Chapter One
A flicker of hope, as fragile and precious as a newborn calf’s first breath, ignited in Harry’s chest at the dust cloud on the horizon. He reined in his bay gelding atop a small incline. “Clara! Look!”
Pulling her mare up alongside him, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes, her gaze following the direction of his outstretched arm.
But then her shoulders slumped. “It’s a herd of brumbies, not Josiah’s cattle.” A weariness that spoke of more than just physical exhaustion tinged her voice.
Harry’s hand, roughened by the trials of their journey, combed through his sweat-dampened hair as his gaze scanned the horizon once more. Where could they be? It’d only been two days since he and Clara had left the dust-choked streets of Dubbo. After reporting their friend Walt’s murder, they’d followed the trail Josiah and his team had set off on three days before that, but they’d disappeared. How could a thousand head of cattle disappear?
“We’ll find them.” Clara squeezed his hand, her touch almost as comforting as her confidence. “God will lead us to them.”
Harry’s heart clenched, the clog of despair thick in his throat. “But what if He doesn’t? Maybe we should turn back.”
“No!” She wheeled her mare around and faced him squarely. “We’ve endured too much to give up now.”
“But we’ve lost the trail. They could be anywhere after that storm.”
“We should make camp, rise at first light, and start afresh. Our future lies with Josiah. I feel it inside me, Harry. You do too. You’re just frustrated.” Clara’s face, though marred by sweat and dust, held the fiery determination he’d come to love during their brief marriage.
She was right. He swallowed hard to fend off his frustration. He did feel it. Something had surged inside him when he and Clara accepted Josiah’s offer to join him. As if the northbound cattle drive was their destiny.
But with each passing day, that destiny was slipping away like sand through clenched fingers.
He filled his lungs, but the weight in his chest remained. “You’re right. We’ll make camp and rise at first light. Perhaps tomorrow we’ll have success.” His voice barely rose above the whisper of the wind that swept across the barren land, carrying with it the scent of eucalyptus and the silent mysteries of the night ahead.
Spurring their horses forward, they headed to a swathe of acacias, Clara’s face lighting as they dismounted under the scant shade. “A waterhole, Harry! God hasn’t forsaken us. A gift from last night’s rain.”
He gritted his teeth as he led his horse to the water. “Yes, but it wiped out any trace of the herd.”
“We’ll find them. Don’t be so despondent.”
“But it’s like finding a needle in a haystack out here.”
While the horses drank, she slipped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “We’ll find them. Don’t give up hope.”
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of fire and gold. Relishing its beauty and hers, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I won’t, but it’ll take a miracle to find them.”
***
After a simple meal of damper and ham, Clara wandered down to the waterhole while Harry tended to the horses. She knelt on its bank, transfixed by the emerging stars reflected in the still water.
On impulse, she shed her garments and slipped into its coolness. What bliss! She submerged herself fully, allowing the water to wash away the grit of the day.
Leaning back to savour the soothing weightlessness, she rested a hand on her stomach and imagined for a fleeting moment it swollen with child. A bittersweet ache twinged her chest. She and Harry had dreamed of raising a family together in this wild land, but it remained only a distant hope, not safe or practical yet. Though she’d left behind the lavish comforts of Sydney society for this harsh life in the outback, she yearned for the simple joy of nursing her own babe.
With a sigh, she stroked her flat belly. One day, Lord, one day.
The snap of a twig pulled her from her reverie, and her heart thudded. Surely it was Harry—for who else could it be? But the moonlit surrounds did not reveal her husband.
The bush rustled again. She sank lower in the water, heart racing now, eyes searching the darkness. These remote watering holes attracted all manner of beasts. Kangaroos. Dingoes. Lizards. Snakes. She peered into the underbrush, ready to flee. But a whimper broke the silence, and a pup emerged. With its fur matted and a scrape marring its snout, it looked lost and alone. And the epitome of cuteness.
Clara’s fear and heart melted. She stepped out of the water and, with soft clicks, called to the pup. “Come here, little one. I won’t hurt you.”
The pup hesitated, but with a tentative tail wag, approached.
She stroked its soft fur. “What are you doing out here all alone?”
The pup gnawed on her finger, its yellowy eyes soulful and trusting. And something shifted inside her.
How could she leave this helpless creature to fend for itself? Surely it would die. She and Harry could look after it, at least until it grew.
After quickly dressing, she scooped up the pup and hurried back to the campfire. “Harry! Look what I found.”
His brow creased as he pushed to his feet. “What have you got there?”
Beaming, she held out the pup.
He ruffled its neck, but his frown deepened. “Where did you find it?”
“At the waterhole.”
“No parents?” His body stiffening, his gaze searched the darkness.
“I think it’s been abandoned.” She nuzzled its fuzzy head. “Can we take it with us?”
“How can we take a pup with us? Especially a dingo pup.”
“We can’t leave it.” She cradled it in her arms, its warm body kindling a longing.
Moments passed, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then the firm line of his jaw softened, and he exhaled a heavy breath. “Okay. But if she’s any trouble, we have to leave her. Agreed?”
With laughter bubbling over, she threw an arm around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Absolutely. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “How could I say no to two beautiful girls?”
Clara blinked. “Wait. How do you know it’s a girl?”
He rolled his eyes, and his gaze dipped to the pup. “The way you’re holding her confirms she’s not a boy.”
“Oh.”
He rubbed the pup’s neck and the slightest smile curved his lips. “I guess we should call you something.” He lifted his gaze to Clara. “Any ideas?”
She considered the pup’s soulful eyes and smiled. “Hope. Let’s call her Hope.”
