Mystic Mountains

help. Thelma had grown so thin and was sick so often these days they were forced to take Lily. She seemed to be a willing worker; if only she would keep her hands off the men. She'd been in the criminal class at the factory for being drunk and disorderly and Isabella had no idea why Tiger selected her.
    Dougal, Gillie, their five dogs, and three of the men left yesterday with the flock of sheep, the cattle, goats and pigs. They planned to meet them at the Nepean River.
    It had taken weeks of packing, a task Tiger oversaw with impatience and exactitude. Even now Isabella couldn't believe how demanding he'd been. But no one could deny he'd planned everything down to the last detail.
    Cherry and plum stones, walnut, chestnut and hazelnuts had been packed in papers, then put in well-corked bottles. They carried potatoes, hop and clover seed, vine cuttings. Tea, sugar, glass, crockery, flour, grain; meat, salted or smoked. Fruit and vegetables to eat on the journey as well as seedlings. Beer and spirits. Linens, wool, agricultural and carpenter tools. Their clothing and some of the furniture from the house, along with many more provisions to last for the next six months when they would be isolated , miles from anywhere. The fledgling township of Bathurst consisted of no more than a barracks, granary, cottages for the medical officer and magistrate, and a jail hospital with an officer in charge.
    Isabella turned to lift a hand as the wagons trundled away from the house. The new owners stood with their arms about each other. They were free settlers, a young couple fresh from England who 'd been more than eager to buy the place from Tiger.
    "Sit still now, Dougie, and stop shouting. Tim can see you from here. He 's only on the next wagon, not miles away," Isabella admonished. At three Dougie idolized his brother. The pair of them were inseparable. If Tim was out of sight for more than a few moments Dougie put on a tantrum. "Keep an eye on the pups. Their mama will want to know they are being looked after."
    Dougie did as he was told and began to speak to the litter of five that slept in a box behind the seat, alongside a cage holding some of the fowl. The bitch trotted alongside the wagon, her tongue lolling, her soft eyes darting upwards every now and then to where she knew her brood were.
    It was hot for September, a haze over the mountains in the distance making them seem alien.
    "The boss reckons we should reach Rooty Hill by nightfall, Missus," Johnny commented, then shouted to one of the bullock drivers who urged his charges on with a long whip.
    "Aye." She nodded. What Tiger said usually came to be. He'd said it would take them about two to three weeks to cover the hundred and twenty miles to Bathurst. Not that he'd told her personally. The news was passed on through Thelma. Isabella and Tiger barely exchanged a word these days unless it was crucial. Isabella often felt as if Thelma and her children were the only souls who thought her worth anything. Even Gillie, who'd never had much to say, rarely spoke to her any more. Of course he blamed her for Dougal's taciturn and surly temper. Perhaps he was right. To be refused a husband's rights for so long would try the patience of any man, she supposed. Odd as it seemed he'd never tried to force himself on her again, and she wasn't about to make the first move to bridge the gap between them. Perhaps he despised her so much he had no desire to touch her. Who could blame him?
    Tiger rode back when they 'd been travelling for about an hour. Isabella was in the leading wagon. He gave her a small, barely definable, nod. "'Tis fair going for a while, Johnny," he said, turning in his saddle to wave when Tim called out to him. "Hello, Tim, mind you watch the road for wild animals, eh?"
    "I 'm watching, Tiger," Tim yelled back, scanning the side of the road eagerly. "Did you see the mob of kangaroos? How many was there, eh? About a thousand?"
    "More like a hundred, I 'd say, Tim."
    Tiger stared at Isabella for a while. The woman grew lovelier with each passing day. Gone was the innocent air she 'd worn in the early days. A kind of ethereal beauty that sometimes struck him like a kick in the gut replaced it. She didn't let Dougal into her bed; hadn't in the three years since Dougie's birth. The man must be mad. If she were his woman he'd bend her to his will in no time.
    No he wouldn 't, and he knew it. He fooled himself into thinking she still bore a small touch of the lust he felt