Mystic Mountains

you hear me? Or else you'll be heading back to town," Tiger warned.
    Lily sniveled a reply.
    Isabella hesitated. Should she go to Dougal? But the thought of what he 'd said about her filled her with loathing. How could he possibly accuse her of caring for one son more than the other? 
    She dropped the tent flap and lay down beside Tim. He murmured something in his sleep, wrapping his tiny arms about her neck. Isabella pulled him close to her breast and kissed his beloved face.
     
    * * *
     
    Isabella was relieved Dougal was off with the animals the next morning. No one had offered to tend his bruises. Even Thelma, who reappeared when she 'd heard the rumpus, had not given Dougal any aid. She seemed as disgusted with him as Tiger and Gillie.
    "Men. Lord knows but at times I think their brains are between their legs," was all she said on the subject to Isabella. But Isabella knew she'd had more than a few sharp words to say to Lily.
    Dougal 's face was a mess, and he'd taken his bread and tea off with him rather than sit with the others for the morning meal.
    "Good—l et's hope he stays with his blessed sheep," Isabella said to herself. If he'd had little chance of getting back into her bed before, he had none at all now. If he thought she would let him touch her now after lying with that diseased whore he was mistaken.
    The track led them through lofty flowering trees. " 'Tis surely beautiful land, but useless," Isabella said to Johnny, who agreed. "There's no vegetables or fruits to pick."
    Tim rode with Tiger, sitting in front of him on the saddle. Every now and then he waved to her. He'd regained some of his good humor, but still asked her constantly about Dougie. By now everyone in the party must know he was Tiger's son, for even had they not heard Dougal's outcry it was blatant when the two of them were side by side.
    Isabella 's heart hurt. If only she could have another baby one day to take her Dougie's place. But that was out of the question now.
    That night they camped in front of a government stock keeper’s hut, no more than a barn in a clearing. Tiger said he'd been warned that the wife of the corporal who lived here along with two soldiers was a thief and not to be trusted.
    The house was roughly furnished with table and chairs made from tree stumps, a sofa fashioned from strips of bark. Thelma was deeply disappointed to find the place alive with bugs, for she 'd looked forward to a night beneath a roof of wood for once.
    Isabella cared not where she set her head down for the night. Sleep eluded her anyway.

 
     
     
    Chapter Twenty Nine
     
    Isabella grimaced at Tiger where he sat with the men. They sipped the rum he'd handed out to revive their spirits after another dreadful day. He looked smug and contented, like a man who'd faced mighty obstacles and conquered them.
    "I knew he was mad, Thelma, " she exclaimed.
    "I must say I thought we was about to meet our maker when we came over that steep ridge." Thelma shook her head. "And the noise made my head ache something awful. What with the men swearing at the animals, the dogs barking, and the bullocks bellowing, it was sheer purgatory. Then that perishing sh aft broke. Eight miles in a day. I knew we'd be forever on this journey."
    The road was cut through forest with not one straight stretch. They 'd gone around the edges of hills where the drop was so steep Isabella knew real terror, fearing they would go over into a bottomless ravine. The bullocks often refused to go up, even lying down so the dogs were called on to bite their noses to force them onto their feet again while the teamsters roared obscenely at the obstinate animals.
    The horses were brought back down to aid the bullocks who found it hard to get past the jutting rocks. By the time they'd reached the top it was dark and Tiger and two of the men went off to search for a spring.
    "I suggest you sleep in your clothes," he said now, coming over to them. "If this rain keeps up you 'll need them for warmth." His eyes ran over Isabella's hunched form.
    "You 're a madman, Tiger Carstairs." She glared up at him.
    "Perhaps," he agreed.
    "No perhaps about it," she assured his back as he walked away.
     
    * * *
     
    The days followed the same pattern. The bullocks refused to budge and the horses helped them up slopes. Some nights the men didn't lie down until well after midnight. Each night they were exhausted, yet they barely covered eight or nine miles a day over the terrible terrain.
    Tim