Mystic Mountains

hadn 't known what to expect, but the house came as a pleasant surprise. It had a wide chimney at the end nearest them. The house was built of bricks, and bigger that she'd expected. She'd thought it might be a dwelling of bark and weatherboard similar to some of the isolated farms they'd passed on the road. A verandah along three sides, festooned with a clinging vine, cast shade over the four windows at the front. 
    A dozen or so chickens scratched about in the dirt outside the fence. The fowls scattered as two black and white dogs came galloping to meet the wagon, their barks insistent and their long tails wagging. Isabella couldn 't hold back a smile for the dogs looked so familiar and ordinary when she'd been expecting those peculiar kangaroos they'd seen on the way here.
    A few hogs snuffled about in a small yard, and some geese and other large fowl she didn 't recognize busily poked about in the dust of another yard.
    The ship's crew had been wrong; this was no untamed desert. Isabella said a silent prayer of thanks.
    As the wagon rumbled towards a small gate in the fence around the house a woman came out of the front door. Isabella guessed her to be in her forties. Wisps of greying hair peeped from beneath the white mobcap topping a face that, although unsmiling, appeared friendly and inquisitive. She wiped frail-looking hands on the coarse apron swathing her slight frame. She looked as if the strong wind would likely blow her over.
    "Called me skinny," Isabella muttered.
    The woman lifted a hand in a welcoming wave, and her master returned it with a small salute as the horse stopped in front of the gate. He jumped down then went round the back and undid the catches holding the flap in place.
    "Come on," he ordered, holding out his arms.
    Isabella allowed him to lift her to the ground and that same strange sensation shot through her as his hands rested briefly at her waist. Taking the hat from her head he tossed it into the back of the wagon, then turned to address the woman.
    "Well, Thelma, here 's your helper." Isabella bridled as he ran his eyes insolently over her from head to toe. "You'll have a hard job on your hands, I think. Not only is she a bag of bones, and lousy, she's got a tongue as sharp as one of your kitchen knives. To get her I convinced old Gregson I had certain favors due from the Governor, but I'm beginning to wonder if I should have bothered."
    He gave Isabella a look that made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. Her lips quivered, but she 'd be damned if she'd let him see that his cruel words upset her.
    Instead she turned her attention to this Thelma. Isabella had presumed it was Carstairs' wife who wanted a new maid, but this woman looked old enough to be his mother. Surely she wasn 't married to him? Still, perhaps that was the way things were out here in the colony where women of the upper class were scarce. But this woman didn't have the bearing of the wife of a man of quality. 
    Looking hard at Isabella she gave Dougal a terse nod, saying, "Aye, an ' what about the young man? You didn't say you were after fetching two back with you."
    "The lad 's a freeman, Thelma; crewed his way over. Seems he's keen to work with the sheep. Isn't that right, Dougal?" He ushered Isabella through the gate.
    "Aye, that 's right," Dougal agreed, smiling.
    "Let 's get inside, then. You wait half a minute, Dougal, and I'll show you where to settle the gelding and yourself. This is Isabella, Thelma. Or is it Bella? You never told me which it was to be." He raised his brows.
    "My friends call me Bella," Isabella said, feeling confused again.
    "Well, I reckon I'll never be termed that, seeing as I'm an Englishman." He gave Thelma an odd look. "But as it's less of a mouthful, Bella it'll be. The lad's Dougal. The girl wanted him along. In fact insisted she would only give us the benefit of her company if her lover came with the package."
    Isabella glared at him. Why did he insist on calling Dougal that? The man was definitely intent on embarrassing her. Dougal gasped and her cheeks flamed anew.
    The arrogant so-and-so left her standing there with Thelma and went back through the gate, closing it after him, saying, "Come Dougal, I'll show you where to go, and you can wash up. And you’ll be needing some better clothes than what you have on. Where's Gillie, Thelma? This lad's a dab hand with sheep, so's I've been told. He'll be a help at lambing time with the ewes."
    "He 's moving some of the flock.