Mark of the Lion (12 page)

THREE CANVAS TENTS COMPLETE WITH COTS, mats, and canopies ringed a small campfire in military precision. To one side of the fire, the Thompsons, Lord Colridge, and Jade sat and sipped drinks. Behind them stood a small camp table decked out with linen napkins and a tablecloth. The three colonists drank wine, Lord Colridge because he preferred it, the Thompsons because Colridge drank it. Jade chose coffee to top off a splendid dinner of chicken cooked in burgundy with assorted vegetables and freshly baked bread.

Jade had grown up with campfire cooking and considered herself very capable of making delicious meals in Dutch ovens over hot coals, but Colridge’s cook used a collection of empty five-gallon paraffin tins, or
debes
. If the cook’s skill impressed Jade, the lavishness of the table setting astounded her. They ate dinner from Wedgwood china, and her three companions drank from crystal goblets. Even her coffee, brewed in an iron pot, was poured from a silver carafe.

“Can’t let civilized behavior slide, Miss del Cameron,” Colridge said. “It’s inexcusable out here.”

“Yes, then we risk becoming savages ourselves, don’t we,” exclaimed a man’s baritone voice from behind Lord Colridge.

Everyone turned towards the speaker, Jade suddenly, the others in a more relaxed manner, as though they had expected the intrusion.

“Harry,” said Colridge, rising out of his camp chair. “I wasn’t certain if you were around or not. Good of you to drop by.” He signaled one of his servants. “Another chair.”

Harry Hascombe approached the table with the smooth walk and proud bearing of a well-fed lion who was king of his realm and knew it. He wore the same worn bush clothing from the other day and carried his Mauser rifle slung across his back. Brown sideburns tinged with gray and a wrinkled brow peeked out from under his felt hat. Jade guessed his age to be past forty.

She studied him with interest and observed a tremendous amount of power in his broad chest and well-muscled arms. His rectangular face bore a strong jawline highlighted by a day’s growth of whiskers. Harry returned the look and scrutinized Jade almost to the point of rudeness. Jade, who, much to her mother’s annoyance, could stare down a bear, never shrank from anyone’s gaze and locked her grass green eyes to his dark brown ones. Harry flinched first.

“Miss,” he said with a slight bow and a touch to his hat brim. “I didn’t expect to see you, or you either, for that matter, Thompson. Good evening to you, Mrs. Thompson,” he added with another bow. “If I’d known the ladies were here, I’d have come sooner.”

“Miss del Cameron, may I present Harry Hascombe,” said Lord Colridge. “Harry, this is Miss Jade del Cameron. A friend of Lord Dunbury. Out here to do a story for a magazine.”

“We’ve met,” said Harry with a grin. He took a seat next to Jade and leaned back after placing his rifle beside him. “I should apologize for my outrageous behavior the other night.”

“I heard about it, Harry,” said Colridge. “From a Kikuyu lad, of all sources. Really, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Harry slapped his thigh, tossed back his head, and laughed. “Now, Miles, it’s not like you haven’t pulled a few stunts yourself. I recall in particular one night at the Muthaiga—”

“Never mind the Muthaiga,” interrupted Lord Colridge. “I daresay Miss del Cameron doesn’t want to hear a bunch of wild nonsense.”

Actually,
Jade thought,
I’d love to hear some of these stories.
She decided to wait and press Madeline for details later rather than risk antagonizing her current host. Instead, she offered a comment on a subject guaranteed to touch the vanity of any outdoorsman: his shooting ability.

“I was told that you are one of the best shots in the colony, Mr. Hascombe. I’d like to hear about some of your less controversial adventures sometime.”

Harry grinned, showing a multitude of white teeth, and leaned forward. “I would be delighted, Miss del Cameron, at any time.”

“But not now, Hascombe,” groused Colridge. “We have business to attend to soon enough. Your stories will have to wait.”

Harry folded his arms across his chest. “What are you after in this territory, Miles? Off your own turf, aren’t you?”

“One of those damnable hyenas is plaguing the Kikuyu,” replied Colridge. “Takes their goats and some of them as well. Most recently, a child.” Colridge produced a pipe and tamped in a bit of tobacco from a pouch in his shirt pocket. “Of course, they claim witchcraft.”

