Mary Brock Jones (32 page)

She kept struggling. He flung her onto Ned and hurried up behind her before she could recover her breath. As soon as his rear hit the saddle, he pulled on Ned’s reins and hurried him homewards. His arms tightened around her, to prevent her making any attempt to escape him and to ease the clamour within him. Right now, he very badly needed to feel her close to him. She may have acted like a prize idiot, but he knew what the cold could do. He had nearly lost her today.

Nessa tried hard to fight his hold, but she was so tired, and still so cold. She gave up and felt some of the tension leave his arms as she relaxed back into his chest—which did not mean he loosened his hold of her. She could feel his body all down her back, his arms were locked around her, and she sat between the strong muscles of his thighs. She must be improving. The feel of his body under her as the horse trod on brought back too many memories.

She tried to sit up again, then groaned in pain. Every muscle in her body seemed to be on fire.

“Lie still. It will pass. You were too cold.”

There was a note of amusement in his voice, but she could hear anger too.

“Burns like the devil, doesn’t it? That’s what happens if you ignore warnings about travelling in this country in winter.”

“How did you know?”

“That you feel like every muscle in your body is on fire? It happened to me once in my first year here. I owe my life to Bob for that day. I had gone out on foot to track down a stray cow. He had the good sense to follow me with a horse and dog.”

“Does it last long?”

“Long enough. It will get worse before it gets better. Not that you don’t deserve it after today’s stupidity.”

She risked a look up and saw he was fighting his temper. “I must be improving.” His eyebrows quirked up. “You’re yelling at me,” she explained. “I can’t remember everything, but I do recall your telling me you couldn’t yell at me before.”

“Don’t push me, love. You’re not nearly ready for me to say what I want to say to you. How could you take that boy to the tops?”

She ducked her head. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say. She did not want to think of that nightmare in the snow now. Or ever, truth be told.

It was a steep path down the hill and over the ridge to the station homestead and the Coopers’ house. She could feel the strength of his arms bracing to hold her, but by the end that was all she could feel. The burning had faded. She felt like she was floating. She was so tired.

“Bob, Ada. Out here.” John shouted as loud as he could. He had been watching her closely all the way back. She was sliding back into sleep, and he could feel the coldness in her body, no matter how hard he hugged her close. Never had he been so glad to see the Coopers’ house and the square, no-nonsense shape of Ada bustling out.

“Girls, we need hot water. Get her in front of the fire. Bob, you get this boy back to his house and get some dry clothes on him. Then you bring him back here. A hot meal will fix him.”

John was only too pleased to let someone else take charge. But he was not leaving her. He swung off the horse and marched up the steps after the older girls, who were near carrying the semi-conscious Nessa.

“And where do you think you be going, young man?”

Ada stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and glared at him.

“I’ll leave as soon as I know she’s out of danger.”

“We’re about to put her in a good, warm bath. You will not be entering this room, Mr Reid. Not you, nor any of you lads,” she added, glaring at her sons. “Tain’t proper.”

John put a foot on the next step and opened his mouth to argue.

“And don’t you go saying anything you might regret later. That’s a lady in there, even if everyone else in the world be forgetting it. You go home, get warm and dry, then you come on back here like a proper man should.”

John glared at her. Ada did not budge an inch. Short of shoving her to one side, there was nothing he could do—not without alienating Ada or Bob. He needed them both to run the farm, and they were the heart of this small community he had made his home.

He still glared at her then grudgingly took a step down.

“I’m only agreeing to leave because I know she’s safe with you.”

Ada did not uncross her arms. “I should think you do.”

“And I’ll be back here mighty quick. Just as soon as Nessa is proper, I’m coming in there.”

“That will be acceptable,” said Ada.

“Then I’ll be seeing you. Very soon.”

Ada had not waited to let him finish. The door was already closing behind her. John could do nothing but follow Bob back to his own house.

“You get changed. I’ll get the fire going and the kettle on,” said Bob. John did not bother arguing. He changed and came back to the kitchen, sitting awkwardly while Bob made the tea.

“You don’t have to bother. I don’t really want a cup at the moment.”

