Mark of the Lion (33 page)

“You do not drink away all the water like msabu with yellow hair,” said one man. “She used three full
debes
.”

Uh-oh,
thought Jade. Beverly was in danger of acquiring an unattractive Swahili name such as Big Bath or worse if she didn’t intervene. “Msabu Yellow Hair needs more water to clean her yellow hair than my darker hair,” she explained. The men nodded and laughed again. She decided to visit with these men. Maybe they knew something about
laibons
that could be useful when she returned to Nairobi.

They spoke willingly about the area wildlife, especially the predators, but when she asked them whether or not witches used these animals, they became mute. “One does not talk of witches, Msabu Simba Jike,” the spokesman declared with a nervous glance. She tried to coax more from them and asked if
laibons
ever attacked white men, but they remained silent. She thanked them for their information and left in search of her friends.

The other porters and Ruta returned with the gazelles. Soon a delicious aroma wafted over the camp as the cook prepared thick steaks and a fragrant-smelling rice dish for them and distributed cornmeal, called posho, and chunks of antelope to each of the men so they could cook their own meals. Beverly and Madeline sat in wooden camp chairs on the shady side of the Dunburys’ tent, and Jade joined them.

“There you are,” said Beverly. She sipped from a glass of lemonade. “We’d begun to think you’d run off.”

“It might interest you to know, Bev, that you are Msabu Yellow Hair,” said Jade as she settled into a third chair and examined her fingernails. She felt a mild sense of relief, knowing half of her quest was over, and she longed to relax with her friends for a while.

“Really?” Beverly patted her blond curls. “I should have guessed.”

Jade flicked a piece of red dirt from under one nail and watched it fly. “Don’t be too proud. I gave it to you. It was that or become known as Mrs. Hippo Wallowing in the Water.”

Madeline’s laugh escaped as a sort of yip. Beverly shot her a nasty look.

“First impressions, dearie,” finished Jade.

“Ooooooh!” muttered Beverly. “Well, I don’t apologize for my bath. I had enough of filth in the unit, carbolic acid flea belts and all.”

Jade nodded. “Didn’t we all. But remember, the men have to refill those water barrels from the river, and that’s dangerous work.”

Beverly looked down at her booted feet and pouted. “You’re right, of course. I won’t do it again. I can be just as frugal as you two. More so.”

“Well, I think I’m going to shock Neville and cut my hair,” said Madeline. “It takes too much time to put it up and detangle it. Besides,” she added with a giggle, “I want to be a bit of a trendsetter myself. Will you help me?”

Jade pulled her pocketknife from her trousers. She stood behind Madeline, removed the hairpins, and held a hefty strand of wavy brown hair in her hand. “Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this?” she asked. “Neville won’t divorce you or anything?” On Madeline’s repeated assurance, and with Beverly’s advice as to styling, Jade sliced away the hair and tossed it into a heap at Maddy’s feet.

“I believe this calls for one of your famous piss-sonnets, Jade,” suggested Beverly.

Jade studied the situation for a moment. “All right. Try this. There once was a lady named Madeline, whose head with tangles was rattlin’. She said, ‘I don’t care,’ and sliced off her hair, but her husband still gave her a paddlin’.”

Madeline reached back to pinch Jade. “Whoa, partner,” Jade cautioned. “Never attack the woman with a knife in her hands.” Another block of hair fell away. “Done!”

Madeline shook her head. “I swear, my head feels pounds lighter. How do I look?” she demanded. Avery appeared at that point, puffing away on his pipe.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I seem to have intruded on a feminine sacrificial rite.” He stopped and stared. “But I demand to be introduced to this charming young girl with you.”

Madeline blushed and protested, but the brightness of her eyes spoke of how genuinely pleased she was with the compliment. Beverly beamed appreciation of her husband’s gallantry, and Avery informed them that dinner was being served alfresco, if they cared to join him.

Their cook had worked a miracle and produced a culinary feast out of his cooking
debes
guaranteed to please the palate of the most jaded city dweller. The meat was tender, flavorful, and cooked to a turn. Rice seasoned with cumin, cardamom, garlic, onions, and fresh ginger complemented the meat without overpowering it. A side dish of grated green mangos and cucumbers seasoned with salt, pepper, and lemon rounded out the meal. Only one other delight was needed to complete Jade’s gastronomic pleasure, and Harry supplied it with a large mug full of steaming black coffee.

