Free The Isis Knot by Hanna Martine Page B

that?”
    Jem looked disappointed for a moment, as though William had said the wrong thing. Then incredulity made his eyes widen. “You’re my family, Will. You’re the first person who’s believed in me. Ever. And you want me to watch you walk away?”
    He shook his head. “You’re not coming with me. It’s too dangerous. If I get caught—if we get caught—they could send us to the government barracks in Sydney. With Riley. And then we’ll hang.” When Jem said nothing, he added, with considerable more force, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    A glaze passed over Jem’s eyes. A great shame and even greater loss reflected in their hazel stare. The sight of it made William step back in surprise.
    Jem swallowed once, twice, and his Adam’s apple looked like it might slice through his throat. “What if I could protect you ? At least for a time.”
    William blinked. “What do you mean?”
    But Jem was already striding toward the house and William wouldn’t call out for fear of giving them away. In the young man’s absence, he debated bolting right then and there. The storm was worsening, growing more perfect for cover by the second. He was just about to trudge into the open, to let his good-bye stand, when Jem reappeared at his side, patting a bulge underneath his shirt.
    “What food I could steal,” he said, “and ink and paper.”
    Despite himself, William was curious. “Whatever for?”
    Jem looked oddly sheepish. “To forge our tickets of leave. I saw Brown write one for another convict the other day. It’ll get us past any soldiers, should we be stopped. It has to have dates on it, to limit a convict’s time away from his homestead, but I can make more if we need them.”
    Hope and excitement—and surprise at Jem’s ability, and an even deeper curiosity—filled William. “And Brown’s signature? You can fake that?”
    That could mean passage anywhere. Freedom to move about. To search.
    Jem nodded. “I’ll only do it if I can come with you.”
    “Jesus.” William gripped his wet hair. Looked out into the storm. Looked back. Jem had spoken that last sentence with conviction, but heavy uncertainty weighted the corners of his eyes. William took the lad’s shoulders, having to reach up to do so. “If you have any doubts, any at all, don’t come with me. I’d like to have those papers, I’ll be honest, but I’m leaving whether I have them or not.”
    Jem met his eyes. “My doubts aren’t what’s keeping me here.”
    “Then understand one thing. If you come with me, you follow me. There is something I…have to do, and I’ll not have you draped around my shoulders like a wet blanket. I tell you that not to be stern, but so that you’ll be prepared. So you’ll know what’s to come.”
    With a glance back at the house and a lift of the chin, Jem replied, “I understand.”
    The surge of pride that bloomed inside William was large and unexpected. He’d done this, helped to create this young man from the quivering boy he’d saved from the hands of rapists. Jem had made up his mind and acted on his own. William had to be gratified. But he also had to be careful. Very, very careful.
    Jem cleared his throat as William’s hands slid off his shoulders. “Where are we going then?”
    William drew his lips tight, thinking. “Parramatta. The closest town.” It stood in the path of his woman’s wagon trail. He’d evaluate what to do next after that.
    “All right.”
    William gave a firm nod and a wan smile. “Yes. All right then.”
    And the two convicts bolted into the stormy, New South Wales bush.

CHAPTER 7

    It had rained last night. A dark, driving kind of rain that had had Sera curled up under a scratchy blanket that reeked of horse shit and damp wool. The sun was out now, at midday, but patchy clouds and a dimness to the west promised more wet that evening. The whole world seemed to be taking a breath, waiting for it. It was that quiet, that still.
    She sat on the edge of