Wild Lands by Nicole Alexander

partially obscured by the fruit trees and the spreading branches of the large fig, the Reverend’s cottage appeared almost quaint. Inside, in the room that looked directly across to the convicts’ huts, her mother lay on a bed, waxen-faced. Kate often thought of the woman Lesley Carter had once been. The image that came most often to her now was of her holding Kate’s father’s hand and giggling. Giggling. Such laughter seemed to have crumbled forever. Her mother had never worn the white gown with the lace collar and cuffs to any grand receptions, but in the ten years they’d lived here she’d slept each night in a warm bed that was off the ground and never once went hungry. Kate took a deep breath. Her heart was beating too quickly. It wasn’t fair. Her mother was only thirty-eight years of age.
    Smoke was streaming from the cottage chimney, twirling into a sky grown clear and bright with the rising sun. The Reverend had done well for himself. He now had a lucrative farming enterprise of four hundred acres. Fields were planted to wheat and corn every year, and there were cattle and sheep. The cabbage-tree hat business was ongoing, with the schoolhouse providing a new source of labour, a boon with the decreasing number of convicts available as workers. The Reverend was not a wealthy man, but he wanted for nothing. And Kate and her mother had also been provided for. Kate wished she’d been a better daughter, a more loving child, for Madge was right – Lesley had done her best for the both of them.

    Reverend Horsley came to Kate in the schoolhouse as lessons ended. She assumed the worst, however his attention went immediately to the pile of cabbage-tree hats stacked on a rear bench. He lifted each finished item and checked the quality of the work. Small fingers made for intricate weaving of the palm fronds. TheReverend’s charitable school of plain education aligned itself nicely with Governor Macquarie’s original model, for the children’s lessons also included the learning of useful industry.
    The children ran past Reverend Horsley as he approached, a sword jingling at his side, his pistol obvious against the black cloth of his suit. ‘She lingers,’ he explained to Kate, allaying her fears. He clasped the King James Bible to his chest. ‘But I am not here to talk about the dying. I am here to discuss your future.’
    Kate’s throat went dry. She was not ready for this. Surely he would give her a week’s grace to think on her situation, especially as her mother was yet to depart this world.
    â€˜You are to be complimented on your willingness to assume Mrs Carter’s role as schoolmistress at my humble institution. You seem capable of handling the duties required of the position.’
    â€˜I have been assisting my mother these many years,’ Kate answered carefully.
    Crumbs littered his whiskers. They hung amidst the coarse hairs as if being stored for future meals. ‘Yes, and the free education you received at her side during that time has been of great benefit to you. You are skilled with the pen. I thought perhaps you would undertake the writing of my sermons as dictated by me, as your mother did.’
    Kate felt a surge of relief followed by awkwardness. Carefully closing the book that she’d been reading aloud from during lessons, she placed it on the table that was used as a pulpit on Sundays. ‘I don’t share my mother’s religious inclinations,’ Kate replied. ‘But, if you would spare me that role I would be pleased to stay on as teacher here. The children are quite advanced for their age and –’
    â€˜You are a non-believer?’ His nose twitched. ‘But you attend our services, you have prayed side by side with your mother.’ His voice rose. ‘By these actions you have professed to be a good Christian soul.’
    â€˜I have professed nothing, Reverend. I simply do as I am told and