“Who are you?”
“I really am Ahalya Drennen. And Cassie Drennen really is my great-aunt. She was the...I don’t know about white, but maybe the dingy cream sheep of the family. She didn’t hold with the thieving and fighting the rest of us got up to, so she ran out on us and went off to become an honest farmer.”
“Your whole family are thieves?”
“Only the clever ones. The rest just get drunk and hit people.”
“And the Butcher is your cousin?”
“My gene mother and her birth mother are sisters.”
“Cassie Drennen’s been at Broken Hills for decades.”
“Yes. She was gone years before I was born.” Hal sat back, looking wistful. “I think she’s the first of us who’s tried to go straight in seven generations. And look where it’s got her.”
“Old age catches everyone.”
“True, but Cassie brought it partly on herself.” At Ellen’s questioning look, Hal went on. “We knew the name of her farm, because she wrote to Grandma once or twice, but there’s been no other contact. Then Ade joined us in Eastford. She was the one with the plan for stealing sheep, and Maddy had been thinking about getting an out-of-town hideaway. Then we remembered Aunt Cassie’s farm, and the ideas sort of came together. It seemed perfect. We went to see her, offered her a fair cut—I mean, she ran out on us, but she’s still family. She said no.” Hal shrugged. “So Maddy kicked her around a bit. And she hasn’t been the same since.”
“The state she’s in, it’s due to a head injury you gave her?”
“It wasn’t intended.”
“You didn’t think of taking her to a healer?”
“Be sensible. What could we say? We’ve just hit our aunt over the head. Can you sort her out? It wasn’t as if she’d been all there to start with.”
“You’re proud of yourself? Beating up old women?”
“I’ve done worse. I’ll do whatever I have to, for the sake of the family. Back in Monday Market, if your name’s Drennen, you don’t get a chance. Nobody would give any of us an honest job, even if we wanted one. If we tried playing by their rules, we’d starve. So we play by our rules.”
“Your aunt went straight.”
“How do you think she got the money to buy the farm in the first place?” Hal paused. “But no, I’m not proud of all the things I’ve done, but I’m not apologizing for them either. I’ll never disown my family.” Hal’s voice was softly serious. “Like I said, you shouldn’t have trusted me.”
“Because you’ve been playing with me. That’s all it’s been from the start, isn’t it? An act, trying to get information out of me.”
“No. Not at the very start.”
“What was it, then?”
“It was all due to Terrie Rasheed. The woman’s nothing but a damned liability.”
“What did—” Ellen broke off, ducking her head. Did she really want to know the answers? What chance was there that they would make her feel any better? “Forget it.”
However, Hal was clearly in the mood to talk. “The day you first came to Broken Hills. Rasheed had warned us you were both coming, so we had all the paperwork in order and sorted. She was supposed to get you adding up the numbers. But the stupid bitch said she’d check the receipts, and told you to go outside and look around. She didn’t trust our papers.” Hal grimaced. “They were fine but we had fifty stolen sheep out the back. As soon as you were out of the room, I told Rasheed just what I thought of her and dashed after you. I sent Jo off with the dogs to round up the sheep we didn’t want you to see, while I tried to distract you as much as I could. Flirting was an easy call.”
Bitterness washed over Ellen. She looked up angrily. “You were so sure I’d fall for you?”
“It didn’t matter, either way. There aren’t many things as distracting as being hit on by someone you don’t want, who won’t believe you mean it when you tell her to piss off.” Hal met Ellen’s eyes, her expression softer. “But I must admit, I was pleased when you didn’t tell me to piss off. Believe it or not, I honestly find you very attractive. It may have started as an act, but it didn’t stay that way. I really have come to…” Hal turned her face away, clearly struggling with an emotion that Ellen did not want to recognize.
Ellen dropped her head and closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out. She’s lying. Don’t trust her. It’s a trick. She’s lying. The words pounded through Ellen’s head, but without force. Regardless of whether they were true, she did not want to believe them.
