Mystic Mountains

by Tricia McGill

  "I . . . No."

  He pulled back to stare into her face, his eyes narrowing on her jaw. Cursing again he ran a gentle finger over her chin. "You have a nasty bruise there," he said softly. When she flinched he dropped his hand, his eyes filled with tenderness.

  "He knocked me out . . .”

  Isabella saw him swallow hard. Taking her sore wrists in his hands he scowled down at them, cursing under his breath. Isabella flinched again and withdrew them.

  Without another word he picked her up. Carrying her across the room, he kicked at the door, clearing the way as he strode out. The dim passageway was crammed with interested onlookers. Isabella buried her face in the comforting warmth of Tiger's shirtfront. She could hear the hammering of his heart beneath her cheek. If I die now I'll be content, she thought, then berated herself for her foolishness.

  "Out of the way," Tiger shouted. "Surely to God one of you no-hopers knew what that brute was doing to the woman! Have you all sunk so low you couldn't help someone in trouble?"

  The crowd moved aside, some offering mild excuses. Isabella glimpsed a few painted faces and bloodshot eyes as he carried her out to the street.

  "Bella." Dougal's shout was filled with relief and joy. Lifting her head from its safe refuge she saw her friend seated at the front of the wagon, his eyes bleak. "Are you all right, love? We were worried out of our minds. What did that bastard do to you?"

  Tiger set her down gently on a pile of sacking in the back of the wagon, then climbed in to sit opposite her. "Leave it now, Dougal," he said, and Isabella would have sworn his voice quivered. "She's safe." He cursed again, his mouth set grimly. "But Malloy will pay dearly for this day's work or my name's not Tiger Carstairs. Let's get her home."

  "Right, Tiger." Dougal made a clicking sound and slapped the reins. The grey gelding moved off. Isabella sat with shoulders hunched. Every part of her trembled as if with an ague. She'd gotten used to the feel of the soft whisper of her petticoat and missed it. She pressed her knees together. The air and sunlight stung the raw skin at her wrists and ankles.

  "How did you know where to find me?" she whispered. She couldn't look Tiger in the eye. All she kept thinking was how she must have looked when he burst in and found her with her body exposed.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw that he looked ahead, avoiding her eyes too. "I was in the district." His voice sounded strangely taut. "Thelma got worried about you when you didn't return home at the expected time. Luckily Dougal went home to pick up something for Gillie and Thelma sent him looking for me. Dougal knew where to find me."

  I'll bet, Isabella thought, sighing. No doubt he was visiting one of the many whores who frequented The Rocks. She pursed her lips, and he shook his head, looking straight at her then. He patted her knee and she skidded her legs out of his reach.

  "Now don't go jumping to conclusions, miss. I was in a card game and left a winning hand to come to your rescue."

  "So, you can read my mind, can you?" she retorted.

  "Your face is an open book, wench. You can't keep any secrets from me. Are you feeling better now?"

  Isabella blinked. His soft inquiry was like a caress, and his eyes touched her just as gently as they roved over her face. She nodded, unable to find words. Since the kiss in the orchard he hadn't spent one moment alone with her.

  "I can't for a minute imagine what possessed Thelma to let you go gallivanting off on your own. She should know better."

  "Don't blame Thelma. She told me you'd be annoyed with her for letting me go. But her cough was so bad, Tiger, and she'd run out of her medicine. I got a lift in with Mr. Enshaw, and would have been fine if he hadn't had to drop me outside the town."

  "Oh yes, fine," he grunted, shaking his head. "You should have waited until one of us men was able to go with you."

  "It was just unfortunate that Malloy happened along." She stared at her painful wrists, her fingers clenched.

  "Malloy will pay, don't fret. He'll end up in chains if I have any say in it." Reaching out he stroked his fingers with such tenderness over the bruise on her jaw that she was transfixed, unable to move. When he returned his hand to the side of the wagon Isabella could still feel that warm touch on her cheek.

  "I would have done away with him if I'd had a weapon."

  His brows shot up. "Bloodthirsty little wench." There was a touch of amusement in his tone. "Fat lot of good that would have done you." He shook his head. "You're a convict. You would have been swinging from the gibbet before tomorrow's sun set."

