The Cedar Cutter (25 page)

‘Carrick's not a convict. He's served his time, got his Certificate of Freedom. Besides, he was a political prisoner, not a convict.' At least that was the conclusion she'd come to after his drunken ramblings.

‘Not for long if anyone catches him and his mates out. They've introduced licences for the cedar now and besides, it's their reputation you're taking on. You've got your own to worry about. Bunch of rabble rousing no-hopers, taking the law into their own hands. The brawl they had last time they were in town was the last straw. And there's the natives. The way he took to them Paterson boys just because they was havin' a bit of fun. Him and his cutter's justice.'

‘And not only that,' Elsie chimed in, ‘there's scandal around town and it's not the kind that's going to do you any favours.'

What was the woman talking about? There was always gossip around town and Elsie and Maisie were the prime instigators.

‘I warned you when you moved in 'bout the reputation your place had and the way them girls had been drummed out of town.'

The leering inquiries from the man with the fleece sprang to mind. ‘Exactly what are you saying, Elsie?'

‘That some people think you and Jane are running a cathouse.'

‘A cathouse?'

‘You know, a house of ill repute.'

God, yes, she knew what a cathouse was. She'd spent most of her life living in one, though never been taken for one of the working girls, with the exception of Ruan's father. That had hardly put her in the bracket of a whore. She was set upon, raped. She certainly hadn't invited him. ‘What a load of nonsense.'

‘Look at it from everyone else's point of view. Two women living alone in a house, Jane hardly ever goes back to her own house these days.'

That was true enough. Not because they were entertaining a string of men, though, they were working every hour God sent. ‘Jane's at home, now, as we speak. She delivered Mrs Winchester's dress this morning.'

‘And then you've got Carrick and his sidekick there whenever they're in town, and what about the other night?'

And as far as she knew, poor maligned Slinger had never set foot in her house. Why did she feel it necessary to explain herself? ‘What about the other night?' The other night the lamps had burned late over nothing more than lace and corsets.

‘Even the Paterson boys were asking what the going rate was.' Maisie threw in for good measure. ‘And my Harry's been asked all sorts of questions.'

‘I can't believe you'd say such things. I thought we were friends.' Roisin scraped the chair back and stood up, glaring down at the two women. ‘I'll ask you to stay out of my business, thank you very much.' Holding her head high, she marched out of the store and home. Interfering bunch of busybodies. What business was it of theirs?

Roisin slammed back into the house. ‘Jane, Jane! Where are you?”

‘Down here in the kitchen.'

She closed the door behind her. ‘I am sick to death of those two busybodies sticking their nose in where it isn't wanted. They've as good as accused us of running a cathouse and apparently our prime customers are Carrick and Sling—'

Her face and neck flushed and she lifted her hands to her burning cheeks. Slinger sat, legs stretched out, dwarfing the chair at the end of the table, his lips twitching in amusement. ‘Is that so?'

Jane smothered a laugh. ‘Don't take any notice of their small-town tittle-tattle. They haven't got anything better to do. Did you find Ruan?'

‘Yes, he's down at the brook, fishing with Carrick.'

‘That's why Slinger's here. He came to let you know where Ruan was. They got back into town this morning.' Jane threw Slinger a dazzling smile, which as good as brought the poor man to his knees. Perhaps there was a smidgen of truth in Maisie and Elsie's scuttlebutt, though goodness only knows how they always knew what was happening. She couldn't imagine Slinger discussing his feelings down at the inn. They'd give him a terrible time.

‘Thank you for letting me know.' Come to think of it she couldn't imagine when Jane might have met Slinger. They'd both been so busy.

Slinger nodded his head and reached for his hat.

‘Aren't you going to stay for a cup of tea?' Jane busied herself with the billy. ‘It's as good as ready.'

‘No I better be going. I'll have a look at that gate of yours as I promised.'

Jane threw her a sideways glance. ‘I'll come with you and show you. Can you spare me for a minute or two, Roisin?' She untied her apron strings. ‘I won't be long.'

‘Of course.' It was the first she'd heard about a problem with the gate, but from the look on Jane's face she had no intention of letting Slinger out of her sight. ‘Take as long as you need.'

Slinger stood aside to let Jane out of the back door, then followed her.

By the time they'd reached the path Jane had her hand tucked in the crook of Slinger's arm and they were meandering along the brook, in the opposite direction to Jane's house.

