Sarah knew that her habit of talking to animals-dumb beasts, as Liza and her mother, Lydia, characterized them-annoyed her sister. “Sorry, Clare,” Sarah murmured contritely. One brown eye rolled back to look reproachfully at Sarah. The piebald mare drawing the trap along at a slow trot threw up her head in surprise. Her hands tightened automatically on the reins.
Sarah mentally counted to ten at Liza’s sulky response. “Is it my fault they didn’t have the right color?”
Tempers had been flaring as quickly as the grass plains surrounding the town. The area surrounding Melbourne had been caught in a heatwave for weeks, and there was no respite in sight. So, probably, was every resident of Melbourne, Australia, on this scorching afternoon in January 1838. But then, Sarah reminded herself, so was she. The younger girl looked hot, Sarah thought with a niggle of guilt at her own crossness. Liza was slouched dispiritedly against the trap’s curved, padded side. Remember?” Sarah Markham’s usually serene voice was acidic as she cast an irritated look at her young stepsister. This trip wasn’t for your exclusive benefit, you know. “I imagine he was thinking that it would be simpler for us to come to the docks than for him to haul a wagonload of convicts through town. With its motley collection of wool warehouses, saloons, and other establishments of dubious nature, the area would have given pause to a far more intrepid young lady than Liza.
“I don’t know what Pa can have been thinking about, telling us to meet him down here!” As Liza Markham stared over the high wheels of the pony trap her sister was driving, she wrinkled her pert, freckled nose at the slovenly looking men and painted women who crowded the plank sidewalks along the packed-earth street. Dark Torments Karen Robards Table of Contents
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