The Cedar Cutter (38 page)

‘You'll have to fight him off … Oh! I hope you don't. Are you sure you want to go through with this?'

‘Believe me, if I have to fight him off, I'll manage. I did that for years with Mick before he shot through. This knee could stop a stud bull in its tracks.' She gave her skirt another swirl. ‘That's the least of my worries. Now, you. What about you? Do you know where you're going?'

‘Yes, I'll wait until you have the constable busy, there should be only one of them on duty tonight, then I'll slip through the courthouse into the corridor where the cells are. I don't need to get inside the cell, just to the door to speak with him.'

‘Wait until you see me leave with the constable, then duck up the steps and through the door.'

Roisin settled behind the big tree shading the lockup, while Jane sashayed into the courthouse. Only seconds later she reappeared, leading a bedazzled Constable Brown by the hand, and they disappeared into the shadows.

Roisin flew across the expanse of open ground and in through the door. One lamp burned bright, illuminating the room where she'd spoken to Dankworth. To the right the door that led to the cells was closed. She nudged it open and slipped inside, pulling it closed behind her, throwing the corridor into darkness. Edging her way along the rough sandstone wall, she came to the first cell. The door was open. The second was not.

Carrick paced the floor, stopping to slam his chained hands against the wall every time his five paces took him to the back of the cell. How had it come to this? Dankworth here in Australia. His perfect opportunity and he'd wasted it buried in the forest chopping down trees. If he hadn't been so hellbent on chasing the almighty cedar and trying to accumulate enough money to seek revenge he might have taken more notice of what was going on in front of his nose. No amount of blarney could convince him that Dankworth was Ruan's father. Ruan's red hair came from Roisin, he had her eyes, not that startling green, but green all the same. A pig like Dankworth couldn't sire a lad like Ruan.

And he wasn't getting either Roisin or Ruan. Not taking his loved ones twice. Liam and Brigid were more than enough. He slammed his head against the wall, relishing the shaft of pain as it hammered in his temples. At least Slinger had got out of the place. If he was in any doubt, that fact alone proved Dankworth had his sights set on him.

He tossed his head. He'd not be thinking too hard about it. How could the bastard have got his filthy hands on Roisin? No wonder she'd run, chosen to escape the past, leave Sydney. It would stop here. Stop now. When he got hold of the maggot he'd beat the living shite out of him, end it all. Not only for Liam and Brigid. For Roisin and Ruan, too. He'd not stand for him touching them.

He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the remembered scent of her, of her skin, her home, of warmth and peace. Linen and lavender. He lifted his head, absorbing the touch of her breath on his cheek as she'd murmured his name.

‘Carrick.' The sound was more insistent. ‘Carrick.'

He brought his head up and turned. His mind had deserted him, taken him away with the fairies. The constant dreams and mirages had to end.

‘Carrick.'

He stepped closer to the door.

Through the Judas window her green eyes blazed. He reached up, touching her fingers. He had to touch her. Had to know she was real, that he hadn't conjured her from some addled part of his mind. ‘Go away.'

She had to go, stay away from him, stay away from Dankworth. The bastard could argue with him now. She wasn't alone. He'd fight her battles for her. Brigid would want that. She would want to know he'd learned his lesson. He'd not fail twice.

She intertwined her fingers, small and fine, with his. ‘I have to talk to you.'

‘Leave, leave now before it's too late. Leave before you become embroiled in something you know nothing of.'

‘I'm already involved. It's because of me.'

‘Nothing to do with you. Old battles and old enemies.' He scratched at his shoulder. ‘Remember the English pig who torched my darlings?'

She nodded, impatience glittering in her eyes, her hand curled in a fist held up to the grill. ‘I remember, Carrick. I need to show you something.'

‘It was Dankworth.' How could he make her understand? ‘He wants Ruan. He'll take him as he took Liam and Brigid.' She'd no understanding of the depth of the man's corruption. Why hadn't she told him Dankworth was Ruan's father? He unlaced her fingers from his and her hand dropped.

‘I know.'

How could she know? Know that Dankworth had killed the overseer. That he'd set him up from the start. Same as last time. Something glinted in the light. He squinted through the Judas door as she held out her hand, palm up.

‘What is it?'

‘Old Pella gave Ruan this.'

She forced it into his hand. He held it up in the shaft of moonlight shining through the window. A cork, a stopper. What use was that? The woman had taken leave of her senses.

‘He found it. In the forest at King Polai. He said you must have it.'

‘Too much rum. His brain's pickled.' He banged his head against the door and wrapped his fingers around the rusty bars, rattling at his cage. He had to get out.

‘Carrick, I have no time. Constable Brown will be back. Give me your hand.' She unpeeled his fingers from the grill and traced them across the metal surface of the stopper. It was lumpy … no, something inscribed, raised.

‘What is it?'

‘Can you not feel the crest?'

He snatched away his fingers, the metal burning hot.
GD.
The letters he knew so well. The brand he'd carried since that fateful night. Dankworth's crest. She had to leave. ‘Stay out of this.' Better he hang than Dankworth wreak his revenge on her and the lad.

‘It belongs to Dankworth. I know it does. It's the same as his cane. The same as the brand on your shoulder.'

‘Where did you get it?' Talk. Talk her out of it.

‘Old Pella found it beneath the cedar tree. He said the blind bunyip left it.'