“When don’t they?” Harry replied. “But then, Miles, you and I have both been around the bush long enough to have seen and heard some pretty strange things.”

“Pig’s wallow, Harry!” Colridge lit his pipe and puffed on it ferociously before replying further. “Since when did you start paying any attention to native mumbo jumbo?”

Harry Hascombe shrugged his broad shoulders. “More things in heaven and earth, Miles. I’ve lived around Maasai long enough to know that. Anyway, I and my gun are at your disposal.”

Colridge waved his pipe magnanimously. “Your expertise is always welcome, Harry.”

“How did you know we were here, Mr. Hascombe?” asked Madeline.

“Natives talk, Mrs. Thompson. Some of my cattle herders saw you.” He turned back to Jade. “So you’re a reporter, Miss del Cameron? Enjoying your visit to East Africa?”

“Yes, I am. It’s beautiful land.”

“That it is,” he said and leaned forward for a better look at her face. “And I know beauty when I see it,” he added with more of an attempt at gallantry and less brashness than at their previous meeting. To her surprise, Jade discovered she found him intriguing and wanted to know more about him, but Madeline intervened before she could ask him any questions.

“Jade drove an ambulance in France and earned a medal. She’s quite an adventuress.”

“Really?” Harry said with interest. “I’d like to hear about it.”

Jade’s smile vanished. “There’s very little to tell. Fill an ambulance with wounded, drive to a hospital, return for more, scrub out the vomit and gore when you’re done. I’m sure you had your share of it here as well.”

“There were certainly a good many hospitals set up in and around Nairobi,” agreed Madeline. “I worked in one at the beginning before Neville sent me back to London.” Jade didn’t reply, and Madeline, apparently eager to see Harry and Jade get together, tried another tack. “But it must have been very romantic,” she urged.

Jade glared at her new friend for a brief instant before she looked down at her boots. “If you find gas patients puking their guts out in your ambulance romantic.”

Harry noticed her reluctance to discuss war horrors. “You’re probably wanting to write about a safari, if I’m any judge of the current fancy for them.”

Jade smiled gratefully for his gallantry at turning the conversation. “Yes, I am. But I also want a flavor of the colony. That means knowing something about its start.” Here was an opportunity to finally ask about Gil Worthy’s first trip without revealing her underlying purpose. The more she knew of those earlier years, the more likely she was to discover clues to his missing son and possibly to Gil’s own killer.

“I’m told, Mr. Hascombe,” Jade continued, “that you’ve been here since before the railroad extended up to Nairobi. Perhaps you can tell me about some of the others who tried their hand at colonizing but didn’t make it.”

“Well,” he said and rubbed a hand over his square-cut jaw. “I might be able to give some assistance there.” His brown eyes took in her soft black waves of hair and oval face before they traveled down her lithe, well-toned body. “Perhaps we could have dinner together and discuss it?”

Madeline, in her matchmaking joy, grabbed for her husband’s arm and startled Neville out of a private reverie. The touch roused him with a start, and he jerked his arm in surprise. The cook, walking past his chair with a fresh pot of coffee, jumped aside. Harry saw the pot fly out of the man’s hands and pulled Jade out of her chair before the scalding liquid doused her.

Jade tumbled into Harry Hascombe’s chest, muttering in surprise and fury as she struggled to regain her balance and her freedom. Reminders of the war had left her tense to begin with, and she responded to this assault with more violence than grace.

“What the devil are you doing?” she snapped as she pushed herself free.

Harry and the others stared in admiration as she stood rigid before them. Black curls fluttered in a tousled mane, and green eyes shot angry sparks beneath the black brows. With her feet apart and fists clenched, her entire attitude spoke of a readiness to fight with very little doubt of her success. Harry’s eyes lingered on her glowing face, then dropped to the ring that had slipped on its thong out of her shirt.

He rose to his feet and touched his hat respectfully. “Sorry, Miss del Cameron. You were about to get hit by a pot of hot coffee.”

Jade looked around at the dripping brown stain on her chair back. Steam still issued from it in testimony to Harry’s tale. “Oh,” she said softly. “Thank you, Mr. Hascombe. I’m sorry I nearly punched you in the face.” Harry simply smiled back at her.