Roisin closed the door with a smile and poured herself a cup of tea. Jane deserved some attention after the terrible time Mick had given her and Slinger couldn't be all bad if Carrick trusted him. She hadn't got time to worry about Maisie and Elsie's gossip-mongering. She had two corsets to finish and it didn't look as though Jane would be back to help for a while.

No matter how hard she tried to put Maisie and Elsie's words out of her mind her thoughts kept returning to Carrick as she embroidered a series of tiny love knots onto Lady Alice's corset. What did they have against the cutters? Carrick had served his time, wasn't a convict any longer. He could come and go as he pleased. She swallowed back a laugh; she'd almost prefer it if he wasn't a freeman, then he wouldn't be able to return to Ireland. Someone must have been spreading rumours and stirring up trouble.

It was so wrong. She'd trust him with her life, trusted him with Ruan, which amounted to the same. What had Maisie said?
My Harry's been asked all sorts of questions
. By whom? The image of the man she'd seen deep in conversation with Harry when she was looking for Ruan drifted in front of her eyes. The same cold shiver traced down her spine and she put down her sewing.

The sound of Carrick's deep voice broke into her thoughts. ‘One day we'll catch you some decent-sized fish and we'll have our dinner down by the river. What do you say to that, Ruan me lad?'

‘I say yes, yes and yes.' Ruan bolted up the back steps. ‘Can we, Mam, can we?'

‘When the weather gets a bit warmer.' She stood up and smoothed her dress, her heart skipping at the sight of the two of them. Maisie and Elsie simply didn't know what they were talking about.

‘Is there any tea in that pot? Fishing's thirsty work.'

‘Of course, sit down. Ruan, go up to your room and get out of those dirty clothes. You're covered in mud. Jane won't be happy about the floor.'

‘That'd be my fault. Splashing around in the shallows looking for tiddlers.' Carrick had such an easy way about him and Ruan scuttled off, keen to please. ‘So Jane's become a big help to you, I hear.'

‘I don't know how I managed without her.' Or without him. Just seeing Carrick sitting there at her table made all of Maisie's and Elsie's gossip seem unimportant. ‘I wasn't expecting you back so soon and then when I couldn't find Ruan …'

‘I told you the lad won't come to any harm while I'm around. Come and sit down and talk to me.' He rested his elbows on the table and stared at her as though she was the most important person in the world. A wave of heat swept up into her face and she sank down, frightened her knees might do something silly and she'd stumble. He kept staring at her. She didn't blink, didn't look away. A thin scar ran through his eyebrow—she'd never noticed it before, it was silvery white against the dark skin of his face.

The room fell silent apart from their breathing and she leaned forward, the heat inside her building, and then his lips touched hers. A momentary panic swarmed through her, but she allowed her lips to part and closed her eyes, leaning into his kiss. She didn't want him to stop, ever.

The scent of him made her mind spin, until there was nothing but his lips and the wonderful sensation of being close to him. He pulled away gently and smiled down at her.

‘What?' Her breath came in shallow gasps.

‘You.' Then a smile spread across his face again and he started kissing her until she was lost, dizzy, mindless. His arms tightened around her and his lips traced a path down her neck, her skin so over-sensitised she shivered and then she closed her eyes and refused to think.

His voice rumbled through her. ‘You are beautiful.'

And realisation dawned. She'd never felt a man's lips on her skin before, never been held as though she was the most precious, fragile thing.

‘Mam, Carrick …'

She jumped away from Carrick, her fingers touching her swollen lips, her gaze fixed on his face as he leaned back in the chair, smiling up at her.

‘I forgot to tell you I found another treasure this morning.' Ruan skipped into the room.

‘Did you now. And what would it be this time?' Carrick turned to Ruan and patted his knee.

‘I think it's a button.' Ruan opened his palm.

‘Show me.' Roisin held out her hand. ‘Yes I think it is, too, and very similar to the ones on Elsie's coat. Why don't you go and give it back to her.'

Ruan scooted off Carrick's knee with a laugh. ‘I knew that.' He took off down the hallway and disappeared.

‘While he's busy I want to talk to you.' His voice held a serious note and she sat down, keeping the length of the table between them, unsure whether she could be trusted not to throw herself into his arms.

‘You remember the tree I was telling you about?'

Of course she did, King Polai, the last tree he'd cut before he went back to Ireland, before he left Australia. She nodded.

‘Slinger and I are leaving soon to go and cut it.'