“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“I must have conceived the baby on our wedding night.” She cut the meat up in an angry chopping motion.
Once the stew was on cooking, she cleaned everything away. “I’ll go and make up your bed.”
He stood. “I’ll help you.”
“No, McIntyre wouldn’t like that.”
“Too bad. He won’t know if we don’t tell him. In fact, just show me where everything is kept and I’ll make it up myself, save you the trouble. You should be resting in your condition. Why do you call him McIntyre?”
“Because he told me to. I can’t rest, he …”
“To hell with my brother. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Mattie took sheets out of the dressing table drawer and he made the bed up. She gave him two grey blankets. Everything smelt musty, but they were clean. Anna always complimented him on how well he made their bed when she was too big and awkward carrying the twins to do it.
***
Mattie watched a look of incredible sadness darken Will’s eyes. Spasms of pain crossing his face made him look somehow younger, vulnerable. What was his story? His life had been touched by tragedy that was plain to see. She wanted to know, but didn’t have the right to ask.
He looked exactly like McIntyre, mirror images of each other, but his blue eyes were warm and kind, even if tinged with sadness, her husband’s cold and cruel. Would anyone but her notice the difference?
“You must be tired from your journey. You could rest a while before supper.”
“I am, exhausted actually, but if the household goes to bed at seven, I’d never sleep if I did. “Why so early?” He pushed open the bedroom window to let in fresh air.
“We rise at 5 o’clock and do a few chores. He likes to eat at six.”
“Six and three,” Will said. “So he still works everything around those numbers?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“He was like that even as a kid.”
Will followed her back into the kitchen where she decided to use up some stale bread by making a bread and butter pudding for dessert.
“When we were about eight years old, we both caught measles,” Will said. He had it much worse than I. It turned into something else, I can’t recall what, but he nearly died. Once he recovered, he was never the same, suffered some kind of brain damage I think. Three, six, nine and twelve, he always used a combination of threes for everything. I think it was his way of sorting things out in his mind.”
“I know he’s your brother, but sometimes I think he’s insane, and I’m going…” She suddenly stopped talking. How did she know she could trust Will not to betray her? Fear ripped through her body leaving her trembling and weak. If McIntyre ever found out she was going to run away at the first opportunity that came along, his wrath would be terrible to behold. She didn’t doubt it for one moment.
The stew was bubbling away on the stove top, the pudding in the oven and the table set when McIntyre marched in. He offered no greeting to either of them.
“I sit at the head of my table.” He glared at his brother. “So you better move.”
“Oh all right.” Will stood. “Where should I sit?”
“Anywhere. Wife, I’m ready to eat.”
She ladled the aromatic stew on to his plate first, wishing she was brave enough to defy him and tell him to get his own. He started eating straight away, whereas Will waited until she was seated before commencing his.
“This is good,” Will said after the first mouthful. “You’re a good cook, Mattie.”
“Of course she is,” Wilbur snapped. “I wouldn’t keep her here otherwise.” He stopped shoveling food into his mouth to say.
“When is the baby due?”
“The brat will come when it’s ready I suppose.”
“Sonofabitch, Wilbur, do you have to be such a pig. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. When your wife died you should have got yourself another woman.”
“I don’t want another woman. I’ll never forget Anna and my two daughters.”
Wilbur snorted, his lips curling with disgust.
“I’m sorry.” Mattie now knew why he looked so sad. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “They were murdered by a gang of outlaws.” His voice was low and filled with such pain and anguish, she instinctively reached out and squeezed his hand.
“Wife!”
She quickly withdrew her hand.
“You touch no man but me,” he growled.
Without a word Will got up and stepped across the kitchen and went outside.
McIntyre’s hand shot out and he grabbed her by the throat. “Don’t think I didn’t see you making cow eyes at him.” He shook her. “I’ll kill you if you so much as look at him in the wrong way.” He let her go. “I don’t share my possessions.”
“But…”
He slammed his fist on the table, making the crockery bounce. “Don’t defy me. You know what to expect if you do. The fact that my brother is here won’t make a scrap of difference to me. If he doesn’t like the way I treat my wife. He can leave.”
She got up and cleared the table, then took the pudding out of the oven. All the while hatred and resentment boiled. She glanced at the carving knife she had used to cut up the meat. It wouldn’t take much for her to pick it up and plunge it into his cold, black heart. She took a couple of steadying breaths.
Bide your time, Mattie. Bide your time.
Chapter Nine
Will returned right on 7 o’clock. He checked the time on his fob watch. Hopefully Wilbur would be in bed. If he saw him now he would punch him in the mouth. One lamp still burned in the kitchen, so he took it with him to light the way to the bedroom. Stripping off his clothes, he snuffed out the lamp and climbed into bed.
“Get up on your knees,” he heard Wilbur snarl, then the springs on the bed squealed loudly.
The walls were paper thin. Will put his hands over his ears to block out the noise of Wilbur having sex with Mattie. He wouldn’t call it making love, by the sounds of it he was thrusting like a rutting bull.