After several seconds, Hal spoke again, sounding more focused. “And if I carry on like this, it will just lead me to another set of pointless wishes. So…the reason I’m here.”
The palm of Hal’s hand pressed against Ellen’s forehead, raising her face. Ellen kept her eyes shut, refusing to meet Hal’s gaze, but then she felt a change run though her. The pain from her injuries eased. The cold and bone-deep aching left her muscles. Not a complete cure, but still a real improvement in her condition. In surprise, Ellen opened her eyes, but Hal’s eyelids were closed. She was clearly in the light trance of someone using the healer sense.
Despite all resolve, Ellen could not stop herself from studying Hal’s face, recalling other times, watching Hal sleep. Ellen’s breath shortened and her heart began to hammer. She was confused, bewildered, repulsed. How could Hal still affect her like this? When at last Hal opened her eyes, Ellen could not bring herself to look away. The seconds drew out as their eye contact intensified.
At first, Hal looked a little surprised, but then she smiled. Her hand slid over Ellen’s head, to the back of her neck. Gently Hal pulled Ellen forward and placed a kiss on her lips, softly, slowly, yet with a force to turn Ellen’s stomach upside down. Ellen tried not to respond, but Hal’s kiss felt so good. The caress of Hal’s lips was soft and firm and necessary for Ellen’s existence. Her mouth opened involuntarily, molding against Hal’s, doing what it was supposed to. Her tongue slid against Hal’s in an intimate dance as a wave of desire swallowed her. Ellen closed her eyes, savoring the contact, the taste and texture of Hal.
Abruptly, awareness returned to Ellen, where she was, who Hal was, and all the reasons why she should not be doing what she was. She thrust out her bound hands, punching Hal in the chest and knocking her away.
“No.”
Hal landed back awkwardly on an elbow. The lamplight fell on her face, showing her expression, first of confusion and then of hurt, quickly covered, but the brief glimpse was enough. Ellen felt her anger vanish.
“Hal. I’m sorry.”
Hal gave a wry smile. “You don’t have to apologize. Most people would say you were quite justified in wanting to kill me.”
“I don’t want t…” Ellen shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.
Hal shifted around, getting back onto her knees beside Ellen. “So what do you want?”
“I…I’m an officer of the law. It’s my duty.” Ellen tried to hang on to the thought, but the emotions churning inside her washed away any meaning.
“I didn’t ask about your job.” Hal’s hand cupped the side of Ellen’s face and then her lips returned, brushing Ellen’s forehead, in a soft, sisterly kiss. “I asked about you.”
Ellen knew she should say something, but she could not command her voice. She ought to pull away and rebuff Hal’s advance, but was it so bad to simply sit still? For now, she was not hurting, was not frightened, was not alone. How could she forego the comfort Hal offered? Why should she?
Hal’s mouth traveled down Ellen’s cheek, burrowing into her neck. Hal’s tongue traced the rim of Ellen’s ear. Teeth scraped lightly on Ellen’s earlobe. Then Ellen felt Hal’s hand at the top button of her shirt, slipping it free. The next three buttons followed. Ellen’s eyes closed—in either desire or denial; she could not tell. Her shirt fell open.
Hal’s breath caught. A half gasp in a moment of silence. “Oh, she has made a right mess of you.”
Hal placed her forefinger on the end of
a long cut and very lightly traced its length. Ellen clenched her teeth to hold back the groan. Her body was melting under Hal’s touch, the same way that it always did, as if nothing else mattered. As if her oath to uphold the law did not matter. As if every lie Hal had spoken did not matter. As if tomorrow and the world waiting outside the cave did not matter. Yet it did matter. Ellen’s conscience called to her, but softly and from far away.
“Hal, don’t.” However, Ellen lacked any will to back up her words.
Hal’s hands slid around her waist.
“Please.”
“You always say that word so beautifully.”
Hal’s lips returned to Ellen’s neck, sucking softly.
“Please, Hal. Stop.” But Ellen could hear her own voice was weak, without force.
The mouth and hands went. Ellen opened her eyes. Hal was sat back, watching her.