Carrick's hands fisted against the tide of rage and impotence.

‘It proves Dankworth was there. Old Pella says he saw him shoot the overseer before you and Slinger arrived.'

A shout of laughter and a high-pitched giggle broke the taut silence, bringing him back to reality. He shook his head. ‘What's happening out there?'

‘Jane's entertaining the constable. We haven't long. I must rescue her.'

He groaned. Why couldn't she just leave him to sort it all out? ‘So what if this is Dankworth's? I can't prove he was there and neither can Old Pella. He's native. His words won't stand in court.'

‘If Dankworth is the man from Ireland, why does he want to harm you now? That's all in the past.'

‘He wants Ruan.' He raked a hand through his hair. Maybe he didn't want to hear it. Too scared it would bring back the memories he thought he'd finally buried.

‘I know he wants Ruan. That's why I left Sydney.'

‘He believes I want his son. As retribution for him killing Brigid and Liam.' His mind spiralled out of control, lost in the insidious desire for revenge. Dankworth couldn't be Ruan's father. ‘Is he Ruan's father?'

Even in the dim light he saw the colour flood her face.

‘Is he?'

She nodded, just once.

A hand clutched at his heart, and twisted. ‘Did you love him? Do you love him?'

‘I hate him, with every fibre of my being. He raped me. Beat my mam to death.' A single tear tracked down her cheek, a pearl in the moonlight, and the breath returned to his body.

Between the bars he reached out and threaded his fingers through hers, knowing her pain. ‘Can he prove he's Ruan's father?'

‘No man can
prove
that. He says Ruan resembles him. He knows his age. He can work the numbers as well as any man.'

‘Did you have the lad baptised?'

She turned her face away from him. ‘I don't hold with the church—any church.'

Once her bland statement would have bothered him. Now? He doubted the truth that had sustained him for so long. How could there be a God if a man like Dankworth roamed the earth?

‘Aunt Lil thought it better not to. She said the laws were new and there were lots of excuses we could give, so no one would need to know.'

‘So there's no record of the lad's father.' No record of the maggot's claim on Ruan. ‘Do you think he'll try to snatch Ruan?'

‘No, he says he's going to swear to his paternity in front of a magistrate.'

‘Roisin, this is important. Let me stand up for you. Tell them the boy is mine.'

‘How could he be yours? I didn't even know you then. I was in Sydney, you were—where were you? See, I don't even know where you were.'

‘Dankworth said he's going to talk to a lawyer?'

She nodded, that much was true. It seemed a million years ago she'd made the dresses and the corsets; how she wished she'd stuck with the likes of Mrs Blackmore and stayed away from the Winchesters and their fancy friends. And she thought it would be the making of her—well, it wouldn't. It would be the death of her. If anything happened to Ruan, or Carrick, her life would end.

‘He'll be finding a magistrate in Sydney, so he can take Ruan from you.'

‘Why? I just don't understand why.'

‘Because the man's a monster, that's why.'

‘No, that's not the reason. He wasn't interested in Ruan until we bumped into him in the street and he started hounding us. That's why I left Sydney. I didn't know what else to do.'

‘Let me deal with it. I owe him one.'

‘Carrick, I don't want you to do anything illegal, anything that could get you into trouble. It's my problem, not yours.'

‘It
is
my problem. Dankworth is evil. He deserves to die. Do nothing. Stay away from him. Take Ruan and go—go back to Sydney, go somewhere he won't find you. Slinger will help you. Tell him to come and see me and I'll explain. I have money in Sydney.'

‘I'm not leaving. I'll go back to see Grace Winchester, tell her—'

‘Back?' What in heaven's name had she done?

‘Yes. Back. I saw her yesterday. She said if Dankworth was Ruan's father then he had every right to claim him, and that it would be the best thing for Ruan, a wonderful opportunity.' Her breath snagged as she swallowed back a sob. ‘That was before I knew about Ireland. Before I knew what Dankworth had done to you.' She snatched the stopper from his hand and clutched it tight. ‘Old Pella has given me proof.'

‘You will go nowhere near the Winchesters. Take Old Pella's godforsaken stopper and throw it in the brook. Go. Go now and leave Wollombi. Tell Slinger to take you to the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle in Morpeth and ask for Nell. She'll give you a bed for the night and then take the steamer to Sydney.' He'd find a way, find a way to get rid of Dankworth, even if it meant shooting him in the court in front of the magistrate. Now there was a thought. ‘I'll be fighting this battle. Get Slinger to come and talk to me.' She scowled at him then opened her mouth to speak. He covered her lips with his finger. ‘There now, leave it with me. I'll be keeping ye and the lad close to my heart.'

‘He said I had to choose, choose between you and Ruan. I can't.'

He eased his fingers through the grill and caught a lock of her silky hair. ‘And you won't have to, my darling. You won't have to.' He'd be choosing. There was no choice. The bastard would die this time. He'd die.

Roisin slipped back down the narrow passage and through the courtroom, pausing only to glance at the dock. The dock where Carrick would be sentenced. Sentenced for a crime he hadn't committed, all because she'd refused to succumb to Dankworth's demands. What good was that to anyone? Dankworth would still be free to pursue her. Even if she returned to Sydney, she and Ruan would have to live like thieves. She didn't want that.