Longings of the Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

more fitting.”
    John knew Mr. Atherton spoke the truth. He’d had similar discussions with himself. “I know I’m taking a risk. But raising sheep and attending to my own property requires good business instincts. And as you’ve stated, I possess those. And there’ll always be a need for tools. I can craft my own rather than purchase them.”
    John let his eyes roam over the Atherton farm. “I spent most of my life in the city, and for years I did as my father wished—working at his side and learning the tool business. And when he died, I took over the company. But I always wanted more—adventure and an opportunity to do something of my own choosing, something more challenging. I even considered moving to the Americas. It’s a place where a man can make a fine living as a farmer. I probably would have done it too, if not for my wife Margaret. London was the only place for her. She wouldn’t let go of it.”
    He took a deep breath. Even now, the thought of her violation stabbed at him. “Of course my dreams and hers ended with her betrayal and her death.” The memory of prison, Margaret’s infidelity, and his cousin’s treachery raised old resentments. He studied a fly darting about a dung pile. “Things like that can steal a man’s spirit.” John’s anger drained from him and, like a breath of clean air, peace filled him. He looked into Mr. Atherton’s blue eyes. “As it turns out, New South Wales was my destiny.”
    He removed his hat and shuffled the brim through his fingers. “This venture may not be a success. I’m a novice. What I know about country living is what I’ve learned since coming here.” John replaced his hat on his head. “I want to try.”
    Mr. Atherton smiled and extended his hand. Grasping John’s, he said, “I wish you well, then. I heard the piece you’re looking at could become a fine farm. And there’s a large property that borders it.”
    “Yes. I’m hoping to purchase it one day.”
    “It may be just what God wants for you and Hannah.”
    “I pray you’re right, sir.”
    Mr. Atherton studied him a moment. “I think it’s time you started calling me William. We’re friends now.”
    “Thank you, sir, er . . . William.” John smiled. “It’ll take a bit of getting used to.”
    Mr. Atherton grinned. “You best be on your way. Don’t want to keep ol’ Murphy Connor waiting. He’s not the most patient fellow.”
    “Right you are.” John climbed into the saddle and, with a nod at William, headed for the road. Moving away from the Athertons’ and toward what he hoped would one day be his own home, John couldn’t quiet his jitters. He wanted this to be the right place for him and Hannah.
    The road was empty, the forest quiet except for an occasional cry of a bird and the incessant buzz of flies. They tried to find their way into his eyes, his nose, and his ears. He swatted at them, but they were unrelenting. A lizard darted across the road and the gelding startled, then quieted under John’s firm hand.
    He scanned the forests and fields, watching for Aborigines. He knew it was a futile endeavor. Aborigines could well be watching him but would remain invisible unless they chose to reveal themselves. His heart leaped when, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something dart behind a tree. It turned out to be a koala starting up a gum tree. The small animal climbed, reaching for a handful of eucalyptus leaves. Stuffing the morsels into his mouth, he chewed slowly and dispassionately watched the passing rider.
    John chuckled. “That’s quite enough of worrying.”
    A shrill “Coo-ee” echoed through the forest. Another answered the first, only it was farther away. John knew the cry—it was Aborigines. They used the call to communicate with one another. Watchful, he nudged his horse to a faster pace.
    Although recent skirmishes had intensified John’s concerns, he couldn’t help but admire the indigenous people of New South Wales. In spite of