Hunter's Prize (2 page)

“The crash of a motorcar, of all things! In the wilds of South Africa. Can you imagine the folly?” she shrilled. “The silly contraption slid off-road in a muddy downpour. What was Peter thinking to bring that accursed machine to a place with naught to drive upon but rutted oxtrails? For all his good intentions, Peter Whitfield had more money than good sense.”

Charlie slid off his hat and clutched it in front of him. “More’s the pity, that. Dreadful sorry.”

Aunt Jane let go a rush of air, tickling the top of Ceddy’s head. “The news came as quite a shock. The poor dears perished the way they lived—side by side in service to our Lord. Now they’re together for eternity.” She dabbed the corners of her eyes with her hankie. “That hope is my only comfort.”

Charlie tapped Ceddy’s shoulder with a bony finger. “What will happen to this poor little mite?”

Ceddy drew away with a grunt.

Gathering him close, Auntie draped her arms around his neck. “I requested the privilege of raising him, but”—her clipped words sounded stern—“his parents made other arrangements in their will. He’ll spend Christmas with my family in London. Come spring, he’s off to live with Aunt Priss in Marshall, Texas.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Forgive me boldness, missus, but ain’t you his aunt?”

“Priscilla Whitfield is the boy’s great-aunt on his father’s side. To honor his parents’ wishes, the old girl will take him in.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s what they wanted, though I can’t imagine why they preferred that dried-up old spinster to me.”

The lead ox stumbled on a mound of clods, nearly going down. Denny Currie cursed and stuck it with a rod, prompting the creature to bellow in protest.

With a loud wail, Ceddy broke free and ran.

“Oy! Not again,” Mr. Currie groaned. “Where’s he off to now?”

“It’s your own fault,” Aunt Jane cried. “The boy has no tolerance for sudden noise or violence of any sort.”

“Violence?” Mr. Currie said. “We ‘aven’t—”

“Stay close, dear,” Aunt Jane called, as if from the bottom of a well. “It’s dangerous on your own.”

“Mrs. Beale, this won’t do!”

The packed dirt pounded beneath Ceddy’s feet, sending vibrations along his spindly legs.

“Cedric, love, please come back,” a lilting voice warbled in the distance. “Where are you going, darling?”

He stretched his arms to the sides and flew. He was a blue crane soaring over the rippling grass. A spoonbill searching for water. Cresting the hill, he shot down the other side, counting his jarring footsteps.

“He’s gone!” The angry words echoed overhead. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Don’t just stand there.” The fury in Auntie’s tone drew Ceddy’s shoulders to his ears. “Earn your money, gentlemen. Go after him.”

Heavy footsteps thundered behind him on the trail as the men closed in, muttering fierce curses at his back. Cruel fingers lashed out, closing around his neck. “Come back ‘ere, you little—”

Squirming, Ceddy spun and bit down hard.

Mr. Currie howled. Gripping Ceddy’s arm with his other hand, he shoved him along the path. “Oy, Charlie,” he growled. “When we reach the top of the ridge, mate, distract the old girl whilst I nudge this brat over the side.”

“Tempting, boss,” Charlie whispered back. “But we can’t kill off clergy’s seed. We’ll roast in perdition.”

Denny snorted. “I’d risk the fiery flames to be shed of ‘im.”

Scowling, Charlie swiped a bony finger across his neck. “Shut it. She’ll hear you.”

“Let her hear. I don’t give a monkey’s behind.”

“‘Ere she comes,” Charlie hissed. “Get a handle, mate. It’s the only way we’ll see our wages. We’ll be shed of them for good and all once they board the train.”

Ceddy covered his ears and moaned to escape their vile whispers.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Currie?” Aunt Jane’s panting cry came from behind the hill. “Catch hold of my nephew this instant.”

“Catch hold of my nephew.”

“Nudge him over the side.”

Ceddy’s breath caught as he pulled free of their grasping hands and shot around them. Veering to the right, he tripped over a tussock of wool grass, the smooth bottoms of his shoes slipping on the bright green blades.

Flailing his arms, he scrambled for a hold, but the long fronds slid through his fingers, leaving a sharp sting. He toppled, moving so fast the ground shot past in a blur. Shrieking in fear, he dug in his heels, plowing twin rows in the earth as he slid.

Halfway down, his feet hit a rock, flipping him again. He tumbledto the bottom in a blinding rush, rolling to a stop on his back, next to the bank of a stream.

Ceddy screwed up to cry, but the wide expanse of a cloudless blue sky drew his gaze. He stilled, watching the gray belly of an osprey soaring overhead.

Arching his body, he drew away from the sharp stones biting into his shoulders. Stirred by pain and frantic voices calling his name, he rolled to his elbows and stared at the scatter of rocks and stones he’d unearthed.

One of them glinted in the sunlight. Ceddy made a grab for it as the brush parted and long shadows fell, blocking the light.

Glancing up the hill, he tensed to flee, but Aunt Jane pushed between the men, her face bright from the heat. “Heavens, child! Are you all right? Come to me, dearie. That’s it, now. No more games, right? You’re a good boy, then, aren’t you, lamb?”

Pushing off the ground, Ceddy hobbled to the safety of her skirts.

Mr. Currie cursed aloud. “Well ain’t that just ducky. Dusts ‘im off and pats ‘is head, she does, and after he nearly got us killed. That brat needs a strap to ‘is backside.”

Auntie spun. “Mind your tongue and your business, Mr. Currie. And I’ll thank you to abstain from vulgar language around Cedric. He understands every word.”

