He watched the color fade from the housekeeper's face, but had no mercy. Rage surged through him. His son and heir in the hands of someone as emotional and unstable as Cassandra, he shuddered thinking about the consequences.
His men conducted a through search of the house and grounds. The stable hand reported that the buggy hadn’t been returned. Where the hell would she go? He had no idea what she did during the day or night either, for that matter. She could never fire his desire as Jo did, but she was his wife, damn it all.
“If the boy's harmed, I'll kill her,” he raged, each time someone reported in. It soon became obvious they would have to search further afield. If they weren't found by nightfall he hated to dwell on the … How long could a baby survive without being fed?
In desperation, he sent down to the aboriginal encampment for a black tracker. While he waited for the man to arrive he went in to see Jo. Her pale skin looked almost transparent, emphasizing the nasty scratches on her cheeks. Her eyes, though closed, showed bruising beneath the lids, and her hair, that glorious hair, splayed out over his pillow. He reached out to brush a curling tendril from her face and hooked it behind her ear.
She was young and healthy, so she would not die. But if something happened to their child? He clenched his fist. Why in the hell didn't they hurry up?
Jo looked vulnerable lying there in the bed where they had shared such a fiery passion. Sitting down, he picked up one of her hands and ran his thumb across her palm. He had a sudden overwhelming desire to wake her, to apologize for humiliating and degrading her.
He dropped her hand and stood up. He groaned as memories of what they had shared here in this room flooded his mind. Even he could not go against convention and have her living under the same roof as his wife. Why hadn't she let him get them another place? Money would have been no object. He would have lavished everything on his wild, beautiful Jo.
At the thought of Cassandra, he ground his teeth. He didn't care what she did to herself, but the boy! He had big plans for him. Every man wanted an heir and he was no different, especially now with Tim gone. No one would dare call the son of Luke Campton a bastard once he installed the boy here.
Jo moaned. Running one finger along her cheek, he was surprised to find it damp. He kissed her soft sweet lips, shocked at the sudden surge of desire this simple act aroused in him. Mrs. Osborne had bandaged her shoulder and administered some laudanum, as it would be hours before the doctor arrived. He paced the floor with mounting anxiety. Where the hell were they?
When the men returned with the black tracker, Luke mounted his horse and the aboriginal loped along in front of him. They tracked the buggy to the Saunders place, then followed the wheel marks on the ground. Cassandra headed towards the hill country.
“White misuses come this way,” the black youth explained in a singsong voice.
She had many hours start on them and could be miles away by now. Where the hell would she go?
After a couple of hours they spied the buggy in a clearing. When he suggested they send back for more men, the aboriginal became agitated.
“Too many white fella trample the signs.”
Luke nodded, respecting the man’s knowledge.
The country became rougher. In parts the bush grew in an impenetrable wall and he cursed furiously. He noticed they had been going around in circles, even before the black tracker pointed it out. They were on the roughest part of Kangaroo Gully, so hilly and boulder strewn he had never bothered to clear it.
“White missus know she be followed.”
He frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“No can trick Billy. See, she come this way plenty times before.” He pointed to a barely discernable track.
Where the hell would she go? The hills around here were riddled with caves. Even a whole army could disappear and never be found.
They met up with one of the stock hands and two mounted police.
“I couldn't get the doctor for Miss Saunders, boss, he's out of town,” the man reported.
On a drinking binge, more likely, Luke thought savagely.
“Mrs. Osborne said to tell you Mrs. Campton told one of the maids about a place in the hills where the fairies play.”
The police troopers snickered.
He recalled there was a waterfall not far away and he strode toward it. Ten minutes later they came to the river, swirling and racing along, fed by water from further up in the mountains.
“No go there.” Billy's eyes rounded in fear. “Bad place.”
“Don't be ridiculous.” He cursed as the youth disappeared into the scrub.
A fallen tree lay halfway across the river and Luke’s blood ran cold. For the first time in his life he knew the sickening, gut-wrenching sensation of real fear.
Barefooted, hugging the crying baby against her breast, Cassandra pirouetted on the log.
“Cassandra,” he yelled above the roaring turbulence of the water.
She did not even glance at him, just kept up the frenzied dancing. He started pulling off his boots.
“What are you doing, Mr. Campton?” one of the police asked.
“I'm going down there to get them, even if I have to swim. I’ve lost my brother, I don’t intend losing my son.”
“You'll drown if you fall in.”
“I'm a strong swimmer.”
He slid down the bank. When his feet touched the fallen trunk Cassandra screamed. “Go away! Go away.”
“Give me the baby.”
“No. He's my baby. I won't let you have him. I'll jump if you come any closer.”
What should he do now? “Come on, let's go home. I've brought you some nice presents from town, a pretty gown and a new bonnet with flowers and ribbons on it.”
“Did not.”
“Give me the baby.”
Her feet slipped on the mossy log. He lunged to grab her. She teetered. Dropped the child into the turbulent water. “Oh God. No!” He dived into the raging torrent.
