Swift Runs The Heart (20 page)

Yet she still could not fool herself into believing he loved her. Why he had agreed to marriage, she could not yet say, but nor could she forget his words to her the day he first told her he desired her. By their marriage, he had lost some liberty within himself, and that was something she was not sure he could forgive her.

“Tired, sweetheart?” He had caught the look on her face, but she was fast learning to be as good an actor as he.

“No, just somewhat sore,” she admitted ruefully, blushing, then had to grin as he threw back his head in a guffaw of pleased laughter before leaning across to give her a brief, hard kiss.

“Don't tempt me, sweetheart. If I thought it was safe to stay here longer, you would be off that horse and on your back already. Unfortunately, Black Jack is not so obliging as to leave us in peace. We better press on to find these friends of yours.”

But as soon as there is time enough
, said the promise in his eyes, and a warm glow lit Geraldine's. He may not love her, but he certainly desired her. And for now, that was a fine thing.

Then they arrived at the Smith's camp and she could lay aside her thoughts and doubts in the bustle of their welcome. Auntie Mene was not looking at all pleased, glaring past her to the man at her side.

“What you been up to, Mokri MacKenny?”

“It's Deverill now, Auntie Mene. Mrs Deverill. This is my husband. We were married this afternoon.”

Auntie Mene was not appeased. “You married all right – and not just by a preacher's words,” she said, eyeing Geraldine's tousled hair and grass-stained skirts. “Why?”

“It's a long story,” said Geraldine. The tiredness in her voice brought a softening in the old woman's face.

“You in trouble then, you and your man?”

“Black Jack MacRae is after us,” said Bas curtly, and the “hoos” of the rapidly gathering family confirmed their excellent knowledge of English.

The change in Auntie Mene's attitude was swift. Tipene had arrived by then, the oldest of her children and obviously the leader of the little band. He looked at his mother and she gave a quick nod.

“We're leaving now,” he announced in English, with a strong British accent that brought a sharp glance from Bas. Geraldine relaxed, knowing they would be safe now. Bas did not look as relieved, watching the swift preparations for departure all around him.

“You said they would help,” he said, pulling her abruptly to one side as she helped fill a basket with food supplies.

“Yes, we're safe now.”

“Safe! With them haring off to God knows where.”

“Wait. It will be all right.”

He glared back and Geraldine had the distinct impression that the only reason he had not flung her on her horse and raced off into the gathering darkness was that he had no idea where to go.

The campsite took little time to strike and very soon the only sign of occupancy was a few trampled grasses and the faint trace of a carefully covered fireplace. Tipene strode over to them. He looked at Bas's face and a tiny smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. It widened when he caught the quickly mouthed “In English” from Geraldine. “Where did you want to go?” was all he said though.

“Loch Máire – the bothy,” she replied.

Tipene nodded. “It's a good spot. You have a gun?” Bas nodded curtly, fingering the weapon strapped to his saddle in suspicious warning. Tipene just nodded confirmation again. “Young Matiu will guide you two through the hills while we circle back. Black Jack's chances of following us through this country are not good, but by splitting into two groups, he should be thoroughly confused. You'll have to leave your horses with us till we meet up again. They won't manage the hills you'll be climbing.”

“Leave the horses!”

Geraldine quickly cut in. “It's only for a day and Tipene's right – Black Jack is far more likely to follow the group with horses. Though are you sure you will be safe?” she added, turning to her childhood friend with a worried look on her face.

Tipene grinned. “You should know better than to ask that question. MacRae hasn't a chance against us in this country. He's only been here a year or two – doesn't know the first thing about this land. What about your Englishman – can he manage our hills, do you think?” he retorted.

Geraldine knew a sudden impulse to kick him in his cockily planted shins. He wisely took a step back, glancing pointedly at her sturdily shod feet. Tipene remembered her childhood quirks too well, it seemed. She took a deep breath before opening her mouth again.

“Fine then. The bothy is still fully stocked?”

Tipene nodded again. “And as well hidden as ever, the last time we were through. You'll be safe there.”

