Distant Mountains, page 23
“Wife? You are no wife of mine.” He flapped a hand. “Take a seat.”
“I prefer to stand,” she snapped, glancing at the closed door. “Why have you done this? Remy will come after me—he’ll kill you!”
“I’m banking on it.” He sipped his drink, watching her over the glass. “You’ve grown more beautiful with the passing of time.”
Sara ignored his compliment. “Ah, I see.” She did. He had brought her here to hold her for ransom.
“I hear O’Shea has gold to throw about.”
“I’ve heard you’re in debt and have your creditors chasing you.”
“True. So he has gold, and I need cash badly. Very badly.” His long fingers toyed with the stem of the glass.
“You didn’t have to do this, you know. You have a better bargaining tool. All you have to do is give me my son, and we would willingly give you all you asked in exchange.”
His face darkened. “Do you take me for a fool? You will never see your son again.”
“No!”
“Yes. We leave for England shortly. Clive will never know who his mother is. You’re dead to him and always will be.”
Sara let out a cry of despair. “Why? Why are you doing this to me? You don’t want a boy hanging around. If you give me my son Remy will willingly give you all that you ask. He’ll give you all his gold.”
“I don’t doubt he’ll part with all his wealth in exchange for your sweet neck.” He lifted a glass from the table and came to stand near her. She recoiled from the smell of cigars, sweat, and decay about him. His brows drew together. “You must be thirsty. This heat is abominable. I must say I’m looking forward to returning home. The cold of an English winter will be refreshing after this appalling heat. Your son will enjoy England. He will grow up as an English gentleman.”
Sara bit back a retort. He was simply tormenting her. She would not rise to his bait.
Pulling out a kerchief from his pocket, he wiped his brow. “Here, drink this.” He held the glass to her lips. She clamped them together. “Come, now, let’s be civilized about this.”
“Civilized? You?” she gasped out.
“Brace!” he yelled, and the door opened instantly. The hated driver entered. Sara noticed he held a cloth in one hand and a small bottle in the other. “The lady refuses to drink. Do as I suggested.”
Before Sara had time to draw breath to scream, the cloth was jammed over her mouth. She heard Clive’s sinister laugh, then nothing more.
* * *
Her mouth felt as if it was filled with sand, and her head throbbed as if someone had bashed her with a hammer.
“Wha...what happened?” Sara mumbled as her eyes shot open.
Dear Lord, where had he brought her? It was a small room, no larger than eight feet by eight feet, and not very high. She was tied securely to a post that supported the ceiling above her. Planks of wood were nailed across the single window, and leaves littered the rough boards beneath her, along with small branches and scraps of what looked like newspaper.
A scuffling behind her made her let out a squeal. Looking over a shoulder, Sara saw a rat scamper into a hole in the wall. The stench of animal droppings and filth made her retch.
“Clive!” His name came out on a hoarse shout as she struggled against her bonds.
It was so hot sweat dripped from her face, pooled between her breasts and legs. There was no answer to her call. The squawking of parrots filled the air.
The smell of smoke that had hovered about town was worse here. Sara shivered, despite the heat. Surely he hadn’t left her to perish amid a fire. Even Ravenbrook couldn’t be that callous. Or could he? She had no idea to what lengths he would go to get Remy’s gold or to exact his revenge on Remy.
She tried to shout, but her throat became hoarse and who would hear her? He’d obviously brought her out of town. She strained her ears but could hear no sound of carriages or people. The town was always abuzz with both at any time of day or night.
Tugging at her bonds, she whimpered. They were so tight all her struggles did was chaff the skin of her wrists. “Help!” she yelled as loudly as she could manage.
“Now, now my dear, there’s no one here to help you. You might just as well save your energy.” Clive’s hated voice came from the other side of the door.
“Why have you done this?” she screamed.
“I should think that would be very obvious, you foolish female. I want the half-breed’s gold. And I’ll have it. Soon.”
“But you could have had it all, if you’d just given me my son,” she cried.
Silence, except for the birdlife and the occasional scamper across the boards.
