Savage Possession

by Margaret Tanner

  My dearest darling. When will you let me see you again? I crave the touch of your lips. Please say you will be mine. These words and others in a similar vein, written in Martin’s bold hand, rose up from the paper and almost plucked out her eyes.

  Letter after letter pledged his undying love. After reading a few of them, a black mist rose up in front of her. Dolly pushed her on to the bed and forced her head between her knees.

  “I tried to warn you, Elizabeth. I didn’t want to hurt you. You might find this strange. I do like you, unfortunately, my dear we both want the same man.”

  Beth couldn’t think straight, she had to lie down and rest. Martin had lied. Just friends, were they? Shaking off Dolly’s hand, she staggered to her own room and collapsed on the bed.

  How could you blatantly lie to me like this? She buried her head in the pillow and cried out her grief and betrayal. After the tears stopped, she lay quietly for a time then rolled over.

  She picked up Martin’s pillow and froze. A couple of strands of long red hair were caught in the lace trim. His wife had been kidnapped, in danger of being killed, yet he took another woman to their marital bed. No viler act could a man perpetrate against his wife. Adultery was dreadful. This was depraved. Her heart turned to stone. She felt so calm it would be frightening at any other time.

  Sliding off the bed, she tidied her hair, sat down and penned a note to Martin.

  I never want to see you again. I could forgive you for the love letters you wrote to Dolly. What I can never forgive is you sharing our bed with her.

  A freezing coldness bled every drop of warmth from her body.

  “I’m leaving Martin. You’re welcome to him,” she informed Dolly on finding her downstairs reading a book. “I don’t suppose you know how to drive a buggy?” she asked in a raw, dead voice.

  “Yes, I do. Want me to drive you over to your grandfather’s?”

  “Thank you.”

  Dolly stared at her in puzzlement.

  Probably expects me to go into screaming hysterics, only I’m beyond it. The hurt and betrayal slashed too deep.

  Dolly sashayed off to see the groom about hitching up the buggy, and on her return insisted on carrying the carpetbag in which Beth had packed a few personal items.

  “You took this a little better than I thought, Elizabeth.”

  “Did I?” You fool. Don’t you know the hurt is so deep I can’t even cry?

  Grandfather must have seen them arrive as he hurried outside to greet them. Beth climbed down from the buggy and collapsed in his arms.

  “Oh, my wee Bethie,” he said sadly as he helped her inside. “I tried to warn ye about Mulvaney. He’s vicious and cruel like Black Jack.”

  It gave the old Highlander no joy to be proved right. Had Beth taken notice of his warning, she would not have left herself open to this extra hurt. Because she was young and innocent in the ways of men, Mulvaney had tricked her, lied and betrayed her in the worst possible way. Ye won’t get the chance to hurt her again Fergus vowed. No matter what I have to do.

  * * *

  Several days after her flight from Martin, Beth was outside collecting the firewood they kept stacked at the side of the porch, when Sam drove up in a wagon. He doffed his hat before climbing down, and his faded blue eyes were full of compassion.

  “How are you, Elizabeth?”

  “Not very good, Sam. How’s Martin?” The question fell involuntarily from her lips.

  “All right.” He hesitated. “No, he’s not all right. I’m disgusted; he hasn’t drawn a sober breath since you left.”

  Beth gasped, every ounce of warmth disappeared from her body, and she shivered in the sun. “Come inside, I’ll make you some tea.”

  “No, thank you. I’ve left the castle; we’ve exchanged bitter words. When I got back from Wangaratta, I met him in town. I heard from mutual friends how that Dolly woman gloated about what happened. When I told him my opinion of his actions he became resentful and abusive.”

  “You can stay here for a while if you like, Sam”

  “No, I want to get away from the district. My widowed sister lives in Benalla, I’ll stay there until I decide what to do.”

  Beth bid this kindly old man farewell with great sadness because he had been a staunch friend.

  * * *

  Beth had just finished reading about the latest exploits of the Kelly gang when Alistair stormed into the kitchen.

