The Convict and the Cattleman (3 page)

A ragged, unshaven man appeared on the path. He swung a dead animal on a string and raised his free hand to show he was unarmed. Slim and lean, but a head shorter than Jonah, he wasn’t an obvious threat.

This far out from Parramatta, he was probably a bushranger. Where there was one, more might hide until they’d assessed the situation.

The stranger grinned. “Evenin’, mate.”

Jonah’s thoughts raced to the firearm beneath the seat of the gig, but his gaze didn’t stray from the intruder.

“Don’t mean no ’arm. Just wanderin’ down the road. Same as you.” His accent identified him as Cockney. His eyes slid over the gig. “Pretty buggy, that.”

He could see the bandit’s mind calculating the worth of the horse, the gig, the supplies and worse, he’d found Bridgit’s sleeping form.

“The missus is worn out.” His gaze lingered on her before returning to Jonah. “Been travelin’ long?”

“On our way back after visiting Parramatta,” Jonah answered. The short knife in his boot rubbed his ankle. He itched to bring it out.

The stranger raised the dead animal. “Snared me a bandicoot. Plenty to go ’round.”

The rodent resembled a hare in size and the length of its ears, but the likeness stopped there. “We’ve eaten. Thanks.”

“Your loss.” Without invitation, he sat on the far side of the fire. He skinned the bandicoot, then fashioned a rough spit.

Bridgit sat up, eyes widening as she looked at their guest.

“Missus.” The stranger greeted her with a nod.

Jonah met her gaze. “It’s alright, love. I’m getting the bedding ready.”

At the endearment, her eyes almost popped out. She rose and took quick steps toward Jonah. “Who is he?” she whispered.

The intruder winked at her. “Don’t fret. I was tellin’ your man ’ere I don’t mean nothin’. I’ve ’eard there are bushrangers about. If it ain’t them, it’s the blacks causin’ an uproar ’bout us bein’ on their land. Safety in numbers, they say.”

Her shoulders hunched and she crossed her arms over her chest, as though making herself smaller would keep the stranger from noticing her.

Taking Bridgit by the shoulders, Jonah lowered his mouth to her forehead and placed a light kiss there. It shouldn’t have made him want to tip her head up and kiss her mouth, but it did. He was as startled as she. Bridgit stiffened and started to pull away. He brushed off the jolt created by the contact and leaned close to her ear.

“Wait. He thinks you’re my wife. Spread your bedroll next to mine. I don’t know that he doesn’t have friends out there. Now, smile. There’s a girl. I won’t let anything happen.”

Her smile wobbled and her hands shook, but without questioning him, she picked up her bedding and laid it near his. “Is there anything I can do, or...”

“Go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

She swallowed and twisted her hands. “Are you coming to bed soon?”

Jonah forced a smile at the man. “Newlyweds.”

The stranger nodded before scratching the top of his balding head. “Saw it the moment she woke up. Stars in ’er eyes only for you, lucky bloke. The little woman’s eager to please.” He wagged bushy eyebrows.

Bridgit slipped between the blankets and turned her back on the fire.

“The marks on her wrists and that scrap o’ cloth she’s wearin’ marks her as a Ticket-o’-Leave girl. I’m an emancipist, meself.” He tugged on the collar of his dirty shirt and smiled.

And I’m the prince of Wales.
“Can’t say the same. My grandfather came to Australia with First Fleet.”

Bushy eyebrows nearly touched his thinning hairline. A bark of laughter, unnaturally loud left his throat. “A true son of Australia. What’d ’e do, steal the crown jewels?”

Jonah smiled coldly. “He was a gaoler at Newcastle.”

The amused smirk slipped off the stranger’s face. “’Ow noble.”

Silence stretched out. Bridgit tossed and turned. The men watched the bandicoot roast over the fire. Fat sizzled in the flames, filling the air with the scent of roasted meat. Each minute dragged, but the more time that passed, the less threatened Jonah felt. If someone waited to ambush them, they’d have done it already.

When the stranger decided his meal was properly cooked, Jonah announced his decision to turn in.

“Night, mate. Thanks for the comp’ny.”

“My pleasure.” There could be no sleep. The man would make off with everything his thin hands touched if Jonah closed his eyes.

He slipped under the cover behind Bridgit. Inches separated them. She went rigid.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered.

“I can’t. You’re too close and not with him
looking
at us.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “Go to sleep.”

Under the stars and brilliant white of the three-quarter moon, he saw her blink rapidly. Her breath was ragged. Without thinking, he put a hand on her shoulder and stroked the rough material of her dress.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

“Please remove your hand.”

With a sigh, he ran his hand down her arm and let it drape across her waist.

She gasped and would have bolted if he hadn’t held her down. “Mr. Andrus, please.”

He feigned a snore and his lips twitched when she sighed. For a few minutes she didn’t move. Then she shifted, pressing her bottom close to his crotch.

His eyelids flew open. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a rock beneath my–there’s a rock under me.”

He didn’t need to see the blush to know it probably stretched from her head to her toes. With her buttocks a few layers of clothing away from his groin, his heart sped up. He scooted his hips back. Had she moved on purpose?

“Lay still,” he ordered.

Her hands twisted the cover. “Are you comfortable?”

