Mystic Mountains

with grief. There was a coldness about her, as if a part of her had died too. Which he guessed was how it must feel for a woman to lose a child.
    Putting Tim on the ground Tiger said bluntly, "There 's nothing for you in town. You won't take Tim back with you, for I won't allow it." He cupped her shoulders in his palms, seeing the stubborn glint cross her eyes. At least that was better than the dead coldness that had been there before.
    "The mighty Tiger Carstairs giving orders again, eh?" she said, ice running through her tone. "Well, you can 't stop me. I'm free now. You don't own me anymore. You can't tell me what to do. Dougal doesn't want me, and you certainly don't. I'm going and there's nothing you can do about it." She held out a shaking hand. "Come Tim, stay with mama." 
    Dear God, Tiger w anted to hold her so badly his arms shook with the force of his longing. Indecisively Tim went to her, but before he could take her outstretched hand Tiger caught him about the middle and hoisted him into his arms.
    "The boy stays with me, Bella. Go if you must, take Agnes and enough provisions to get you back to Sydney. But you 'll not take my son."
    It was a gamble, but the only one he could think of.
    "Oh no. Suddenly he's yours, eh?" she shrieked. "You never wanted to lay claim on him before he was born. Give me my son."
    Putting both arms about Tim she tried to wrest him from Tiger. He stepped back and Tim began to whimper.
    "Or what?"
    "Or I 'll kill you."
    Something inside Tiger shrank. Surely she didn 't hate him that much. But who could blame her for the way he'd treated her over the years. "Bella, come, enough of this, let's get on. Please," he whispered, looking to Thelma entreatingly.
    Thelma gently put an arm about Isabella 's waist. "Tiger's right, girl. There's little back there for you except a life of whoring. Nothing you do now will bring the little fellow back. You have to come to care for Tim. And me. Lord, but I'd be lost without you. How can I manage with just that trollop Lily as the only woman to talk to in the godforsaken place out yonder?"
    Isabella began to weep, deep dragging sobs that seemed to come from her soul. Tiger gripped their son tighter to resist the urge to take her in his arms, to offer comfort. Her grief tore him apart. She would likely spurn his advances anyway. Dougal was the one who should be offering her comfort at this time, but it was doubtful if he would ever recover from his loss . And worse, it was likely he would never forgive Isabella for what he saw as her negligence.
    Tiger took his son to the wagon and handed him up to Johnny, saying, "Get up, Tim."
    "Mama," Tim whimpered, his arms outstretched towards Isabella. The action seemed to pull her to her senses and she wiped a fist across her tear-soaked eyes. Silently she allowed Tiger to lift her onto the seat at the front of the wagon. She pulled Tim into her arms, then sat rigidly, staring at the mound of stones covering Dougie's grave, her face pressed to Tim's head.
    Tiger stared up at her for a moment, feeling her grief with an intensity like a pain. Lifting one of her hands he placed a soft kiss on the knuckle. To his surprise she didn't draw back, but gave him a look that made him ache with longing. With a shuddery sob she pulled Tim close to her breast.
    "Hold your mother tight, Tim." Tiger released her and gave Johnny a nod.
    Johnny whistled to the lead horse, slapping the leather and they began to make their way down the steep bank and into the water.
    Isabella continued to stare at the rough cross marking her baby 's grave, craning her neck until it was well out of her sight.
    Tiger kept Satan close by her wagon for most of the morning, but she seemed unaware of his presence, her eyes staring ahead as she gripped Tim like a lifeline in a stormy sea.
    How many others would have their final resting place along this route in the years to come? Briefly Tiger questioned his decision to drag everyone along with him while he chased his dream.

 
     
     
    Chapter Twenty Eight
     
    It began to rain. The relentless downpour soaked their clothes, the animals, the sacking covering their belongings and provisions. The overhanging branches dripped water on them, at times lashing their faces as they rode beneath huge trees.
    Isabella barely registered the drops running from her hair and down her nose onto her lap. Numbness filled every fiber of her being. The rain soaked right through to her undergarments, but she hardly