Fiery Possession (14 page)

She kicked out at him, but her legs became so weak she could barely stand up. Her hands somehow wound themselves around his neck and a whirlpool of heat began swirling deep within her stomach. Shock sucked the breath from her lungs.

Luke felt the sudden hardening of Jo’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the surge of heat from her body burning through his clothes. He changed the tenor of his kiss now, the savagery replaced by gentle probes as he explored the inner most depths of her mouth, tasting all of its sweetness and still craving more.

For God’s sake, what was wrong with him?   He wanted to punish her, not seduce her. He dragged his mouth away from hers and strode off, leaving Jo collapsed against the wall.

***

On Monday, no children turned up. Mrs. Kirkman came over to see them, greatly distressed, saying they had received word from the authorities that the school was illegal, and anyone who sent their child there would be fined.

“They can't do this,” Jo stormed. “It's blackmail!  Isn’t there one family brave enough to defy them?”

“I'm sorry.” Flora averted her eyes. “Things have been going badly for us. We don’t have the money to pay any fines. Not only do we owe the bank, but the general store, the feed merchant…” she trailed away under Jo's stormy look. “Most of the other families are in the same position.”

Jo sighed, her anger evaporating when she realized what an insidious position Flora was in.

“I don't blame you, honestly. Campton’s behind this.”  She clenched her fist. “Contemptible wretch.”

“Jo!”  Fiona's shocked rebuke caused her to bite back on another few colorful descriptions.

“I hate him, my God how I hate him.”  She could still feel the touch of his hot mouth against hers and she inwardly raged against the wanton way her body had responded. Luke Campton was an arrogant, unprincipled swine.

“Come and have some tea, Flora,” she invited.

“Thank you. Granny's keeping an eye on the little ones for me. Maybe you could restart the school later.”

After Flora left, Fiona tried to comfort Jo.

“What's the use?   What's the use of anything?  Even poor Benny deserted me.” She couldn’t remember when she last felt so depressed.

“You'll find a way. When Ian gets back, things will be better.”

They can't get much worse, she thought bitterly, trying not to let her desperation show for Fiona's sake. Why worry her already overwrought sister-in-law?

***

A week later Fiona suggested they go into town. “There are a few things we need. You could drive, I'm too nervous.”

Her beseeching blue eyes had Jo capitulating. Who could deny such an appeal?

She resolutely pushed away the thought that if Fiona were not so helpless, her brother would not be in such a mess. “Yes, I'll drive us in. I'll have to wear gloves to hide my hands. Doing a man's work is ruinous on my skin.”

After breakfast, Jo hitched up the cart. She grimaced at her simple maize color gown while Fiona with little Lucy trotting beside her, looked femininely sweet in blue sprigged muslin.

Another warm day beckoned, with the sun shining from a cloudless blue sky. They had still not heard from Ian, but hoped a letter might be waiting for them in town.

Jo drove at a leisurely pace, with Lucy sitting between the two of them. She was a pretty, docile child, who favored the maternal side of the family.

Fiona spoke little, obviously worrying and fretting for Ian.

“He'll be all right,” Jo soothed. “There’ll be word from him soon, saying how much he misses us all.”

The nearer they came to town, the more fraught and agitated Fiona became. By the time they pulled up in the main street, her hands trembled.

“I need to go to the bank first,” Jo said. “Take Lucy and wait at the store, so you can read Ian's letter straight away.”  If there is one.

She jumped nimbly to the ground outside the store, and turned to lift Lucy down, while Fiona alighted in a demure, ladylike fashion.

“See you in a little while.”  She tickled Lucy under the chin until she giggled.  Laughter bubbled up in Jo's throat and her lips curved into a smile as she straightened up and took a step back. Only to be met by Luke Campton’s intense scrutiny. He stood a few feet away, engaged in conversation with another man, but he let his eyes wander all over her. Hot color surged into her cheeks at his intense appraisal.

Ignoring him, she walked across the road toward the bank. Within a few strides, he caught up to her.

“How are you, Jo?”

She ignored his very existence by staring straight ahead.

“Are you going to the bank?”  His tone of voice caused her steps to falter.

“Yes, if it's any of your business.”

He helped a young woman lift her pram over the gutter and on to the footpath, acknowledging her thanks with a nod.

In two strides he caught up to Jo. “Not going to ask for more time to pay your mortgage, I hope.”  His softly spoken, menace filled words, stopped her instantly. “If you acted more friendly toward me, we could come to some arrangement. I can be generous to women who please me.”

“I'd sell myself in the street before I let you touch me.”

“No one in town would buy you, Yankee woman, unless I say so.”

“I'll see you in hell first.”  She quickened her pace until she almost ran, but he merely lengthened his stride to keep up.

“The bank won't lend you any more money. If you can’t make regular payments on what you already owe, they'll sell you up. Your brother owes forty pounds.”

“You liar,” her voice shook even though she tried to control it.

“Care to check?”  He pushed the bank door open, and stepped aside so she could enter first. He must be lying just to frighten her. She fought a battle against the fear welling up inside her, forcing herself to stroll over to Mr. Griffith.

“Good morning, Mr. Griffith.”  She faked a smile. “I wanted to ask you whether we could have more time to pay the installment on our loan.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Saunders, the party holding the mortgage requires regular payment.”

“You mean Luke Campton, don't you?  He owns this bank. In fact he owns the whole town. What kind of weak-willed people are you?”

Several heads turned as her voice rose. “He steals other people's cattle, lets a girl and her baby die in…”

“Enough.”  Luke grabbed hold of her shoulder, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh.

“Get your hands off me.”