  “Mulvaney, that pig. I saw him in town, flaunting some slut in the main street.”

  Fergus got up from his chair. “Watch yer tongue, laddie.”

  “He didn’t mention Beth, so I asked. ‘Aren’t you interested in your wife’s welfare?’ You know what he said? ‘I don’t give a damn what happens to her. May she rot in hell.’ Dirty sonofabitch.”

  “Why hate me when I didn’t do anything wrong?” she cried out in anguish.

  “He’ll burn in hell one day,” grandfather predicted, “and I want to be around to watch it.”

  For the first few days after leaving him, Beth lived with the hope Martin might come over to explain why he had done such a terrible thing. She loved him so much she would have forgiven him if he had expressed remorse, said he truly cared for her.

  As the weeks passed with no word, hope had faded, but did not completely wither and die. Now, after what Alistair said, she knew for certain, he did not care for her or their child. The tiny flicker of hope she still nurtured was finally, cruelly snuffed out.

  * * *

  The February heat intensified; the parched paddocks shimmered in a dusty haze. No one came to visit them and Beth, now in the late stages of her pregnancy, felt too unwell to leave the farm. Even Oliver did not call in to see her. Being Martin’s friend, it would have put him in a terrible position, but he had come over once before when things were bad.

  With little feed in the paddocks and no money to buy any, they gradually slaughtered the cattle as they became too weak to forage. She had salted the meat, now their supplies were almost exhausted.

  Alistair shot a few rabbits, he was almost out of bullets and they had no money to buy more. She tried to pull herself out of her terrible malaise, no mean feat with a broken heart and a swollen, heavy belly. Even Toby, the little boy she had saved, in what seemed another lifetime, didn’t bother to write. No one cared about their welfare. Even God had forsaken them.

  After the baby’s birth, she would have to try to earn money, even if it were doing laundry for wealthy townsfolk. Alistair could not be expected to support all of them, and work was scarce for everyone because of the drought. She lived with the fear that sheer desperation would drive him to join the outlaws.

  Grandfather was not well, having lost a lot of weight due to the continual worry and not eating enough. He always insisted he didn’t feel hungry, which was a lie. He left most of what little food they had for her and Alistair. Their plight became so critical he planned to ask the bank manager for a loan, using the farm as collateral.

  Her ankles swelled up and the only way to get relief was to soak them in water. Excruciating back pain kept her awake most nights now.

  The Campbells were in dire straits, more desperate than they had ever been. Starvation and destitution stared them in the face, stalked their every waking moment.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alistair slumped against the kitchen table after Beth had gone to have a mid-morning rest. “She’s so big, do you think she might be having twins?”

  “Aye, poor wee Bethie is having two bairns.”

  “What can we do grandfather? I hear her crying out for Mulvaney most nights.”

  “I know, I know. I’ve heard her sobbing her wee heart out.”

  “What kind of fiend is he, not even bothering to check if she’s all right? He must know her time to be delivered is soon.” Alistair raked his fingers through his hair. “Not a word, not one word.”

  “Er, he did call over,” Fergus confessed, clenching his fist on the table. “A few days after she came
home he arrived on the doorstep demanding to see her. “I told him to go to hell, she didn’t want to see him again. She had aborted the bairn.”

  “What?” Alistair leapt to his feet. “How could you tell such a terrible lie?”

  “I did it for her, ye weren’t here, laddie. Ye don’t know what a terrible state she got herself into, almost demented with grief. I didn’t want him upsetting her any more. I feared for her sanity if she saw him, and discovered he only wanted the bairn. How could I tell her Mulvaney didn’t care what happened to her, once he thought the bairn was gone.”

  “God, grandfather what can we do?”

  “I made a terrible mistake. I should have told her; it might have helped her get over him. I didn’t know how much she cared for him.” His eyes shone with tears, “I don’t think she’ll survive birthing two bairns out here now. Our stock is gone. I smelt smoke before, bushfires from the mountains could head our way.” Fergus stood up and paced the floor.

