"Not so bad, Gracie. I have a room of my own, and my belly's never been so full in all my life." Isabella patted her middle.
"An' how's life with the giant of a fellow with the eyes of a tiger, eh? Been warming his bed, 'ave you?"
"I have not!" She glanced down at her feet to hide her blush. "He's got plenty of women to do that for him. What would he need with a scrawny biddy like me eh? Tiger Carstairs don't spare me the time of day."
"That's not what I 'eard." Gracie pulled a wry face, chuckling as she tapped the side of her nose.
"Oh, and what exactly did you hear, Gracie, you nosy old devil you?"
"I 'eard all about 'ow he came after you and rescued you from that old pile of sheep's droppings, Malloy. An' I also 'eard he arranged for that man's disappearance." Gracie glanced about, then lowered her voice. "Seems he was said to be on the ship heading back to the old country."
"Aye, that's a fact Gracie. There's not much that goes on here that everyone don't hear about, is there? Tiger Carstairs looks after his own, and as I'm one of his workers, I'm classed as his responsibility." Isabella shrugged. She was still astonished at the way he'd solved the problem. And it seemed half the colony was aware of what he'd done, yet the constables hadn't come down on him.
"So it ain't so bad working for the English gent then?" Gracie pulled at a lock of Isabella's hair that peeped from beneath her bonnet.
"Not so bad. He treats us well. Dougal is happy as a pig in muck, looking after them fool merinos. Thelma's a grand woman and her husband Gillie is really kind. What more can a con ask?"
"What indeed, girl. We could have ended upriver at Parramatta. Those sluts sewing and laundering uniforms up there are a bunch of whoring, brawling drunken sots. I 'eard the women are sorted into three classes there and that Marjorie is in the crime class, wouldn't yer know. Already she's had her hair cut off as a sign of her disgrace. Always knew she'd end up a no-hoper. 'Tis said the officers use it as a whorehouse.
"No, we're lucky we've fallen on our feet, girl. I'd say we're better off than we were back in the old country, scavenging about for a mouthful of food and never knowing when a fever'd strike us down. An' when we're given our tickets we'll be laughing, eh? I'm not sorry I got meself sent 'ere, an' that's a fact, Bella." Gracie pushed her bosom up with her folded arms.
"I miss me ma though, Gracie." Isabella drew in a shuddery breath. "If I knew she was faring all right I'd be a lot happier. Mr. Carstairs let me write a letter to her. I can't wait for the ship to get back with her answer." She glanced across the store. "Ah, here's Thelma, looks like she's finished placing her order. I'd like you to meet her. She's the next best thing to a mother a girl could have."
Thelma nodded to the storeowner, then strolled over to join them.
"Thelma, this here's Gracie. You remember I told you she looked out for me on the ship. She's got a good job too, working in a nob's kitchen, probably burning the cakes." Isabella laughed as she put an arm about Gracie's waist.
The two women eyed each other. Thelma nodded and held out one of her bony hands. "Pleased as punch to meet you at last. Bella here told me how you kept the riffraff out of her hair on the voyage. She's mighty lucky to have friends like you and Dougal."
"And now I have you and Gillie. I don't know what I've done to deserve such friends." Isabella clasped one of Thelma's hands gently.
"And Tiger, don't forget him, girl," Thelma reminded her. "Without him you might not be here now to tell the tale."
"Aye, that's true." Isabella nodded.
"I've just remembered I need some thread and needles too. I'll see you again I hope, Gracie." Thelma nodded and walked off.
"She seems a likeable sort," Gracie commented when they were alone.
"Believe me, she is. I worry about her a lot. Her cough never seems to go away, and she don't seem to get any fatter no matter what she eats." Isabella frowned, then brightened as she said, "Her husband and Dougal are a pair well matched, love those stupid sheep. What's your master like, and is his wife nice or a bit of a prissy missus like some of these nobs?"
"Well, she thinks she's a cut above the likes of me, of course." Gracie pulled in her chin. "And she has a regular list of do's and don'ts we have to follow, but when all's said and done we're well cared for. I mean, if we was in the old country would we be allowed to walk around like we was free? Like this?" She waved her hands about, and chuckled. "Oh no, we'd be locked up in some squalid prison. I don't mind telling you Bella, I'm content and that's a fact."
