Mystic Mountains

by Tricia McGill

  Barely had the words left her mouth when a cry went up, bouncing off the other hills. The bullocks began to bellow, and the teamsters to yell. Pandemonium broke out.

  "Heavens, it's slipping. They can't hold it, Thelma."

  Isabella stood, a hand pressed to her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. The dray had slewed sideways. Men were shouting, the dray was groaning, and stones were sliding beneath its wheels, tumbling and rolling towards them. The horses began to whinny, high shrill sounds proclaiming their fear.

  "It's coming apart," Isabella cried. "My God, it looks as if the kingbolt has come out!"

  The wagon body, along with the load, was sliding one way while the fore-carriage and bullocks were going in the other direction.

  "Get about this side," she heard Tiger shout loud and clear among the confusion. "In heaven's name get your weight behind it."

  "Hang onto Tim, and don't let him follow me." Isabella thrust his small hand into Agnes's. Picking up a handful of her skirt she began to climb. Her bad foot began to sting with pain and her breath became labored as she put one foot in front of the other, feeling as if she was trying to run through molasses.

  As she neared the dray she saw that the teamster, thankfully, had his bullocks well out of the way. But the wagon body had almost overturned and come to a standstill at an awkward angle, its rear end near the precipice. Its load was scattered, some trunks and boxes just saved by stumps and branches from falling over the edge.

  Tiger and the men were groaning as they pressed their shoulders to the front of the dray, trying to prevent it from sliding nearer to the great drop. Their faces were wreathed in sweat, contorted with the effort. Isabella could smell their fear.

  "No!"

  Tiger was near the edge and he looked up at her scream. The dray shifted and he roared an oath. It was then Isabella saw the man trapped beneath a wheel.

  Isabella knew she would be haunted by the agonized cry that tore from the mouth of the trapped man all her days.

  The horses further up the hill pranced about, calling out their anxiety, and were joined by the bullocks bellowing their fear. Isabella pressed her hands over her ears. Everybody seemed to be shouting.

  But Tiger's voice overrode every other as he shouted orders for them to lift as they pushed. Then Tiger's roared, "No!" echoed across the hills, as the crushed man went over the edge. The body crashed through the bushes, tumbling and falling for what seemed an eternity.

  The ensuing silence was so intense a bird's sudden song pierced it shatteringly.

  Isabella limped over to where the men all stared mutely over the precipice, their faces showing utter confusion and horror.

  "Get the rope. I'll have to go down." Tiger threw his hat to the ground as he shouted the order.

  "You can't do anything, man. He'd have no chance down there." Gillie touched his arm. Tiger shook him off.

  "Who is it?" Isabella asked in a low voice. Tiger gave her a swift glance then looked abruptly away toward the man fetching a rope.

  "Aw, girl." Gillie pushed his hat back and rubbed his head where sweat trickled down, making dirty streaks across his forehead.

  A cold fear settled in Isabella's stomach.

  Gillie looked at Tiger, then back at her, his head going slowly from side to side. "'Tis Dougal, I'm afraid, girl," he said quietly. "The lad got hisself caught under the wheel. He was probably dead before he went over. Tell Tiger he can't do this. What's the use of him killing hisself too?" He laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.

  Isabella tried to swallow. A great lump sat lodged somewhere in her throat. She tried to speak but no words came out. Wrapping her arms over her chest she rocked back on her heels. This was a nightmare.

  "I have to do it, Gillie. He could be alive still," she heard Tiger say as he tied the rope about his waist. "Make sure 'tis held taut." He yanked at the end of the rope he'd secured about a sturdy tree stump, then stepped to the edge, looking down.

  Isabella clutched at his arm, hanging on tenaciously. "No," she cried. "You'll not go down." She turned appealingly to Gillie, then back again. "If Gillie says he's dead, then that's it. No sense in two of you dying. Tell him, Gillie. He can't do this. 'Tis madness."

  She saw the stubborn intent in Tiger's eyes, and blanched. God—if he died, a part of her would wither and die too. At the back of her brain it occurred to her that she didn't feel such sentiments for poor Dougal. Yes, she felt a deep sorrow for him, but her friend died on the night she'd married him, replaced by a stranger she neither respected nor loved.