A blanket of star-studded blackness soon covered the camp. Roger put more wood on the fire, and everyone adjourned “to the drawing room,” as Avery put it. Conversation around the fire turned to the hunt that had produced the night’s main course.

“Your bearer pointed out a magnificent buck, Hascombe,” said Avery. “But you chose another instead. May I inquire why?”

Harry drained his mug, refilled it, and passed the pot around the ring. “That older buck would have been a lot tougher and not big enough for a trophy, and he was too much in his prime to take him out of the herd.” He stretched his long legs in front of him. “If you want a good set of horns, I’m sure Memba Sasa will find one for you. He ought to consider
that
an important hunt.”

“Is he your usual tracker?” asked Jade.

“Not mine, Roger’s.”

Roger Forster bolted up in his chair. “Yes, right. He’s one of the few Maasai living on my ranch. Quite good. It’s as if he thinks like the animals. About the only native,” he added with a scowl, “that was ever worth knowing.”

No one said a word, and Jade remembered Roger’s rude comment on the day she’d arrived at the hotel. Whether he’d been hard put-upon or not, she found it difficult to be sympathetic to or even tolerate this man. The thought that he was David’s half brother disgusted her, but while she was sorry that David’s brother hadn’t turned out to be a man worthy of her deceased beau, she could no longer deny Roger’s legitimate—or illegitimate, as the case may have been—claim to Gil’s inheritance. The cuff links proved that.
Well,
she thought with a sigh,
no time like the present.

“Mr. Forster, about that subject we discussed earlier.”

Roger’s eyes glowed in the firelight. “You mean my inheritance?” He glanced at the others and smiled. “It seems I’m Gil Worthy’s son.” Roger waited while the others gasped and expressed their delight. “Might as well have witnesses,” he added to Jade.

“As you wish.” Jade rose from her chair, and the gentlemen politely stood with her. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to fetch something from my bag.”

Beverly started to follow, but Avery held her wrist gently and shook his head. When Jade returned, she carried the small box and the packet. As concisely as possible, she explained David’s last request, the ring, and her trip to the London solicitor. She omitted only her visit with David’s mother.

Roger sat silently, hands folded in front of him, and stared at the dirt so no one could see his face. “My father abandoned Mother and me,” he said finally.

“No! He was extremely ill with malaria when he went home. He returned near the start of the war to find you, but he died before he could.” Jade leaned forward and spoke in a big sister’s firm but gentle tone. “He
never
forgot you. He even left instructions for his son, his
other
son, to find you. David would have, too, but for the war. Finding you was his final request.”

“I’m a bastard after all,” Roger said as though the thought amused him.

“But a lucky bastard,” said Harry. “Most bastards never know their fathers or are better off not knowing them. Yours apparently was decent enough to leave you a legacy of some sort.” He shook the younger man by the shoulder. Harry’s beaming face showed his genuine happiness at his companion’s good fortune.

“Ah yes, my legacy,” said Roger, the gleam back in his eyes.

Jade passed the box to Roger and waited breathlessly while he opened it. For a moment, he simply sat and stared at the ring as though mesmerized by the fire’s reflection as it danced in and out of the stone. His eyes seemed to flicker themselves and harden. Then he pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto a slender finger of his right hand. It slipped, and he refit it to the slightly thicker middle finger. “A ring?” he exclaimed.

“It looks like the one you have, Jade,” said Harry. Roger looked sharply up at her.

“A matched set,” she replied and handed over the packet. She wondered if Harry would notice that Roger’s was missing that additional line, Bev’s tear, as she termed it.

Roger took the packet and tore it open along one end. He extracted two sheets of paper covered in a close, masculine hand, and read silently. Jade shifted in her chair with restless curiosity. She hoped her closeness with David and her job as bearer of the news would endow her with the privilege of hearing its secrets. Once Roger looked up and into the fire with something akin to hate and loathing on his face, but he never spoke. Finally, he folded the papers carefully, replaced them in the envelope, and silently set it beside him.