“Clive!” The man must have lost his mind. Sara sobbed a litany of words as her head went forward on the rough post.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Sara!” Rem tossed his hat onto the hallstand. He mounted the stairs two at a time and ran along the hallway, bumping into Maisie as she rushed from the nursery.
“Oh, Mister O’Shea,” she cried, looking hot, flustered, and frightened.
“Hello William.” He picked up his son when he ran after Maisie. “What’s up, Maisie? Where’s your mistress. Is she lying down?”
He went to turn the knob on their bedroom door, but stopped short as Maisie said, “No, she isn’t in there.” Agitation rang through her tone.
“Not in there? Then where is she?”
“We couldn’t find her.”
“Couldn’t find her?’ Rem gaped at her, feeling sick. Perspiration dotted his face. “What do you mean, couldn’t find her? She can’t be far away.” Perhaps she fainted. A picture of her lying somewhere unconscious hit him, and he thrust William into Maisie’s arms as he rushed down the stairs.
“Hilda has a note,” Maisie called after him, a catch in her voice.
A note! What the bloody hell was she ranting about? He skidded to a halt by the kitchen door when he almost bumped into the woman hired as housekeeper. Hilda held a scrap of paper.
“What is Maisie going on about?” Only then did Rem look at her face. Her lower lip trembled. As she waved the piece of paper he saw that her hand shook violently. His insides clenched as tight as a wound spring.
“Oh Sir, I went out to call the mistress in for her lunch and couldn’t find her. Maisie brought young William in and said the mistress was going to follow.” She sniffed. “I was just coming in, thinking she’d gone up to wash and tidy her hair when I found this. It was on the veranda post.”
Rem snatched the paper from her fingers, his mind going numb with disbelief as he stared down at the few words written there.
“Ravenbrook,” he snarled. “He wants gold. Good God! I should have guessed he would do something like this. The scum’s taken her. I’ll kill him.”
Hilda looked ready to faint.
“Oh sir, what’ll you do?” Maisie wailed. She had followed him downstairs, William still in her arms. “He’s as trustworthy as the lowest scum.”
“How long ago did you last see her?” Rem demanded.
“It wasn’t much more than half an hour, sir, five and forty minutes at the most,” Maisie said. “You have to find her. That man’s likely to do anything to her!”
Didn’t he know it? Rem ruffled his son’s hair, grabbed his hat and slammed out of the house.
They only had stabling behind the house for two horses, Sara’s mare and his gelding. In less than a minute, Rem had his horse saddled and was heading for Ravenbrook’s house at a canter, the hooves of his gelding throwing up clouds of dust.
It was stinking hot and sweat soaked his shirt, whether from the heat or the panic filling him he wasn’t sure. Trembling with anger and fear, Rem tumbled from his horse when he reached Ravenbrook’s house. He rapped on the door and shouted until the sour-faced housekeeper opened it a crack. It only then occurred to him that he hadn’t contemplated what he would do if he couldn’t find out Sara’s whereabouts. What if Ravenbrook had already killed her?
The panic grew until he could taste his fear, could feel it coiling through him like a dark tide. “Where is he?” Rem pushed the door wide, uncaring that she stumbled back. “Where’s Ravenbrook?”
As she straightened, pulling at the sides of her mobcap, she stared at him blankly, and then shrugged. “I dunno,” she muttered.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Rem saw red before his eyes, and shook her again until her teeth rattled. A man came from one of the rooms, goggle eyed, and she said sullenly, “Ask him.”
The man turned as if to run. Rem pushed her aside and lunged for him, shouting, “Where’s Ravenbrook?” Rem grappled him for a moment then, when he had an arm twisted and secured behind the man’s back, demanded again, “Where has that bastard taken Sara?”
“I don’t know,” he squeaked. “They were carrying someone out to the carriage, that’s all I know. Brace was driving. I dunno where they went, honest.”
“I trust your word about as much as I trust your master’s,” Rem spat, shaking the man, and then forcing his arm further up his back until he squealed like a pig. “Tell me, or I’ll break your bloody arm!”