“You want me to stop?”
It took five seconds for Ellen to find the strength of will to say “Yes.”
“I tell you what. You ask me to stop one more time and I promise I will.”
Without taking her eyes off Ellen, Hal reached out and fanned her fingers out over Ellen’s stomach.
Ellen closed her eyes. She would allow herself this one last brief moment, to savor in her memory and strengthen her for the days ahead. Just a few seconds to say good-bye to the dreams of a future with Hal. I’m going to count to three and tell her to stop. One. Two...
Hal’s hand slipped beneath Ellen’s open shirt and skimmed up her right side, a feather-light touch that seemed to ignite her skin.
I’m going to count to three and tell her to stop. One...
Hal’s hand moved on, tacking a grip behind Ellen’s back, then Hal’s lips touched her collarbone. Her tongue drew patterns on Ellen’s skin.
I’m going to count to five and tell her to stop.
Hal’s mouth traveled slowly down until reaching her breast.
I’m going to count...
All thought was lost. Ellen’s soul was gripped by the rapture of Hal making love to her, touching her so tenderly that the cuts and bruises existed only as areas of heightened sensitivity. After so much pain, Ellen had forgotten how good her body could feel. After all the fear, she needed Hal to make her feel safe and cared for. Hal’s touch made everything all right.
Ellen was aware of Hal’s hands at her waist, tugging at the material. She braced her feet on the floor to raise her hips, so that Hal could ease her trousers down.
“Untie my hands. I won’t fight you.”
“You’re fine as you are.”
The manacle prevented Ellen’s trousers from being removed, but once they were low enough, Hal pressed her knees apart, and then stroked the inside of her legs. Ellen’s back arched, heedless of damaged muscles and torn skin. The passion consuming her could no longer tell pain from pleasure. There was no difference.
“Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes.”
Hal entered Ellen, claiming her more softly, yet more completely than ever before. The slow rhythm carried Ellen over the edge. She climaxed in a maelstrom of ecstasy, pulsing around the fullness of Hal’s hand. The world turned around, and then fell back into place.
Ellen opened her eyes and stared at the lantern, while reality again took over her life. She was sitting on the floor of a cave, chained to the wall, with her trousers around her ankles and the fingers of a self-confessed thief and thug inside her. And she had wanted it. She had given herself to someone who had only ever used, deceived, and betrayed her. She had renounced all self-respect for the sake of a quick fuck and it was now far too late to say stop.
Ellen curled forward, as far as her bound hands allowed. She felt her face twist in a grimace. Tears flooded her eyes as the first sob hit her.
“Ellen?”
Hal’s fingers withdrew, and then Ellen was enfolded in Hal’s arms.
“Ellen, are you okay?”
Ellen could not speak. The sobs wracked her. She was a fool—a thrice damned fool. Words did not exist to express the depth of the contempt she held herself in.
“Ellen, I’m so...” Hal’s voice broke off and her arms fell away.
Ellen pressed her hands to her eyes, not in any hope of stemming the tears but to hide her face from the world. She felt Hal make an attempt to pull up her trousers, but Ellen did not to care enough to assist, and they got no higher than her knees. Hal moved away. Ellen heard her rummaging among the goods stored at the rear of the cave, and then a succession of items was placed beside her. Ellen neither knew nor cared what they were.
And then Hal and the lamplight were gone.
*
Ellen lay awake. The storm of crying had left her exhausted, but she could not sleep. Her thoughts would not let her. The revelry at the homestead had ended long ago; even the sheep were quiet. Soon it would be dawn. Ellen remembered waking up, two days before, in Hal’s bed. She remembered being happy. Why could her life not have ended then?
She hated Hal, but not as much as she hated herself for not hating Hal enough to wipe out all other emotions. The logic made an impossible, hopeless loop.
Hal had left her with a three-quarters-empty sack of grain as a pillow and two cloaks to use as blankets. Even with her bound hands, she had been able to sort out her clothing. Physically, she was better provided for than she had been before, but her head and heart were in hell.