Gracie glanced over Isabella's shoulder, her grey eyebrows going up. "Oh, oh, 'ave to go, Bella. That's my missus over there in the green muslin. See you again. And you take care of yourself, d'you hear?"
"You too, Gracie." Isabella gave her another quick hug. She returned Gracie's wave as her friend went to take her mistress's parcels. With a grin and a wink Gracie followed the woman from the store.
Gracie was right, they were indeed fortunate. A shudder ran through Isabella as she recalled the months on the ship, locked up below decks, enduring the stink, heat, and boredom, half dead with fear of what the future held. Those fears had receded now, but a remnant of them would always remain deep within to haunt her.
Chapter Ten
"It'll only be a matter of time, Gillie, before the Governor allows us grants over at Bathurst."
Leaning back in his chair, Tiger crossed his legs, staring at his feet. Putting his hands behind his head he went on, "The grants he issued in March is the start; soon they'll be letting us have pastures over the mountains, mark my words. God, it's been five years since they found a way over. Once the Governor ordered the road built I thought we'd be given the go ahead. Why do the officials take so long to get things moving?" With an impatient gesture he bent to toss a log on the fire, sending sparks flying up the wide chimney.
Isabella watched the log flare up. "I still can't believe it gets so cold here in winter," she said.
Thelma's chair was the nearest to the fire, for she felt the cold more than anyone. Isabella sat on a low stool at her side.
"Aye, it took me a while to get used to it being chilly in August." Thelma nodded, plying her needle.
To Isabella, the best thing about winter was having everyone sitting around the fire like this after the day's work was finished. Even Tiger didn't go off so much in the evening when the wind howled across the paddocks and whistled about the house. There was nothing nicer than listening to the men dreaming about the future. And Tiger's dream was to go over those blessed mountains. He talked of little else. Seemed it was a paradise for the sheep breeders, over those haze-shrouded mountains.
Gillie took a draw on his pipe. "'Tis always the same, Tiger, government officials always were long winded. We all took it for granted we'd be allowed to go over as soon as the road was finished."
"I heard there were big celebrations the day the men came back from the crossing," Dougal said, leaning forward.
"Aye." Tiger nodded. "They put an end to the rumors running around for years. Some fools said there was a great inland sea on the other side of the mountains; some reckoned it was all desert. Others said paradise or China were over there. But us with a bit of sense already had it worked out, that with all those mountains with streams and creeks running down them there had to be rich pasture over yonder, not desert." He sighed. "The way the colony's expanding we'll run out of grazing land pretty soon. 'Tis the only way to go. We lose stock every summer when it gets drier than a desert. Then there's the floods."
"People still talk about when the Hawkesbury flooded," Dougal said.
"Aye, it was awful. This can be a harsh land," Gillie agreed.
"It certainly is. But when we get over those mountains we'll be living like princes." Tiger's eyes took on the glint they always wore when he talked of his dreams.
Gillie dragged on his pipe and Dougal stared at the fire, no doubt picturing the future where his sheep were all stuffing themselves on the lush grass of the Bathurst plains.
Isabella resumed her sewing. Tiger Carstairs in his arrogance believed anything he set his mind to was possible. But things did have a way of working out to his satisfaction.
"Tell me about what it's like over there," Dougal urged after a brief lull.
Tiger sat back. "The great pastures stretch endlessly with enough grass to support millions of sheep. Our merinos will grow fat and healthy and the fleece will be the finest anyone in the world can produce."
"When do you think we'll be able to move?"
Tiger sighed. "We've all been waiting for the governor to get the Bathurst district surveyed." With a small impatient gesture he pushed his hair back. "The road over the mountains is said to be a bit steep in places, mind. And they say the road down Mount York is hazardous."
"Do you think we'll be able to manage it?" Thelma paused in her sewing, frowning.