“I’m not sure.” His head went back and forth. “Honest, I don’t know, mister.”
“What makes me sure you’re lying?” Rem forced the arm up even more, and the man screamed.
“All right, don’t hurt me no more. I’ll tell you.”
“That’s more like it.” Rem loosened his hold a fraction.
“I heard him talking to Brace. The other two had scarpered.”
“Other two?” Rem twisted the arm again.
“Two blokes who brought her here,” he sniveled. “I ain’t never seen them before.”
Rem breathed in deeply to calm his anger and fears. God! What had she had to put up with? He would kill Ravenbrook for sure. “Well, tell me what they said.”
“He mentioned a place where no one would find hidden treasure.”
“And where is this place?” Rem snarled. He was capable of killing this fool at the moment.
“Ow! I ain’t sure, but I think it’s up the Parramatta Road, out of town.”
“What is? Have you been there?”
“I think it’s this hut we went to, but I dunno for sure.”
“What do you mean, you aren’t sure, you idiot!” Rem was fast running out of patience. But if he didn’t find out from this cove where Ravenbrook had likely taken Sara then he would never find her.
“Well.” He whimpered. “We went off in the carriage down the Parramatta Road and turned off in the direction of the river at the five mile post.”
“And…” Rem shook him roughly.
“Brace told me to stay with the horses while he and the master went inside this hut.”
“Right, we’re going there.”
“What do I have to go for?” he whined, crying out again when Rem shoved him, notching his arm up higher. “I don’t know any more. I’ve told you all I know, mister.”
“And I told you, I trust you little. You can lead me there. You, woman,” Rem turned to shout at the watching housekeeper, who was either drunk or stupid. “Fetch me a rope. Go on, get on with it,” he urged when she stood dumbly staring at him.
She disappeared into the kitchen, and for a moment Rem thought she wasn’t coming back. Idiot! All she had to do was run and hide. But then, to prove her stupidity, she returned, handing him a length of stout cord.
Rem snatched it and tied the man’s wrists behind his back. She smiled for the first time, and it wasn’t a pleasant smile.
“Told you you’d get yer comeuppance, didn’t I?” she sneered. Rem thanked the Lord she obviously had some score to settle with his captive.
“Yeah, and you’ll get yours,” he yelled as Rem pushed him through the doorway and down the steps. Her sniggers followed them.
What a household!
“Where’s the boy?” Rem pushed the stumbling man to the back of the house.
“With his nurse. The master told the silly chit to stay out of sight, and she’s still hiding,” he said as they entered the stable where two horses watched them.
Rem shoved the man forward until he found a length of string. After securing the idiot to a post, he quickly saddled the cob.
“I can’t ride.” His captive moved from foot to foot, looking more scared than before.
“Well, now’s the time to learn.” Rem shook him roughly. “Come on.” It took a moment to push the man awkwardly into the saddle.
Once mounted on his own horse, Rem led the other one along the street. Setting a fast pace he ignored the squeals and grunts coming from his companion as the horses cantered up Brickfield Hill. Once past the Turnpike and onto the Parramatta Road, Rem eased the horses back a trifle.
Smoke billowed in from the west and the air about them was hot enough to burn his skin. Rem tied his kerchief over the bottom half of his face.
The man began to cough harshly. “We’ll be killed,” he sniveled.
Rem grunted. “You’ll be a dead man anyway if you’re stringing me along with a lie; I’ll slit your throat and drop you in the bushes. No one will be any the wiser.”
“I ain’t lying,” he shouted hoarsely. “It’s like I told you. You turn at the five-mile post. I’m not sure anyway that this is where they took her.”
Rem was sure it was. Why would Ravenbrook come out into the bush looking at huts if not to seek a place to hide Sara away? Anyway, Rem didn’t know what else to do. He prayed they were on the right trail.