Bob ignored him. Ada had given him his orders, and Ada’s word was law when she used that tone of voice. The careful ritual of the tea making nearly drove John crazy.

“Biscuits?” said Bob.

“Third barrel on the middle shelf.”

John watched as Bob lifted down the jar, carefully opened it and methodically selected one of the oatmeal biscuits Ada had made for him the previous day. Bob settled into his chair, contentedly munching it. John had a huge respect and affection for his head shepherd, but right now he could have cheerfully wrung his placid neck.

An eternity later, Bob had finally finished his snack, rinsed the cup out with the rest of the hot water then set it on the table to drain.

“Best be getting back,” he finally said.

John was halfway across the paddock before Bob had even made the back door.

“How is she?” he demanded as soon as she saw Ada.

“Don’t you be crashing through my front door like that, young man.”

He impatiently turned and shut the door quietly. He looked around, searching the room.

“She’s in bed asleep, thanks be. For a foolish lass, she’s paid heavily, I’m thinking. I’ve given her a hot brick and wrapped her up as warm as toast. She’ll do.”

“Can I see her?”

“For a moment only … but don’t you be waking her.”

The warning fell on deaf ears. John had already pushed through the curtain to the small alcove the girls shared. Nessa had a trestle bed there, but right now she was but a small lump under a thick quilt. He crouched awkwardly beside her, clutching her hand under the blankets and pushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen in her eyes. She turned her cheek, nestling it automatically in the hollow of his hand.

John looked at her and saw her colour had returned, heard her even breathing. He looked up at Ada, his heart in his eyes.

“I know, lad, I know.” She patted him on the shoulder then left, returning a moment later with a chair. “Here. Seems you’ll be sitting here for a spell.”

Ada left him alone then. He sat watching over Nessa, barely moving, watching closely each breath she took as his thumb told his feelings again and again over her hand.

Some time later, Ada returned again with a scone and a mug of tea.

“Here, lad. A good cuppa will fix a power of trouble,” Ada said. “You can stay awhile, but you’ll have to go back to your own home for the night.”

John opened his mouth.

“My girls have to sleep here. But don’t you fret none. One of us will sit with her for the night. Now, drink your tea.”

The curtain dropped behind her, and he was alone with Nessa again. He leaned back in the chair and took a bite of the scone, settling in to his vigil.

Then he was cast out for the night. He had a crick in his neck, and his arm had gone numb from holding it still so long as he held her hand. But still it was too soon, and it was a long, lonely night that followed as he tossed in his bed in his too-silent house. He was back at the Coopers’ place with the sun’s rising the next morning.

“Nessa’s asleep,” said Ada.

And sleeping she would stay, it seemed. All he got for his troubles was more tea, and he was soon ushered out the door again.

“The work won’t keep while you dawdle here, and the lass needs sleep and rest, not you hanging around like a prize booby,” was Ada’s unsympathetic farewell.

John made a token protest, but he knew when he was beaten. He walked away with the first smidgeon of hope lodged in his breast. Ada had sent him away, which meant Nessa was out of danger. Suddenly, the day seemed a whole lot brighter.

It was a week later and John was watching Nessa hang out the Coopers’ weekly wash.

“Should you be doing work that heavy yet?”

“Whyever not?”

“You’ve only been out of bed two days.”

“And would have been up three days ago if you hadn’t persuaded Ada to keep me there.” She lifted the wet sheet, shoved it over the line and smoothed it out before pegging it at each corner.

He watched her closely for any twinges, then stepped forward as she reached for the next sheet.

“I can manage.” Her hands grabbed for it, and suddenly they were in a stupid tug of war. He saw the look on her face and let go of the sheet, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to finish.”

He hated the distance in her voice. It had been there all week. The only consolation he could find was that she used it to everyone. It was as if she had shut herself off from them all. Or was waiting for the axe of condemnation to fall.

Nessa saw the pain on his face but forced herself to ignore it. It was for the best. Her aborted trip over the mountains had shown her that much. After what she had done to that young boy, the packers would never forgive her. She would have to live with that. What she could not live with was being the cause of cutting John off from his neighbours. He loved this land, this run. She would do nothing to ruin that for him.