  "Speaking of convicts, how is it an ex con gets to be a friend of the governor?" she asked softly.

  Tiger chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated around in his chest. He looked hard at her, then asked, "So, how do you feel about me now you know my background's no different from yours, eh? Who told you then?"

  "Malloy." She sniffed. "Why did you let me think you was a nob? Did it amuse you, Englishman?"

  "You're the only one who can make it sound like an insult to be called thus. If the truth be known I have no more admiration for the English government than you. Mind you, I can't complain about my lot in life now. I have a nice flock growing, a fair crop each year, a few acres to call my own, plus a house. If I hadn't been transported I'd still be picking pockets and cheating at cards in good old London Town." He grinned, lifting a hand to push his hat back on his head. Casually he raked a hand through his hair.

  "How long have you been here, then?" she asked.

  "Since eighteen hundred. I was twelve. Sent over for petty thieving." He shrugged and pulled his lips back over even teeth. "My Dad died in a hulk on the Thames when I was seven. Had to steal to live, same as you. We came from Kent. I think my old man probably died of a broken heart. He must have hated being locked up in that stinking hole." He pressed his lips together, and Isabella knew she wouldn't get any more out of him. But she'd learnt more than she ever expected to know of this enigmatic man who owned her.

  "So, you've been here eighteen years." She gave him a swift glance. "How long have you been free?"

  "Six years. Here we are, home. I'll let you in on some more of my dark secrets later." He jumped out of the wagon and undid the back flap. He held his arms out and with a sense of diffidence she allowed herself to be lifted clear of the wagon.

  He let her go as soon as her feet hit the ground, turning away.

  "Lord sakes, girl, where did you go?" Thelma came at a trot out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron. "I've been worried out of my mind!" She began to cough, turning away until the spasm passed. Tiger gave her a disturbed look when she had trouble catching her breath.

  "Malloy took her to the docks area and holed her up behind a tavern. The Almighty must have been watching over her, Thelma, for he was called away. That fool of a son of his got himself done in. Got in a fight over a mug of rum, it seems. Our Bella has him to thank. His life for hers, seems fair to me." He pulled his lips back in a mirthless smile. "Get her wounds tended and put her to bed, Thelma. And you." He jabbed a finger at Isabella. "Never set foot outside this farm again without a man as escort. Understand?"

  He waited for her nod before adding, "And Thelma, send Dougal here to the doctor for your medicine. That cough of yours is hanging on too long. I've got one or two errands to attend to. Don't expect me home soon." With those words he turned purposefully to untie Satan from where he'd been hitched behind the wagon.

  "Is he going to ... ?" Isabella whispered to Thelma.

  "Never you mind, love. He takes care of his own, does Tiger." Thelma put an arm about her shoulders as Tiger vaulted into the saddle and thundered down the path.

  His own. Isabella savored the words. Was she one of his own now? Seemed she was.

  "I'll be off to the doc's then," Dougal said, sending her a smile. Isabella gave a small wave as he turned the wagon about, then she allowed Thelma to lead her inside.

  * * *

  Tiger was carried along by his rage. If he could get away with murder he'd kill the swine th
is night. But Malloy wasn't worth swinging for. So he'd just have to make sure the Irishman never got the chance to get at Bella again. Or any lass.

  Clicking his fingers he looked out at the ships riding at anchor, especially one he knew well. Grinning, he rode on. Just the ticket. Yes, that would solve the problem well. Once dumped on the shores of England again the worthless scum would be forced to live on his wits, same as Tiger and Bella herself had had to.

  What a plucky wench she was. After all she'd gone through she was still able to smile. Still had it in her to be as sharp as a needle. He found he rather liked the edge to her tongue. She seemed to take up an awful lot of his thoughts lately, and he was at a loss to explain just why. She certainly wasn't the loveliest of all the women he knew, or the most tractable. Perhaps that was the answer: she never gave an inch.

  Ye Gods, when he'd walked into that filthy hovel and seen her spread out in that degrading fashion, he'd almost gone straight out to find Malloy to squeeze him by the neck until every last breath left his body. But this idea was much more satisfactory.

