Distant Mountains, page 9
“But then my father would have to let us wed, don’t you see? How could he refuse if I carried your baby?”
“Easy, that’s how. Sweet heavens, woman, he barely puts up with me now. He’d have an apoplectic fit if you went to him and told him you’re having my baby. No, Sara, listen to me.” He shook her gently. “I love you more than life itself and want nothing more than to wed you one day, but we must do this my way. I have to go away. It’s for the best. I’ll come and claim you when I’m free, and all this mess is far behind us. It’ll be a struggle to convince your father even then, for he thinks me beneath you, and truth is I am.”
“Don’t talk that way. You’re a bigger man than he’ll ever be,” she cried, throwing herself against him and clinging in desperation.
“So promise you’ll wait for me?”
“Forever,” she vowed. They sealed their pledge with a long kiss fueled by longing, but tinged with a sadness she felt deep within her soul.
Chapter Nine
Sara dismounted, sighing as she put her head against the warm sweat-streaked neck of her mare. The wind was cold on her ride, but she’d welcomed its bite on her cheeks, relished its sting as she galloped heedlessly over the windswept landscape as if a demon rode at her heels.
How would she survive without the meetings with Rem? Life looked bleak already.
“Thank you, Dick,” she said when the boy took the reins and led her mare away. She lingered in the yard, staring across the paddocks as if she could see Remy over there, preparing to leave her, perhaps for years.
“So, lover boy’s leaving, eh?”
She gave a startled gasp as Luxton lumbered from the stable and moved to stand within a foot of her. Her lip curled as she tossed her head, refusing to answer him.
“Proves he don’t care much for you if he can up and leave at the first sign of trouble.” The vile man grinned evilly. How she despised him.
“What he does is no concern of yours,” Sara snapped.
“Perhaps not. But you’ll be missing his kisses and the secret meetings you had with him now, won’t you?” He licked his thick lips, his lecherous eyes glinting as they wandered over her before settling on her bosom.
“What do you know of such things?” Sara put a protective arm across her front, gripping her upper arm. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Luxton sniggered, jabbing a finger over a shoulder to where Dick was filling a bucket from the water trough outside the stable door. Sara followed his gesture and noticed Dick refused to look at her. In fact, the boy looked hunched and guilty.
“Yes, he told all.” Luxton sneered Dick’s way. “He knows where his loyalties lie.”
“More like he knows where punishment will come from if he doesn’t obey you,” Sara spat. Luxton was renowned for his bullying.
“Don’t play the high and mighty missy with me, girlie. Want me to tell your father you’ve been meeting the half-breed? Want me to tell him about the stolen kisses while Dick was ordered to keep watch and out of earshot?”
Sara began to shake. Although her father had always spoiled her as a child, never stinted on her education or clothing, and allowed her whatever fripperies she asked for, he never showed the slightest sign that a soft heart beat beneath his gruff and overbearing exterior; a heart that would forgive his daughter her indiscretions.
“You don’t frighten me,” she said softly, turning to walk away before he caught sight of her trembling lips and hands.
Luxton caught her wrist, dragging her about. He pulled her up against his bulky frame. She cringed away from the foul smell of his breath and body as he leaned in close to mutter, “Then why are you shaking like a bird caught in a trap? I scare you all right, milady. But old Luxton would be prepared to keep your secrets safe and sure like, for a small gift in exchange.” He licked his thick lips as he bent even closer.
“Gift? You must be mad! Now, take your filthy hands off me. You’re hurting me,” Sara said with as much menace as she could foster. His rheumy eyes roved over her face and then lower to settle on her breasts again; breasts that were heaving with the exertion of keeping him at a distance. Her heart thumped with fear.
“Only when you give me a nice present for helping you keep your secret safe.”
Sara gagged as his mouth swooped, landing over hers, stifling her scream. Dear God! What was she to do? Dick couldn’t possibly offer her any assistance; he was as terrified of Luxton as all the other laborers and convicts on the property and had fled. Not only was Luxton cruel, but he could be sadistically triumphant when someone suffered because of him. Sara had heard the cries coming from the convict’s compound when he doled out punishment. Her father condoned his mistreatment. She heard him say often it was no more than the scum deserved.
