by Téa Cooper
‘Ruan Ogilvie. The boy’s gone missing and we have reason to believe …’
‘Me lad’s missing?’ He wrenched his wrists free of the open cuffs.
‘We have reason to believe Gideon Dankworth may have taken him.’
Dankworth had done it again. Not a second time. He couldn’t give a shit if he swung, he’d get Dankworth. Grind his bleedin’ face in the dirt and take Ruan back. He elbowed his way past Winchester and out through the courtroom into the swirling crowd.
‘Carrick.’
‘He’s out.’
‘Good one, boyo.’
He pushed through and made his way to the barrel, where the ringie stood brandishing his arms, orchestrating the search, sending people in all directions.
‘What’s going on?’
‘The dressmaker’s boy’s gone missing. Some say he’s been snatched.’
‘Where’s his mother?’
The ringie nodded to a group of women clustered to one side. The green of Roisin’s jacket stood out like a beacon as she sat crumpled on an upturned crate. She lifted her head and gazed at him, her eyes dulled with pain, tears streaking her bone-white face. He knelt beside her and took her freezing hands.
‘Dankworth’s taken him.’
‘We’ll find him.’
‘I left him. Left him with Jane to see Mrs Winchester. I thought …’
‘Where’s Slinger?’ He’d throttle the bloke when he got his hands on him. He was supposed to be looking out for her, looking after the lad, taking them away so this didn’t happen. ‘Why didn’t he come to see me?’
‘Slinger was with me. He took me to—’
Carrick shot to his feet. ‘Slinger!’
He ran back to the ringie and held up his hand. The burly bloke hauled him onto the barrel and he scanned the crowd. ‘Seen Slinger?’
‘Nope. Useless good for nothing …There he is.’ The ringie pointed to the back of the crowd where Slinger stood with two saddled horses and a grin from ear to ear. Jesus, the fool was enjoying himself. Carrick leapt off the barrel and returned to Roisin. ‘We’ll find him. You stay here with Jane.’ He grabbed her in his arms and planted a firm kiss on her lips. To hell with the audience, let ’em think what they like.
She sank into his arms, her lips opening softly beneath his and the world retreated until there was nothing except her silken hair beneath his fingers and her arms encircling his neck as she rose on her toes to meet him.
‘I’m coming with you,’ she murmured and drew out of his arms.
‘You can’t, my love. Stay here.’ He ran his fingers across the smooth skin of her cheek, catching the last of her tears. ‘What if we’re wrong and Ruan comes home? There has to be someone here.’
Jane unravelled herself from Slinger’s embrace and took Roisin’s arm. ‘They’ll be faster on their own. We’ll stay here.’
Roisin’s emerald eyes flashed a fiery warning. ‘I’ll kill him if he hurts Ruan.’
‘You won’t have to,’ Slinger growled. ‘There’s two of us standing in line ahead of you.’
Slinger and Carrick covered the first thirty miles to Morpeth faster than any bullock dray, not resting for a moment. To hell with it. What good would the horses be if anything had happened to Ruan? The prick wouldn’t have the satisfaction of beating him twice. And for once it seemed he had the law on his side. Whatever Roisin had said to the magistrate had got him released. He’d find out about that later. Right now finding Ruan was all that mattered.
Slinger drew up under a line of dripping gum trees.
Carrick’s guts churned and tumbled. ‘What’s the problem?’ All he could see was the glint in Dankworth’s bloody eyes as he’d torched the thatch.
‘What if Dankworth took the mail coach?’
He forced aside the swirling red mist and sucked in a deep breath. ‘Then they can’t be that far ahead. We’ll go to the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle. Nell owes me a favour or two. She’ll know if anyone does.’
‘As long as he’s still in town.’
‘We’ve got to find the mongrel.’
‘I reckon he’ll be holed up with the boy. He isn’t going to do anything to him. He needs him. He’ll be aiming for the three o’clock steamer.’
Carrick swiped at the sweat trickling down his face. ‘And how the hell would you be knowing that?’ There were a million places Dankworth could have gone. Taken the Great North Road to Sydney. Gone back to the Yarramalong. Jesus, Morpeth was a long shot.
