Mystic Mountains

by Tricia McGill

  Tiger grinned. "I'll come after you," he said calmly. "And if you take a horse I'll have you arrested for thievery."

  "Out here? You're daft. Who's to know what I do? And who will care? I have the right to go and you can't stop me."

  "Can't I? You've only got a ticket of leave, in case you forgot. That means that until your seven year sentence is up in '25, you still have to be accountable to me, your master." He grinned, loving the flush of indignation coloring her cheeks. "Face it, you're stuck with me."

  Isabella felt like screaming at his arrogance. "Other women have started out on their own. I'll do it too. What about Margaret Catchpole? She was left to manage a property while still a convict. And Elizabeth Macarthur managed her husband's property for years on end while he was away." Her eyes narrowed. "And what about Eliza Walsh who had a farm at Richmond Hill with a herd of cattle and other stock." Planting her hands on her hips she eyed him defiantly.

  "Think you know it all, don't you? Ah, Bella, give over. They went to established farms near Sydney Town. We're all on our own way out here, dependent on each other with no help from the town. We'll only survive if we stay together. You'd never get by without men to help you. You don't really want to go, why not admit you're just being awkward to upset me. Anyway, there's Thelma to consider. She needs you. She's getting so sick I fear for her. I wonder if we shouldn't have left her back yonder where she could have a doctor's care." His gaze went to the mountains in the distance.

  That was the deciding factor for Isabella. Tiger was always right, infuriating man.

  "Stay with me, Bella" he said softly, his eyes caressing her. "One day soon I'll build us and our children a fine house wherever you decide."

  Isabella bit down on her bottom lip. "And what happens when you tire of me, Tiger, eh? What will happen to me then?"

  "'Tis doubtful I ever will. Who knows what the future holds for us." He turned from her steady gaze. "We can only take each day a step at a time."

  "Oh, how I wish I'd been born a man. You have it all ways."

  "You think we have it so grand? We have to live with the whims and fancies of you womenfolk. We spend our whole lives digging and planting and slaving over the land for your sakes and all you reward us with is the pleasures of your body on the few occasions when you see fit to grant us our desires."

  "Huh. 'Tis not why you slave over your land and you know it. You're besotted by your acres. I swear you care more for your land than you care for me."

  "That's not true. Believe it or not. When you stand here and look about you, and see this magnificent country and know that the work you put into it, the toil and sweat, will pass on for generations to come, you can't help but be smitten.

  "One day this will be a great land. Men will go further and further west, south, north and east, forging a path that will make this a country that will be everything that's fine in mankind. I wish I could live forever to see the fruits of our labor. And just think on it, you and I and the likes of us, common prisoners of the British Government, are the forerunners. Can't you see it, Bella? Our Tim will grow up without knowing what it's like to have to grovel in the mud for a scrap of food from some rich man's leavings. He'll grow strong and fit, confident in his own worth. And all because of us."

  Tiger sighed, glancing down at her belly. "And the new life growing inside you needs a father. So, let's have no more talk of you going off. This is where you belong."

  Isabella pressed her lips together. Her mind was made up, and nothing he said would change it now.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  July 1824

  Isabella stood beside Thelma's low bed, glancing at the sod walls of the hut as she ran a hand over her neck. "Do you feel up to coming outside?" she asked softly. "How would you like to sit in the garden, eh? 'Tis stuffy in here."

  There was barely enough room to stand up straight, and the ceiling seemed to press down. The huts were so gloomy and stifling that everyone spent as much time as possible in the outdoors. Except during a downpour.

  "Not just now, dear." Thelma gave her a wan smile. "Perhaps after I've had a doze I'll sit out there for a while, for 'tis a lovely garden, Bella." Thelma's watery eyes went to the small window opening. Isabella knew she was unable to see the garden which already flourished. "Come next spring we'll have all sorts of flowers blooming and fruit growing. We'll be able to walk along and pick whatever takes our fancy."

  "Aye, Thelma, that's a fact." Isabella's voice cracked as she gently squeezed Thelma's fragile hand.

  They both knew it was unlikely Thelma would see another spring, let alone the flowers and fruit.

