Mystic Mountains by Tricia McGill

scenery. In the dreary back streets of Stepney even the sky had always seemed to be dull and grey. The wild beauty of this country thrilled her, made her forget for a while that she was a convict; that her family were so far away there was little possibility of seeing them again.
    It was cooler now, more like a spring day in England. The weather was all upside down here in the colony. They 'd been here three months and Dougal was as happy as a pig in muck. Tiger Carstairs had bought more of his precious merinos and Dougal and Gillie were building the flock up.
    "Go home to your pups," she ordered the dog at the gate. The bitch slunk off, tail lowered, her milk-swollen belly flopping from side to side. Isabella hadn't gone far when one of Tiger's closest neighbors’ cart came trundling along the road.
    "Well, well, and what are you doing out alone at this time of the day?" he asked when she hailed him down.
    Isabella explained about Thelma's cough and her need to get medicine.
    "Jump aboard, deary," he invited. "You shouldn 't be on the road without a man along with you. There's escaped cons out here, not to mention the road mobs, and they're a rough bunch." He saw her worried look and chuckled. "Mind you, the ones on the run don't usually keep this close to town in daylight. I'm not going right into town, lass. I'll drop you off at the end of Elizabeth Street, for I'm going over to Brickfield Hill. You should be safe enough there. Will that do you?"
    "That 'll be fine, Mr. Enshaw." Isabella smiled gratefully.
    He let her down at the outer edges of town , ordering, "Just you make sure you get someone to pick you up. If you're still here when I return you can come home with me. All right? You wait on that corner there." Clicking to the horse, he flicked the reins on its rump.
    "I will. Thank you." Isabella waved as she started to walk. There were one or two cottages along this stretch of road, spaced out and set well back. Feeling slightly uneasy again she peered around. It was so quiet, except for the parrots squawking and the whistle of the wind in the trees.
    When she came to a house set near its fence that bordered the road she stopped to look at a large white bird with yellow feathers standing high on his head. It sat perched in a cage hanging beneath the porch. Isabella hated to see any creature caged and wondered why so many of the settlers found the need to capture these beautiful creatures and confine them in such small prisons. She hovered by the gate, chewing her lip. There was more pleasure to be found watching them flying free, and for a moment she considered releasing it.
      A shadow suddenly crossed her path, and she gasped, a hand going to her throat as someone bulky rushed at her. They must have been concealed behind the thick trunk of a eucalyptus tree for she 'd thought herself alone. She swallowed a shriek.
    "Mr . Malloy!"
    The ugly Irishman was looming over her. Isabella went to move around him and he sidestepped, barring her way.
    "Let me pass." Defiantly she glared at him while her heart hammered against her ribs.
    "Well, well, if it isn 't Malloy's lucky day. Look who we have here. I've been patient and bided me time, and now I'm about to get what's rightfully mine. It just goes to show, don't it? If you waits around long enough everything comes to you. That Tiger Carstairs thinks 'e can do as he likes. Just because the guvnor is all for letting these emancipists have land and animals he thinks he's as good as a free settler like me." His mouth curled, and Isabella recalled what her master had told her of the Irishman's violent nature.
    S he was so shocked by this information about Tiger Carstairs that she momentarily forgot her panic at being faced by this monster. "But ... he's as free as you are," she stammered.
    "You think so? He was transported same as you, stupid bitch." He guffawed, then spat in the dirt.
    "You 're wrong. He's a nob." Isabella couldn't believe him. He had to be wrong. "Why else