Harry possessed less tact than the others and finally inquired with a blunt, “Well, man? What the hell did it say?”

“What? Oh, it’s rather personal. My mother and all … You understand.” He slapped his palms on his legs and sat up straighter. “But he does speak of a box in London for me.”

“Yes, the solicitor has it,” said Jade. “You’ll have to go to London to claim it.”

“Does your father say what’s in the box?” urged Harry.

“Nothing specific. He only speaks cryptically of
vast wealth
.”

“Well, there you are, man. Your troubles are over.” Harry slapped him forcefully across the back. “That calls for a drink.” He rose to fetch a bottle from a supply box.

Roger had nearly fallen out of his chair from Harry’s hearty congratulation. When he regained his seat, Jade noticed his smirk. Well, he’d at least be a match for Gil’s widow, she thought. Like it or not, she’d done half her job and planned to finish the rest when she returned to Nairobi. The wonder was that she didn’t feel better for it. If anything, she felt hollow now, as if David had been taken from her and given to another, one who didn’t appreciate him.

“Did I understand Harry correctly, Miss del Cameron?” asked Roger. “You have a ring as well?” Again, Jade noted that his voice sounded cold and formal.

She nodded. “David gave it to me when he died.” She fought the urge to grip the ring under her shirt. What if Roger demanded it as his own? How could she lose the one part of David left to her? After all, she rationalized, he didn’t tell her to give that ring to his brother. She found herself growing more impatient with Roger.

No one else spoke as they stared into the fire. Harry returned with a bottle of scotch and some tin mugs. Only Avery took him up on a drink. Jade leaned back and scanned the sky. A shooting star streaked from Leo’s tail and burned itself out before it struck Cygnus, the constellation she’d assigned to David after the
ngoma
. A sign of success? She shook her head. Her imagination was getting way out of hand here. Besides, if it meant success, wouldn’t the meteor have touched the swan?

Harry’s deep baritone finally broke the silence. “We’re a jolly group, now, aren’t we? Please, try to restrain yourselves and show a little dignity.” Everyone roused themselves, and Avery inquired after tomorrow’s agenda.

“I understand you want a lion, Dunbury. There’s lion to be found all around here, but I thought to head east to Poacher’s Lookout.” Harry pointed in the general direction of the hill, invisible in the blackness beyond the
boma
. “It will give you a good look at Kilima Njaro as well, which should please Jade’s editor.”

“What about the Chyulu Hills?” asked Jade.

Harry picked up a stick and poked the fire. “That, too. I thought of the spot back when you first expressed an interest in my old partner Gil.” He glanced sideways at Roger and added, “Your father, Rog. Gil and I tromped around this area hunting elephant for a while, before I decided enough was enough and parted company with him.”

Roger stared at the ring on his finger, his eyes looking beyond it. With mounting impatience, Harry kicked Roger’s chair and nearly toppled it. Roger recovered in time to keep from tipping and apologized for his apparent lack of attention. “Thinking about the hunt,” he explained. Jade didn’t believe him. She presumed his thoughts were in Nairobi and with the newly widowed Leticia.

“Will your tracker be able to find lion for us there?” asked Beverly.

“Rest assured,” whispered Roger. “Whatever you want, Memba Sasa will provide it.”

Madeline stifled a yawn and announced her urge to retire for the night. Everyone agreed to the wisdom of that plan and ambled off to their respective tents after congratulating Roger again. Roger went in search of Memba Sasa, and Harry saw to stoking up the fires for the night.

Jade lay on her cot after removing only her boots. “Do you always sleep with all your clothes on?” Madeline asked.

“Saves time and embarrassment. I despise running in terror in just my undergarments.”

Her tent mate rebuttoned her blouse. “Do you really think we’re in danger?”

Jade regretted her attempt at humor and turned her head to better see her friend. “Not with that
boma
and the fires. Don’t mind me, Maddy,” she added. “It’s a habit I picked up in the corps. If I’m not in a proper house, I can’t sleep without all my clothes on.”

“Well, that may be, but I believe I’ll just adopt your strategy while I’m on safari.” She glanced at Jade’s duffel. “Do you have any more of that ointment?”