They must be nearing the five-mile post. No sooner had the thought formed than Rem saw the sign, almost indistinguishable from the overhanging shrubbery. They turned onto a narrow track, and Rem thought for a moment they had taken a wrong turn, but then saw the carriage tracks scored in the dust. Through the gloom and smoke Rem could make out a hut ahead. A vehicle stood nearby, the two horses harnessed to it anxiously stamping their feet.
“Is that Ravenbrook’s carriage?”
His captive’s head went up and down like a puppet. “Yeah, that’s Brace up there.”
The carriage driver flapped the reins and made to turn the horses.
“You mad?” Rem’s companion shouted as Rem dragged both their mounts around to block the path. His legs worked like hammers in an effort to make the horse move to the side of the track.
Brace shouted. Then Ravenbrook poked his head out of the window and held a pistol aimed at Rem’s head. His captive took the opportunity to break free, his horse kicking up clouds of dust as he made off at a gallop. Rem wasn’t sure if he was intent on making his escape from him or his master.
Ravenbrook climbed down from the carriage, and Rem dismounted. “Where’s Sara,” he demanded, shaking a fist. “If you’ve harmed her in any way I’ll kill you. I’ll probably kill you anyway!”
“It seems to me you are in no position to threaten me.” Ravenbrook laughed, looking down at the weapon he wielded. “No, I hold all the cards here.”
Of course, he was right. “What do you want?”
“I thought I made that clear. I want everything you have. All your gold, of course.”
One of the carriage horses screamed; the other pranced and fought the reins. Rem looked over a shoulder. The clouds of smoke and dust had thickened. The heat was now intense and oppressive. The squealing horse wheeled, reared, and once its hooves landed, bolted. Brace, cursing volubly, fought desperately for control as they thundered past and galloped full pelt down the track. Rem thanked the Lord he still held his reins when his own mount began to buck and snort.
Muttering a few calming words he faced Ravenbrook, who watched open mouthed as his only means of getting out of there disappeared into the growing gloom. Rem couldn’t believe it when he said, “So, back to business,” as if discussing the latest trading news.
“You are mad!” Rem laughed. “You’re stuck out here in the back of beyond, with no one to offer assistance, and you think you can bargain with me.”
Ravenbrook’s smile wasn’t nice. “Oh, yes. I hold a winning hand. I have your precious woman. I have a weapon.” He glanced down at the pistol. Then, strolling over and keeping it aimed at Rem, he tugged the reins from him. “I also have a mount. Wouldn’t you say I hold all the trumps?”
“Right.” Rem held his hands out in front of him. “So, we bargain. What do you want in exchange for Sara’s safe return to me? I’ll meet all your demands.”
“That’s more like it.” Ravenbrook wiped at his sweat-laden face with his free hand, glancing about uneasily. It was getting steadily hotter. “Word has it you have come into wealth.”
“Word does travel fast here in the colony, doesn’t it?” Rem wiped the back of his wrist across his brow.
“Always has. Now, if you want to see your precious Sara alive, you’d better go along with my demands.” Ravenbrook waved the pistol.
The maniac was right. If Rem wanted to see Sara again, he had to go along with whatever he asked. “Fair enough. What do you want me to do?”
“Sign your wealth over to me.”
“Done. Shall we shake on it?” Rem stretched out a hand, which Ravenbrook ignored. Ravenbrook laughed evilly.
The smoke clouds were growing thicker and blacker. Ravenbrook pulled a neckerchief over his face. It was so hot Rem’s skin prickled, his throat felt so parched he could barely swallow, and his eyes stung. The heat was suffocating. A howling wind had sprung up, whooshing through the branches of the gum trees, setting up a frightening din. Sara had to be in the hut. And Rem had to get her out—and soon!
Dust and smoke tickled Rem’s eyes and he rubbed them with a fist. The air was so dry each breath became laborious. Suddenly, a herd of kangaroos and wallabies broke from the scrub and thundered across the clearing where they stood. Rem used the diversion to rush at Ravenbrook.
“Not so fast.” Ravenbrook pressed the muzzle of the pistol on Rem’s chest.
“Sara’s in there, you bastard,” Rem roared. “You have my promise. You can have everything I possess—just let me set her free.”