  "He's my husband." Her chin lifted as she outstared Tiger. "I have the right to decide." Glancing over the precipice she shuddered. Dougal's body was nowhere to be seen. "No man could live after falling down there. And he was already injured. I beg you, Tiger, please don't risk it. Perhaps there's another way lower down," she added, knowing they wouldn't have a hope of finding a body in the unending dense undergrowth.

  Tiger clenched his fists. She was right of course. The dray had crushed Dougal; he'd been dead before going over the cliff. He would have been torn to ribbons, his body shattered by the fall. Doubtless the rope wouldn't even take Tiger as far as Dougal had fallen.

  Running his fingers over his head he took a few paces away then came back to her. With a shuddering sigh he said, "If that's how you want it, then so be it. But be it on your head." His look encompassed everyone nearby. "Let no one ever accuse me of not being prepared to do all in my power to rescue the man."

  "No one could blame you, Tiger." Gillie looked about at the others, his eyes daring anyone to contradict him. "'Twas a sorry accident."

  "I hate not being able to bury a man decently," Tiger insisted. He released the rope and let it fall around his feet, staring over the edge. He wasn't about to mention it, but there were all sorts of wild creatures out there that would soon devour the remains. Ye gods, what if Dougal wasn't dead. Would he be able to live with the knowledge that he'd left a man to perish.

  "Jesus!"

  Tiger saw Isabella collapse to the ground. Rushing over he caught her before her head hit rock. "Bella. Get me a blanket, someone," he yelled as he lifted her limp body.

  Carrying her to a patch of moss, away from the steep drop, he took the blanket and covered her. Taking her hands in his he began to chafe them. She was so cold. How much more would she have to suffer?

  "I'll go down and tell Thelma," Gillie said, gently touching Tiger's shoulder. "I'll tell them to carry on to the bottom." He looked about as if trying to decide what needed to be done. "I'd best take the tinder box so they can light a fire."

  "Aye, and take some tea and meat. This will take a while to clear up." Tiger glanced grimly from the wagon to Isabella. "Bella can make her way down as soon as she feels up to it."

  Tiger knelt at her side when Gillie walked off. Had he been a fool to start out on this trip? Heaven knew he'd never dreamed things would turn out like this.

  Rubbing her hands again he tried to bring some warmth back to her. She was so pale, looked as fragile as fine glass. But that was an illusion; she was stronger than he in some ways. Thank the Lord for that. For she was going to need that strength of character to see her through this mess. He looked about, wondering what to do next. She began to mumble.

  "What?" He bent to hear the weak words. "What is it, Bella?"

  "Dougie? My baby?" she whispered as she tried to lift her head.

  Tiger stroked her cheek. She was obviously in a stupor, thinking it was the boy killed just now. As gently as he could he told her, "Dougie's gone, Bella. And so is Dougal."

  She began to weep, her sobs making her whole body shudder.

  Tiger wrapped his arms about her, rocking her and murmuring soft words of love and understanding. She didn't seem to hear, but kept moaning until the sobs subsided.

  Isabella suddenly came to her senses. Tiger was holding her. What was she doing in his arms? With a push at his chest she sent him sprawling. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, s
traightening her skirt as she glanced about. The men were all watching her.

  Then she remembered. Covering her face with her hands she groaned.

  "Dougal?" Lowering her hands she gazed at Tiger. One glance told her it was all over. "I know."

  He nodded. "Do you think you can go down with Thelma now? We'll get one wagon down as soon as possible." He looked to the darkening sky. "Looks like this mess and the rest will have to wait 'til morning. It will be night soon."

  Something compelled her to go and stand at the edge where Dougal had gone over. With head bowed she said a silent prayer for the man who'd once been such a good friend to her.

  Poor Dougal; gone forever. With no son even to carry on his name and his likeness. Rubbing her eyes, she shuddered as a picture of Dougal leaning on the ship's rail came to her. How eager he'd been to start out in this strange new land. All he'd really wanted was her love and his precious sheep.