His stomach curdled with distaste. He couldn’t stay here, Wilbur sickened him, but how could he leave poor Mattie alone with him in her condition? She was so young and slightly built, without help she would probably die in childbirth. He had helped the midwife deliver the twins because they feared for Anna’s life. He shuddered. All alone with no help or support she would surely die, and the baby with her.
He had killed Denzil and his gang. In retrospect, he should have left it to the law to deal with them, but he wasn’t sorry they were dead.
Wilbur was as evil and vicious as them, but he was more subtle. Cunning came to mind. How many times as boys had he caught his brother torturing puppies or kittens. There was one time when he threw a live rabbit into a fire. Isolated, miles away from anywhere, no visitors, he could kill Mattie and no-one would ever know.
The temptation to ride into Castlemaine to seek out the authorities was tempting, but what could he say? He had deliberately avoided Castlemaine and surrounding large towns on his way here, so no-one would know he even existed. To break cover could mean the noose. He was convinced there had to be a fifth man in that cave who removed young Rory’s rifle. There was no other explanation, but he had no way of proving it.
He didn’t know whether American law carried any weight out here, and couldn’t take the chance. Much and all as he hated being near Wilbur he couldn’t desert Mattie. After the baby was born and she had recovered, he could leave without feeling like a lowdown skunk.
***
Next morning Mattie felt wretched as she climbed out of bed, washed, dressed and stumbled down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Her back ached, in fact everywhere ached because McIntyre had used her even more roughly than usual.
Eggs and bacon. The smell nauseated her, but that’s what she al
ways had to cook for him, along with either toast or pancakes. He was a creature of habit, his day to day activities never deviating. After what Will had said, she realized without the repetitive behavior he wouldn’t be able to function.
Will wasn’t in his bed, she had noticed on her way past. She didn’t know whether to dish up anything for him or not.
At precisely 6 o’clock, McIntyre lumbered in. Several days beard growth covered his jaw and chin. Without a word he sat in his usual place at the head of the table and picked up his knife and fork.
Without saying anything or even looking at him, she dumped the plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. He grabbed hold of her wrist, his fingers biting into her flesh.
“Don’t take too many liberties with me, wife.” His fierce grip nearly crushed her bones. “The fact Will is here makes no difference.” He gave a cruel laugh. “Maybe he’d like to watch me strapping you on the bare bum.”
He let her go, but not before giving her arm one last vicious twist. “Get me a mug of tea.” She did his bidding, too fearful not to.
Will stepped into the kitchen, his hair was damp and he had shaved. “Morning, Mattie.”
“Good morning, Will. Sit here and I’ll get your breakfast.”
“Morning, Wilbur.”
McIntyre grunted at his brother and snatched the mug of tea out of her hand.
“After breakfast, wife, you can start to move those rocks out of the paddock behind the barn, I want to make a fence out of them.”
“She’s in no condition to be doing that,” Will protested. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ve got other things for you to do. There’s a lot of work needs doing on this place.”
“Well, if you didn’t waste time working that useless damn mine…”
“I aim to strike it rich,” Wilbur growled, his contorted face making his eyes bulge.
“Yeah, well you won’t get anything from there, it’s all worked out,” Will said. “Why do you think most of the other miners have left?”
“Shut your mouth.” Wilbur glared at his brother. “As for you, wife.” He gave her a ferocious stare. “I expect that area to be cleared by the time I get home this afternoon.”
“I don’t think I can do all that much heavy work, please, husband.”
“You’ll do it. If you don’t get it finished, you know what to expect.” He got up and stormed out of the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t be doing heavy outside work now,” Will said.
It warmed Mattie’s heart that he cared enough to jump to her defense. “He’ll beat me if I don’t. Oh, Will. Sometimes I wish I was dead.” Tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Don’t talk like that.” He reached out and gently squeezed her hand. “I’ll speak to him.”
“It won’t do any good.”
“Look, Mattie, I’d walk out the door now and take you somewhere safe, but I can’t leave here, not yet.”
“Why?”
She watched his eyes darken with anguish.
“I committed a crime in America. I’m a wanted man over there, and I’m not sure what my status would be over here. The authorities would probably send me back.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“Yeah, I did. I killed the men who murdered my wife, Anna, and my two little daughters.” His face was etched with sorrow, his eyes haunted.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” She clasped his hand. “We’ve both got reasons for staying here. Mine is, I have no money and nowhere else to go.”
They were both stuck here with Wilbur. Only for now she thought fiercely. Only for now. Getting free of her husband was the only thing that kept her going.
After Will finished eating she washed the dishes and was surprised when he got up and dried them for her. What a lucky woman Anna had been to have the love of a man like this. And what a tragedy she had to die. She wanted to help Will with his grief, but didn’t know how to.
“I’ll go and find Wilbur, see what he’s got planned for me.”
It was cool and overcast when she ventured outside. Hopefully, the rain would come and she would be able to go back indoors. Wilbur had left a wheelbarrow, rake and shovel near the front of the barn. She was just too weary to work for long.
