"Now, you don't want to be sent up for murder, do you?" Isabella asked in a shaky voice, thinking to distract him long enough to allow Johnny time to get near.
But Jones must have ears like a cat for he sensed Johnny coming up behind him and with a speed that amazed Isabella leapt at her, clamping a hand around her wrist as he knocked her pistol to the ground, his own weapon now aimed at Tim's head.
Turning with more agility than she would have thought him capable of, he held her before him as a shield, and facing Johnny shouted, "Now, don't be daft, man, I just want a word with the woman here. Put the shovel down. You don't want to see the lady harmed, do you?" Bending, he pushed her gun down his belt while he held his own weapon pointed straight at Tim's head. For a moment she debated whether it was worth the risk of trying to disarm him. But then thought better of it. The pistol could go off and any one of them would be shot. Fear for her family made her hold back. Perhaps once he took her away from the campsite, which no doubt he would, she could find a way to get the weapon from him.
Filled with sickening fear she squirmed away from his rum-laden breath. Shaking her head at Johnny she told him with her eyes to keep his distance.
Why did she have to get herself involved with men like this? Was she to be plagued by his sort all her life?
"Let me go, Jones," she ordered, trying to sound assured, when inside she was quaking. "What do you hope to gain? Tiger will kill you if you harm me." She wasn't too sure of that, but his face twisted with what looked like fear, before he grinned evilly.
"Don't matter none. By then it will be too late. Keep away," he warned, when Johnny moved nearer, still wielding the shovel. "I'll use this on you, then her. After I've got what I came for." He waved the pistol about. Isabella groaned.
Johnny looked appealingly at Isabella before letting the shovel drop to his side. "What you hope to gain by this foolishness?" he asked.
"You must be mad—or blind. I think every man in our party wanted what I'm gonna get from this little lady." He brandished the pistol when Johnny and Agnes both moved towards him.
Annie began to cry and Isabella shot her a worried glance. "Pick the brat up," Jones ordered Agnes, pointing the weapon at Isabella's belly. "And you, kid, get over there with her," he shouted as Tim raised a hand with the clear intention of hitting him.
Isabella screamed, "No, Tim!"
The dog growled, its hackles rising. "And keep a hold of that bloody animal," Jones ordered.
"Mama?" Tim cried.
Isabella nodded, trying to smile as she said, as evenly as she could, "Do as he says, Tim, take the dog and go over there with Agnes and our Annie. Mama will be fine."
"Sensible lady." Jones moved slowly backwards, the pistol held at her throat. "We'll be off, now. One false move and you get it in the gut. Understand, Johnny boy? I've got nothing to lose, have I?"
Johnny nodded, but Isabella feared he would do something silly and get himself injured. "Johnny, just do as he says." She sent him a pleading look and he nodded again.
Jones began to drag Isabella slowly towards a stand of small trees about a hundred yards from where they'd pitched the tents and built the fire. Isabella shook her head at Johnny when he bent to pick up a piece of wood.
"Now that would be daft, wouldn't it?" Jones said, also seeing what he intended. "Just you stay here like a good lad and don't follow us. I'll have the pistol handy, so I'll use it on the little lady here, have no doubt, if you interfere. You wouldn't want to see her pretty face all messed up would you?"
"Mama," Tim screamed again as they edged nearer the trees.
Isabella's mind worked extra fast. Jones could not use the weapon and do what he intended with her at one and the same time, so then she would have her chance.
"You're a dead man, Jones, why not give up now," she insisted, pressing her heels into the grass.
"In that case I may as well enjoy my last moments on this earth." His chuckle made her hair stand on end. He was right, what had he to lose?
The pistol pressed into her side and Isabella swallowed a groan of fear. What was she to do?
* * *
Tiger rode as if the devil was at his heels. All thought of punishing Bella for leaving had fled. All he could think of was what Jones would do to her given the chance. God, the foolish woman had set off with just Johnny and the silly chit Agnes. What did she expect to achieve?
He knew the answer to that. She wished to make him pay. To prove to him she was capable of living without him. Well, that may be so, but absence had shown him he could not live without her. She and the children were coming back with him, where they belonged.