“No.”

She was silent for a moment. “I’ve never slept outside before. I’m afraid of wild dogs.”

“They won’t come near the fire.”

“What if they’re out there?”

No sense telling her dingoes were always out there. “I have too many other things to worry about.”

Like an aching arousal caused by the convict nestled against his chest.

“You’re certain nothing will eat us?”

“I’ve slept out here many times and never so much as seen a dingo.” Heard them, yes, but she didn’t need to know that either.

She yawned. “What about hippopotamuses?”

The girl was cracked. “Hippopotami. That’s Africa.”

“Oh.” She curled her knees around his and wedged her elbow under her head.

He counted stars and tried to ignore the stranger tearing meat from the bones of the bandicoot. Bridgit’s ribcage rose and fell in even motions as she drifted off, thankfully unaware of his discomfort.

The long day stretched into a longer night.

3

A chorus of birds woke Bridgit. The delicate, golden fingers of the sun hadn’t yet stretched to touch their camp. She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before she remembered the previous evening.

“Oh, dear.”

Mr. Andrus crouched by the remains of the fire, extinguishing the coals. He looked up with an unreadable expression.

“Our visitor left early.” He passed her a chunk of bread and a tough piece of dried meat.

“Last night–”

“Was necessary to keep certain problems from arising.”

A matter-of-fact way to look at it. She’d felt safe in his arms, even though she’d questioned his motives. She wondered that she’d slept so well. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He snorted, but didn’t acknowledge her apology. Instead he swirled the contents of his tin mug. “Two days until we reach the house. I expect you’ve experienced worse.”

Over the rim of the cup, he studied her.

Unwelcome images of the convict ship filtered through her mind. She preferred never to think of it again. Two nights on the ground didn’t seem bad in comparison. “Aye. You’re certain that man is gone?”

“We’re alone.” He tossed the dregs of his tea out and offered her the mug. “Cuppa?”

She didn’t hesitate. The last tea she’d enjoyed was long out of memory. The smallest amount of water was left in the billycan over the ashes, but it was enough to satisfy for now. Loose leaves colored the water mahogany and she smiled as she poured tea into the cup. In her eagerness to taste the liquid, she burned her tongue.

After she finished breakfast, she brushed crumbs off her skirt and noted the new wrinkles. Beneath her lashes, she studied Mr. Andrus. His clothes and hair looked as neat as if he’d just come from home. The only difference between today and yesterday was the new growth of dark beard on his face. She was tempted to ask if he’d forgotten to bring his razor and strop, but he probably wouldn’t appreciate her observation.

Her hair was a mess, snarled as badly as it had been when she disembarked from the
Margaret
. Hairbrushes were a luxury she couldn’t afford. Each tangle would need to be removed by her fingers. She grimaced at the thought.

Once she earned her freedom, she intended to bathe at least every other day, no matter what it took to get hot water. Hot water and soap were a long-forgotten dream. Mr. Andrus couldn’t know how fortunate he was to have everything at his fingertips.

She felt his gaze on her as sure as if it were a caress from his strong hands. When she glanced up, a blush burned over her face. The way he looked at her, he might have been reading her thoughts. Her mother would have been appalled at her for judging him.

He reached down and picked up a canteen. “Do you mind filling this? We’ll be crossing the mountains today and we ought to get water now.”

Surprised he asked so nicely, she hesitated.

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t mind.” She rose and reached for the canteen, her fingers brushing his. The contact sent a shiver through her similar to the one his brief kiss caused. That was a possessive gesture, one meant to keep her safe. If he felt anything, he showed no sign. Just her overactive imagination, nothing more.

She lifted her skirt to avoid catching it on the weeds, and forged a path through tall grass. The fast moving water rippled under the sun. It would have made a fine portrait for a fancy parlor. The countryside seemed so peaceful, it was hard to believe anything dangerous lurked out there.

A fish broke the surface of the river and landed with a splash amid widening rings of water. Absorbed with the sight, she tripped, sprawling face-first onto the ground with a surprised squeak. The canteen sailed away, landing out of reach. Sharp pain ran along her shin, down to her toes.

Rustling grass halted her inspection of the aching limb. She turned to see a strange, flat head appear amid the weeds. Its body was as big around as her arm. The creature’s scaly hide was shiny and dark with whitish-yellow markings. Gem-like eyes glittered on either side of its triangular head. A small tongue flicked out of the wide mouth.

Bridgit’s heart lurched, pain forgotten as she watched the unblinking eyes. It slithered closer. Nothing within reach could be used for a weapon. Alarmed, she screamed. The creature didn't react, but she heard Mr. Andrus crashing through the brush behind her. She prayed he'd thought to bring his gun to dispatch the beast.

“What the devil are you making such a fuss about?”

“R-right there.” Her hand shook as she pointed.

His gaze settled on a serpent peering through the weeds. He looked between her and the animal. A slow smile spread over his face. “It’s only a carpet python. It’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” Her heart raced. She’d seen illustrations of snakes before, and in most, they reared up, ready to inflict damage on their victims. How was she to know it wasn't a poisonous viper?

“They’re most active at night. You’ve disturbed his nap.”

“Disturbed–
disturbed him?
” Her face burned.