The man at Kambala (5 page)

Lawino eventually brought out her latest-born child to show. It was a boy, perhaps a week old, his little bronze body already decked out with brightly coloured beads and ornaments made from cowrie shells. When he started to cry she put him to her breast, squatting on the ground at Sara's side and smiling shyly. She was beautiful, her features finely chiselled and serene, her shaven head perfect in shape. Round her neck she wore rings of coloured beads like those on her child, and her arms were heavily festooned with bracelets. Mgari regarded her with tolerance, even indulgence. She was obviously his favourite.

It was past midday before Sara eventually stirred herself to leave. A whole group of villagers accompanied her regretfully to the car, speeding her on her way with the soft sere sere of their farewell, and standing there smiling and waving until she was out of sight. She felt happy and content herself. She always did after a visit to the Magni boma. Coming down to the spot where she had seen the lioness and her cubs, she decided to cut off from the track across the plain and approach the station via the shallow neck of river half a mile beyond. She was glad she had remembered to bring a hat for once. Even the Rover's canvas roof failed to give full protection from the fierce weight of the sun at this hour.

The great herd of wildebeeste she had spotted from the bluff had moved only a matter of a mile or so. She passed within twenty feet of them slowly, but the sentry animals on the edge of the herd did no more than keep an eye on her between mouthfuls. She had left them and was within three miles of home when her offside

front wheel found the deep hole left by some long-gone burrower, and it was only sheer luck which kept her from overturning the vehicle. Recovering from her momentary fright, she tried to back the car out, and listened to the resulting row with her heart sinking slowly into her shoes. From the crazy angle of the front wheel down there the bearing had certainly gone, but that couldn't be causing all the noise. With a superficial knowledge gained from watching Ted at work at various times, she could think of only one thing it might be — the front wheel drive shaft. Which meant that she was well and truly stuck.

How long she just sat there contemplating she had no real idea. There was an immense Silence over the plains, broken only by the flute-like piping of a pair of bou-bou shrike floating up from the direction of the river. At this time of the day most of the animals were resting in the shade of tree and bush, waiting for the cool of the evening before exerting any further energy. Sara felt totally alone and helpless. In her two years of driving this was the first time anything like this had ever happened to her, and it had to be now of all times ! She didn't even want to think about what Steve York was going to say when he found out what she'd done.

Eventually she galvanized herself into action. It was no use mulling over the 'if onlys' in her mind. She would have to contact Ted on the SSB and get him to come out and tow her in — always providing he'd got the other car put to rights again. She switched on the radio and put out the station call sign, hoping that somebody was near enough to the set to hear it. When the acknowledgment came through, however, it wasn't

the station at all but Steve York picking up the call from the other car somewhere out in the bush.

`Where are you?' he demanded without preamble.

Sara took a deep breath before launching into her answer. She had to get it over some time, and it might as well be sooner as later. 'I'm three miles east of the Station with a front wheel in a hole,' she said clearly and succinctly. 'It sounds as if the drive shaft might have gone.'

There was the briefest of pauses. 'Are you hurt?' `No.'

`Then stay put and wait. We're about fifteen miles away. Should be there in about forty minutes. Keep contact open, and don't get out of the car. Do you hear me?'

She could hardly fail to hear him when he barked like that, but for once she held the retort. 'I won't. Wouldn't it be quicker to get Ted to come out?'

The reply was not encouraging. 'Ted's turn will come. Over and out.'

The minutes dragged endlessly by. Where her back rested against the seat the whole of Sara's shirt was soaked with perspiration, and she could feel it trickling down the back of her neck from her scalp. Without the breeze created by movement the car was an oven at this hour, a torture chamber. Sara longed for the cool shade of the nearest clump of trees, but didn't fancy sharing it with a possible pride of lions or even a lone cheetah. Only an idiot would take a risk like that for the sake of mere comfort. Steve didn't come on the radio again, so she assumed he was on his way. She wished he would

hurry up. Whatever he had to say when he did get here it was preferable to this interminable waiting.

She saw the Land-Rover when it was still a couple of miles off, bumping over the rough ground at no more than the recommended twenty miles an hour. Steve York went by the book all right. He probably knew it by heart! She waited until the other vehicle was mere yards away before sliding stiffly from her seat to stand up and stretch in the grass.

Steve drew to a stop and got out, gave her one brief cold glance and went round to the front end to have a look underneath. When he straightened things began to happen quickly. A rope was procured from the back of his own car by one of the rangers and attached to the front end of the other, which was then drawn from the hole. Being a four-wheeled drive vehicle the car was still moveable providing it was driven with care and concentration at a low speed. The two Africans were detailed to bring it in together, one walking in front to pick out the most level route. Then and then only did Steve finally turn his attention to Sara, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his own car.

`Get in.'

Sara got i
t was either that, she felt, or be put. It didn't take any special perceptive powers to judge his mood — he was blazing. She sat silently at his side as they jolted homeward for the second time that day, and had to admit to a certain growing apprehension concerning what was going to happen when they got there. He wouldn't touch her, she told herself. He wouldn't dare. Her father would certainly have something to say about it if he even tried! But her father was
thousands of miles away in England by now, and anything he might say was six weeks away. She was on her own.

Ted was still working on the stripped-down car when they got in. He straightened from an inspection of the engine casing as they came up the track, surprise followed by disconcertion chasing across his face.

`What happened?' he asked.

`Enough. I hope we've got some spares in stock.' Steve's tone was clipped. 'I'm going to want words with you after I've got through with the Jungle Princess here.' His hand was on her arm, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. 'You're surely to God capable of keeping an eye on a slip of a girl !'