  "Promise me something," Thelma whispered, gasping to catch her breath as another bout of coughing racked her frail frame.

  "If I can, love." The awful constriction in Isabella’s throat almost choked her. How would she live without this woman who'd become the best friend she'd ever had or hoped to have?

  "Stay with Tiger."

  "I don't think I can do that." Isabella shook her head and Thelma clicked her tongue.

  "The man's as proud and stubborn as you. You're a pair well suited. He'll never give an inch, and you won't budge once you're set on a path. But he cares for you more than any of those other women back in Sydney Town, and I'm certain he's been faithful to you for quite a while, Bella."

  Isabella laughed weakly, running a thumb over the almost transparent skin of the hand cradled in hers. "Oh, Thelma, don't make me laugh. He's only been faithful since we left town because there's no one here for him except Lily, and he wouldn't sully his hands on her. He wouldn't look at me with lust in his eyes if there were other women hereabouts he could get to warm his bed, and you know it."

  "That's not true." Thelma dragged in a long breath, her body shaking while she tried to get enough air into her lungs.

  "No? Then why was it he never so much as looked my way for years back in Sydney, when he had his mistress to run to for satisfaction?"

  "Humph. You're a sensible woman, but a bit of a dope where men are concerned. He's always looked at you with longing in his eyes."

  "That's not true, Thelma," Isabella contradicted tartly. "Most of the time he looked as if he could strangle me."

  "That's only because you always argued with him. He never touched you while Dougal was alive, did he?"

  "No? He only seduced me on my wedding day. If he'd left me alone I might have had a chance with Dougal. But Dougal saw us together. What man can forgive such a thing? I can't blame him for growing to despise me."

  Thelma closed her eyes as she moved her head on the pillow. "That's another thing you're wrong about. Dougal was just eaten up with jealousy, he never hated you."

  "Ah well, too late now for crying over what can't be changed."

  Thelma dragged in air, her chest making frightening wheezing sounds. She looked so pale and shrunken, a shell of her former self. When her hand went slack in hers Isabella thought she must be sleeping. Quietly she went to the doorway and was about to go out when Thelma said something. She went back.

  "What is it?" she asked, brushing strands of damp grey hair back from the pain-ravaged face.

  "I think you . . ." Thelma paused to catch her breath. "You should fetch Gillie." She lifted a hand an inch off the bedcover and Isabella clutched it gently. "Sorry I won't be here to see this little one," she said, so low Isabella had to bend to hear the words.

  A shaft of pain sliced through Isabella, making her tremble. "Don't talk daft," she chided. "I need you to help me, Thelma. You can't think of not being around for me." Tears streamed down her cheeks and she brushed at them absently.

  Thelma gave a ghost of a smile, then closed her eyes again. Her breathing became labored, as if she fought for each breath.

  "I'll be just a minute." Isabella dashed from the hut, calling Agnes.

  The girl came at a run, wiping her hands on her apron, Tim trailing her.

  "Fetch Gillie, an' tell him to hurry, for God's sake."

  The girl's face
went pale and her mouth dropped open. "Aye, missus."

  Isabella twisted her hands together as she watched Agnes race off, her skirts hitched high.

  "What's wrong?" Tim clutched at Isabella's hand, staring at her tear-streaked face. His lower lip trembled.

  Isabella bent to cup his small chin in a palm, her enormous belly getting in the way. "'Tis Thelma, Tim, she's mighty sick. I want you to be very quiet and not upset her. All right?"

  "Yes, Mama," he agreed solemnly, sitting cross-legged on the ground as Isabella went back inside the hut, tears falling as she said a silent prayer—useless, for she knew it would not be answered.

  Gillie came within ten minutes. He'd been working near the house, expecting this call he'd been dreading. Thelma had been getting weaker for days and although no one mentioned it they'd all known it was only a matter of time.

  An hour later Thelma slipped quietly into the endless slumber.

  They laid her to rest on a gentle slope overlooking the spot where Tiger had promised to build her a brick house.

  As the mournful group walked from the graveside Isabella felt the first pain. She stopped and dragged in a deep breath.