Luxton lifted his head and stepped back a pace, still keeping a hand firmly clamped about one of her wrists. She wiped her gloved hand over her mouth. Then she heard her father’s bawl, and Luxton released her. Sara immediately stepped well out of his range, taking out her handkerchief to scrub it across her mouth as she escaped. She would have to be on her guard near Luxton in future.
Oh, Rem, she sighed, as she hurried to her room to change out of her riding outfit. He hadn’t left yet and already her life was taking a downhill slide. How would she survive in a house filled with people who had no inclination to offer her aid or were too cowardly?
* * *
Rem felt like a thief, sneaking away in the night like this, but his shame ate at him. He couldn’t face Bella’s sorrow any more, couldn’t abide her disgust. No matter how she tried to hide it, her disappointment was like a lance in his side, catching him with unbearable pain each time he looked on her.
Tiger more or less told him, as politely as he could, that Rem would be better off going back to Sydney. And Rem had little doubt this was the best option open to him. A party from the barracks was leaving at dawn. He would join them; Tiger had arranged his passage. Now all Rem had to do was leave a place that had brought him such happiness when he and his sister re-united, and then such pain. Leaving Sara was the hardest thing ever done in his life. And he had done some gruesome things.
Propping the note on the lamp in the middle of the kitchen table, he took one last look around the homely room, and walked out purposefully.
A pale sun sent its weak rays streaking across the landscape as the wagons began to roll. This small party consisted of six soldiers and four government officials who had been over here on some sort of survey. Rem was one of four convicts, one little more than a boy, one an old man crippled with rheumatism and the other destined for the gibbet for going at an officer with a blade. His name was Rex. But everyone called him Big Ox for obvious reasons. Built like a giant tree, he towered over everyone by at least a foot. His face bore many scars and the teeth that remained in his mouth were rotten.
Rem decided straight on he would keep well out of this man’s way. Evil sparked from his eyes and the stink of decay clung to him.
The first few days and nights passed uneventfully. They tethered Big Ox at night like an animal, and during the day tied his feet to the wagon and bound his hands in front of him. One of the soldiers was given the unenviable task of accompanying him on his trips to attend to his bodily functions. Big Ox seemed to enjoy humiliating his guard and on one occasion pissed all over the soldier’s trouser legs. Another time as he was squatting, he suddenly swung round, knocked the guard off balance, and shit on his boots. From then onwards they tied him up a distance from the camp and left him to stew in his own mess.
That didn’t seem to bother Big Ox. He was little more than an animal anyway.
By the time they were well into the mountains, they had worked out a routine. Rem and the boy took care of the cooking and cleaning up afterwards, and the old man was in charge of collecting wood and keeping the fire going. Everyone was usually too tired by sundown to do much more than sit for a while chatting over a pipe before they sought their bedrolls. One soldier kept watch each night, waking another so they took four hourly shifts. Rem thought this a useless precaution. They were so far from town it was unlikely they would meet up with bushrangers.
How wrong he was.
One night when the moon sat high, Rem lay rolled into his blanket as near to the fire as he could get when he heard the scuffling of feet. The old man snored a foot away, and the officials all appeared to be sleeping. Lifting his head, Rem peered into the darkness.
Dark shapes loomed over the sleeping soldiers; then he heard Big Ox whisper, “What kep’ yer?” One of these shapes bent to untie his tethers, cursing softly, presumably at the stench surrounding him.
“What the hell?” One of the officials sat up, but a whack over the head with a rifle butt silenced him.
“Come on, Big Ox, let’s get out ‘a here afore the rest of 'em begins to stir,” one of his rescuers muttered.
The boy, who had been near Rem’s feet, jumped up, asking, “Can I come with you?”
Big Ox slapped him around the ear, knocking him sideways. “Course yer can, lad,” he rumbled.
The old man with arthritis feigned sleep. Rem guessed he had no desire to go romping around the mountains with a bunch of renegades.