He saw the tents at the same time as he caught sight of two people heading towards a stand of trees some short distance from the camp. Jones—and he had Bella. Urging Satan on he raced headlong for the tents, dropping to his feet before his horse came to a standstill.
"Thank the Lord." Johnny grasped his shirtsleeve and shook it. "Jones has a pistol, boss, I couldn't do a thing to help the missus. He's heading for the trees."
"I know, I saw them. Tim, are you all right?" Tiger pulled his son into his arms, and held him tight for a moment.
"I'm good, Tiger, but that nasty man has Mama, and our Annie keeps crying and Agnes don't know what to do." Tim wiped a fist across his nose, leaving a streak of grime behind.
Tiger put him down and turned to Agnes. "Quiet, girl," he commanded, for Agnes's sniveling made Annie cry more. "Stay down, in case Jones fires at me. All right?"
With a nod at Johnny he set off at a run towards the trees where Jones and Bella were now hidden. Crouching low he slowed as he neared.
"Jones! What do you think to gain by this madness? Give yourself up now before this gets out of hand," he yelled, pressing himself against the silvery bark of a eucalyptus.
"Sod off. Bastard English scum." The Welshman mumbled a string of vile oaths.
"Get your drunken arse out of there now man, and let's settle this matter," Tiger shouted. "Give up the weapon, you bloody fool. Then perhaps I might think about showing some lenience."
"Piss off!" Jones shouted back. "I don't want your sodding len . . .lin . . . ence." His slurred voice proclaimed his drunken state.
"That's up to you, man. Either way, if you don't let the mistress go and come out now you'll end up before the magistrate."
"You'll have to kill me first. What do you take me for, a bloody idiot?" Jones cackled and Tiger wiped at the sweat beading his forehead. At least while he kept the man talking he could do little with Bella.
"Tiger." Bella’s cry was muffled. Jones must have pressed a hand over her mouth.
"Bella? Has he harmed you? Are you all right?" Tiger gripped the pistol he’d taken from his belt. If he could only get Jones to release her he might be able to take a shot at him.
"Let her go, Jones, now, and you'll get off light, man."
Ye gods. He hated feeling so helpless.
A few moments went by, then the Welshman shouted, "It'd be easy for you to kill me, wouldn't it eh, Tiger bloody Carst . . . tairs? You did away with poor old Dougal, didn't you? Poor old Dougal." He mumbled some more. "Got rid of the silly bugger, nice and neat, 'cos you lusted after this lady here. We all knew you never intended to search for his body, didn't we?"
"That's not true." Tiger sucked in a deep calming breath as he peered around the tree. When he caught sight of a flash of white about twenty yards away he quickly dashed to another tree. "It was an accident and everyone knows I would have gone down to bring the body up." All his anguish and self-loathing returned. He still had nightmares where he saw Dougal's body being ripped apart by wild boars. Often he awoke sweating with Dougal's screams still ringing in his ears.
No one mentioned Dougal's death after that dreadful day on the Big Hill and he presumed, hoped, it was forgotten. Did anyone still hold him responsible?
"Think we're stupid?" Jones bawled. "There's not a man in camp who don't lust after the missus. Me along with 'em. And n
ow I have her. And there isn't a bloody thing you can do about it."
Tiger's fists clenched so tightly they ached. He knew that was true, but the others made do with Lily, knowing Tiger would kill them if they so much as set one finger on Bella. Tear them limb from limb in fact. He was ready to rip Jones apart right now.
Silently he made his way in a semicircle until he stood close enough to see Isabella's pale face. Jones had an arm locked about her middle. He looked about, agitated, the pistol raised, ready to fire.
Bella's hair was a wild halo about her face. Tiger swallowed. He had to get her away from Jones, and there was only one way to do that.
"Jones," he yelled, throwing himself at them. He barely had time to see the look of astonishment on Jones' face and the anguish flash across Bella's before Jones fired. "Drop, Bella," he shouted before he fell, rolling to one side. A sharp pain in his shoulder made him wince but he ignored it and fired at Jones in the second after she broke away.
For a moment Jones stood as if turned to stone, then, a look of utter disbelief on his face, crumpled slowly to the ground.
