Heart of the Country by Tricia Stringer Page B

weakness of male vanity. Finally he interrupted her.
    â€œMiss Smith.”
    She spun around, a big grin lit up her face. “It’s Lizzie.”
    Now that he was dressed, Thomas had time to study her. She looked to be his age, and was short in stature, with fair hair parted straight down the middle and swept into a knot at the back of her head. Her lips were pink and full, below a button nose and her eyes – He drew in a breath. They sparkled back at him.
    He cleared the lump in his throat. “Where have you come from?” he asked.
    â€œWe are your neighbours over that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction from the way Duffy had come. “We heard Mr Browne had employed an overseer. Father had to take the wagon with supplies to the men camped not far from here, building some yards. He dropped me off to say hello and leave you a welcome pie. You’ve made some good improvements around here already. I put it inside on a shelf,” she said.
    Thomas frowned. It was hard to keep up.
    â€œThe pie that is.” She continued to talk at speed. “I made it myself from the delicious little red fruits that are ripening now. We call them wild peach. That’s why I wasn’t here when you returned. I was checking to see if you’ve got any of the trees nearby and you have. Only one but it’s loaded with fruit. I’ve picked some.” She raised the bag she held in one hand. “You can dry them. They keep well.”
    She spoke so fast and the pain of his burned hand along with the throbbing boil was making it hard for Thomas to concentrate. “Your father left you here, alone?” he said.
    She pulled herself up. “You’re alone. Women are often alone when the men are all working. It’s the way it is in the bush. No point in putting on airs and graces out here. Although names are helpful.”
    â€œI’m sorry; I’m Thomas Baker, from England, and more recently Adelaide and now here.”
    â€œPleased to meet you, Thomas Baker,” Lizzie said.
    The smile on her face took his breath away. She was the prettiest woman he’d seen in a long time. Then he couldn’t help but smile at the thought she was the only woman he’d seen in a long time.
    She strode forward.
    Thomas stepped back. The movement made him wince.
    â€œOh, what’s the matter? Please let me help you, Thomas. I can see something is bothering you.” She put down her bag, dropped the bundle of sticks close to the fire and brushed off her hands.
    He turned over the hand that he’d touched on the coals. “It’s a bit of a burn.”
    She took his hand gently in hers. His looked like a meat cleaver in her small grasp. She bent her head over it and inspected the red welt on his palm. “You’re right, it’s not too bad and the best thing for it is cool water.”
    â€œShouldn’t it be butter?” Thomas said, remembering a similar burn from his childhood.
    â€œIf you have some I’d be happy to apply it for you.”
    Thomas watched the sparkle in her eyes grow brighter until her face burst into a grin again.
    He couldn’t help responding with a small smile of his own. He hadn’t had any butter since the meagre scrapings they had sometimes put on their bread at the Square. “Water will be fine,” he said. He didn’t mind what she did as long as she didn’t remember the original pain site was his rear end.
    â€œSit yourself down and I’ll have that seen to in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
    â€œI’ll stand,” Thomas said.
    â€œSuit yourself.” Lizzie hurried away to the keg beside the hut and brought back a dipper of water and an empty pot. “Hold out your hand.”
    He obeyed. She trickled the water over his palm to the pot below. The cool water gave immediate relief from the sting of the burn.
    â€œHow did you know this would help?”
    â€œI stumbled too close