The Convict and the Cattleman (25 page)

Martha faced him, brows drawn together. “I haven’t seen her. Olivia hasn’t made a peep.”

“She must be upstairs then.”

He’d delayed the conversation they needed to have. Put off searching her eyes for the truth. He wanted to trust her, but something about her claim that she’d chased a dog the day of the races didn’t set right.

He took the stairs two at a time. Since the guests departed, he’d struggled to catch up with the chores he’d ignored in favor of entertaining. At the end of the long days, he was too tired to deal with wedding plans. Imagining where Charity’s earrings were weighed on him too. No matter what his initials thoughts were, he couldn’t believe Bridgit had them. It meant her betrayal and consequential imprisonment. The idea of leaving her at Parramatta didn’t set well with him. She was too bright and fit too well with his life to leave her at the Factory.

After replacing his wet clothes with dry, he adjusted his braces. His eyes fell on the table and he squinted. It looked odd. Different than it had when he left. As though something was out of place or missing.

His pocket watch. A gift from his father on his twentieth birthday. He’d left it on the table the night of the dance. He pulled open the drawer, searching the inside, but as usual, it only contained crisp shirts.

“Bridgit?”

Seconds ticked by, unmarked by his watch, without a response. He strode out of the room and across the hall. The room was empty, the bed neatly made, vanity tidy. The nursery door was ajar. He pushed it open and a cursory glance revealed only Olivia. She slept on her back, downy curls framing her face.

The last room left on the upper floor was the linen closet and he knew she wouldn’t hide there. He went to the bedroom, and out of curiosity opened Charlotte’s jewelry box. Except for a few fake settings, the jewelry was gone. Rings, earrings, necklaces and bracelets. Hot anger gripped his insides.

“Martha!” he bellowed, racing downstairs.

“What? You’ve nearly given me heart failure,” she said.

“When did you last see her? What was she doing?”

“She fetched me some jars from the cellar. When she came back she said she was going out to...well, I don’t recall. I assumed she joined Farjana with harvesting the garden. Why?”

“She’s gone.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. “Gone?”

His hand raked through his hair. Did he dare tell her anything was missing? “She’s not in the house. It’s storming and the men are exhausted. Bloody hell.”

Leaving the kitchen, he searched the dining room. The flatware remained on the shelf, but two silver candelabras were missing. She carried a small fortune in jewels; what would she need with candleholders? Swearing rapidly, he examined the parlor. At first it appeared untouched, but beneath the chair where she often sat, a frame lay torn apart. The frame that at one time held Grandfather Silas’s war medals.

Would she pawn the medals, making up some sad story for a broker about needing money? His hands clenched. He’d trusted her. With his niece, with his sister’s things, his mother’s ring and worst of all, his heart.

22

Phil’s body hit the bunkhouse wall with a solid thud. Air whooshed out of his lungs, but it didn’t stop the angry expression from twisting his face. Jonah raised his fists. Phil didn’t try to defend himself.

“I saw you talking together at the dance. You must know something.”

Phil gripped his side, sucked in a deep breath and glowered. “It was a week ago! I asked her about Mrs. Burbank. I wanted her to help me talk to the lady.”

“You’re lying.”

“We’ve been mates a long time, you and I. You’re dangerously close to finding another jackaroo if you keep this up,” Phil warned, wiping blood off his split lip.

The other jackaroos stood back, looking tense. Rupert was the only one brave enough to stand at Jonah’s side.

“You think I should stand aside and let her get away with stealing my things? Olivia’s things?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Jonah. Bridgit loves you. She’d never take anything from you and run.”

He almost told Phil to shut up. If he learned the jackaroo wasn’t truthful, he’d find out firsthand how bad Van Diemen’s Land was.

“Boss, Farjana says the same thing. Miss Bridgit wouldn’t steal,” Rupert said, eyes solemn.

“The evidence points to the contrary,” Jonah growled. “We’re riding out to find her and settle this. Saddle the horses. Everyone take a different direction. If you find her, fire two shots as a signal to return.”

* * * *

The rain made tracking difficult. Puddles of water covered the game paths through the bush. With hours gone as Bridgit slipped through the forest in a thunderstorm, their chances of discovering her lessened. Jonah held his lantern aloft, staring into the darkness. The hour was late and neither he nor Rupert had discovered any sign.

A pair of yellow eyes brightened under a bush, then disappeared. A dingo, though why one should be out here during a storm was beyond him.

“
I’m afraid of wild dogs
.”

He recalled her admission and the fear she’d displayed during the first storm at Laurie Lark. Lies, like every other word that slipped past her full lips. She’d tricked him from the start, seducing him, making him believe she was an innocent, uncertain young woman who wanted a second chance. And when it looked as though he’d come to his senses and learned how devious she was, she’d cut and run. Bitterness welled up inside him.

“She ain’t out here, Boss. Didn’t come this way, far as I can tell,” Rupert said, shaking his head.

“Fire two shots and call them back. We’ll start again tomorrow morning.”

The look on the aborigine’s face gave away that he thought it was a useless idea, but he did as bade. Jonah wondered if Bridgit could hear the gunshots and whether they’d frighten her into running faster.

Farjana waited on the porch, one arm tucked securely around Olivia, the other extended when Jonah came up the steps. His disappointment faded when Olivia smiled at him. She reached out, eagerly wiggling her fingers. He thought Farjana meant to greet Rupert, but her dark eyes flared with anger. Her lips were pressed tight and he looked at the object hanging from her fist.