‘You’re not thinking straight. The boy’s worth money to him, a lot of money. He’s got to get him back to Sydney in one piece. Not only that, he’s got to get Lady Alice to Sydney. Without her, his plan’s shot.’
‘Lady Alice? Who the hell’s that? What’s she got to do with anything?’
‘She’s Dankworth’s wife.’
Carrick scrubbed at his eyes. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’
‘You can thank her for getting you out of the lockup for a start, and it’s how Roisin guessed Dankworth would take the boy. We haven’t got time for this—trust me.’ Slinger wheeled his horse around and dug his heels into the flanks of the exhausted animal. ‘Come on. We’ve got another hour at least.’
When Carrick and Slinger entered the outskirts of the town the streets were alive with people heading to the docks, shopkeepers making the most of the hustle and bustle in town. They slowed and trotted into the courtyard of the inn. Carrick slithered from his horse, legs numb, and rubbed at his wrists, still screaming from the chaffing of the chains. He staggered through the door and wiped the dust from his eyes.
‘And what would you be wanting?’
He rested his elbows on the counter, chin cupped in his hand and gazed across at Nell. ‘A favour, Nell. A favour.’ He didn’t have the time or the inclination for the flirting and cajoling today.
‘You used up all of those with them trunks.’
‘You had no complaints. I need some help, Nell, and fast.’ He wanted information and he wanted it now.
‘Whoa. No.’ She held up her hand. ‘Not if you’re in trouble again. I stay away from trouble. This is a reputable establishment.’
‘I’m not in trouble, Nell; however, there’s a little boy who may be. I need to know.’
She looked sideways at him, tipping her head and narrowing her eyes. ‘Boy in trouble, you say?’
‘Yes, Nell. In trouble. The lad’s six, going on seven.’
‘And he’ll be travelling with his father.’
‘No—aye.’ Of course he’d travel with his father. What else would Dankworth say? That he’d kidnapped the lad?
‘Well, which is it? Because that’s the only little boy I’ve seen around here, other than those pesky buggers hanging around the stables, demanding a penny or two for doing bugger all.’
His heart gave a leap, sending blood coursing through his body, chasing away his exhaustion. ‘And where d’you see him?’
‘His father took him upstairs to wait. Poor little mite was bushed. Fast asleep in his arms, he was.’
‘And they’re booked on the steamer this afternoon?’
‘Sold him the tickets myself. Fancy gentleman he was, too, with his shiny black cane and airs and graces. Not sure why he was travelling alone with the boy though. Think someone like that could afford a bit of help with the child.’
‘Which room’s he in?’ His gaze slid to the open ledger.
She snatched back the book and closed it with a slam, trapping his fingers between the pages. ‘I’ll not be telling you that.’
‘Come on, Nell.’ He tugged at the ledger, then stared up at the ceiling. Upstairs. So close.
‘No, I’ll not be telling you ’cepting they’re booked on the afternoon steamer. I’ve got me reputation to consider. You want to have a word, you can do it down there on the wharf like. No brawling in my inn. Know what you’re like when your dander’s up.’
Carrick clenched his fists and willed himself to relax. It would be easier on the wharf,
easier to grab Ruan, let Slinger take him away while he sorted out Dankworth. He let his fingers relax. He’d waited so long for this moment, ten years. Revenge would be so very sweet. ‘What time is it, Nell?’
‘Two thirty.’ She gave a sniff. ‘Just clearing dinner before you came bargin’ in interrupting.’
‘And you’re sure they’re still here.’ Supposing they’d slipped out and taken horses? He wiped his hand over his eyes. Ridiculous, no one in their right mind would choose a horse over the steamer. He’d be thinking he’d be in Sydney for breakfast. Well, he was wrong.
‘Sure as sure. Haven’t got the key back, so they must be.’
‘What room?’ That’d be the go. Up the stairs, whip the lad from under his very nose and take off.
‘Not a chance, boyo. I told you, find ’em on the wharf. I’ve done enough. If people hear I’m giving away private information like that, I’ll lose me custom.’
Sod her bloody custom and her reputation. There was a boy’s life at stake. Not any boy, his lad. Ruan. ‘Thanks, Nell.’ He tossed the words over his shoulder and barged out through the door. It was light outside, just the distant rumble of the thunderclouds behind the hills. He couldn’t miss him surely, a man with a boy. How many gentlemen travelled with a young boy, and no wife or servants?