  "What is it?" Tiger asked, his face drawn, his eyes full of concern.

  "The baby," she whispered, curving her fingers about his arm. "'Tis about to be born."

  * * *

  "I'll never forgive you for this, Tiger Carstairs," Isabella groaned through clenched teeth as another spasm tore through her.

  "Yes you will." Tiger's voice was gentle. "Ye Gods, Bella, I'm sorry for causing all this pain. I only wish there was something I could do. God, why is that Lily so useless? All she's good for is spreading her legs for the men."

  "Well, that's what you brought her here for," Isabella reminded him tartly.

  "Aye, that's a fact," he agreed. "She keeps the men satisfied, and satisfied men don't hanker for the town."

  "I wouldn't want her near me anyway."

  "Of course not." Turning to the young girl hopping from foot to foot, her eyes so wide they just about filled her face, he said, "Agnes here is going to help us, aren't you, girl? Watch your missus for a minute while I go and get some more hot water."

  Agnes nodded mutely, but there was little certainty in her expression as she stared down at her mistress.

  Isabella watched Tiger through half-closed eyes as he left the room, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hair in disarray. Much as she hated to admit it he still held the ability to make her heart tilt. Would this ache in her ever go away? She must be depraved. Here she was giving birth to another of his bastards, yet her heart still yearned for him.

  His concern for her seemed genuine, but how was she to know if it was an act. The man had hurt her so much in the past.

  Oh Thelma—how I need you.

  Agnes was hare-brained and practically useless, hopping about the room as she scrunched her apron in her fingers. Tiger was the only one she could depend on.

  "Any nearer?" he asked, coming back. He gently laid a palm on her swollen stomach while he stroked her forehead with the other. "Tim wants to see you. Can he come in for a while, eh? Just to reassure hisself that I'm not doing you in?" There was a nervousness about him she'd never seen before.

  "Yes," she muttered, holding on tightly to the sheet as another convulsion gripped her. "Best send him in now, before it gets near the time."

  Tiger wiped Isabella's face with a wet rag, then ran a hand across his own. Sweat poured down his neck and between his shoulder blades. It was unseasonably hot for July, but he had a feeling his condition had more to do with his anxiety than the weather.

  "Tim, come in for a minute and see your ma," he shouted through the open doorway. His son came running, his small round face creased with his concern. Could be he was biased, but his boy was the sturdiest, handsomest lad he'd laid eyes on. Tiger's heart burst with pride at times when he looked at him. "Now, only for a minute, mind, and no jumping on the bed." He ruffled the long hair that reminded him of sun-ripened corn. Tim went cautiously to the bed and on his toes bent forward to place a finger on Isabella's lips.

  Isabella's smile looked forced to Tiger, but her eyes were gentle as she asked, "Hello, how's my favorite son?"

  "I'm the only one, silly, now our Dougie's not here anymore, Mama."

  Tiger saw her wince at his innocent reminder. Tim hadn't mentioned his half-brother in months. While the makeshift houses were going up there'd been so much work to be done, and many things going on to interest a boy with boundless curiosity.

  "Ah, but soon you'll have one to take his place. Or perhaps a sister. How would you like a little girl to boss around, eh?"

  Tim wrinkled his nose and Tiger laughed, scuffing a fist softly over his ear.

  "Don't fancy that idea much, do you?" he asked, wiping the sweat from Isabella's brow, wincing when she tried to conceal a shaft of pain. "Best go out now son. Your ma is about to produce that sister or brother." He squeezed Tim's shoulder and Tim turned to look up, his eyes alight with interest.

  "Will it come out like the foal and the pups did?" he wondered, glancing down at his mother's belly and pulling a comical face. "Will it be all sticky and messy like them?"

  "Sure will, Tim. Now go and keep Gillie company. He's missing Thelma and needs you to watch out for him until he's feeling better."

  "All right, Tiger. See you later, Mama." Carelessly he waved, then turned and ran from the room.

  "It's time, Tiger," Isabella cried through gritted teeth. "Agnes." Her breathing labored, she looked about for the girl.

  "Yes, missus." Agnes looked like a scared rabbit as she came to stand by the bed.

