He knew she wouldn’t. Instead, perhaps, she’d dream of a letter from him. But he had nothing to offer her, except a few years before eventually, duty — and love of the place — called him to Overflow again. He could not see Rose as mistress of Overflow. Her memories of the place would be too bitter and she would have the added humiliation of being ignored by every property owner in the district. Any son they had would face not just the same but worse, for he would have to run a white man’s estate with skin that was far too dark a shade.

Nor did he think he had McKenzie’s strength to limit his friends to the few who’d accept his wife, nor McKenzie’s ability to make the world his home, travelling not just for years, but for all his life, with nowhere both he and his wife might be accepted. And Rose would know the minute he regretted his marriage.

He would not write to Rose.

He did write once every few months to Ezekiel. Sometimes his father would have heard on the bush telegraph where his son’s crew might be shearing next — gossip spread like bush flies, even as far as Overflow. There would be a letter, written in the careful copperplate of a man who’d learned his letters late and took care with every one of them.

Each letter said much the same:

Dear Horatio,

I hope this finds you as well as it leaves me. The drought continues, but grass grows in the channels and we are better off than most. The lambing went well. Taylor trapped over twenty dingoes. The rabbits are a curse, but there’s good money for the skins. I hope that you soon realise your duty and return home, as I have always done my duty to you.

Your father,

Ezekiel Clancy

His duty. Clancy knew that his duty was not just to help his father run the property. Ezekiel hired the men he needed for that. Overflow might not be able to support a Rosemere, but as the old man said, the place was still paying its way, thanks to the channels that gave it its name. His father would not have to walk off his land with just his belt and trousers, as so many had had to do while these dry years continued.

His father needed a son. A son to marry, to breed children, heirs to Overflow. Even in drought, Overflow was a tiny empire. When it finally rained, it would once again be a wealthy one.