"Of course," Tiger assured her arrogantly. "If only I could get my land grant. I aim to have a flock as big and as good as Macarthur's. The English textile makers are greedy for our fleece, and I intend to satisfy the spinners over there by producing wool as fine as Macarthur."
"His fleece certainly has a fine reputation. Gillie was telling me about when he brought the first ewes and rams here," Dougal said.
"Oh, he was, eh?" Tiger smiled Gillie's way. "Macarthur had the sense to cross Indian sheep with Irish and by blending the two wools came up with the fine fleece we have today."
Lulled by the conversation Isabella glanced over to see that Thelma had dropped her sewing on the floor. She clicked her tongue as with a jerk Thelma opened her eyes and began to cough again.
"I'll be away to my bed." Thelma pushed herself upright, yawning.
Her dear friend wasn't faring at all well in the cold weather. "Here, put your shawl on, Thelma," Isabella said. "'Tis blowing a gale outside. I'll come to the outhouse with you, and then be off to my own bed."
"When we get over the mountains," Tiger said. "I'll build a fine house with all the rooms connected by an inner passage. Then you'll not have to brave the cold to reach your bedroom, Thelma. Better still, we'll build that house of your own I always promised you."
"Aye Tiger, that'll be grand," Thelma agreed, but when they were outside she muttered to Isabella, "According to Tiger it'll be paradise over those blessed mountains. I only hope he knows what he's thinking on, dragging us all there."
"Don't matter none what we think, Thelma, he'll always do just what he plans." Isabella pulled her shawl tighter.
The man followed a trail of his own, making his own destiny.
* * *
"Six months. It don't seem possible we've been here that long, does it, Bella?" Dougal stooped to pick up the harness from beside the cart.
"Sometimes I feel I've been here all my life, Dougal, and nothing happened to me before I came. At times I can't remember ever feeling as if my belly was never going to stop rumbling with hunger." She could hardly recall how she'd summoned the courage, or was it idiocy, to wield a knife in revenge.
Isabella gazed off into the distance where the cattle's din sent a flock of cockatoos into squawking frenzy. The sun had a gentle warmth to it, and she closed her eyes as she lifted her face, letting it wash over her. A flying insect landed on her nose. Brushing it off she opened her eyes to give Dougal a sidelong glance.
Isabella wished he wouldn't look at her with such adoration. She'd tried to stop him harboring notions that one day she would fall in love with him. Why was he so thick-headed? A fool would see if that emotion weren't in her heart now, it would never suddenly spring to life.
But didn't she know all about foolish dreams? Of hoping to change someone's feelings about another? She was just as thick brained as Dougal.
With her hair now reaching her shoulders and her skin clear from the good food and sunshine she knew she presented a more becoming picture than on the day they'd arrived. But most of the time Tiger treated her as if she was no more than his chattel. Still and all, she could only blame herself, for hadn't she carried on like a woman of the streets when he'd chosen her at the wharf?
Somehow his manner toward her had changed since he'd rescued her from Malloy. It was puzzling, for at times he behaved as if she was a nuisance then at others he'd look through her as if she wasn't there. On a few occasions she'd caught him watching her in a way that set her pulse to thumping and at these rare times he'd hastily look away.
What did she care anyway? Now she knew for certain he had a mistress. Now she got out and about more she'd learned a lot of things. The women of the colony loved nothing better than a bit of juicy gossip. Tiger Carstairs had earned the reputation of being a rogue. He could spin a tale with the best of the men, and now she knew him better it wasn't so difficult to imagine why she'd thought him one of the nobs. He could mix with any company from the highest to the lowliest, the wealthiest to the poorest.
"If you hadn't spoken up for me, Bella, I hate to think where I may have ended up."
Isabella blinked as she looked back at Dougal. Nodding vaguely she thought for the thousandth time how the two men differed in every way possible. The more she got to know Tiger the duller Dougal seemed. Tiger had a fire in his eyes when he talked about his dreams; Dougal only ever got excited about the sheep and how their wool was improving. He was as boring as one of his stupid charges.
"Funny, isn't it, how fate works things out for us. If Tiger hadn't taken a fancy to you I wouldn't have got a job working with the sheep, eh, Bella."