Rem hoped to go unnoticed. He pulled the blanket over his face. But the man who freed Big Ox demanded, “Who’s this 'un?” bending over Rem and pulling the blanket back as he pressed a pistol to his forehead. Rem went as still as a stick, holding his breath.
“He’s going to Sydney to be reassigned. Leave 'im be,” Big Ox ordered, preparing for flight.
“Naa, let’s take 'im along with us.” He stared hard at Rem, who regretted he hadn’t feigned sleep like the old man.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Rem whispered into the man’s face.
“What are yer, mad? What yer wanna stay with this lot for?” He waved the pistol about, and the spittle dried in Rem’s mouth. Instinctively he knew this man would kill him in cold blood and not turn a hair. If Big Ox had the stink of decay about him, this one reeked of death and menace.
“Who goes there?” one of the soldiers called. Every one of the bush gang went still. Big Ox picked up a stone and aimed it at the head of the soldier. His cry of pain and the thump as he keeled over woke everyone else.
Pandemonium broke out as the officials and soldiers rose hastily, some wielding weapons, some empty-handed as they jostled each other in their haste to retrieve weapons left idly by their sides.
“Let’s get out ‘a here,” Big Ox yelled as someone fired at them, the bullet singing past Rem’s ear before hitting a tree. Someone groaned and another yelped as the soldiers began firing indiscriminately.
The stink of gunpowder filled his nostrils as Rem suddenly found himself held tightly against Big Ox’s chest in a bear hold. “Let me go, for God’s sake,” he shouted, pushing ineffectually at the great arms.
“Not bloody likely,” the big man growled. By now he’d backed away, using Rem for a shield as he stumbled and groped his way through the trees, surrounded by his rescuers. Rem fought him every inch of the way, but it was like a cat fighting a lion. Big Ox’s fists were the size of mutton legs, and he was intent on keeping Rem in his embrace until they were well out of the range of the bullets whizzing through the trees. To his dying day Rem would wonder how he didn’t take one of those stray bullets in the chest. He tasted blood and realized he had bitten into his lip.
Rem had no idea what direction they took as they stumbled and half-ran, over rocks and into gullies. Big Ox never once loosened his hold, until Rem felt as if he was being strangled by a giant boa constrictor he read about once, capable of crushing a mule.
“This way,” someone hissed. After careening and lurching past trees and over fallen branches they came to a small clearing where horses stood tethered. At a rough count Rem thought there were fifteen. Big Ox finally let him go, and Rem stumbled backward, catching his breath as he bent over, hands on knees. He thought of running, but forsook that idea when everyone milled about him. They would have no reason to spare his life; he meant nothing to them now.
“Who’s that?” a strange voice demanded.
The ugliest person Rem had ever encountered confronted him. The man’s face would instil fear in the hardiest of souls, would give a maiden nightmares. The scars running across his face were raised, as if they had been patched by an unwieldy hand—which they probably had. It was unlikely this renegade would seek practiced medical assistance. A two-inch square of vivid red skin on his right cheek looked as if it had been burned at some stage. As he neared, Rem forced himself not to cringe with repulsion.
Prodding Rem with his whip the man demanded again, “Who the bloody hell have we here? And what did you fetch that kid for? You gone mad? Kill 'im.”
Rem shuddered.
Big Ox slapped Ugly on the shoulder, saying in a voice that proved he wasn’t intimidated by this ugly brute; doubtless the gang’s boss, “He’s all right, Craddock.” He let out a roar of laughter. “He made a good shield. And the boy wanted to ride along with us. He’s a good 'un.”
Rem thought of making a run for it. He had little doubt this Craddock intended to kill him. Might as well make a bid for freedom; what had he to lose? Just his life, which had no value to this crowd.
Big Ox foiled any attempt at escape by latching onto his arm. As he pushed Rem before him, they all began to mount up. The others seemed uninterested in what was going on.
“Let me go,” Rem pleaded as the big man took hold of the reins of a giant roan.
