The Cedar Cutter (43 page)

‘And what will you do with Dankworth?'

‘I'll sort him out. Cutter's justice. Trust me. You get the hell out of here. I'll catch up with you when I know he's sorted. Besides, the lad'll be happier going with you.'

‘No chance. I've waited too long for this.' Dreamed of it, planned it. The way his hands would slip around the bastard's throat and his eyes'd pop as he squeezed the very life out of him. For Liam, for Brigid and now for Roisin and Ruan.

‘Who are you doing this for—yourself or Roisin and the boy?'

‘For me own wife and child and the future.'

‘And what good is it going to do Roisin?'

‘The bastard deserves to pay.' What in the name of God was the matter with Slinger? ‘Get off your high horse. He's mine.'

‘Nah. You grab the boy and get him back to his mam. I'll sort the rest. Cutter's justice. I told you.'

‘Slinger, I …'

‘There he is.' Slinger pointed to the alley running from the stable yard behind the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle to the wharf and took off.

Carrick followed and he picked the moment Ruan spotted him. His eyes lit up like beacons. ‘Carrick!'

Dankworth lifted his head and they locked eyes. In that second the little blighter broke loose and threw himself into Slinger's arms.

Carrick had waited for this moment for too long; it had sustained him through sentencing, transportation, the filthy coalmines and seven years of convict hell. No matter what Slinger wanted. He bunched his fist and let fly.

The smacking thud of flesh on flesh and the crunch of bone set his blood roaring. ‘That one's for Brigid and this,' he grasped Dankworth's jacket and pulled him close, lifted his knee and slammed it up, ‘is for Roisin.'

The air whistled out between Dankworth's lips, his pale eyes glazed and his legs gave way.

‘Carrick!' Slinger's strident tone permeated the red haze. ‘The lad needs you.'

Slinger lobbed Ruan over Dankworth's crumpled body. Carrick snatched him up. Ruan's arms clasped his neck and his legs twined around his waist.

‘I haven't finished with him yet. Hold tight.' He clutched Ruan, swung his foot back and landed a hefty kick in Dankworth's kidneys.

‘Get the hell out of here.' Slinger dropped to his knees, cradling Dankworth's head in his lap. ‘Go.'

Carrick turned and bolted. What he'd not give to stay and finish the bastard—kill the sod, but the warm, live body clamped to him was more important. Not a ghost, not the past, but his living, breathing lad.

Ever true to his word, Slinger had arranged fresh horses and they were saddled and waiting. Carrick set Ruan down, just for a moment, and leapt into the saddle. The ostler handed the lad up and before he had a chance to settle, belted the horse's rump.

‘Good onya, Carrick.'

With Ruan clasped tightly in front of him, he dug his heels in and took off down the street, scattering the crowds gathered in the market place. It wasn't until they'd cleared the outskirts of the town that he slowed and turned to look behind him.

‘Where's Slinger?' Ruan asked, leaning back against him.

‘He'll be along soon. Let's get you home to your mam.'

Roisin paced the footpath, her head splitting, her eyes so swollen from weeping she could hardly see straight. There was no sign of life, even the cutters' camp down by the brook was quiet. They'd searched every inch of the area until it was too dark to see the nose in front of their face and only then called it quits. Ruan couldn't have escaped their search, he simply wasn't there.

She knew, as only a mother could, that Dankworth had him and all she could do was pin her hopes on Carrick and Slinger. For the first time in her life she hoped Ruan was with Dankworth, because then they might find him. At least now, thanks to Lady Alice, Dankworth's reasons were clear. It made sense for her to stay at home, in case, just in case Ruan somehow managed to find his way back.

The inactivity sapped her strength, sending her mind into a useless, flat spin. She understood the sense of it, yet how could she do nothing when Ruan, her baby, was …

The memory of Dankworth's face when he'd seen Ruan still turned her blood cold. The way he'd run his hand over her boy's hair, the avaricious look on his face. She'd imagined he had some strange desire for Ruan, hadn't realised then it was greed.

‘Roisin. Roisin.' Jane's voice wafted through the gathering twilight and she turned, her heart skipping a beat. Fired with a spurt of unexpected energy, she flew back down the path.

‘Are they back?'

Jane shook her head. ‘No, nothing. You must come inside and have something to eat. You have to keep your strength up.'

She shook her head. Jane meant well, but her stomach roiled at the mere mention of food.

‘Tea, then. At least have some tea.'

‘If I drink any more tea I'll drown.' She attempted a smile and failed miserably.

‘Come along. I've stoked the fire.' Jane chaffed her hands. ‘You're freezing. It's not going to help anyone if you take a turn.'

The fire in the kitchen roared and when the heat permeated Roisin's frozen bones, she took the mug of tea Jane offered.

‘I'm anxious Carrick will do something stupid and get into trouble again. He's likely to kill Dankworth and then he'll be back behind bars, and no amount of treasures from Old Pella will save him.'