In two more days, the Rangers would arrive. A battle would ensue. Some of the Knives would be killed. The rest would be taken as prisoners back to Roadsend, tried, and then hanged. No other outcome was possible.
One way or another, within a few days, Hal would be dead. Ellen could only hope that she was as well, so she did not have to work her way through the hate and the anger and the pain.
And the love.
Ellen did not know what she wanted to happen. The only thing she knew was what she wanted now. More than anything, Ellen wished that Hal was there, lying beside her.
Chapter Sixteen—Anger and Remorse
Ellen swung the axe one last time and heard a satisfactory crack from the sapling. After a good shoulder thump, the young tree keeled over and fell. Ellen worked her way down it, lopping off branches. More strokes cut the trunk into meter lengths, each with a pointed end.
The work was far more pleasant than yesterday’s digging out of the latrine, and Ellen’s body did not feel so stiff. The touch of Hal’s hands had bestowed some lasting good, either through the healer sense or from her lovemaking. Ellen clenched her jaw, willing herself not to toy with the memory and rerun each moment through her head. Bad enough that she had let herself be so easily seduced at the time. Nothing good could come of continuing to stir up the emotions. All it could lead to was more misery and pain.
Ellen picked up the stakes. She walked the dozen meters back to the fence and tossed them over, to join the pile on the other side. The longer, springy branches followed. Ellen considered the patches in the fence that needed reinforcement, and then the amount of material she had assembled for the task. It looked about right.
The gang used the smaller offshoot canyon as a large sheep paddock. Ellen guessed the floor had been cleared by burning, to allow grass to grow, and then the canyon sealed at two points, about a kilometer apart. Where Ellen stood, outside the upper wickerwork fence, the original covering of vegetation remained, a dense lacework of spindly saplings, taller, mature trees, and matted undergrowth. On the other side, the rich green of the grass was broken only by a shallow river running through, and a fair number of sheep. The upper fence had been constructed at a point where the canyon narrowed to fifty meters or so. At the Butcher’s suggestion, Ellen had volunteered to repair it.
Ellen went to collect the axe, then came back and threw it over by the pile of prepared wood. Negotiating the fence herself was a touch more tricky. The wickerwork was not strong enough to safely take her weight for climbing, and even with the improvement in her condition, she still felt too stiff to be
capable of jumping it. Instead, Ellen leaned over the fence, grabbed a firm branch near the bottom and then flipped her legs over. She landed in an ungraceful heap, wincing as pain flared from her cuts and bruises.
A snort of laughter came from the two Knives who were keeping an eye on her. They sat on a rocky protrusion from the canyon wall, three meters high, with a good view of where Ellen was working. One had a strung bow, with an arrow nocked on the string. The other was Ade Eriksen.
Ade jumped down and walked to within ten meters of Ellen. “Throw the axe over here. I don’t want you getting any funny ideas about it.”
Ellen did as she was told, moving slowly and deliberately. She did not want to give the archer a reason to shoot, or Ade an excuse to demonstrate her fondness for violence. The metal head thudded onto the ground a meter from Ade’s feet. The wooden handle bounced once and then fell flat.
Ade in turn tossed the axe toward where her companion was sitting, but rather than return to her perch, Ade wandered closer to Ellen, and stood, arms folded. For a while she watched in silence as Ellen used a flat stone to hammer the stakes into the ground.
“You were there when they killed Trish, weren’t you?”
Ellen glanced around. Denying it would be pointless. “Yes.”
“Which one of the bitches was it?”
“I’m not sure.”
Ade got closer still, and her voice dropped. “You better try and remember. The Boss likes me. I’m sure, as a favor, she’ll let me have another go at you with her little stick.”
Ellen stopped hammering and closed her eyes, trying to recall the scene. “It was one of the corporals. I think her name was Wade, Waheed, something like that.”
“Wadden?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what the other bitch said.”
“Who?”
“The Ranger. Just before I slit her throat.”
“You took part in the massacre?”
“Massacre? It was a battle and we won.”
“And cutting their throats afterward? What was that?”
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