The current dragged him out toward the middle where the water swirled for a few yards, before cascading twenty feet on to rocks below. In two strokes he grabbed hold of the baby's nightgown as it billowed out, and he pulled him against his chest. Treading water for a moment, he watched the child giving choking spluttering cries. Still alive, thank heaven.
Holding Mark out of the water, he swam sideways towards the bank. He heard an ear-splitting scream above the roar of the water. Cassandra was washed towards him. As she swept past, he grabbed hold of her skirt, but she fought him. In that split second he knew there were only two choices. He could try to save both of them, which meant they would probably all three drown, or he could sacrifice his wife so his son would live. Even now the freezing water numbed his limbs.
He cast a desperate glance at the watchers on the bank, no chance of getting help from them. Tom could not swim, and the police apparently were not prepared to risk their lives.
He loosened his grip on Cassandra's skirt. Without glancing back, he headed towards the shallow water, propelling himself along with one hand, holding the baby in the other.
In the shallow water, Tom waded out to meet him. He took the baby and Luke turned to go back for Cassandra.
“It's no good, boss,” Tom said. “She's gone over the falls.”
One of the troopers helped them out. Luke stood shivering while someone retrieved his shirt.
“You did all you could, Mr. Campton,” the policeman said. “It's a wonder you were even able to save the child.”
“Take the baby back to the house, Tom, the police can help me retrieve my wife's body. Seeing as they didn't have the guts to come in and help me,” he added savagely.
***
Jo tossed and turned in a nightmare world. Luke hated her, that's why he’d taken Mark. No, Cassandra stole him. The dreams came and went. Sometimes she felt herself drifting away, but always someone called her back. She was so tired, if only she could rest, but the voice never let up. Sometimes it sounded angry, ot
her times pleading. She wanted to tell it to go away and leave her in peace, but the words would not come out.
She opened her eyes and for the first time the room did not swim or tilt.
“You're awake now, Miss Jo?”
She blinked. “Mrs. Osborne, what am I doing here?” They were in the room she had shared with Luke all those months ago. Her eyes filled with tears, he didn't even care enough to see whether she lived or died.
“Mark! Mark!” She tried to raise herself on the pillow, and her whole body burned.
“He's doing well. I'll tell Mr. Campton you're awake.”
“He doesn't care about me.” Luke’s desertion hurt more than the bullet wound. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to stop them escaping.
“Miss Jo, he's hardly slept in five days, been by your bed most of the time.”
“Five days?” She tried moving her arm and moaned in pain. “Cassandra?”
“You're not to worry, everything is all right now.” She soothed before moving away. “I have to tell Mr. Campton you're awake.”
Jo closed her eyes for a moment. They felt heavy as lead and if she kept them closed it might blot out the horror of the dreams, the voices.
“Mrs. Osborne said you’d woken up.”
She opened her eyes and Luke's face hovered close by. He was pale beneath his usual tan, deep grooves ran along the sides of his mouth, and his scar stood out vividly. He looked gaunt and haggard.
“Is Mark all right?”
“Yes.” He sat down on the bed.
“Can I see him?” Jo blinked back tears.
“Later, when you're stronger.”
“I want to see him now.”
“He's all right. Can't you take my word for it?”
“Mrs. Osborne said I've been here five days. Who’s been feeding him?” she asked frantically.
“The wife of one of my stockmen, so calm down.”
“I have to see him, to make sure.” She struggled into a sitting position.
“For God's sake, do you want your wound to open up? I'm telling you he's all right. The woman has a child about the same age so she's been suckling the two of them.”
“How can anyone feed two babies?” She flopped down against the pillows. She didn’t have the strength to sit up.
“How the hell should I know? I give you my word he's all right.”
“You don't have to yell at me.” Tears filled her eyes.
“All right, all right, I'm sorry.” He squatted down next to the bed, picked up one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “I've always wanted you, Jo, right from the very beginning. I kept telling myself it was only lust. I treated you harshly because I suppose I feared the emotions you aroused in me. I blamed you for Tim’s death, but deep down I always knew his uncontrollable behavior would end in tragedy.”
Her tears fell faster now. As he wiped them away with his thumb, more followed.
“I've really hated you sometimes, Luke.”
“But now?” He smiled, really smiled for the first time in all the months she had known him. And what a difference it made. There was a dimple in his chin. “You're upsetting yourself and you shouldn’t. You almost died. Several times we thought you would leave us.”
“I think I remember.” She frowned in concentration. “I drifted away. I wanted to go but someone kept forcing me to stay. It was you, wasn't it?”
“Yes, it was me.”
“Why didn't you let me die?”
His pale cheeks became bloodless, every vestige of color drained from his face. “Didn't you hear me before, don't you understand? I want you, Jo. You're mine. You were mine from the moment I first set eyes on you.”
“What about Cassandra?”
“Dead.”
“Dead!” she cried out. Her mouth dried up, her head started pounding and her whole body trembled. “I killed her.”
“No.” He pushed the tumbled hair away from her face and smoothed her forehead with the flat of his thumb. “She fell into the river and drowned.”
“We struggled over the gun. It went off. I remember that, then falling. Everything is mixed up, riding a long way, my knees ached, my hands too.”