Aunt Mene came up then and handed Geraldine and Bas a woven basket. “Some food to keep you going. Now you look after this woman, young man. She may look orphaned, but she got family all over this country. Her blood may not be Maori, but her Mam was a good friend to me and all my kin. You treat her wrong and you deal with me.”

This time, Geraldine kicked Bas in the shins before he could tell the redoubtable old lady exactly what he thought of her warning. It was high time to leave. She was very relieved to see young Matiu, an almost-adult version of his older brother.

“Ready?” he said, hooking his own kit bag over his shoulder.

“Now ju…” Geraldine's boot hit hard. Bas swung round to protest, and collected his full kit bag in his arms. At the same time, he saw his horse stripped of his swag and led off. Yet another young man swung into its saddle and rode off.

“That's my horse!” Bas glared for a long moment after the departing animal. Then turned back to Geraldine, ignoring the youth standing beside her. “Are you sure you can trust these people?”

“You heard Auntie Mene. They're family. My Mam saved her life in three of her deliveries and she did the same for my family more times than I care to remember, teaching us the ways of this land, and now they are putting themselves in danger yet again. Who do you think Black Jack will follow – three foot travellers or a group with two horses? Though he is liable to find both trails petering out too soon to do him much good.”

Bas stood a moment longer, looking from her to the group disappearing into the evening gloom. “Right, then,” he finally said. He hitched the swag on to his back, stooping to pick up hers too.

“No, I can manage.” She took it, lifting it with practised ease over her shoulder.

Then they were leaving, three silent figures melting into the hills in the opposite direction to the rest of the family. There was a grim smile on the face of Matiu as he strode forward, motioning them towards the tall tussock to hide their passage. Bas and Geraldine each re-hitched their swags fully onto squared shoulders, Bas with a face as grim as she had seen. She felt the same. Geraldine had travelled with Auntie Mene's family often enough to have some idea of what lay ahead.

By the time the thin moon was fully in the sky, she was beginning to wonder if she had wronged Matiu in some past childhood game. The path he had chosen was even tougher than she had expected. At first, they had made their way up through a small gully snaking into the hills, keeping to the shadows between the tussocks. Matiu showed them the way of walking lightly, avoiding the bases of the tussock so that no broken swards of crushed grasses should advertise their passing.

Then, after an hour of gently rising slopes, he had struck away from the easier path, to head almost vertically up the steep hillside. It was certainly not a path expected by a pursuer, acknowledged Geraldine. A person would have to be mad to take such a route when an easier track was offered. It was made more difficult by Matiu's continued insistence that they take care to avoid crushing plants or leaving footsteps.
How anyone could haul themselves arm by arm up such a face without crushing the tussock swards they clung to is beyond me
, thought Geraldine crossly, glaring at Matiu's unconcerned back and noting how the clumps sprang untouched to life again behind him.

Bas, though, said nothing against their route. Very soon after they had veered away from the base of the gulley, she had noted a change in him. In truth, the less she liked their chosen route, the more he seemed to approve of it. There were no more sharp questions and his arm shot out frequently to help her up a difficult obstacle. Again and again, Geraldine knew she could go no further, only to find a strong hand at her shoulder, a quick glance from that bright face or a softly whispered “Nearly there, sweetheart” would keep her going, just one more foot in front of the other.

Then came the summit. All three collapsed in a relieved sprawl in the shadow of a nearby outcropping of rock. Rain and weather had carved a sheltering hollow into the hillside where they could hide for a spell from unwelcome eyes. It was cold, this high, even on a summer night.

“We can spare a few hours to rest up,” said Matiu.

They unwrapped their swags and huddled into their blankets, sealing their combined warmth in a close huddle. Geraldine forced Matiu to take the inside, against the rock face and away from the wind. He may be strong, but he was also only a half-grown youth and she could not forget her responsibility to Auntie Mene to keep him safe. The cold was no problem to her. Bas caught her close as they lay down, pulling her into the curve of his body as one hand sought the mound of her breast under cover of the blanket. Matiu lay only inches away, but still she arched back into Bas, her head settling into the tantalising warmth of his neck, her mouth unable to resist a brief taste of skin, there at the hollow of his neck.

