Mystic Mountains

convicts, how is it an ex con gets to be a friend of the governor?" she asked softly.
    Tiger chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated around in his chest. He looked hard at her, then asked, "So, how do you feel about me now you know my background 's no different from yours, eh? Who told you then?"
    "Malloy." She sniffed. "Why did you let me think you was a nob? Did it amuse you, Englishman?"
    "You're the only one who can make it sound like an insult to be called thus. If the truth be known I have no more admiration for the English government than you. Mind you, I can't complain about my lot in life now. I have a nice flock growing, a fair crop each year, a few acres to call my own, plus a house. If I hadn't been transported I'd still be picking pockets and cheating at cards in good old London Town." He grinned, lifting a hand to push his hat back on his head. Casually he raked a hand through his hair.
    "How long have you been here, then?" she asked.
    "Since eighteen hundred. I was twelve. Sent over for petty thieving." He shrugged and pulled his lips back over even teeth. "My Dad died in a hulk on the Thames when I was seven. Had to steal to live, same as you. We came from Kent. I think my old man probably died of a broken heart. He must have hated being locked up in that stinking hole." He pressed his lips together, and Isabella knew she wouldn't get any more out of him. But she'd learnt more than she ever expected to know of this enigmatic man who owned her.
    "So, you 've been here eighteen years." She gave him a swift glance. "How long have you been free?"
    "Six years. Here we are, home. I 'll let you in on some more of my dark secrets later." He jumped out of the wagon and undid the back flap. He held his arms out and with a sense of diffidence she allowed herself to be lifted clear of the wagon.
    He let her go as soon as her feet hit the ground, turning away.
    "Lord sakes, girl, where did you go?" Thelma came at a trot out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron. "I've been worried out of my mind!" She began to cough, turning away until the spasm passed. Tiger gave her a disturbed look when she had trouble catching her breath.
    "Malloy took her to the docks area and holed her up behind a tavern. The Almighty must have been watching over her, Thelma, for he was called away. That fool of a son of his got himself done in. Got in a fight over a mug of rum, it seems. Our Bella has him to thank. His life for hers, seems fair to me." He pulled his lips back in a mirthless smile. "Get her wounds tended and put her to bed, Thelma. And you." He jabbed a finger at Isabella. "Never set foot outside this farm again without a man as escort. Understand?"
    He waited for her nod before adding, "And Thelma, send Dougal here to the doctor for your medicine. That cough of yours is hanging on too long. I've got one or two errands to attend to. Don't expect me home soon." With those words he turned purposefully to untie Satan from where he'd been hitched behind the wagon.
    "Is he going to ... ?" Isabella whispered to Thelma.
    "Never you mind, love. He takes care of his own, does Tiger." Thelma put an arm about her shoulders as Tiger vaulted into the saddle and thundered down the path.
    His own. Isabella savored the words. Was she one of his own now? Seemed she was.
    "I 'll be off to the doc's then," Dougal said, sending her a smile. Isabella gave a small wave as he turned the wagon about, then she allowed Thelma to lead her inside.
     
    * * *
     
    Tiger was carried along by his rage. If he could get away with murder he'd kill the swine this night. But Malloy wasn't worth swinging for. So he'd just have to make sure the Irishman never got the chance to get at Bella again. Or any lass. 
    Clicking his fingers he looked out at the ships riding at anchor, especially one he knew well. Grinning, he rode on. Just the ticket. Yes, that would solve the problem well. Once dumped on the shores of England again the worthless scum would be forced to live on his wits, same as Tiger and Bella herself had had to.
    What a plucky wench she was. After all she'd gone through she was still able to smile. Still had it in her to be as sharp as a needle. He found he rather liked the edge to her tongue. She seemed to take up an awful lot of his thoughts lately, and he was at a loss to explain just why. She certainly wasn't the loveliest of all the women he knew, or the most tractable. Perhaps that was the answer: she never gave an inch.
    Ye Gods, when he 'd