‘You're making problems where there are none. Slinger's with him. They'll get Ruan back.'

‘Slinger! He's more trouble than he's worth.' Her lips snapped shut. Her words sounded harsh, but she had no patience for niceties.

‘Slinger won't let any harm come to Carrick. He owes him.'

‘Owes him? What for?' Most times Slinger caused more problems than he solved. She forced herself onto her feet. Her sense of justice had gone out of the window. He'd taken her to the Winchesters', done the very best for her. There must be some good in the man if Jane was standing up for him.

‘Carrick saved his life years ago in the mines and ended up doing a spell in solitary for him. That's how they became friends.'

Why didn't she know this? ‘Carrick hasn't told me much about his life. He didn't even tell me the name of the man in Ireland. If he'd done that, told me it was Dankworth, none of this would have happened.'

‘Oh, tush. Stop now. You can't keep searching for someone to blame.'

‘I feel so helpless. I need to do something instead of sitting here waiting. It's the waiting that's killing me. I've made so many mistakes.'

‘You've done the best you could for Ruan and look …' Jane waved her hand around. ‘Look at this house and the business you've built up.'

‘None of it will be worth anything if I lose Ruan.'

‘You are not going to lose Ruan. Carrick and Slinger will find him. I know it.'

How she wished she could be so certain. She drew in a few steadying breaths. Jane was right, this hopeless complaining wouldn't help anyone. ‘I'm sorry, Jane. You must be anxious. Worried for Slinger.'

The pretty pink blush rose to Jane's face again, the same as it always did when anyone mentioned Slinger's name. ‘I am, though I know he'll be back. He made me a promise and I intend to make sure he keeps it.'

‘He did, did he?'

‘Aye, he did. He's giving away the cutting. He wants us to settle here in Wollombi so I can still help you.'

Roisin couldn't even think beyond this moment, never mind the future. ‘That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you.' She took Jane's hand and squeezed it tight. It was the best she could do; she couldn't imagine being happy again.

‘The cutters believe in their own justice. Slinger and Carrick will sort it all out.'

That's what concerned her. ‘Having seen Mr Winchester release Carrick so quickly, I think I'd rather place my faith in the law.'

‘Lot of good that would do, waiting for the law to catch up with Dankworth.'

‘Winchester did the right thing. He took notice of the stopper, said he'd talk to the old man if he can find him. Where is Old Pella? I don't remember seeing him yesterday.'

‘He'll be around somewhere.'

‘He better be if Winchester wants to talk to him.'

The back door swung open and Roisin leapt to her feet, her heart pounding and her palms sweaty.

The old man unravelled his possum cloak and dropped it on the floor, stretching out his gnarled hands towards the fire.

‘Winchester man came down to the brook to see Old Pella. Told him my story. He let Carrick go and find the boy. He's coming this way.'

Roisin frowned at Jane and lifted her shoulders. ‘Carrick. He's coming this way?' Her heart picked up a beat, throbbing deep in her chest.

‘Your treasure back soon.'

‘You want some tea, Old Pella?' Jane laced a mug with sugar and pushed it across the table.

‘Not today. Old Pella gotta go find Billy Boy.' He snatched a piece of yesterday's damper from the table and shuffled out, taking his stinking possum cloak with him.

‘I hope he's right.' The first ray of real hope began to burn deep inside Roisin. ‘I thought for a while I was going mad. After Dankworth first turned up I could feel someone watching. I thought maybe it was Old Pella, or that I was seeing shadows when there were none. Now I know it was Dankworth. He was watching. Watching Ruan, and me, and watching Carrick. Carrick posed a threat to Dankworth's plans and he decided the easiest thing would be to get rid of him.'

‘Why not just shoot him, then? He shot his overseer.'

‘Because then he'd run the risk of being accused. This way Carrick was the scapegoat. He'd got away with it in Ireland and he thought he'd do the same again. The man's mad. He thinks he can do whatever he likes. I feel so sorry for Lady Alice. She was so brave, going against him. It was almost as though she was relieved to get it off her chest. Her success at the ball restored her confidence so much. I can't imagine what her life must have been like with Dankworth.'

Jane shivered and reached her hands out to the fire. ‘I don't like to think of being watched. And I don't like to think of any woman with a man who throws his weight around. I had enough of that with Mick. Let's forget about the past and remember what Old Pella said. Carrick and Slinger are getting back with Ruan.'

‘You're right, and I might be hungry.' Roisin reached across the table and broke a hunk of damper from the little Old Pella had left and dunked it in her tea.

‘Shall I make some more?'

‘No, Jane you've done enough. More than enough, I don't know what I'd do without you.'

‘I'm going to make some soup. They'll be hungry when they get home.'

If. She couldn't get past the if. And she couldn't stay inside the house. A giant fist had a squeezing grip on her heart. She picked up the chair. ‘I'm going to sit outside.' Sit at the end of the alley, where she could see the road.