Neville offered his chair to Jade, pulled up a wooden chop box marked FLOUR, and sat on the other side of Harry. Jade took the vacated chair and sat down sheepishly next to Madeline, apologizing again for her rude outburst.

“Oh, never mind that, my dear,” Madeline said. “Tell us about that ring. I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it an emerald?”

Jade noticed the exposed ring for the first time and gripped it in her fist. “No.”

“It’s stunning. May I please see it?” begged Madeline.

With a sigh of resignation, Jade pulled the cord over her head and handed it to Madeline. She hadn’t intended to reveal the ring to anyone, but now she had little choice. The others clustered nearer to take a closer look.

“This must be a family treasure,” said Madeline. “I’ll wager there’s a fascinating story behind it, too. Please tell us,” she urged.

“Only if it’s brief,” countered Lord Colridge. “We must be on the move shortly.”

Harry took the ring from Madeline and, after a detailed examination, handed it back solemnly to Jade. She slipped the cord over her neck and tucked the ring inside her shirt before replying. “With everyone staring at me, I suppose I must.” She sat back in Neville’s chair.

“As Madeline said, I drove an ambulance during the war. My unit was one of the few women’s corps that worked the front lines. Towards the end, a …” She paused, searching for the right words. “… a good friend of mine, a pilot, was killed when his plane crashed near the evacuation hospital. I pulled him from the wreckage. He died in my arms.”

“How awful for you, Jade,” whispered Madeline. She reached over and gently stroked Jade’s arm.

Jade politely waved her away. “Yes, well, to make a long story short,” she said and nodded at Colridge, “he gave me this ring just before he died and charged me with finding his brother. As near as I or anyone can tell, no one’s ever met this half brother of his, but he’s purported to live somewhere here in the colony, possibly in Tsavo. My job here is twofold. I
am
working for
The Traveler
, but I’ve also been retained by the family’s solicitor to find the half brother.” Jade decided to keep the search for Gil’s killer a secret at present. For all she knew, she might be talking to him.

Neville roused himself from his lethargic silence and broached the question on everyone’s lips. “Does this missing chap have a name?”

Jade thought for a moment before replying. By nature, she had a cardplayer’s philosophy of dealing with people. She found silence and a good poker face useful, and it helped to keep information in reserve. In that instant, she tried to assess these people’s characters enough to determine how much she should reveal. Caution won out over trust. “I know the father’s name. Gil Worthy.”

Jade checked everyone’s face for their immediate reaction. Madeline kept the same piteous expression, but both Neville’s and Colridge’s eyes opened wider in surprise. Harry, on the other hand, frowned and rubbed a large hand over his chin stubble.

“I
know
I’ve heard that name before,” said Neville to no one in particular.

“I say, Hascombe, didn’t
you
know Gil?” asked Lord Colridge.

“Yes, I did. We came over about the same time, actually, when I was still a green lad. Followed the railroad.” He looked up from examining his boots and met Jade’s eyes. “I never heard anything of Gil having a child here. He had a wife and son back home. David, I believe.”

Jade nodded. “David was the pilot, my friend, who died and gave me the ring.”

Harry shrugged. “Another son … that’s a stunner.”

“Man probably had an affair in Mombasa before he left,” proclaimed Colridge. “Or when he arrived. Happens often enough.”

Madeline’s eyes opened wide in shock. “Honestly!” she exclaimed.

Jade wondered if the old aristocrat spoke from experience or not.

“I know! Didn’t he prospect?” asked Neville. “I believe I heard his name while talking to some of the chaps out looking for gold before the war.”

“We both did for a while, down in west Tsavo,” said Harry. “Hellish work and worse country except for hunting. I gave it up as a bad deal, but Gil held on longer. Last I heard, he caught a nasty case of malaria and went home.”

“He came back,” said Jade, “near the start of the war in 1915.” Once again, she opted to keep the details to herself and wait for information to come to her.

“By thunder, she’s right,” exclaimed Colridge. “I remember hearing about it at the Muthaiga. Damnedest thing, too. Stories went round that he died of a mauling.”

Neville sat up abruptly and slapped his right hand on his knee. “That’s where I heard his name! Throat torn out at the Norfolk Hotel!”

“The devil!” Harry snorted. “I don’t remember hearing about that.”

“Probably while you were running supplies, Hascombe,” said Colridge.