Dash and Dingo (33 page)

208 | Catt Ford and Sean Kennedy

The excitement of finding the lair ended up draining them, and once the tigers had finished their meal, Dash and Dingo left them in peace in order to return to their own camp and catch up on some sleep.

As they cuddled under the blankets, Dingo said, “Now that we know the position of their den, half the work’s done.”

“We just have to let them get used to us,” Henry replied. “Hopefully before Hodges pulls anything else.”

“We’ll have to keep moving,” Dingo murmured, sleep starting to drag him under. “That’ll make Hodges think that we’re just as much in the dark about where the tigers are. If he’s watching us.”

“He is,” Henry said firmly.

Dingo sighed, his breath warm against Henry’s back.

“Once they trust us,” Henry said, “it’ll make everything easier.”

“Make what easier?”

“Preparing them. For London.”

There was a long pause. Finally Dingo said, “I guess. Go to sleep, Dash.”

Henry did so and was unaware that Dingo remained awake for a long time afterwards.

“Dash,” Dingo said, struggling through the thick vestiges of sleep, “wake up.”

Henry stirred against him. “What?”

“You’re not going to want to miss this.”

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Henry opened one eye and would have scrambled to his feet so fast he would have scared them away, but Dingo held him down.

“Slowly, Dash.” Dingo grinned at the wide-eyed wonder on Henry’s face as he looked through the brush that surrounded their tent and saw the tigers to their left. There were two of them, both adult, and they were staring at the humans who were in their territory.

Without fear. As if they knew they were to be trusted.

Henry scratched his palm against his thigh and slowly sat up. “How long have they been there?”

“Dunno. They were just there when I woke up.”

“Waiting for us,” Henry breathed.

“Maybe,” Dingo said. “Maybe it’s presumptuous of us to think that.”

Henry’s palm disagreed, but he didn’t say so. “I want to touch them.”

“I don’t think they’d let you.”

They both froze as one of the tigers looked behind where it was standing, and suddenly, pushing itself between its legs was one of the cubs.

Henry couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “Dingo—”

“Wait, Dash.”

There was a series of
yips
as the cub was joined by its siblings. All three of them had come along on the journey with their parents.

“They did, Dingo. They came to us.” It was beyond perfect. It was fate, as Jarrah had predicted. Henry had never been as sure of anything as he had been right at this moment.

Dingo was shifting behind him, pulling on his trousers.

“What are you doing?”

“Approaching them. Quietly. You stay here for a minute.”

Henry wanted to protest; the little boy within him was screaming that it wasn’t fair, he wanted to play with them as well. But he knew he had to trust Dingo’s judgment.

As Dingo began crawling closer to the tigers, trying to appear as small and therefore as unintimidating as possible, Henry began to dress. He could see the muscles in Dingo’s bare back stretch and knot as he continued making his way over to the tigers. The adults watched him carefully, and the cubs

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were just as wary, but Henry could see they were itching to sniff the stranger and see if he would be another playmate.

He remembered his camera, and cursing at how easily he had forgotten its existence, Henry reached behind himself and dragged it out of his bag. His fingers were trembling slightly as he removed the lens cap and focused on Dash approaching the animals.

They all looked up at the click of the release but after a moment dismissed it and focused back on Dingo. He was only a couple of body lengths away now, and he stopped, resting back on his heels. Henry guessed that he was now waiting for the tigers to approach him. If he had gone much closer, they might have run.

Henry continued to snap pictures but was transfixed even as he watched through the finder. He almost cried out with joy as one of the pups broke rank and bounded toward Dingo. Quick as a flash, one of the parents leaped forward and grabbed it gently but firmly by the tail with its teeth. The pup squealed, even though it was just a warning nip, and Henry laughed.

“Wrong Way Corrigan,” he whispered softly.

Dingo snorted. “We can call him Corry,” he murmured as the cub started off into the brush with renewed determination.

“Maybe his parents call him Dingo,” Henry teased.

“So the other two can be Johnno and Baz.”

The parent nudged the pup back to its siblings and turned back to face Dingo.

Dingo remained silent and still, and the tiger approached him. Henry continued snapping photos as the tiger sniffed around Dingo and finally sat next to him. Dingo kept his hands to himself, not wanting to startle it, but the tiger finally nudged his hip, and Dingo offered the back of his hand for it to sniff if it wanted to do so. Like a dog sizing up friend or foe, the tiger sniffed him gingerly, its nostrils flaring briefly at the end of its long snout. It snorted, and Dingo was rewarded with a thin stream of thylacine mucus. He didn’t flinch, however, but looked back to see if Henry had caught it on film.

Henry grinned from behind the camera to let him know he had.

Dingo tilted his head slightly and jerked it back, indicating that Henry should join him.

Flush with excitement, Henry carefully placed the camera down on the blankets and tried to replicate Dingo’s careful and steady movements as he crawled over to join him. The tiger that had adopted Dingo as a member of

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the family backed away slightly, and Henry’s heart sank. But once he settled in closer to Dingo, the tiger decided to approach them again.

Dingo took Henry’s hand and laid it over his own. Together, they offered their hands to the tiger once more. Henry’s eyes widened as the tiger’s wet nose snuffled against his skin, and he looked up at Dingo with a wide grin.

The other tigers remained at a short distance, but all of a sudden the ears of the adults pricked, and they began pushing their pups back through the brush.

Henry wanted to call out after them to stop, but he knew it would be foolish. He and Dingo remained silent until the brush stopped swaying and they knew that they were alone again.

