing their chosen branches for the night. In places the
track sloped quite severely, and sometimes hooves slipped, the horses held up
by the rider’s firm hands. Despite her resolution Elly was tiring, so, to
distract herself she began questioning Paul.
    ‘Why do you travel so much? You said you
preached manhood suffrage and self-government to people. Do they listen? Are
they genuinely interested?’
    He said over his shoulder, ‘Indeed they are,
from the squatter hoarding his acres of pastureland and greedy to add to them,
to the man who grows vegetables in his home garden. Land is the wealth here,
and I believe it should be equitably divided, not kept in the hands of the few,
as it is at present. We need true representation of all the people. That’s why
I’m interested in politics, spending my life talking to any who will listen. Other,
more influential men think the same way, so we work together to bring about
change.’
    ‘You say “people” when you mean men. What about
the contribution of women? They work as hard, they have intelligence. Why not
harness their power to your political wagon?’ She felt him stiffen. He half
turned to look at her.
    ‘Women are not interested in politics. Their
expertise lies in other fields.’
    ‘Only because they’ve never been tried in that