  “We could get a doctor out to see her.”

  “They cost money which we don’t have.”

  “Mulvaney’s got plenty. This is all his fault,” Alistair raged.

  “Stay with Bethie, I’ll go over to see him. I told a dreadful lie, but I did it for her. Now we’ll starve, if we don’t get burnt out first. We have one horse left, and if I thought she could ride I’d put her on it. If we are caught out in open country, God help us. We’ll be burnt alive”

  Alistair strode to the door and glanced out. The sight meeting his eyes scared him. The fires had turned the distant mountains red. Gale force winds fanned the flames, whipping them closer, in an ever-widening arc. His heart slammed against his rib cage. They risked being surrounded by flame. Smoke blotted out the sun, day turned into dusk in a matter of minutes.

  “I have to go now, if we get burned out we’ll be destitute, then what will happen to Bethie and the bairns? We don’t even have a cow for milk. We need help to get her out of here now.”

  The smoke would get much worse, the cabin was safe from the flames according to grandfather, because it nestled in a sheltered gully, and the wind always blew away from them. If by some cruel twist of fate, it did turn in their direction, they would be incinerated.

  “We’ve been here sixteen years, and the wind has never blown in our direction before. Watch for the embers, though, they can start spot fires. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I should have pocketed my pride and gone over to Mulvaney sooner.”

  “This isn’t your fault; you did what you thought best. It’s dangerous out there now, why don’t you wait?”

  “I can’t wait any longer in case we get trapped. I did it because I loved her. Make sure you tell her that.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t let her know how bad things are. Ye be a good laddie. I’ve always loved my two bairns. After my Flora died ye two wee things became my whole life. I’ve done wrong, I admit it, but everything I did was for my bonnie twins.”

  Alistair choked down on his emotions and watched his grandfather, bent almost double with age and grief, shuffle to the holding yard where their lone horse waited. Thirty acres with no animals left, except a solitary horse and a few chickens. They had sold or eaten everything else, now they verged on starvation. Drought had forced the wildlife up into the mountains where they would now perish in the hungry flames, so that food source would be gone also.

  How could fate be so cruel to them? From the homestead door, he watched the smoky haze swallow up their grandfather. In all his life, he had never been this desperate.

  “Where have you been?” Beth waddled out into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  He scrubbed at his cheeks and lied. “A piece of soot blew in my eye.”

  “Where’s grandfather?”

  “Gone over to see Mulvaney.”

  “Why? Martin doesn’t care about us.” Her shoulders slumped and she clutched her stomach.

  “I think he’s going to ask him for help to get you out of here. If the wind turns we could be trapped.”

  “Why don’t we put a few special items in the bluestone vault grandfather built under the horse trough? If we have to leave in a hurry we wouldn’t be able carry much with us,” she said.

  “Good idea. You sit down, I’ll gather up some stuff.”

  “Take grandfather’s pipes, his kilt, and the pictures of him and granny on their wedding day. Oh, the family bible, too. They’ll be safe there. I’ll make us a cup of tea while you’re gone.”

  “All right.” Watching Beth move awkwardly, holding her stomach in an attempt to support its weight, he cursed Martin Mulvaney under his breath for reducing his sister to such a pitiful state.

  * * *

  Fergus Campbell reached the forecourt of Mulvaney’s castle. It stood grim and forbidding in the hazy gloom. His heart felt raw with pain and bitterness. He tethered his horse and forced himself to walk to the castle and slam the knocker against the stout wooden door. Nothing happened, so he slammed it several times in quick succession.

  An unshaven, bleary-eyed Martin Mulvaney wrenched the door open.

  Fergus glared at him. “I need money for Bethie.”

  “You Campbells can all rot in hell.”

  “She’s your wife and entitled to some assistance.”

  “Never, she forfeited any rights when she murdered my child.”

  “Murder! Ye be insane, Mulvaney.”