“This way,” he snarled, propelling her ahead of him. He all but shoved her into a small room.

“How dare you touch me!  I'll have you arrested for assault.”

He ignored her outrage. “Don't ever speak to me in such a manner again.”

“Why not?  It's the truth.”

“I'm warning you, Jo, so help me, if you were a man I'd knock you down.”

“Don't let the fact I'm a woman stop you.”

“Ah no.”  He gave a mirthless laugh. “I have something better planned for you now, my willful Yankee beauty. By the time I finish with you, your pride will be trampled into the dust.”

“I'm not frightened of you. The big boss squatter might have the rest of this town cowed, but not me.”

“I like it when you get angry.” His intense scrutiny stopped her angry outpourings. “Yes,” he lowered his voice until it came out in a soft but dangerous purr. “I always did like spirited women.”

A wave of fear swept over her. “You can't force me to do anything I don't want to,” she pushed the words out past a lump in her throat.

“I don't intend to force you. I want you to come to me, and you will, make no mistake about it,” he predicted with an arrogant confidence.

She minced back into the public section of the bank and waited until Mr. Griffith finished serving a customer.

“How much do we owe to clear the mortgage?”

“You owe forty two pounds, Miss Saunders.”

Ian, how could you let things get this bad? “Would you give me a few weeks to raise some money?”

He flicked the imaginary speck of dust off his coat without answering.

“Please, I've got stock I can sell.”

“Well.” He patted his few strands of hair back into place. “A month, then you’ll have to pay the full amount.”

He stood like God presiding over the final judgment day, and she knew he enjoyed every minute of it. She dared not provoke his wrath by telling him what a horrible, despicable creature he was.

Luke did not put in an appearance, and she hurried outside where the heat hit her like a furnace blast after the coolness of the bank's interior. She would have to put on a bright face for Fiona's sake, but it was hard.

“Howdy, Jo.”

“Oh, Benny, you haven't been to school.”  He hung his head.

“Been working.”  Those candid childlike eyes stared at the ground. How could anyone be so contemptible as to threaten a poor unfortunate like him?

“She…” He stubbed his finger at the general store. “…called Benny bad. I'm not bad.”

“Of course you aren't. Anytime you happen to be passing my way, make sure you call in for a visit.”

He gave her a loose lipped, slobbery grin. “Not angry, Jo?”

“No, keep up with your letters and drawing won't you?  Practice like I told you.”

“Benny have the paints?”

“Yes, but I haven't heard from my friend yet.”

As Jo hurried into the general store, she spied a crowd of people milling around a prostrate figure on the floor.

“Fiona.” She rushed over. “What happened?”

The crowd moved away, leaving only Mrs. Kilvain trying to bring Fiona around with smelling salts.

“What happened?”  Jo dropped to her knees.

“She fainted.”

“Why?”

The white, strained faces formed an ominous circle around her.

“She got some bad news, a letter,” Mrs. Kilvain said.

“What letter?”

“When Mrs. Morrison fainted, I took the liberty of reading this.”  Mr. Kilvain thrust a grubby letter at her. “Your brother's dead.”

“Dead?”  Jo shrieked. “He can't be?”  A roaring noise almost perforated her eardrums. The letter fluttered to the ground and Jo grabbed hold of the counter to stop herself from following it. The pressure on her chest felt so great she had trouble breathing.

“Y…you read the letter I…I can't.”

“Sam Bainbridge, Mulvaney’s head stockman, wrote saying your brother got washed away in some snap flood as they crossed a river.”

“No. It’s not possible.” Jo’s eyes filled with tears and they spilled out of her eyes and formed hot rivulets as they ran down her cheeks. She loosened her grip and her body slumped against the shop counter.

Fiona started moaning now, a low guttural sob that sounded as if it was dredged up from the depth of her soul.

“You can stay here for a while,” the storekeeper offered.

With strength born out of desperation, Jo tried to concentrate on what Mr. Kilvain was saying.

“What? No, thank you, we have to go home.” Was that flat, dead voice hers?   “Please, help me get my sister-in-law into our wagon.”

“It might be best if you stayed in town for a while, Miss Saunders.”

“We have to go home.”

Mr. Kilvain helped Fiona to her feet and she stood there swaying.

“Where’s Lucy?”  Her brother was dead yet she still managed to go through the motions.

“Here she is.” A woman brought Lucy over.

Mrs. Kilvain all but pushed her husband aside.

“Now, I can speak to the Minister and arrange a memorial service, even if you aren't church goers.”

What hypocrisy from Mrs. Kilvain, in one breath suggesting a memorial service, in the next castigating them for not attending church.

It was a frightful trip home. Fortunately Lucy tired out from playing at the store and, being too tiny to understand what had befallen them, fell asleep in the back of the wagon. Fiona sat there, not moving or speaking, staring unblinkingly ahead.

“Say something please,” Jo pleaded, close to tears. “Cry, scream, do something.”

She wanted to shake Fiona until she got some reaction. This stillness was even more terrible than an attack of hysterics. She was alive on the outside, but dead inside.

Jo grieved for her brother, her heart felt like it had shattered into a thousand pieces but it was imperative to keep his little family together. He entrusted them to her and the greatest tribute to his memory would be to make sure no harm came to them. Why, God?   Why are you doing this to us?  It had to be wicked querying the ways of the Lord, but she couldn’t help it. The hand of fate as well as Luke Campton was pitted against them.

Finally the homestead came into view, serene against a backdrop of treed mountains. Almost devoid of stock, it seemed lonely as they drove up the front track.

She decided to leave the horse by a water trough and hitching rail under the shade of a huge gum tree until Fiona had been settled inside.