"Tiger." Isabella stumbled across the intervening space and fell onto her knees at Tiger's side. Sweet heaven, there was blood on his shirt. Jones had killed him. "Please, no, dear God no," she moaned, touching the back of his head as he lay still. "Tiger, get up. You can't be dead."
But he was, she knew it. His shirt grew redder with his blood.
"I'm fine, 'tis but a scratch," he mumbled.
Isabella stared down at the still form. "Tiger?" She put a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Please tell me you're all right."
"I'm all right." With a soft groan he turned, a hand to his head as he gazed up at her. "As I said, 'tis but a scratch." Groaning again, he came into a sitting position, then looked over his shoulder. "Has he moved?" he asked.
"I don't know. I was looking at you, but I haven't heard anything out of him. Hopefully he's dead."
"Bloodthirsty wench—though I don't suppose I can blame you. Still and all, you brought it on yourself. What possessed you to go off on your own like that, woman?"
"I wasn't alone," she snapped back. "I had Johnny and Agnes with me. We were getting along very well too. Until that idiot chose to come and mess everything up."
"Very well? My God, woman, he could have killed you." Tiger stood, a hand to the red stain on his shirt sleeve.
Isabella instinctively put a hand out to assist him as she got up. She drew it back sharply when he scowled at her.
Tiger went and knelt at Jones' side. He put a finger to the pulse-point in his neck. "He's dead," he stated flatly. He sighed heavily. "I'll have to take his body back to the barracks. I expect we'll all have to tell our story to the magistrate."
"Let me tend your wound," Isabella said softly, standing at his side.
Tiger grimaced. The wound stung like hell. Still, it could have been a lot worse. Jones might have caught him through the heart instead of the other way around.
Tiger walked towards her campsite, knowing she trailed him. Tim came at a run when he saw Jones wasn't with them.
"Tiger, Mama," he shouted, frowning when he saw the blood on Tiger's shirt. "Did he shoot you?" His lips began to tremble as Johnny and Agnes, carrying Annie, also came near.
"'Tis nothing."
"Here, sit down." Isabella pushed him onto the log. "Agnes, fetch clean rags." Biting her lip Bella watched as Tiger undid his shirt and peeled it off. She gasped, but he shook his head.
"It looks worse than it is, don't fuss," he said.
"We need warm water, Agnes. First we'll bathe it. We need spirit to cleanse the wound." She looked about as Agnes put the baby into her cradle and went into the tent. "I have none, Tiger."
"I'll see the barracks doctor when I take Jones's body across, don't fret. Just clean it up for now, and bind it. I'll have to leave straight away."
Agnes set the bowl of heated water down at Isabella's side. As she tended the wound Tiger said quietly, "I can't believe he brought up the subject of Dougal's death. Do you suppose the men agree with him?" The baby began to cry. "Go see to Annie, Agnes. And take Tim with you." When the girl had taken Tim out of hearing, he said, "He could be right."
"Don't be daft, Tiger"
He shook his head, wincing when she began to bind the wound, which, as he'd said, was just a scratch. "I still have bad dreams you know, Bella. I should have gone over to make sure he was dead."
"I wouldn't have let you, Tiger. Damn that fool Jones."
Tiger looked at her silently, then said, "That's right, isn't it? You held me back. I remember you told me that if I died you wouldn't want to live. Well, let me tell you, sweetheart, I feel the same about you. Come back to me, Bella. I can't live without you. And you know you don't want to live without me."
"I can live without you, Tiger. I've proved it. We're doing nicely here, Tim and I. And with Johnny's help we've got a vegetable garden going. I had a visit from our nearest neighbors. Mrs. Hawkins said I only have to ask for anything I need."
"Enough." Tiger sliced a hand through the air. "No one but me will provide you and our children with anything you need. Your place is by my side. We belong together. All right, I'll admit you can manage on your own, but I can't manage without you. Are you going to make me beg?"
"Beg? No, Tiger, I have no desire to see you grovel. It's just that I'm scared, don't you see."
"I understand, although you probably doubt that." His eyes roved over her face, filled with tenderness. "I know I behaved like a selfish and blind pig at times, but I want to make it up to you."