  Slowing Satan to a walk as he reached the narrow streets around the wharf he made his way to Paddy's Tavern, one of the better drinking holes in the area. A bony boy jumped out of the shadows. He was about ten and lived on his wits, reminding Tiger of himself at that age. "Hello there, Joe. Take care of Satan for me, eh? I have some business to attend to." Tiger dismounted.

  "Yes sir, Mr. Tiger." Joe caught the coin Tiger tossed him. Stroking the stallion's nose, he walked the horse away, murmuring words of encouragement. Tiger smiled. Joe barely came to Satan's belly, but Tiger knew his horse was safe with the lad.

  "Give you a night of fun, cheap, 'ansome," a woman slurred from the shadows as Tiger made for the door of the tavern. Lurching forward she presented him a view of a pair of luscious breasts ready to spring from the bodice of her gaudy dress. In the stream of light coming through the window he saw she was past her prime, probably full of disease if her pallid spotty skin was anything to go by. Her unwashed hair hung in limp clumps around her painted face and as she gave him what she probably considered a seductive smile he noticed a mouth full of rotten teeth.

  "Sorry, love, I haven't the time this evening. Perhaps another time," he lied. Reaching into his pocket he fished out another coin. "Have a sip of rum on me."

  "Ta, mister." With the coin clasped in her palm, she followed him into the smoke-filled tavern.

  Tiger was accosted another couple of times on his way over to a table in a corner where he'd spotted the man he was looking for.

  "Captain Tate." He hailed his good friend.

  A man whose face testified to a lifetime spent out in all weathers stood unsteadily and raised a hand in welcome. The buxom blonde woman who'd been half sitting on his lap fell on her bottom at his feet.

  "Tiger, old son. Good to see you again. Though 'twas not so long ago we said our fond farewells. I thought you'd be safely tucked up in your bed by now, with a comely lass to keep you warm." He grinned as he flopped back on the seat. The woman plopped herself on his knees again and wound her ample arms about his neck. He kissed her painted mouth noisily.

  "Would have been, Captain, but something unforeseen cropped up." Tiger sat opposite the captain, shaking his head when another harlot offered to sit on his lap. She pouted and flounced away. "Have you room in your hold for one more passenger? One who won't be willing to travel the waters with you, but one I intend to see gets a hasty passage back to the old country, or anywhere other than New South Wales."

  "Always room for one more, lad." Captain Tate winked and touched the side of his rosy bulbous nose. The doxie on his lap gave him a wet kiss and he pushed her away with a reproving grunt. "Hold hard, woman, can't you see I have other things on my mind for the minute," he told her, grinning. She fondled his neck and he grabbed her hand. "Now then, Tiger, my lad, we sail in the hour before dawn, as you know. Have him, or her, on board in good time an' I'll be glad to take 'em along."

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "An' supposing this person just 'appens to fall overboard in one of those nasty old storms we often meet up with around The Cape, eh?"

  "No one on this earth will shed too many tears over the loss," Tiger spat. "I'll have him at the wharf in good time, Captain." Tiger turned to go, then went back and slapped the Captain a couple of times on the shoulder. "I owe you one, old friend."

  "Always a good feeling to have Tiger Carstairs in my debt." The Captain chuckled, then smacked a kiss on the plump bosom overflowing his female companion's bodice. With a smile of bliss he lifted his head. "Me first mate will be there. Tell him I gave orders for your passenger to be locked up nice and snug. Keep well, old son," he shouted after Tiger, who touched his forehead in acknowledgment of the numerous calls from around the smoky bar as he strode out.

  Tiger knew what public house Malloy frequented. No doubt he'd be there now, wallowing in self-pity because his plans had gone awry. And perhaps he was sparing a moment for grief over the demise of his dolt of a son. But that was unlikely. Where there was no sense there was little feeling.

  A devilish grin split Tiger's face as he headed for the den where Malloy lurked, stopping off first to tell Joe to follow him with Satan, and to pick up something from the yard behind the tavern.

  * * *

  "Ho, Malloy," Tiger called softly. What a stroke of luck—the Irishman was just coming out of the Duck and Feathers, a doxie on his arm.