“Here you are doggy.” She threw a few pieces of cold meat into the black dog Wilbur had captured. It was one of the feral dogs wandering over the mountains, a female, and he thought when it came into season it would attract the male dogs, and he would be able to lie in wait and kill them.
The creature growled whenever she came near, but made no threatening movement toward her. Not like with McIntyre, whenever he came close it went berserk. Not that she could blame the poor thing, because he regularly beat it with a length of chain. She would have liked to have done more for the poor dog, but dared not, she was just as much an ill-treated prisoner as it was.
It was backbreaking work picking up the rocks, putting them into the barrow then wheeling it to the pile of rocks that were already there.
Bending down to pick up one large rock caused a sharp pain to shoot into her stomach, quickly followed by another. She clutched her belly and fell to her knees. Someone was stabbing her in the back, the pain was so sharp and deep, screams erupted from her mouth. Getting up on all fours she tried to stand but could not.
A spasm ripping through her stomach had her writhing on the ground. She was going to die. No human could endure such pain and live.
For a few minutes she wrestled with pain and fear. Suddenly she felt a whooshing sensation then water flowed between her thighs. She had miscarried her baby. On the ground in a paddock, like an animal, she had given birth to a still-born baby boy. She was bleeding badly now, she felt, rather than saw it.
The pain in her stomach was gone, except for a dull ache. The pain in her heart at the loss was overwhelming, all consuming. Her baby was gone.
She ripped off part of her petticoat and wrapped the tiny body in it. Hanging on to the wheelbarrow, she pulled herself upright and placed the pitiful little bundle into the barrow.
If she didn’t get back to the house she would surely die. One part of her wanted to die, another part fought for survival so she could leave this hell-hole.
As soon as she recovered her strength, she would leave McIntyre and his brutality and make a life for herself somewhere else. She didn’t know where. Didn’t care. And she would release the dog, too.
The temptation to kill McIntyre for what he had done to her and their child was great, but she couldn’t live with such guilt. Look at what revenge had done to Will. He had lost everything and was reduced to living on the reluctant charity of his brutish brother.
She staggered toward the lean-to washhouse at the end of the porch. Filling a basin with water she cleaned herself up. Rolling up a towel, she wedged it between her thighs and stumbled to bed. Her heart was broken, but no tears fell because the hurt and loss went to deep.
“Wife!” McIntyre growled. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m in bed,” she screamed. “You made me lose my baby.”
“It’s 6 o’clock, I need to eat.”
“Sonofabitch,” Will snarled. “She’s miscarried the baby. I told you she shouldn’t have been working outside.”
Mattie could hear them arguing. Finally, Will said. “I’ll warm up some beans. You better check on her to see if she’s all right.”
McIntyre poked his head around the bedroom door. “What are you doing lying around instead of getting my supper?”
“I’ve just lost our baby. I’m too sick.”
“Yeah, yeah. Serves you right. I’m not sorry, I didn’t want a squalling brat about the place.”
Mattie shivered at the cold callousness of him.
“You have to bury him.”
“Why? It hasn’t breathed, so it isn’t human. I might as well feed it to that feral dog.”
“No! No!” She started screaming.
“Sonofabitch.” Will dashed into the bedroom. “Wha
t have you done to her?”
“He’s going to feed my baby to the dog,” she blubbered.
“What!”
“I said, I’d…”
“For God’s sake, Wilbur. Don’t worry, Mattie I’ll do it. I’ll find a nice place for him. You need to rest. I heated up beans, would you like some?”
“No, thank you. Oh, Will, please make sure he’s wrapped up first, and…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll see to it.”
Mattie closed her eyes. She felt weak and light-headed. At least Will would see to the baby, the thought comforted her as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Ten
Two days later, despite her and Will’s arguments against it, McIntyre decided she was well enough to get up and do the household chores. He had been even surlier than usual, and she knew he hated the fact Will was so kind and considerate of her.
They had the usual bacon, eggs, and pancakes, as there was no bread left. As she handed McIntyre his mug of tea, he grabbed her arm. “Make bread today. I’m tired of pancakes.” He gave her a keep-your-mouth-shut look, and she dared not disobey.
“She isn’t well enough,” Will said.
“Shut up. She’s well enough to do whatever I say she does.” He spoke with brutal detachment. “Tomorrow she can finish clearing the rocks.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Will shot back. “Heavy lifting like that could kill her.”
McIntyre drained his tea in a few angry swallows and stomped off. At the doorway, he stopped and swung around. “I want you to go to the far paddock and track those marauding dogs that mauled my sheep. If you find them. Shoot them. I was hoping that bitch I captured would draw them here, but it hasn’t.” He slammed the kitchen door.
“Thanks for defending me, Will, but you have to be careful or he’ll turn on you. I…I couldn’t bear it if you weren’t here.”
He shocked her by leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. “I wish things could be different between us,” he murmured.
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