  Turning, she saw a strange look in Tiger's golden eyes; a look she might suspect was longing, if she didn't know him better.

  "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

  "Aye, so am I."

  Drawing herself up straight she made her way down the slope, sliding and tripping, so that she landed on her bottom.

  "Let's get this to one side, and let the wagon through," she heard Tiger order above her as she stumbled down the track.

  She ran into Thelma's arms when she caught up with her near the bottom of the incline. Then, clutching Tim to her breast, she said shakily, "You're all I have now, son. Don't you leave me, will you?"

  Tim clung to her, his beloved warm little body giving Isabella comfort.

  Chapter Thirty

  When the first dray rumbled down at dawn, the noise along with the shouting of the men was dreadful. As well as the logs being dragged behind on chains others were placed beneath the wheels at intervals to stop them sliding and toppling the bullocks.

  The men were sick with fatigue when the last one came to a standstill. Their cheers were half-hearted, and despite their grumbling and complaining, Tiger allowed them only a short respite before urging them to prepare to move on.

  "I think last night and this morning will live in my memory forever Thelma," Isabella said as they went to the wagons.

  "Aye, mine too, girl."

  They had slept side by side on the ground beneath the wagon, both only catching snatches of sleep.

  "Now we have Cox's River to face, and Gillie reckons it isn't going to be easy getting over."

  He was right. By the look on Tiger's face as they looked on the treacherous river this was going to be the worst crossing so far.

  Tiger rode across to test the depth. His horse was wet nearly to its withers and Tiger's breeches soaked when he came back.

  "Right, take your wagon over first, Johnny," he ordered. "And, Jones," he pointed to a rider, "you take hold of the lead horse and guide it along, all right?"

  He stopped to spare Isabella a glance, before riding to the following dray. "And you men keep the bullocks moving, whatever happens, do you hear me?"

  Johnny grimaced as he looked sideways at Isabella, before slapping the reins on the rumps of the horses. They began to move slowly down the slope into the fast flowing river, Jones urging the lead horse forward.

  "Hang onto me, Tim, and don't let go." Isabella clutched at her son as the wagon tipped at a precarious angle entering the water, and the front horses baulked when it swirled about their bellies.

  "Keep them moving, man!" Tiger roared, splashing Satan into the river and waving his whip as the wagon hit a rock and wobbled. Isabella suppressed a scream of fear when a jolt vibrated through her, and Tim's lower lip trembled. She gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile, pressing him tighter to her side.

  The men swore, cursed, and cajoled the animals until after what seemed an eternity they reached the far bank.

  "Hallelujah," the men chorused, whooping as Johnny pulled up well away from the river.

  "Thank the Lord," Johnny whispered. Taking off his cabbage-tree hat he wiped at his head with a fist. "I ain't a religious man, missus, but I sure as hell thank Him, if He was what stopped us from going under."

  It took hours of laborious work to get everyone and all the animals across. The bullocks decided to be water-shy and the sheep had to be coaxed and hard-pressed. Every man stood nigh on chest high in water to ensure no creature got pulled downstream by the current.

  As they all lay on their backs, taking a breather after the exertion, Tiger declared, "We'll camp here for a day where there's good pasture for the animals."

  Hats were tossed in the air as they all shouted their pleasure.

  "Thank heavens," Thelma said to Isabella. "What I need more than anything is a bath and a change of clothing. I'm beginning to stink like one of those pigs yonder."

  "The pigs don't stink, Thelma, they've just had a bath," Tim told her indignantly. He liked the pigs.

  Tiger overheard, and suggested, "You women and Tim take the first go at bathing. But take care not to go beyond the stretch where we crossed. We don't know how deep it gets further upriver. And for God's sake watch out for snakes."

  No need to warn us about them, Isabella thought, her lip curling bitterly.

  Tiger ensured no man ventured near while they stripped to their underthings and washed their hair and bodies. Agnes and Lily then washed their filthy clothing and it was hung to dry, along with the men's trousers and shirts, on a line strung between two red-barked eucalyptus trees.

  After the evening meal they sat around the fire talking in a desultory way. The men were circled around their own fire a short distance away, Lily with them. Agnes went to bed with Tim as soon as she'd eaten. Isabella peeped in soon after to see them both sound asleep.