  Malloy peered through the gloom, his face a mixture of rage and dismay when he saw his arch-enemy standing before him, legs astride, his riding crop slapping against a palm.

  "What d'ya want, Carstairs?" he asked belligerently. "Sod off! You've caused me enough strife to last me a lifetime."

  "Nowhere near what I intend to cause you from this night forward. You took my property, set your filthy paws on a woman of my household. For that sin you'll pay dearly." Tiger delivered the words with deadly calm.

  Malloy's eyes flicked from side to side, his tongue sliding over slobbering lips as he pulled the doxie closer for protection.

  "Get away, woman," Tiger ordered. "Find another customer. This one's going to be busy for a while."

  The woman craned her neck to peer at Malloy, then disentangled his hands from her waist and stepped away from him.

  "You stay here," Malloy told her, but she sidestepped, dodging out of his reach, running back to the bar of the public house. "Now look what you've done." Malloy shook a fist. "I'll kill you for this!"

  "You could try," Tiger invited, circling Malloy and grinning. "Come on, try it now."

  Malloy licked his lips and backed up, watching the crop so intently he missed his footing and stumbled. Tiger pounced. "Right Joe, give me the sack," he shouted, securing Malloy's arms behind his back. The Irishman was no match for Tiger's strength.

  "Let me go," he yelled, but Tiger already had the sack over his head and secured with a length of rope.

  "Fetch Satan, Joe." Tiger nodded to the grinning boy. Malloy began to struggle, but Tiger laughed as he brought a fist down on the Irishman's ear. Malloy crumpled and hit the ground with a dull thud.

  "Hold Satan steady, boy, and I'll just toss this swine over his back. Much as I hate to have his filthy body on my horse, 'tis too far for me to tote him to the wharf. You run along now Joe, and remember, you don't know where I went after leaving Paddy's tavern, right?"

  "Aye, sir." Joe touched a finger to the side of his nose, still grinning. "I never saw a thing. After you left I went on 'ome."

  "Good lad." Tiger gave him another coin and the boy disappeared into the shadows.

  Tiger led Satan through the alleyways. He passed few people and those he did see were too engrossed in their own business to give him a second glance. The inhabitants of these parts were used to seeing drunks carried home on horseback.

  Captain Tate's crew knew Tiger well, and it was a simple matter to have Malloy rowed out to the ship, where the first mate followed his captain's orders to t
he letter.

  Tiger rode home with a smug sense of a job accomplished. That gutter rat would force himself on no woman again.

  Chapter Nine

  Isabella loved the trading store, with its shelves lined with everything from trousers, shirts and waistcoats, to cashmere shawls, china dinner sets, tobacco and chamber pots and a thousand other items.

  The storekeeper left the old country with a few hundred pounds to spend and had since made a fortune reselling goods picked up at ports of call on the way over.

  Back home Isabella had often been chased out of the shops once the storekeeper found she had naught to spend and was just idling her time, daydreaming about buying the fancy goods on display.

  While Thelma ordered the supplies and provisions needed to see them through the week Isabella stood fingering a skein of fine silk thread that sat jumbled in a tray with several shades and thickness of embroidery yarn. How she wished she could buy it as a gift for Thelma. One day she would be rich. When she gained her ticket of leave. How she would achieve that blessed state she had no idea, but dreams were there for all fools.

  "Bella, is that you gal?" a familiar voice called.

  Isabella looked up, her face breaking into a wide smile. "Gracie! How are you?" she greeted her shipboard friend. Making her way round the shelves to Gracie's side Isabella hugged her. "Are you doing all right? Look at you, you certainly look as if you've fallen on your feet." Circling Gracie, Isabella admired her neat frock, spotless apron and shawl.

  "Bless my soul, dearie, I've got a job in a posh gent's kitchen, ain't I? Me who didn't even know 'ow to boil water." Gracie took hold of Isabella's arms and looked her over. "You 'appy, girl? You look as if you're doing all right too. 'Ow's the gold nob treating yer? Not so bad 'ere after all, is it?" Gracie let out a raucous laugh and threw back her head. A couple of women on the other side of the store eyed her with disapproval. When Gracie winked at them they resumed their perusal of some rolls of calico, their mouths pinched.