“Soon, sweetheart, soon,” he promised, his low voice sending a shiver through her. His hand spread possessively over her, but then he was still and she relaxed into the comfort of his hard body. Sleep, which had a moment ago seemed a forlorn hope, soon claimed her.

The next day was no easier. They crisscrossed the hills, switching directions in a random and seemingly nonsensical fashion. After half a day of walking, Geraldine was sure she was only a ridge of hills away from where they had started. They slept out again that night, folded in the hills and hidden by the waving tussock. Tonight, the two men took turns keeping watch. Both curtly vetoed her suggestion that it was only fair that she take a turn too. Then the next morning they were on their way again long before the sun rose over the edge of the mountains beckoning in the distance.

Now they were coming down from the hills and Matiu was urging her to even more caution than ever.

“There's miners all over this country, spreading further outwards each day,” he warned. “Once you get the horses back, ride at night as fast as you can for the pass over the hills to Loch Máire. You been that way before, Mokri?”

Geraldine nodded. “The last time was some years ago, before Papa remarried, when I was still a girl.” She could feel Bas's gaze upon her at the hint of sadness she could not keep out of her voice, but she refused to meet his eyes. Matiu was unaware of the sudden tension between them, saying blithely, “It'll come back to you. Between what you remember of the route and Tipene's directions, you'll have no problem.”

They lay low near a large, precariously balanced megalith for the rest of the day. Once darkness brought its kindly cloak, Matiu gave a short cry of a bird and almost immediately an answering call came from nearby. Two large shadows, led by the smaller shape of a man, emerged from the other side of a nearby outcrop of rock.

“So you made it, little brother?” teased Tipene.

“Auntie Mene?” asked Geraldine as soon as he was near enough.

“All safe. That man who chases you is very bad, but also very stupid. This land fools him easily.” A ready grin lit up her childhood friend. “By the time they find their way out of the gullies we led them down, you will be safe over the hills. As long as you haven't quite forgotten all we ever taught you?” he couldn't help adding, a laugh in his voice.

Geraldine smiled back. Tipene was obviously rather pleased with himself. She almost felt sorry for Black Jack. He had clearly been led a very merry way by the Maoris and if Tipene said the man was lost, then it was well and truly so. She gave a warm hug to both brothers, listened carefully to their instructions as to the best route to follow, laced heavily with admonitions and cautions, then she and Bas mounted and were ready to set off.

There was a last salute from the two brothers, then Tipene added a final warning. “Tell that husband of yours to curb his wants a bit longer. You need to be on your guard till you get over the hills and are safe on your own land.” Geraldine blushed bright scarlet and Bas glared at the young Maori.

“I know how to keep my wife safe.”

Tipene only lifted his eyebrow, his gaze switching sceptically from the autocratic, impatient man to the woman beside him. The quick sweep of his eyes down the curves of her figure spoke volumes, but he wisely refrained from further comment, much to Geraldine's relief. She turned her horse and set her heels to its flanks before Tipene could think twice of keeping silent, forcing Bas to hurry his horse after her if he was not to lose her in the blackness of the night.

Bas's silence lasted throughout the few hours of moonlight left them. Soon after leaving Tipene and Matiu, she had been forced to slow her pace as they crossed the broken land rising up to the hills. There was an easier route to the east, but they must avoid that for fear of meeting the travellers who spread further in this direction every day. Some were shepherds and stockmen from nearby runs. For the most part, though, they were men hungry for gold who, reaching the fields too late to claim easy pickings, were now forced to range far and wide chasing rumours of golden windfalls.

Bas let her take the lead at first, staying always just behind her, never coming close enough to touch her. Her horse jibbed at twigs and stones, her own tension seeping through to her mount. He would not touch her, but she was aware of his presence with every inch of her skin. For two days, he had been forced to follow another's lead; first hers, then Matiu's. Now they were on their own, and his patience was nearing an end.