“You were trying to come over here. When we found you, you raved about someone taking the baby, pleading with them not to hurt him. For a while we didn't know who you were talking about until we realized it was Cassandra. You're exhausted, and must rest. We’ll talk some more later.”
“No, no, please, I've got to get it all sorted out in my mind or I'll go crazy. You slapped me, didn't you?”
“Yes, you almost lost consciousness. We had to find out what happened to the baby.”
“Where did Cassandra go?”
He didn't answer for a couple of minutes. When he did his voice carried no emotion.
“We searched everywhere, until one of the maids remembered her talking about a secret place where the fairies played. She was mentally unbalanced, living in a fantasy world of fairies and goblins.” He twisted one of Jo’s curls around his finger and stared at it. “We got a black tracker and followed her to the river. We found her standing on a log straddling the water. She danced and spun around as she clutched the baby, her feet slipped out from under her and she got swept away by a roaring torrent. The current ran strong.”
He moistened his lips with his tongue. “I tried to save both of them. None of the others would come into the water to help me. I've always been a strong swimmer, but I couldn't save two of them, so I had to let her go.”
“Oh, Luke.” Her heart overflowed with sympathy for him. What a dilemma for a man to face. He would be dogged with guilt for the rest of his life.
“I let my wife drown so I could save our son.” He clenched his fists on the blankets. “Go to sleep now, when you're stronger we’ll talk again.”
When she awoke next, Mrs. Osborne sat on a chair by the bed knitting. “Ah, Miss
Jo, I'll get you some broth. You’re looking much better.”
“I feel better too, except I ache everywhere and my shoulder throbs. Am I badly hurt, I mean shot?”
“A couple of inches lower and you'd be dead, my girl, that's how close it came.”
The housekeeper pulled a bell cord, and within a short time a maid brought in some warm broth and started spooning it into Jo's mouth.
“For three days, your life hung in the balance.” Mrs. Osborne explained. “You'd be slipping away and Mr. Campton would beg you to stay, to fight like you fought him. He literally dragged you back from the brink.”
Jo swallowed a mouthful of soup. “Is the baby all right?”
“Yes, he's a fine little fellow, a healthier child you wouldn't find anywhere.”
“Would you bring him here so I can see for myself?”
“I can't, I’m sorry, the boss left strict instructions. He’ll bring the little one in when the time is right.”
“There's something wrong with him. I know there is. That's why you won't let me see him.” She clamped her lips shut and pushed the spoon away. “Why aren’t my breasts sore? I’ve lost all my milk.”
“You're acting foolish Miss Jo, the baby is all right. We’ve been expressing your milk.”
“I won't eat anything until I see Mark. If you won't bring him to me, I'll go and find him myself.” She struggled to sit up. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder and the housekeeper's pleading, she swung her legs to the floor, just as Luke entered.
“What's going on in here?” he roared.
“Miss Jo wants to see the baby, won't eat until she does.”
It took two attempts before she could stand, and she had to grab on to the bedpost.
“You bloody little fool, are you trying to kill yourself?” His powerful arms supported her as she started sinking to the floor.
“I'll get him if you stay in bed and eat the broth.” He put her back under the blankets. “When she's finished eating, let me know. I'll bring the child in then, but not a minute before.”
Jo ate
as fast as her weakened state would allow. When the bowl was empty, the maid and Mrs. Osborne left the room. She lay there, expecting to hear Mark screaming, but there was no sound. Anxiously she watched the door open. Luke strode in cradling Mark in the crook of one arm.
“Bring him closer, please.”
He sat on the bed. “See, he's hale and hearty, strong as a little ox.”
The baby’s eyes blinked sleepily. He had recently been fed, she could tell by his contented drowsy state. She couldn't hold him, she wasn’t strong enough, but her hand came out to stroke a rosy cheek and pat a damp tendril of hair. His feet poking out from his nightgown were bare.
“As you can see, he's been bathed and fed.” Luke's eyes followed hers to the little pink toes. “Because of your impatience, he isn't fully dressed. Satisfied?”
Chapter fifteen
Jo had been a Kangaroo Gully for three weeks when Luke came striding into her bedroom one morning. “I have to take some cattle up into the high country to graze over the summer months.”
“But, Luke.” She didn’t want him to leave. How would she cope without him? Her nerves were shot to pieces. She still suffered nightmares and needed his strength and yes, kindness. He had been caring, considerate. Something she wouldn’t have believed possible a few weeks ago. He had put up with her tantrums, her weeping spells and depression without complaint. They had grown closer as a result of this and she didn’t want to lose this comradeship.
“It’s a tradition we’ve followed for years.”
“What about me?”
“What about you? Mrs. Osborne is here to see to everything. I won’t be gone more than a few weeks. Besides your brother should be here soon.”
“You selfish bastard, you don’t care that I nearly died.”
“For God’s sake, stop whining,” he exploded. “I can’t sit around here doing nothing. There’s work to be done.”
“Go with your precious cattle, but I mightn’t be here when you get back.”
Without another word he stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door as he went. Jo promptly burst into tears.
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