Read Online Sunset Ridge by Nicole Alexander - Free Book Online Page A

green and brown. There was both light and dark below him, space and proportion, pattern and balance. The water reflected almost exactly what Miss Waites had taught Dave and Luther about art composition that week in the schoolroom. Never one for Learners, he had done his best along with his brothers to read and write and add sums – but art was different; he knew right away that he liked it. Especially because their governess did as well. Miss Waites would lean over his shoulder while explaining object placement and symmetry, her oval nail skimming a coloured plate, wisps of pale brown hair curling about her neck.
    â€˜Hey, Dave,’ Harold called, ‘you’ve got a biter.’
    Dave slid back along the branch and half slipped and half climbed down the trunk. Losing his footing, he fell the last few feet, his palm catching roughly against the nail and rotting board. Biting his lip, he reached the taut fishing line in time for it to go slack in his hand. Blood seeped from Dave’s palm as he dug filthy fingernails into the flesh to withdraw a long, thick splinter. He sucked at the weeping wound and spat the blood and grit on the sand as the pop of rifle-fire sounded in the distance. A horse whinnied, followed by the crunch of leaf litter.
    â€˜What have I missed?’ Thaddeus slid from his horse in a showy manner. He had recently taken to riding bareback, causing their father to ask their mother on more than one occasion if she had planned to breed a circus act. Slipping the rifle from his shoulder, he dropped it on the river bank and joined Harold.
    â€˜Joe Barnes died of his wounds,’ Harold told them. ‘Those blasted Turks got him eventually.’
    â€˜Joe was a good bloke.’ Thaddeus lifted an arm and bowled an imaginary ball. ‘He could run like the wind and bat with the best of them.’
    Harold scraped his teeth over a thick bottom lip. ‘I’d like to be doing more than selling nails and pannikins. You know, I’ve heard stories about lads younger than us enlisting.’
    Thaddeus clapped his friend on the shoulder. ‘By the time your father lets you sign up, mate, the war will be over.’
    â€˜I thought you wanted to go,’ Harold replied. ‘What if we lose over there and the Germans invade Australia? What then?’
    â€˜And what about our businesses?’ Thaddeus countered. ‘We’ve already lost five station hands since last year, and with Rodger’s brother dead I reckon he’ll leave soon. That’ll leave two. Someone’s got to look after the sheep and the cattle.’
    â€˜That’s a convenient excuse,’ Harold sniffed.
    â€˜You’re just saying that because food and clothing are more important than ladders and lanterns in war time.’
    Harold dropped the line he was holding.
    â€˜Okay, okay.’ Thaddeus held up his hands in surrender. ‘I agree that it doesn’t seem right, us sitting here fishing while there’s a war on, but we’re still doing our bit – there’s so much beef and mutton being preserved and shipped abroad that you wonder if there’s enough meat left in Australia to feed our own people. Anyway, I’ve been thinking that if the war’s still going on next year I’ll probably join up.’
    â€˜Me too,’ Harold agreed.
    â€˜It’s not our w-war,’ Luther argued. ‘I’m all for a b-bit of adventure, but I don’t w-want t-to fight for the B-british. I’m Australian. B-besides, we would p-probably e-end up over in France and th-there’s no w-way I’m eating frog l-legs.’
    Harold flicked his line. ‘That’s just wrong. We’re part of the British Empire; we have a duty to the King.’
    Luther made a point of swivelling his neck to look at their surroundings. ‘I ain’t never seen K-king George out the b-back of B-banyan.’
    Thaddeus snickered.
    â€˜If we were attacked,’