  "Remember what I said . . ." Isabella halted to drag in another few panting breaths. "As soon as the baby's out . . . and the cord cut . . ." Isabella bit her bottom lip hard and curled her fingers into the sheet beneath her. "You must make sure it's breathing and the mouth is clean." Isabella waited for Agnes to nod, then let out a long cry. "Tiger!"

  "Aye, love, I'm here. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it." Tiger wanted desperately to hold her, to press her close and offer comfort in the only way he knew how, but she was clasping the bed linen like a lifeline.

  In that moment Tiger had the strangest feeling. It hit him in the middle of the chest as if he'd been poleaxed. If anything happened to this woman his life would be meaningless. His hands began to shake with the knowledge he held that life in his hands. She was depending on him as no other person ever had before. Oh, his men followed his orders, looked to him for guidance in all matters to do with the farm and the land but no one had ever put their life entirely in his hands as she did now.

  "If I could take away the pain I would," he whispered as she moaned loudly and tensed. Pushing the top sheet back, he ordered softly, "Put a foot on my shoulder. Come here Agnes and take your mistress's foot on your shoulder as I'm doing. Let her push against you, hear?"

  "I hear, master." The girl's face was twisted with fear, and Tiger admitted he felt as scared as she looked. He swallowed hard. "Push, love," he ordered.

  "I'm pushing, dolt!" Isabella ground out, and he grinned.

  "Aye, that you are, my love," he agreed softly, watching the place between her legs for any signs of the baby.

  Ye gods—how women suffered to bring new life into this world. A man took his pleasure, and at times gave it, never considering the life he might be creating. Never giving a thought to the endurance of the woman producing the fruits of that act of lust.

  But it had never been only lust with Bella. With her the act itself always brought greater pleasure by far than simply the sating of his desire. Now he looked back on it, each time had seemed the most natural thing in the world. The simplest. They'd come together as if neither could help themselves. Was that love? Could that be the fragile quality the poets were always blathering on about?

  Love?

  Isabella began to scream and he was soon too busy to spare a thought for such fancies.

 
; "Did I tell you how much I hate you," she ground out.

  "Aye, love, many times. An' I have to admit to understanding why. Did I ever tell you you're the most beautiful woman who ever walked the earth?"

  "Oh yes, I must look a picture stretched out here . . . Oh, sweet Jesus." She screamed again as she gave a mighty heave, her foot driving into his chest. He glanced across at Agnes. The girl stared at Isabella's struggles with such terrible awe on her face he paused to wonder if it might turn her off bearing children. As much sweat poured from her face as from Bella's.

  His gaze went back to Isabella and he shouted, "I can see its head. Push, sweetheart, push."

  "I'm pushing. What the bloody hell do you think I'm doing here?" she shouted back, her sweat-soaked head pressing into the pillow beneath her.

  "Its shoulders are out, Bella." Tiger felt a tingle in his fingers, and his heart thumped, as without further warning the baby slipped away from its mother, into his waiting hands.

  "Sweet Jesus. It's a girl, Bella."

  Tiger held the tiny infant aloft by the legs and gave a shout of laughter. "We've made a daughter." He grinned as the newborn began to make her presence known; her small mouth opened wide, her eyes puckered as she wailed.

  "She's healthy?" Isabella whispered.

  "Aye, love, the bonniest babe since Tim." Stunned by the wonder of what he'd just witnessed, he breathed softly, "A beautiful daughter."

  "Let me have her. Let me see her." Isabella weakly lifted her head, her arms outstretched.

  "In one moment, love, and then you'll never be parted again. Get the cloth, Agnes, and wipe the babe's face and mouth." With a finger he ensured the tiny mouth was clear.

  He saw to the cord as Isabella had instructed, dabbing honey on the protruding belly button. Tiger then gently put the baby onto her mother's breast.

  His eyes misted as he watched Isabella's face. Tears coursed down her cheeks, onto the baby's head as she pressed a kiss on the down covering the tiny skull, then ran her hands over the flailing legs and arms, whispering words of love as she ensured to her satisfaction her babe was fit and well.