  Thelma yawned and stretched. "Well, I'm away to my bed too," she said, patting Gillie's knee as he sat staring at the flames, puffing at his pipe. "Coming along, Gillie?"

  "Aye, love, it's been a tiring couple of days." He stood and touched his forelock. "Dougal will be sorely missed," he said softly to Isabella. "I just wanted to say that I'll not find another man as good with sheep as that young fellow. I know things weren't good with you two for a long time, and at times I blamed you. But I just wanted you to know I don't blame you for the way things were between you."

  Isabella touched his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Gillie, that's decent of you."

  He nodded and followed Thelma to their tent, dropping the flap after them.

  Isabella had left her hair loose to dry. She pushed it back and got onto her knees. "I'll be off to my bed as well," she said.

  Tiger leant over and placed a hand on her arm. "Stay awhile, Bella," he urged. I don't feel like sleeping yet." He pulled a wry face as he glanced about. "And there's nobody else here whose company I'd like to keep."

  "Thanks." She sighed tiredly. "So, I'm to keep you company because I happen to be the only one available."

  "I didn't mean that and you know it. Please stay and talk to me." The note of pleading in his tone made her raise her brows. "I need to be with you, and I think you need to be with me."

  He tugged gently on her arm and after staring at him a while she sat back down, sighing.

  "Why the sudden need to be with me? You've not sought my company for so long I reckon there were times you forgot I existed." The flames drew her eyes and she gazed into the fire.

  "Never." Tiger moved closer, pressing his thigh on hers. "You're in my blood, woman. I look at you and something in me comes alive as it never has with any other woman, and that's the truth."

  She shrugged, pulling at a clump of grass. "Missing your mistress already, eh? Agnes is too young, Lily too free and easy with the laborers, so Bella will do, is that it?" Angrily she tossed the plucked grass away.

  Tiger swore, pushing his hair back as he swallowed. "By God, you have a low opinion of me, don't you?"

  "What have you ever done that I should have a high opinion of you, pray tell me?" Her lips curled.r />
  "True. I guess I've lived up to my name of English pig, eh?" He chuckled, but there was little mirth in the sound. "Have you ever wanted to turn back time an’ start all over again?" She shook her head. "Well, I have, many a time," he confessed. "Do you know, I often wish we could wipe out words we should never have said and deeds that should never have been committed."

  "Words unexpressed will doubtless fall dead, but God himself can't kill them once they're said," she quoted. "Same goes for deeds. So, best thing is not to do anything you'd be sorry for, isn't it?"

  "Mm, too late for me though. I'll probably rot in the hell you confined me to a long time ago." He lifted her hand and Isabella stared into his eyes where the flames of the fire were reflected. She made a soft sound of disbelief.

  "If what you have in mind is what I think it is, then you can just forget it, Tiger Carstairs." She shrank back when he ran a finger up and down her forearm, then began to stroke her wrist where her pulse beat rapidly.

  "And what am I thinking of doing?" He searched her eyes intently.

  "You think to have your way with me because we're here on our own. But you can think again." Pushing at his chest she freed her hand and started to move away. He lay back with a heavy sigh, his hands under his head, and she relaxed.

  "What do you take me for, Bella? I just wanted to offer you comfort. Dougal's not cold yet and I feel sick with worrying he may have been alive when we left him. Jesus." He pushed himself onto his elbows and groaned. "Bella, suppose he was still alive? I'll rot in hell for sure if he was. It was unforgivable not to go down and check on him. How could I not have tried?"

  His face wore such a genuine look of grief and regret she couldn't help putting her arms about him. "Don't torture yourself so, Tiger. 'Twas my decision. I didn't want you to take the risk. I'd die if anything happened to you," she whispered, her voice catching. She knew she'd confessed too much, but it was too late to take it back.

  "And I'll die if I don't taste your sweet mouth once more." With a mumbled word she couldn't understand he pulled her down and twisted until his body covered hers, pressing her into the soft tufts of grass. "Bella, Bella," he murmured before his mouth slanted over hers.