Lily's Leap (4 page)

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Tom leaned back in his saddle intent on learning the rhythm of his new mount. The famed Dungarven breeding was no myth; they were some of the best horses in the colony. Years of travelling with the survey parties would have been more efficient if they’d had horses like these instead of the broken down nags available to them. They could have covered the entire Liverpool Plains in a matter of months instead of the years it had taken.

The all too familiar burn of indignation hit his chest; it was no easier to take today than twelve months ago. A toss-up between incarceration on Norfolk Island or the road wasn’t much of a choice–it hadn’t been a difficult decision. There were few who would recognize Bushranger Tom as Thomas Roscomon, leading light of the Surveyor General’s Department, renowned cartographer and explorer. His elder brother, who had sent him packing to the colonies with a paltry five hundred pounds and a flea in his ear, would have to look twice, too.

He laughed at the thought and the gelding spooked. He tightened his grip on the reins, and slowed it to a walk. Five hundred pounds was a nice round figure… like Lily’s. He grinned. He hadn’t realized the significance before. He’d demanded from Dungarven exactly the same amount for the return of his daughter. Symbolic, and a small price to pay considering Dungarven’s property encompassed the very land he had been accused of claiming. Excessive spending. They didn’t know the half of it.

“You sound as though you are enjoying your ride.”
 

Tom closed his eyes letting the dulcet feminine voice wash over him. Her melodious tones caused some place beneath his ribs to contract and brought to mind memories of a life long forgotten.

“I am indeed. And coming to appreciate how lucky the British soldiers in India are if you are exporting horses like this to them. Shouldn’t we be keeping them? These horses belong in the colony.” He inhaled deeply. Yesterday’s scent of lavender and saddle soap had been washed somewhere down Narone Creek and now his nostrils filled with the fresh, clean aroma of eucalyptus and something vaguely flowery. He turned to face her. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the fresh morning air and her violet eyes flashed and shimmered, their brilliance enhanced by the strand of native lilac holding her rampant curls in check. His breath caught. Five hundred pounds was a paltry sum for such a gem. Her husband had been a lucky man, but luck always tended to be short-lived.

“The flowers bring out the color in your eyes,” he said.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Her face lit up with a polite smile, and the flush on her cheeks deepened. Her words were exactly what he’d expect from a member of the colonial upper classes, or a pure merino as they were known.

“It was a good choice. Did you know the vine is called the Happy Wanderer? It thrives in the bush, wherever it finds an open space.” He cast an admiring glance at the picture she made astride the huge black stallion.

“I am happy. Who wouldn’t be on a day like today?” The fine cotton of her shirt pulled tight across her breasts as she lifted her arm to encompass the winding creek, lined by towering trees against the cobalt sky.

His breath caught in his throat and a shiver of arousal traced his spine. If her father was truly more interested in his horses than his beautiful daughter he was insane. Maybe, just maybe, they could come to an alternative arrangement. He shook his head. His life was no life for a woman. “You’re a marvel of contradictions. You’re being held to ransom by a band of incorrigible fortune hunters. You have travelled over fifty miles on horseback in less than two days, slept on the ground and had nothing except bread and water and you’re happy?”

Her smile blazed brighter than the morning sun as she kicked Nero into a canter. He could do nothing else except follow.

The sun rose higher in the sky and the incline increased. The horses picked their way carefully over the uneven surface. A hundred yards ahead the steepness of the ground almost hid it from sight.

“There’s a track at the bottom, the trees clear, and we will cross the Great North Road. The trick is to drop down around the escarpment. It’s the only time we need to be near the road and the only moment we are in any danger of being spotted.”

Lily listened to his voice and licked away the sweat beading her upper lip. This was it. The opportunity she’d been waiting for. It was now or never. If something went wrong there would be dire consequences, but it was her only chance. The picture of Nero fallen and injured, a pistol at his temple, made her stomach clench and waves of nausea wash through her. Any mistake, any error of judgment, could be fatal.

Could she get away with it?
She had to. All her past escapades seemed to pale into insignificance as she concentrated on the steep slope ahead and the rocky terrain.

“Everyone clear? No hanging around, straight down, across the road, weave around to the right and follow the track below the convict wall. The culvert is too deep and it is too steep to take a horse unless you know what you are doing.”

Lily’s skin prickled as she nodded her understanding. Her throat contracted, she couldn’t manage to say a single word.

Was it the right thing to do?
It was her only chance. If only she had thought to tell Bonnie what she intended, but it was too late now. Besides she wasn’t even sure she knew what she actually intended. She’d have to wait and place her trust in the lap of whichever gods guarded this rugged place and see what the landscape offered.

She closed her eyes and the memory of her father’s maps spread on the old cedar table became crystal clear. The Great North Road led from here to the St Albans Common and onto Solomon Wiseman’s ferry but perhaps there was an alternate route? Once across the roadway if she could get free of them, there was a chance she could make her way back to Laguna and get help from there.

She tightened her hold on the reins as Nero picked his way down the steep gradient. She needed to concentrate, if she was going to get him down the hill. The last thing she wanted was to have a fall. Tom was just ahead of her. She slowed and fumbled with her stirrups as she allowed Will and Bonnie to overtake her.

“Are you alright, Lily?”
 

She nodded to Bonnie and turned in her saddle to see where Jem and the other horses were. There was no need.

“You get a move on there, miss. I’ll bring up the rear.” The Aboriginal tracker’s eyes bored into her as if he could read her mind. There was more to him than she gave him credit for and now she had no chance of dropping back. The hill steepened even more and she could see the pale ribbon of road below cutting through the trees and the bright blue expanse of sky wide-open in front of her.