“She ran away?” Farjana dropped what seemed to be a necklace and it landed at his feet with a metallic ring. “This was around Olivia’s neck.”

She went inside and slammed the door. Jonah squatted, picking the ribbon and ring out of a puddle. The diamond glittered harshly under the yellow lantern light.

A thief wouldn’t leave something so valuable behind. Not after taking everything else. No matter how much she claimed to love Olivia. Unless she did care and she hoped to make up for her actions by leaving something for his niece.

Why was it that no one but he and Martha believed her capable of such treachery? If Charlotte were here, she’d verbally berate him for thinking so poorly of anyone. He huffed out a breath. She’d been made the fool of, too. Both by convicts.

A lantern glowing in the bunkhouse window went out. The exhausted men knew the day would start early as the search continued. A bolt of lightning flared through the clouds, highlighting the trees growing by the cemetery.

His mouth went dry. Langnecker. He could have lured her outside, taken her and gathered whatever he wanted to sell. The man was unstable, always demanding Charlotte’s whereabouts. Perhaps he wanted revenge for the lies Jonah’d fed him. The question was, why take Bridgit? Unless she’d impeded his plan. She didn’t realize how dangerous Langnecker was. He could use her as a bargaining chip, a hostage.

Farfetched, unless one considered Langnecker knew about their plan to marry and he’d taken her as he believed Jonah had taken Charlotte away. What if she was alone out there, frightened by dingos and serpents and a crazed ex-convict?

* * * *

Her head ached. The ground beneath Bridgit's cheek was gritty and her dress was soaked through. Shivers racked her body. The strange glow of a light behind a curtain puzzled her and offered no help telling her location. Rough-hewn walls held no windows.

A nightmare. She was asleep. Dreaming.

Wake up, wake up
. Any second, Olivia would cry out and she’d come awake. The hoarse sound of a snickering giggle reached her ears.

“The lady paid us well for this job, but who’s gonna notice if we don’t dump these things wiv ’er?”

The voice was familiar. Kenny, the lanky man had called him.

“I wanna keep ’em, Kenny. They sparkle like the stars.”

A shiver crawled along her spine.
Dump her
. Were they planning to murder her first? Sparkling things. Possibly Mrs. Burbank’s earrings. Jonah would believe for certain she’d taken them. Fear churned her stomach.

“C’mon now, Rog, let me ’ave a look. Oh, looky at the fancy watch. Cost more than pocket change, didn’t it? And inscribed. ‘
For Jonah, in his twentieth year. Your father.
’ Ain’t that touchin’?”

“My father never gave me somethin’ so nice,” Rog said with a sigh. “No more than a cuff to the ear.”

“Well, that Jonah bloke won’t even miss it, rich as ’e is. Finder’s keepers, let’s say. The lady said he’d think
she
stole ’em. Guess we got ourselves a thief.”

“Can we keep the girl? Found ’er, didn’t we?” Rog sounded wistful.

“Bloody hell, no, we can’t keep ’er. She’d run off an’ tell someone we took ’er first chance she got. They’d ’ang us sure as shittin’,” Kenny snapped.

“I don’t want to ’ang. We’re just gonna leave ’er in the old well?”

“No one’ll ever find ’er down there. We get off scot-free and wiv a bounty of jewels.”

“Maybe we could ’ave ’er before we toss ’er?” Rog suggested. “Seein’ as we ain’t had a woman in weeks.”

Sweat beaded on Bridgit’s brow. She focused on her surroundings. The steady drip of water pattered beside her. The floor was packed dirt, like Bess’s cabin. A three-legged chair lay on its side a few feet away. Bound as she was, there was no hope of using it as a weapon. She struggled into sitting position.

“She is a pretty thing. I wouldn’t mind the feel of her squirmin’ beneath me. Let’s ’ave ’er tomorrow, right before we show ’er where it is we’re leavin’ ’er.”

“You ’ear that, Kenny? I think she’s awake.”

The ground vibrated with footsteps. Bridgit went slack, closing her eyes as one of them tore the curtain back.

“Nah, she’s out cold still. Must be somethin’ outside.”

Rough rope chafed the flesh around her wrists. No one was coming for her.

She might be anywhere, having no idea how far these two louts had brought her. If she escaped, how would she ever find her way to the station again? Or should she return? If whoever paid them to take her was correct, her reception at the station might not go well. Nausea cramped her stomach.

Kenny and Rog talked about their last woman and Bridgit tried to shut out their vulgar descriptions. The slosh of liquid reached her ears. They were drinking. It helped raise her courage. They might pass out and present her the opportunity to sneak away.

Any way she looked at it, she faced the very real chance of going back to Parramatta and the horrors of solitary confinement, or worse. Tears of self-pity rolled down her face. Jonah was angry and for the rest of his life would believe she’d run off with everything.

Not if you steal it back and return it
.

Laying on the damp floor with tears on her face would solve nothing. She needed a plan. She hadn’t survived five months aboard a foul prison ship to die at the bottom of a forgotten well.

The knot holding her bonds was tight, but close enough to her fingers she could pick at it. How many hours until sunup? How many hours before they came to strip away the remains of her dignity, then leave her to die? Cold chills hampered her efforts to loosen the knot. She searched for a discarded tool or anything sharp enough to separate the cords.

There were no windows, thus no shards of glass to help her sever the ties. Hardly able to breathe, she inched along the floor, testing the darkest corners for long lost objects. Her numb fingers sought and searched, then clasped a cool shard of broken crockery. About three inches long, one side was sharp against her fingertips.