She kept her back deliberately turned to him and spread the last sheet on the line. She picked up her basket and with no more than a muttered, “Bye”, hurried inside, all the while listening for the tread of footsteps behind her. When he did not follow, she did not know whether she was relieved or devastated.

It’s for the best. … Yes, and if you keep telling yourself that, maybe in a hundred years you may believe it
.

“Aah, lassie, what’s happened?”

Nessa fisted her hands across her eyes. “Ada, you know how grateful I am for all you have done for me.”

“Ach, don’t let it fettle you.”

“But I cannot keep trespassing on your hospitality. If only the snows would lift.”

“What’s got into that head of yours now, lass?”

Nessa reddened. “Nothing. I just meant…”

“I know what you meant, and let me tell you a thing or two. It’s a hard world, this, for a woman. The work never stops, and there are few enough to help with it. Oh, the bairns do well, but that’s just it. They be only bairns and can do only so much. Do you not know what it has meant for me to have your help this winter?”

“It was nothing you couldn’t have done on your own.”

“That’s just the point. If you were not here, I would have done it all. It’s what happens to women here. Each night, I fall into bed too tired even to sleep proper. This place, this family, I do love them so … but they are draining my youth. I was but eighteen when Bob and I married. I’m not yet thirty-five, and some days I look like my old Gran did when I last saw her.”

“Do the family…?” But then Nessa shook her head.

“My children will never know what they cost their mother. No child ever should, not when they are the light and soul of my life. Bob knows, and it grieves him; but he is busy enough himself. He has been as relieved as I’ve been to have a second woman here.”

“The stories you tell the children at night? I saw a tear in his eye once.”

“I haven’t told those stories since the twins came, but now, I can be a mother again. They are the stories my mother told me, and she had them from her Mam. Now, I can pass them on again. So don’t you dare think you bring nothing to this house. One day, you will go again, and that’s as it should be; but for now, you have given us a rare gift that more than repays any debt you imagine you owe us.”

Nessa felt the tears threaten again, and this time she did not fight them. “I cannot stay, Ada. Not when Philip comes back from the hills … not after what I did.”

“Oh, lassie, it weren’t so bad.”

“That boy nearly died out there, Ada. He fell, and I couldn’t get him back on his horse soon enough. I tried so hard, and it took so long. That’s why he was so cold. I couldn’t get him out of the snow for such a long time.”

“But you did get him back. The trip was foolish, yes, but you’re not the only fool in the hills this year.”

“The boy would not have been in danger without me; and I am so afraid that John will be smeared by the blame. That’s why I can’t stay.”

“Aaahh.” Ada’s hand stilled, then began a slow stroking over her hair as she pulled Nessa into her shoulder as she would have to one of her children. “So that’s what it is. That’s why you have been so quiet. You think to make him forget you.” She chuckled, soft and slow. “Not Mr John, lassie. Not you.”

“He must,” whispered Nessa.

Ada wisely held her tongue. Soon, Nessa felt stronger and stood back again. The older woman looked at her shrewdly but said no more than telling her a good cup of tea would sort her out.

That was all that was said, but Nessa did not talk again of leaving. She pondered Ada’s words, and watched, and saw the truth of them. Nessa was a help here, not a burden. She refused any money for her work after that. She had enough saved, as long as the Coopers continued to house and feed her, and it was all she could do to thank them. Still, inside, she knew she must go soon. Once Philip came back from the hills, once the snow was gone, they would return to England. That was how it must be. If the pain of leaving this place, this one man, would shatter her for evermore, that was her secret to keep.

When the snows melted … it was what she waited for, but every day when she went outside to look to the hills, she was answered by a thick, angry blanket of weather cloaking the tops. There was snow on the ground all round the house now, and John and Bob were out from first light to late afternoon, beating tracks for the stock to follow to where grass sprouted in the valleys and putting out the precious hay in blocks to keep the ewes in lamb going till spring. John ate at the Coopers’ but was so tired when he came in that Nessa had no trouble meeting him. He was too worn out to do more than thank her when she handed him his plate, wolf it down then plod off to his own place for bed.