Slinger slipped into step beside him. ‘Well?’
‘Holed up at the hotel.’
‘Why haven’t you …’
‘Nell doesn’t want anything happening on her premises. He’s got tickets booked on the afternoon steamer. In broad daylight. Cocky bugger. Doesn’t reckon anyone’s going to stop him.’
‘He’s wrong there.’
‘No one will question him. They’ll only see his flash clothes, top hat and cane and they’ll presume he’s reputable. We won’t have a leg to stand on if we challenge him. We’ve got to snatch Ruan away before he knows what’s happening.’
‘He’ll claim Ruan’s his son. The boy looks like him.’
‘He hasn’t got those bloody blind-bunyip eyes Old Pella keeps going on about. The lad’s got Roisin’s eyes. It’s only his hair.’ Hair the same colour as Liam’s, the same colour as a million Irish boys, girls, men and women.
‘Right, one step at a time, we’ll see where it leads us. First we’ve got to find them. Over here.’ Carrick led Slinger over to the wall where they’d get a decent view of everyone getting onto the steamer. They’d lowered the gangplank and the dock was a hive of activity, though the bloke at the end kept refusing permission to board. Had them all waiting in a line.
Carrick propped himself up against the wall. ‘Right, while we wait you can fill me in on this Lady Alice.’
‘Here’s the short version. Roisin can tell you the rest of it when we get the boy back home.’
Roisin. Why couldn’t she behave like any other woman and let a man sort things out? ‘Get on with it.’
‘I took her to see Mrs Winchester again. Lady Alice was there. Something about Dankworth needing a son to inherit her father’s estates in Ireland.’
Holy shite. Lady Alice’s father. The bloody absentee English landowner. Dankworth worked for him. The old man must have died. And Dankworth had an eye on his chances. Married his daughter. Didn’t explain how he got to Australia though, unless … ‘Did this Lady Alice say anything about how they came to be in Australia?’
‘Something about insurgents and rumours. Nothing that made much sense to me. Probably means more to you. You’ll have to ask her yourself.’ Slinger’s face crinkled in a grin. ‘Right now I’ve got your back, mate. Now’s me chance to repay the debt I owe you. We’ll find the boy.’
‘You owe me nothing.’ Slinger and his fool ideas. So he’d saved the bloke from a bunch of punch-drunk redcoats and taken the rap. He’d spent so long in solitary, what did another bout matter? Hardly a debt worth remembering.
‘Besides, I should’ve stayed with the boy. Not left him with Jane. Bad call on my part. Thought I’d be better with Roisin if Dankworth was around.’
He’d have done the same thing. ‘Can’t change anything. Just pray we’ve picked Dankworth’s plan right.’
‘Heads up.’ Slinger’s elbow hit him in the ribs. ‘There we go.’
And the air sucked out of his lungs, more from relief than anything else. Ruan seemed no worse for wear, though none too happy. Dankworth had his hand gripped firmly around the lad’s wrist, while Ruan twisted and turned.
‘He doesn’t want to be there. Let’s go.’
‘Wait!’ Slinger grabbed hold of Carrick’s arm.
‘What’re you waiting for?’
‘Give it a bit longer.’
‘I want me hands on the bastard now. Any idea how long I’ve waited?’
‘Yeah and you’ll end up back behind bars. Today we do it my way. You’ve called the tune long enough. I’m going to get Dankworth’s attention, you’re going to grab the boy and make for the horses; they’re tethered round the back of the inn.’
‘And what will you do with Dankworth?’
‘I’ll sort him out. Cutter’s justice. Trust me. You get the hell out of here. I’ll catch up with you when I know he’s sorted. Besides, the lad’ll be happier going with you.’
‘No chance. I’ve waited too long for this.’ Dreamed of it, planned it. The way his hands would slip around the bastard’s throat and his eyes’d pop as he squeezed the very life out of him. For Liam, for Brigid and now for Roisin and Ruan.
‘Who are you doing this for—yourself or Roisin and the boy?’
‘For me own wife and child and the future.’