“That was… unbelievable,” Henry breathed, at a loss for words to signify just how wondrous the experience had been for him. All those hours with the pelts back at his college, he had never thought he would one day have a real live tiger sit next to him and leave a mark upon his skin.

Dingo merely nodded, lost in thought.

“There were three of them,” Henry whispered. “The cubs, I mean.

Excellent.”

“It is. That’s about the limit for what a pair can raise,” Dingo agreed, sounding a bit short.

“No, I meant for breeding. If we can get near enough to sex them, we can take a male and female for breeding in the zoo.”

“You can’t!” Dingo practically spat at him.

Henry felt as if Dingo had raised his hand and struck him. Lost for words, he could only stare at Dingo, wanting to know where this sudden explosion had come from. Dingo had approached him at the college… they were meant to be after the same thing….

Dingo stared at his feet.

“What do you mean?” Henry finally asked.

Dingo looked at him, and Henry could see that he was struggling with the right words as well.

But Henry was losing patience. “What is it?” he demanded irritably.

“You can’t take the cubs, Dash.” Dingo’s expression was both stern and sad, which just irked Henry all the more.

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“What do you mean I can’t take them?”

“You know that inbreeding usually yields a more weakly strain. Even if you could get them to breed, the offspring could be deformed or ill.”

“Fine. You may have a point. Then we’ll find another litter and take one from each,” Henry said.

“How many other litters do you think are just lying about waiting for you to stroll up and raid them?” Dingo demanded angrily. “They’re almost extinct. There aren’t enough! We’re damn lucky we even found this family!”

“That’s not the real reason you’re fighting me about this. Come on, out with it.” Henry waited, his arms crossed defiantly.

“You want the real reason? It’s simple,” Dingo told him. “It’s not
right
to take the cubs.”

Henry felt everything he had achieved slipping through his fingers.

“You said that if taken when young, they’re easier to work with, almost growing up like pets.”

“Well, but they’re not meant to
be
pets, are they?” Dingo met Henry’s glare steadily.

It was all so clear now. “You never meant to help me bring out the tigers,” Henry said.

“Don’t be mad, Dash,” Dingo said earnestly. “I wasn’t going to prevent you. I just hoped that you would see—”

“What good does it do to lead me on such an expedition and come back empty-handed?” Henry felt like he might be the one to explode now. “I want to save the species, and instead—”

Dingo reached out to touch Henry’s arm, but he pulled away. “If you go back with evidence of their sanctuary, a busload of people will come out here looking for the tiger like they’re some bloody circus animal to be gawked at.

But don’t you see? The more expeditions that return empty-handed, the more convinced the government and the world will be that the thylacine are extinct.

It might be the chance they need to actually start rebuilding their numbers again.”

Henry stared at him. “You think this is a better way of saving them?

Leaving them here against all odds to take their chances?” he asked flatly.

“Better to leave them wild and free than to condemn them to a

miserable existence in a zoo,” Dingo declared hotly. “When you see them in a cage, you’ll understand. It’s not the life they were meant for.”

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“What I understand is that you dragged me out here under false pretenses.” Henry took a few steps away and stopped to pick up his camera, putting the lens cap on carefully, although his hands shook with anger.

“Perhaps I’ve made a poor choice of a guide. Maybe I’ve made a lot of poor choices on this whole trip.” Henry whirled and plunged into the shadows, away from their camp, ignoring Dingo calling his name.

Dingo shivered and poked around in the tent to find his shirt. His imagination haunted him with images of Henry wandering around in the forest, getting lost. Maybe even worse. He followed Henry, listening to ascertain whether his movements would be carried back in the still of the night. But the sound that was carried to his ears came from the wrong direction.

And what was even more disturbing, the sounds were definitely human.

Leaves brushing against fabric. A sound that stopped a moment or two after he stopped. A sound he wished he hadn’t heard.

They
weren’t
alone in the jungle any longer. Henry was right.

Dingo cursed himself for only half-believing Henry when he’d said he felt they were being watched. Henry had accused him of always

underestimating Hodges, and Dingo had brushed it off because he hadn’t wanted to alarm the other man. In truth, he’d been watching their back trail ever since they left Jarrah, and he
should
have spotted that someone was following them.

Instantly he made up his mind and started moving again. He didn’t know precisely what Hodges’s game was, but damned if he’d stand there like a stupid hen and get potted in the head. The best thing he could do now was to lead Hodges in a different direction from the way Henry was heading. His brain was frantic with schemes as he thought them through and discarded options. He decided that once he’d gotten Hodges and his guide headed in a different direction, he would slip into the trees and get behind them.

Damn Henry anyway! If he hadn’t gotten all starry-eyed over Henry, he would have been more alert, more suspicious. More like himself. Now he would do what he had to in order to make sure that Henry made it out of Tasmania alive, even if the man he cherished ceased to be his lover.

Protective feelings threatened to overwhelm him, and Dingo had to recall himself to business when he realized he was seething with anger at the idea of Hodges hurting Henry again.

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Dawn was beginning to break through the branches above him as Dingo hiked faster to the bend in the trail.

When he turned he risked a quick sidelong glance behind him, smiling in grim satisfaction as he stepped behind an outcropping of rock. He dropped to his knees and scuttled soundlessly under the cover of some ferns to watch Hodges and his guide proceed past him in the bluish light. He thought the guide looked uneasy, but Hodges’s thin lips were curled into a triumphant smile.

When they were out of sight, Dingo stood up and melted into the shadows, backtracking the trail but keeping undercover as much as he could.

He had to find Henry!