“Listen, kid, Craddock would shoot you in a flash. Do you wanna die, eh?” When Rem shook his head, he grinned evilly. “Didn’t think so. He won’t let you go now you’ve seen him; don’t you see? You could tell the scum who rescued old Ox. Craddock likes to see men die, so don’t think on doing anything foolish.” He spat near Rem’s boots. “No, better make the best of it and ride along with us. You might decide you like being part of our gang. The ladies all swoon over tales of us bushrangers.” His laughter rang through the trees, and the others all chuckled. Rem felt goose bumps rise all over him. He had no choice; he was likely a dead man whatever road he chose.
“You double up with 'im,” Craddock told one of the younger men, and Big Ox roughly pushed Rem to that horse and helped him mount. The boy was hauled up in front of one of the others.
They rode silently for about two hours, deeper into the forested mountains. Craddock led. It was apparent he knew these mountains as well as most men knew their back yards.
When they finally stopped and dismounted, still silent, they led their mounts in single file through a tangle of shrubs into a clearing beneath an overhang of rock. Two of the men took the horses to a rough enclosure made of saplings and rope and unsaddled them, a chore done swiftly. Big Ox gestured for Rem to follow him, and they entered a large cave in the rock face. One of the men put a spark to a fire a few feet inside the opening. It soon began to blaze.
“Got any rum?” Big Ox asked, looking about as if he expected it to jump up at him. “I’m gasping for a swig.” He rubbed his mighty paws together and then motioned for Rem to sit.
Rem sat in the dust, his knees bent. God, he’d never get out of this alive, he knew it.
Someone produced a flagon, and Big Ox proceeded to guzzle. “Jesus, I thought you was never gonna make it,” he grumbled when Craddock entered the cave and sat on his haunches near Rem.
“I said to give us a day or two in the note I sent, didn’t I?” Craddock took out a pouch of tobacco and began to fill a pipe languidly, while watching Rem thoughtfully. “So, what’s your sentence?”
Rem shrugged. “Seven.”
Craddock grunted. “Seven, eh? What did you do? Steal a lady’s purse?”
Big Ox guffawed. “Leave the bloke alone.”
Craddock gave him a look that would terrify most men. “We don’t have no one here we don’t know about, Big Ox. Let him tell us a thing or two about himself.” He nodded Rem’s way.
“I was transported in ’24.” Rem shrugged. “Caught stealing, nothing much. Did a stretch in Sydney Town, and was about to be sent north to Newcastle when I was sent over to Bathurst instead.” Rem wasn’t about to disclose how Tiger rescued him from the treadmill and took him over.
“What’s your tag?”
“O’Shea.”
“Right, O’Shea, pull your weight, keep out of my way, and do as you’re told, and you’ll live. See this ugly mug.” He jabbed a finger at his disfigured face. Rem nodded. “The bloke who did this to me died an 'orrible death, didn’t he, Big Ox?” He lit his pipe with a twig from the fire and took a few drags.
Big Ox roared with laughter as he slapped a knee and belched. “Depends if you reckon being left dangling head-down over a cliff, to wait for the rising tide with a hole in yer gut, 'orrible enough for what he did, Craddock.”
“No, I don’t think it was. Matter of fact I should have cut his balls off too.” He ruminated for a bit, adding, “Yeah, should have gutted him as well.”
Rem winced. This man might be exaggerating to put fear into him, but something told Rem his heart was as rotten and ugly as his features.
The man he had shared a horse with handed Rem a filthy scrap of blanket. “Get some shuteye.” He rolled himself in it as best he could and pretended to sleep.
There were twelve men in the gang. Adding Big Ox, the boy they tagged Scab because of his marked face, and Rem, the count was now fifteen. Rem hadn’t a doubt Craddock would drop him in a flash if he made any attempt to flee. How the bloody hell had he gotten himself into this mess? He trembled and sweated, despite the cold. To push it from his mind, he pictured Sara. How was she faring without him? No doubt by now her father had heard Rem had gone and was gloating.
All the gang settled down eventually. Most snored abominably, the sounds reverberating off the den walls. Rem tried to work out a plan, failing miserably. Big Ox could break him in two with his bare hands. Craddock would take delight in doing him in, in the worst possible way. Most of the others looked as if they would relish killing him. The authorities would no doubt accuse him of going with the bushrangers voluntarily, and he had no idea how to get back to Bathurst even if he did manage to escape.