‘And what good is it going to do Roisin?’
‘The bastard deserves to pay.’ What in the name of God was the matter with Slinger? ‘Get off your high horse. He’s mine.’
‘Nah. You grab the boy and get him back to his mam. I’ll sort the rest. Cutter’s justice. I told you.’
‘Slinger, I …’
‘There he is.’ Slinger pointed to the alley running from the stable yard behind the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle to the wharf and took off.
Carrick followed and he picked the moment Ruan spotted him. His eyes lit up like beacons. ‘Carrick!’
Dankworth lifted his head and they locked eyes. In that second the little blighter broke loose and threw himself into Slinger’s arms.
Carrick had waited for this moment for too long; it had sustained him through sentencing, transportation, the filthy coalmines and seven years of convict hell. No matter what Slinger wanted. He bunched his fist and let fly.
The smacking thud of flesh on flesh and the crunch of bone set his blood roaring. ‘That one’s for Brigid and this,’ he grasped Dankworth’s jacket and pulled him close, lifted his knee and slammed it up, ‘is for Roisin.’
The air whistled out between Dankworth’s lips, his pale eyes glazed and his legs gave way.
‘Carrick!’ Slinger’s strident tone permeated the red haze. ‘The lad needs you.’
Slinger lobbed Ruan over Dankworth’s crumpled body. Carrick snatched him up. Ruan’s arms clasped his neck and his legs twined around his waist.
‘I haven’t finished with him yet. Hold tight.’ He clutched Ruan, swung his foot back and landed a hefty kick in Dankworth’s kidneys.
‘Get the hell out of here.’ Slinger dropped to his knees, cradling Dankworth’s head in his lap. ‘Go.’
Carrick turned and bolted. What he’d not give to stay and finish the bastard—kill the sod, but the warm, live body clamped to him was more important. Not a ghost, not the past, but his living, breathing lad.
Ever true to his word, Slinger had arranged fresh horses and they were saddled and waiting. Carrick set Ruan down, just for a moment, and leapt into the saddle. The ostler handed the lad up and before he had a chance to settle, belted the horse’s rump.
‘Good onya, Carrick.’
With Ruan clasped tightly in front of him, he dug his heels in and took off down the street, scattering the crowds gathered in the market place.
It wasn’t until they’d cleared the outskirts of the town that he slowed and turned to look behind him.
‘Where’s Slinger?’ Ruan asked, leaning back against him.
‘He’ll be along soon. Let’s get you home to your mam.’
Twenty-one
Roisin paced the footpath, her head splitting, her eyes so swollen from weeping she could hardly see straight. There was no sign of life, even the cutters’ camp down by the brook was quiet. They’d searched every inch of the area until it was too dark to see the nose in front of their face and only then called it quits. Ruan couldn’t have escaped their search, he simply wasn’t there.
She knew, as only a mother could, that Dankworth had him and all she could do was pin her hopes on Carrick and Slinger. For the first time in her life she hoped Ruan was with Dankworth, because then they might find him. At least now, thanks to Lady Alice, Dankworth’s reasons were clear. It made sense for her to stay at home, in case, just in case Ruan somehow managed to find his way back.
The inactivity sapped her strength, sending her mind into a useless, flat spin. She understood the sense of it, yet how could she do nothing when Ruan, her baby, was …
The memory of Dankworth’s face when he’d seen Ruan still turned her blood cold. The way he’d run his hand over her boy’s hair, the avaricious look on his face. She’d imagined he had some strange desire for Ruan, hadn’t realised then it was greed.
‘Roisin. Roisin.’ Jane’s voice wafted through the gathering twilight and she turned, her heart skipping a beat. Fired with a spurt of unexpected energy, she flew back down the path.
‘Are they back?’
Jane shook her head. ‘No, nothing. You must come inside and have something to eat. You have to keep your strength up.’
She shook her head. Jane meant well, but her stomach roiled at the mere mention of food.
‘Tea, then. At least have some tea.’
‘If I drink any more tea I’ll drown.’ She attempted a smile and failed miserably.
‘Come along. I’ve stoked the fire.’ Jane chaffed her hands. ‘You’re freezing. It’s not going to help anyone if you take a turn.’