"Aye, 'tis strange for sure."
Taken a fancy to her? She nearly spluttered. Still, it was a mystery she hadn't been able to fathom out. Why had Tiger Carstairs been so definite that day and stolen her away from Mr. Tonkins? And been ready to fight the Irishman for her? Yet often now she got the impression he wished he hadn't bothered. Ah well, Thelma seemed pleased with her work and that was all that mattered. Who was she trying to convince? She could lie to others, but not to herself. She lived for Tiger's approval; pined for his attention.
"Hand me up that piece of harness, Bella."
Dougal interrupted her thoughts and she shook herself; annoyed that so much of her day seemed spent wondering about her arrogant English master. Isabella bent to pass him the leather strap, and Dougal's face reddened as their hands touched. His face was near to hers and she felt a tremble in his fingers.
"Bella?" he whispered, a plea in his voice.
"I have to get on with my chores," she said brusquely, pressing the strap on him and turning away. The look of longing on his face annoyed her. Why did he have to make such a fool of himself?
But wasn't she just as big a fool for harboring her own secret dreams? Not that she'd leave herself open for scorn by showing how she felt. Not as long as she had a breath in her body, she wouldn't.
Chapter Eleven
"Selena, you know I hate to be pushed." Tiger sighed. Annoyed with her and with himself, he rubbed his nape irritably.
Selena came up on her elbows, gazing at him from beneath lowered lids. "Push you? One thing you've never accused me of doing before is acting like a jealous wife. Have I ever demanded anything of you, Tiger? No?" she queried at his slightly raised brows.
Tiger looked down at her as he tucked his shirt into his waistband. Selena took the opportunity to stretch languidly, drawing his eyes to her luscious breasts with their rosy nipples. He swallowed a small sound of impatience as she ran her fingers through the tumbled mass of her hair. With the sheets rumpled about her and the plump down pillows strewn across the bed she looked very desirable.
"Our relationship has always been one of trust and acceptance, Selena. I refuse to be made to feel guilty. I've never once laid down laws or placed barriers on your conduct, so I suggest you follow my example and don't set down rules for me."
Angry now, Tiger bent to pull on his boots. Giving Selena a sideways glance he saw the glitter of something nasty flash over her eyes. Yes, it was time this liaison was drawn to a conclusion.
"I accompanied you las
t year to the Governor's pre Christmas ball, and naturally presumed..." Selena picked at a nonexistent piece of thread on the bed linen beneath her.
Tiger knew the languid pose was feigned. She seethed with temper; he could almost feel the tension in her reaching out to him across the room. A woman of strong passions; Selena’s temper roused would be an awesome thing. But never one to be led by the nose, he had no intention of letting her get her own way.
"Never presume anything in this life, Selena, and you won't be disappointed." Tiger picked up his waistcoat and pulled it on.
"You're cruel, Tiger Carstairs," she flung at him as he made for the door.
"I'm as I've always been." He dragged in a deep breath. "Our ... affair has run its course. Time to move on, I suggest. Don't look so crestfallen, darling. You have a queue of officers waiting for the pleasure of your company."
"But I don't want them, Tiger, darling. I want ..."
Tiger swore, holding up a hand. "Don't say another word. You've got all you want, Selena, all you could ever need." He cast his eyes around the sumptuously furnished room.
"You're a son of the devil," she spat at him, sliding her long legs over the edge of the bed and slipping into her peach silk robe. Walking towards him with the edges hanging loose to expose her voluptuous curves she touched a finger to his mouth, letting it linger on his bottom lip.
"That's no news, Selena." He lifted his arms in a nonchalant shrug. "Always have been. I can't change now any more than you can. Let it be."
"Who is it?" she asked, her lips curling.
"Who is what?"
"The woman?" Her brows arched and there was a spiteful gleam in her almond-shaped eyes. He'd always been aware she had a vicious streak, despite the great lengths she always went to in order to project a persona of sweetness and charm.
"Why do women always presume to know what the answers are?" He turned for the door again. She put a restraining hand on his arm. His muscles clenched.
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