  “You think I’ll ever forget such a fiendish act,” he snarled, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

  “Beth would not purposely hurt her bairn. Ye be evil to even think she would.” Fergus glared at his mortal foe. A man who had wreaked such havoc on the Campbells.

  “She’s not well.” Desperation to get help for Bethie overrode his hatred of having to plead with a Mulvaney. “Our livestock is gone, we’re surrounded by fire, and she’s trapped there. Have ye no pity?”

  “No. Get off my land, old man, or so help me I’ll kill you where you stand.” Martin slammed the door in his face.

  With his last remnant of pride, Fergus straightened his shoulders and walked over to his horse, in case Mulvaney watched him through the window. Heartbroken, weighed down with grief and despair, yet he did not want to give his foe the satisfaction of seeing him completely broken.

  His only alternative now, ride into town and throw himself on the mercy of the bank. Bethie needed to be taken into town to stay at the hotel until she was delivered. He wanted the doctor to see her first, to make sure the journey would not be too much for her.

  * * *

  The horse trough, set into a bluestone block, contained an inner compartment. Beth watched Alistair place grandfather’s bagpipes, kilt, and the family bible in it. At the last minute, he had grabbed the doll and train set grandfather had pawned his dirk to buy for them on their seventh birthday.

  She had closed all the windows, stuffed towels in the cracks under the doors to try to keep out the hot, smoke-laden air.

  Martin would not help grandfather. Bitter sadness weighed her down like a ton weight. He hated the Campbells, her in particular. Perhaps he resented marrying her instead of Dolly. More likely, he never wanted a wife at all, having once boasted about his ability to buy any woman he wanted. Just because they shared an overwhelming passion, she had deluded herself into believing it meant something special to him.

  Wearily she pushed the perspiration soaked tendrils of hair away from her forehead. Her damp cotton gown, clinging to her skin, exacerbated her exhaustion. Over the last couple of weeks, she had discarded her drawers and most of her petticoats because they were tight, and it felt cooler without them.

  Her back ached so badly today she felt as if someone was sawing her in half. Pain radiated down her legs with every step she took. “I don’t mind, my darling.” She patted her swollen stomach. “Just so long as you’re delivered safe and well.” This baby would be her panacea for los
ing Martin, part of him, and would give her something of his to love.

  “Beth, Beth,” Alistair yelled at the top of his voice as he tore into the kitchen. “We have to get out of here; the wind has started to turn. We’ll be roasted alive if we stay here.”

  “Where will we go?” What can we do?”

  “The creek. We can stay in the water until the flames pass. Come on, Beth.”

  He grabbed her hand and dragged her outside. A furnace-like blast of heat hit her in the face.

  “I don’t know whether I can walk so far.”

  “Yes you can, if I help.”

  The smoke made her eyes water, and every breath she took burned her lungs. She clutched her stomach, bent double as pain ripped through her. Alistair put his arm across her shoulders to help her along. Driven by the wind, fireballs peppered the ground like giant red hailstones. As they hit the earth with a popping noise, they exploded into flames. The creek, situated a few hundred yards from their homestead, seemed miles away in the searing heat.

  “Hurry,” Alistair panted. “Not much further.”

  “I don’t think I can, it’s too far. Go on without me.” She stopped dead. “Please, I can’t go any further.”

  Alistair stopped also. “We’ll die together,” he said, his voice hard and determined.

  “No.” She buried her face in her hands and the tears slipped through her fingers.

  “Come on then.” Grabbing her elbows, he yanked them hard.

  With strength borne of desperation, she forced her quaking legs to move. Alistair would die with her and she could not allow him to make such a sacrifice.

  They came to the creek where the banks fell in a steep drop because the water level had fallen so much.

  “Wait here until I get in the water, slide down and I’ll catch you.” He helped her sit down before jumping into the creek. She could not see the sun or the sky in the premature twilight created by smoke. Using both hands, she propelled herself down the steep incline on her bottom. On impact, the water felt cold.