Mystic Mountains

she'd offered him a measure of comfort. "How did you get here? I mean, how come you're out here? How's Ma? And the other little 'uns? Oh God, it's so good to see you." With the heels of her hands she wiped at her face.
    "I was sent over six months ago, Bella. Got a seven year sentence, instead of going t o the hangman. Your man here—" he nodded to Tiger, who watched them cautiously "—he got me afore they could send me to the hellhole at Newcastle. I'm afraid to say I've not been a good boy, Bella, love, and they were sending me there to work in the quarries. Tiger here found me working on the treadmill."
    "N o!" 
    Everyone knew the treadmills, built alongside the Carter's barracks on Governor Brisbane's orders, were one of the cruelest forms of punishment. They were so bad some prisoners requested solitary confinement instead of working on the large revolving frame where they were forced to step up or fall off.
    Jeremy looked at his palms. "Yes, not the best of things, Bella, but me hands are healed well now. The blisters I got from hanging on were almost as bad as the swelling in me legs. But all 's well now. Your man here got me off there and assigned to him." He nodded at Tiger, his gratitude clear in his face. "On the way over he told me about you and how you've been with him from the start. I guess we're both lucky for that, eh?"
    "Aye." Isabella looked at Tige r, wondering just how much he'd told her brother. Turning back to Jeremy her smile faded as she asked, "And Ma?"
    Jeremy 's face twisted in a kind of agony, and she went cold all over, shivering. Looking at a spot over her shoulder, he shrugged. "I'm sorry, Bella, she's gone. Went last year during a real cold spell. I don't think she wanted to live without Pa anyway. And life was such a struggle; could be she's better off where she is. You wouldn't want to know how bad it got after Papa died. Ma sort of gave up and it was so awful for all of us." He rubbed his chin and blinked a few times. "She's at peace now."
    Isabella slumped onto a log, dropping her face in her hands as she took in a shuddering breath. Gracie laid a hand on her shoulder and Isabella covered it with one of her own. Tim stood at her side, a worried frown marring his fair features.
    Looking up, Isabella asked quietly, "And the others? What 're they doing, Rem?"
    With a small shake of the head he said, "Thieving and struggling to live, same as we all were. Likely they 'll all end up over here." He cheered up. "But that'll be grand, Bella. Then at least we'll all be together again."
    "Aye, that 'll be grand," she agreed. "Now then, you look as if you need a few good meals inside you. How about we see about roasting some mutton, eh, Gracie?" Isabella lifted her head to stare at Tiger. "You can see to unloading my wagon," she said, nodding at the question in his eyes.
    Her gaze shifted and went across the paddock to the house taking shape higher up the ridge. The house Tiger declared he was building for her. The men worked industriously under the watchful eye of the foreman Tiger hired as overseer.
    He now had twenty acres under wheat and sixty of Indian corn. He grew enough potatoes and other vegetables to feed his own people as well as selling some in Bathurst to the medical officers and magistrate 's household and the occupants of the barracks and hospital. A windmill was under construction alongside the house so they would soon be able to grind their own flour. Already a wealthy man, Tiger was growing richer by exporting his merino wool to England.
     
    * * *
     
    Isabella rocked Annie's cradle gently, smiling as her daughter made a small snuffling sound. Touching a finger to the pink cheek she marveled again at the petal softness of her baby's skin.
    The others were now in their beds but Isabella had no desire to s eek her own. After all that happened this day it was useless trying to sleep. They'd sat over the meal reliving old times and catching up on a small part of the present, grateful for their good fortune while also shedding a few tears over loved ones they would never meet again.
    Isabella cou ld not believe her mother was gone, that she would never see her beloved face again; never hear the sweet lilting voice that sung lullabies; helped her family to forget their bellies were empty while ensuring their lives overflowed with love. Of course she'd felt deep inside that their farewell was final when she'd been transported, but at least she'd cherished a small hope they