“Nero. You can do it,” she whispered into his sleek, shiny neck and he snorted in response. Her thigh muscles burned as she tightened her grasp on his flanks. His muscles tensed in response, attuned to her body. She gritted her teeth and willed her shaking hands to steady. “We can do this, Nero. We have to.” Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she thought it might leap right over the culvert and down the hill ahead of them.

With barely a moment’s hesitation she dug her heels into the stallion’s flanks and urged him down the hill. Will and Bonnie’s startled cries rushed past her with the wind. A glimpse of Tom’s stunned expression registered in her mind. The last trees cleared and the sudden heat of the sun stung her face, then she crouched low over Nero’s neck. The clatter of his hooves on the sandstone surface told her they had reached the road. The blood raced through her veins, pulsing in her ears, a violent and excruciating pounding raged through her body.

“Stop.” Tom’s command echoed around her as the blocks of the convict hewn, sandstone walls reared ahead of her. Surely it wasn’t such a huge jump for a horse like Nero?

She leaned forward in the saddle and her cheek brushed the dampness of his neck. Time slowed. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut she sucked in a great gulp of air and clenched her teeth tightly together. Nero lifted into the air. His muscles bunched beneath her and he flew over the chiseled blocks and down the slope. Her knees gripped the saddle and she dragged the reins almost vertical as they plunged down. Tufts of wiry grass and small rocks littered the route. She flinched as Nero’s hooves crashed across them. Gasping in a quick breath, she prayed for the terrain to level off.

Her lungs contracted like bellows and what little air remained, whistled out through her pursed lips. Nero tensed and she shuddered as he stumbled and then regained his balance. Her heart leapt to her throat and her wrists twisted as she wrenched on the reins to slow him. He quivered to a halt. Silver spots danced in front of her eyes and she gulped in a breath to feed her starving lungs. Nero’s muscled body trembled and quaked beneath her and white froth flecked his muzzle.

“We did it, darling Nero. We did it.” The salty tang of his body filled her nostrils as she leaned over his neck murmuring endearments. She swayed with exertion and forced her rubbery muscles to respond as she squinted into the sunlight. Figures on horseback towered above her, stalled on the road. She had an overwhelming urge to wave her hand and shriek in triumph.

But she resisted; this was her opportunity and she had no time to waste. She cut away to the right praying her memory of the maps was correct as she searched for the track leading her to Laguna.

“Lil-eee. Lil-eee.” Tom’s call bounced off the sandstone walls. Shading her eyes with her hand she stared back toward the culvert wall. It was empty.

“Lil-eee. Lil-eee.” The sorrowful echo reached her, resounding somewhere deep in her gut. Her sweat-soaked curls clung to her face as she shook her head, raging at her ridiculous foolishness. After such an exhilarating and successful leap for freedom why did she suddenly feel so melancholy? Her heels bruised Nero’s flanks and she urged him away in a fast canter.

****

Tom’s stomach lurched violently before Nero regained his footing. Whatever was she thinking? By rights she should be dead. Disbelief and fury surged through him and his heart catapulted at the thought of her crumpled body spread-eagled on the bush track. The spurt of speed, the way she cleared the sandstone wall with such perfect balance, and her sudden change of direction on landing would have made a lesser man’s head spin… or rather a woman’s, he corrected himself. She’d trumped him again. It was the second time in as many days she’d taken the upper hand.

His thoughts slipped back to the look of exhilaration and excitement on her face when they’d set off earlier in the morning and he’d foolishly believed her radiant smile had been for him. How wrong could a man be? And what was he going to say to Dungarven when he turned up expecting to have his darling daughter returned to him?

“Will,” he yelled. “Look after the horses. I’m going after her. Try and keep up but don’t risk an accident.” He kicked the solid gray flanks of the gelding with his heels as it inched its way down the steep track below the sandstone culvert.

The path she’d taken stood out as clearly as the Hawkesbury River and he had no difficulty in following her tracks. Where the ground leveled he could see she had slowed to a walk and then spurred Nero onward obviously intending to put as much distance between them as quickly as she could.

When he rounded the first bend and Fernance’s Creek came into sight, he realized she was heading for Laguna. Hoping to find the magistrate at home, no doubt. The thought of the overweight, arrogant administrator with a penchant for chaining his assigned convicts to his cellar walls amidst the bottles of rum and local wine, made his stomach curl. He must catch up with her.

Pulling back on the reins, he slowed his horse and lifted his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. The crunching noise of the gray’s hooves reverberated in the stillness and he pulled the gelding up, cocking his head to one side. He looked from right to left in an attempt to pick up any clue to give him indication of her whereabouts. Surely she couldn’t be far ahead?

Holding his breath, he paused and listened trying to pick up any sound above the babble of the running water from the creek beside him. A strange sucking sound overlaid the running water.

A horse drinking. And yes, her gentle undertones whispered through the native grasses. He carefully lowered himself to the ground and willed his horse not to move. He lifted the reins over its head and with exaggerated care, he tugged gently and walked it, step by step, off the track and tethered it to the ghost gum perched on the side of the track.

“Just wait here quietly and I’ll be back with your mate,” he whispered into the pungent sweat-soaked neck.

Stepping with infinite care he followed the track around the gentle bend and then grinned with relieved delight at the sight greeting him.

Lily was crouched at the sandy edge of the creek, upstream of the horse, and they both drank the cool, clear water. The shiny black body of Nero obstructed her view and he grasped his advantage. He moved stealthily around the back of the horse until he was standing right behind her. Her hair was damp and clung to her neck in shiny ringlets, the purple flowers of the vine still wound around the corkscrew curls.