"'Tis best if we just forget the past now. I made a few mistakes of my own, I admit, but yours far outweighed mine." Isabella finished the bandage and took a step back.
Tiger grasped her hand. "Does that mean you won't come back and give me a chance?" he asked, a wealth of feeling in the question.
"Did you fetch me anything back from Sydney, Tiger?" Tim interrupted to ask impatiently.
Tiger drew his eyes from hers to look down at their son. With a hand on Tim's head he said, "Yes, I brought you something back, son. Books and boots and lots of other things. And I brought something for your mother too. A few things in fact."
"For me?" Isabella eyed him warily. "I don't expect gifts from you." He was staring at her with a savage kind of hunger that made her shiver with awareness.
One of his hands came up and he tapped her on the nose with a finger, then reaching into the hip pocket of his breeches brought out a small velvet purse.
Isabella frowned as he placed it in her palm.
"Open it."
She pulled on the drawstring around the neck, and fished about inside with her fingers as he said softly, "It dawned on me I've never actually given you a gift, Bella. Oh, I've fed and clothed you, but I wanted to get you something special. This jewelry is merely a token signifying the love I hold for you, will always have in my heart."
"Love?" Isabella whispered as she pulled out a necklace.
"Aye. Love, Bella."
Her other hand went to her throat and she made a small exclamation of surprise. The necklace was made of diamonds with a large pearl dropping from the center front. The last time she'd seen anything so beautiful and obviously expensive was around the plump throat of the wife of one of the gentry. "It's beautiful."
Her eyes misted as she gazed first at him, then at the expensive piece of jewelry.
"Here, let me put it on."
He turned her about, kissing her nape as he secured the clasp, lingering over the task. Isabella felt a tremor in his fingers, one that matched hers.
"And where would I have the occasion to wear it? I can hardly see myself parading around here decked out in such splendid jewels."
"Before long there'll be many free settlers coming across to start a new life here alongside us, Bella. You'll have many times to wear it if you're beside me as my wife. What do you say eh? Don't refuse me, love. We've wasted too many good years. Or perhaps I should s
ay I've wasted them. Just one more thing." Delving into the small pocket beneath his waistband he brought out a ring matching the necklace for brilliance, its huge center diamond sparkling as he held it between a finger and thumb. "The necklace is for giving me Tim. And this is for our daughter Annie."
Reaching for her left hand he pushed it onto her third finger then pressed his mouth to her knuckle.
Isabella blinked as tears prickled at the back of her eyes. She moved her hand from side to side, admiring the ring while touching the necklace. Her lips trembled while her heart felt ready to burst at the depth of her love for him; a love she knew would never fade. Shaking her head, she whispered in a voice husky with unshed tears, "I don't know what to say, Tiger."
"Then say naught, my love." He touched his mouth to her knuckle again. "Except that you'll come back to me and we'll be wed as soon as possible." He turned to signal to Johnny who stood a short distance away, beside Agnes who cradled Annie in her arms. Both grinned widely. "Help your mistress to pack up camp, Johnny. I'll expect you back by nightfall."
"Oh, you will eh? I haven't agreed yet. You think to sway me with a fancy bauble or two, do you?" Isabella tried to give him a look of scorn, but it went awry.
"I'll send men back to get Jones' body. And I'll leave you to make up your mind, Mistress Isabella. A life alone out here struggling to get by. Or a life alongside me. I have to go now." He strode to Satan, mounted and rode away without a backward glance.
"Arrogant Englishman." Isabella muttered, taking Annie from Agnes' arms.
Chapter Thirty Four
Isabella straightened her bonnet. He'd won again. Still and all she had made her break. If he didn't keep to his word she would leave him again. And for good. Every person deserved at least one more chance to prove themselves.
Who was she trying to deceive? To stay away from Tiger was like trying to live without breathing. She saw him now standing beside one of the huts.
"Who's that man and lady with Tiger?" Tim asked, voicing her own question.
"I don't know . . . but I think it's . . . yes Tim, it's Gracie. The lady is Gracie." Standing, and feeling as excited as a child, she waved. "Gracie!"
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