He didn't wait for an answer, but shoved Sara ahead of him up the steps and into the house, put her into a chair and closed the door, then stood with his back to it looking at her with unnerving calculation.

`If you were a couple of years younger I'd whale the daylights out of you,' he said. 'In fact, I'm strongly tempted to do it anyway!'

`It was an accident,' she said at last. 'It could have happened to anyone.'

`It could,' he agreed. But it wouldn't have happened to you if you'd been here on the station.' He stuck his hands in his pockets as if afraid of what he might do with them otherwise. 'The trouble with you, my girl, is that you don't give a damn for anything outside of your own interests. You're spoiled rotten, and about as pigheaded as they come ! You strut around like a young peacock, so full of your own importance you can't even see the kind of brat you're
making yourself look. If you really felt you had to leave the station today you could quite easily have taken one of the boys with you, but that would have been too much like giving in, wouldn't it? And Sara Macdonald never does anything which might smack of compulsion!' He paused to draw breath, eyed her hardily, added harshly, 'It's high time you had a few home truths. I spoke last night about sending you down to Nairobi to spend a few weeks with my sister, only I doubt very much that you could be relied on to behave as a guest might normally be expected to. Your father has one hell of a lot to answer for!' He turned then and opened the door, added over his shoulder, 'I'll leave you to brood on it. Just stay away from me for the rest of the day if you know what's good for you.'

Sara sat huddled numbly in her chair as the door banged behind him. She hadn't cried for years, but she felt very close to it now. Was that how everyone saw her — an empty-headed little popinjay without a single redeeming feature? Even thinking about the caustic, cutting comments made her wince. Steve York had known her less than twenty-four hours, and already he despised her. It hurt to realize that. It hurt badly. Yet what had she expected? She had deliberately set out to show him up, and in front of the men he was supposed to be in charge of for the next few weeks. The Africans respected authority; how would they feel now about a man who allowed a female to get away with the kind of flagrant defiance of it that she had displayed today? If Steve had thought about that — and he would have — he could have made certain of restoring that authority by dressing her down right out there on the plains where

they could hear and appreciate. But he hadn't, even though he'd obviously wanted to. He'd granted her the privacy of a closed room before letting fly. She felt small and ashamed. She hadn't given the man a chance from the moment he had arrived.

Ted was sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette when Sara finally recovered her composure enough to feel up to facing the world again. He looked at her, gave his head a little shake and patted the space beside him. `A bit like being run over with a steamroller, isn't it?'

`Did you hear?' she asked, low-toned.

`Most of it. Couldn't help it.' He shook his head again, wry humour touching his mouth. 'I got my share of it too for letting you take the car in the first place. He's not short of a word or two, that chap !'

`Sorry, Ted,' she murmured, and meant it. She hesitated before adding tentatively, 'Am I really as bad as all that? I mean all those things he said.'

`He had a few points,' he acknowledged at length. `But generally speaking I'd say he went a bit far.' His smile was familiar, affectionate and comforting. `There's more to you than meets the eye, young Sara. You just need the rough edges rubbing off, that's all —though not necessarily with a rasp.'

She curved an arm about the corner post, resting her cheek against the planed and sanded wood. She didn't know quite how she felt at the moment. It was like having a hollow inside her filled with a question mark. In all of her nineteen years of life she had never been called upon to stop and take a look at herself. Steve had been right about one thing, she didn't think she only

reacted. And to him she had reacted violently. Why, she wasn't at all sure even now.

`Did he happen to mention anything about the poachers?' she asked after a while.

`Only that they'd lost the trail before your call came through. He was on his way back.' He gave her a sideways glance. 'Did you really spot that bunch this morning?'

She nodded. 'You don't think they could possibly be the same?'

`Doubtful. Unless they moved like greased lightning. What I can't understand is why they were taking a chance on being seen in broad daylight like that. They must have known the station was somewhere in the vicinity.'

`I think they might have been looking for a suitable place to hide up for the day.' Sara was looking into the middle distance, eyes reflective. 'I'm sure they weren't out on the savanna or we'd have seen some sign, yet they were definitely heading in that direction.' Her head came up suddenly. 'Ted, I've had an idea. You remember last year when I told you I'd seen a leopard up by the ridge and both you and Dad said it was probably a serval cat?'

He looked at her questioningly. 'Yes, why?'

`Well, this spring I came across what I think might have been its lair. There's a small cave on the far side right along towards the end. It's covered by thorn and takes some finding, but it's just possible that they did find it this morning. If they were in there when we went through it would explain why they seem to have disappeared without trace, wouldn't it?'

`Could be.' Ted didn't sound very convinced. 'Did you mention it this morning?'

`I've only just remembered about it.' The silence stretched out. Eventually, with reluctance, she said, 'I suppose I ought to mention it now while there's a chance of checking on it. Even if the three of them are there they'll leave it tonight as soon as it's safe to move. What do you think?'

`I think you're probably right,' he said after a moment, and she gave a small sigh.

`That's what I was afraid you'd say.' She let go of the post. 'Now I know what Daniel must have felt like. Give me a decent burial, won't you?'

Ted was grinning. 'You'll cope. You're bouncing back already. He went round the back.'

Steve was talking with a small group of the rangers when she rounded the corner of the house. He watched her approach without any visible alteration in his expression or pause in what he was saying, finishing off as she reached the group with a crisp Ngoja kidogo (wait awhile) to regard her with inquiringly lifted brows.

`Can I talk to you a moment?' she said, paused, and tagged on impishly, Please.'