Mr. Currie snorted. “That ain’t likely.”

“It’s true,” she huffed. “Ceddy’s quite intelligent. Brighter than most, in fact.”

Charlie laughed, a muffled sputter from behind his hand. “Pardon, missus. I don’t mean to make sport. I’ll give it to you that he’s a right handsome child. But smart?” He fell to chuckling again.

Her arms tightened around Ceddy. “Let’s get something straight before we take another step. This is no ordinary youngster.”

Mr. Currie elbowed his partner. “We worked out that bit for ourselves.”

“Well, you’ve worked it out all wrong. Cedric’s brighter than the two of you lumped together. A bit of a genius, really. He has difficulty expressing himself, that’s all, and he’s easily distracted.” Her voice faltered. “It’s why he’s so flighty.”

Auntie’s white-gloved fingers closed around Ceddy’s clenched fist. Glancing down, she frowned. “What have we here, lovey?”

Prying the stone from his grip, she turned it over in her hands. “Oh my. Another rock? I should think you’ve gathered plenty for your collection. They’re weighing us down as it is.”

He whimpered and scrambled for it.

Pulling away, she poised to toss it into the stream. “Leave it behind, dear. It’s filthy.”

“Nuh!”

“Yes, ‘tis, Ceddy.” She brushed her hand against her skirt. “Look how it soiled my nice, clean gloves. Let’s throw it down, shall we? You have so many.”

Bouncing on his heels, he tugged on her arm. “Mm-muh!”

With a sigh, she knelt at his side. “Yours? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He worked for the word. Fought for it. “Muh.”

Auntie peered at him with narrowed eyes then pulled a hankie from her bodice. “Oh, all right. I suppose you’ve suffered loss enough for a lifetime. You may keep it.” She wrapped the jagged stone, shoving it deep inside his pocket. “See that it stays tucked in here until we can wash it, right?” Pausing, she caught his chin. “If you run off again, I’ll take it from you. Do you understand?”

He drew in his shoulders and turned away, curling his fingers around the bulging pouch at his side.

Auntie faced the angry men. “Shall we go back to the trail now?”

“Right,” Charlie growled. “If we can find it.”

Mr. Currie crossed his arms. “Listen up, Mrs. Beale. I ain’t signed on to be no baby-minder. For all the trouble the lad’s been, I’ve a notion to carry on without you.”

She gasped. “You’d leave us at the mercy of wild animals and prowling natives?”

He held his bleeding hand toward Ceddy. “Five minutes with ‘im and they’d set you free.”

She stiffened. “He won’t stray again. I give you my word.” Her fingers tightened on Ceddy’s arm. “He certainly won’t be biting again. I’ll see to that.”

Charlie slapped Denny on the back. “Come along, old man. You’ve come this far; now see it through.” He puffed his cheeks and blew a breath. “Let’s get topside and mind the team before they’re set upon by lions.”

“No worries, mate,” Denny grumbled, falling in alongside him. “If a lion dares to show his hairy face, we’ll just sic that rabid boy on ‘im.”

Denny had never been so happy to see Church Square. Coming into Pretoria from the acacia karoo always startled him at first. The town, sitting square in the middle of nowhere, sported a richness that didn’t belong in the valleys and rolling plains of the thornveld.

South Africa afforded plenty of room to sprawl in, and the capital of Transvaal Province had taken advantage of the space. The streets were wide, the buildings several stories high. Church Square, at the center of it all, was vast and gaudy.

Blindfolded and carried into Pretoria, Denny would recognize the town at once when the blinders came off. One glance at the Jacaranda trees lining the shaded lanes and the rambler roses climbing the walls would give it away. The City of Roses was a fitting name for a town strewn with colorful petals.

Drawing a deep, fragrant breath, he rested his hands on his hips. “Charlie, take the oxen and have them looked after. Once they’re settled, unstrap the baggage from the beasts and meet us at Pretoria Station.”

“Right, boss,” Charlie said, turning the team.

Mrs. Beale sought Denny’s eyes, her mouth set in a stern line. “There’s no need for you to accompany us to the station. Ceddy and I can find our way from here.”

Denny shook his head. “I was hired to see you safely onto the train, and that’s what I mean to do.”

She tugged on the fingers of her glove. “Very well, Mr. Currie. As you wish.” Resting her hand on the boy’s back, she struck out down the street—in the wrong direction.

“Mrs. Beale?”

She turned.

“It’s that way,” Denny said, pointing.

“Of course.” She raised a haughty chin and pranced up the sidewalk.

Denny grimaced at Charlie in the distance then grudgingly followed the silly cow and her impish nephew.

A bicycle careened around the corner, frantically pedaled by a businessman in a suit coat and dapper straw hat.

In a burst of speed, Denny yanked the troublesome child and his aunt out of the road.

Ceddy jerked free with a sullen pout and plodded woodenly toward the station platform.

Denny ran his thumb over the ring of teeth marks on his hand. “S’aright, you cheeky little beggar,” he whispered to the back of the boy’s head. “I’ll be shed of you soon enough.”

The 132 wending its way toward them on the tracks—its big engine primed to take Cedric Whitfield out of his life for good—was a sight to warm the cockles of Denny’s heart. If he never saw the wicked lad again, it would suit him fine.

“Wait up, dear. You’ll be lost.”

Ignoring his aunt’s harried warning, the boy scurried onto the platform and ran to a row of windows. Folding his legs beneath him, he sat on the ground and reached inside his pocket. Unwrapping the stone she’d given him, he commenced to scratching on the wall of the station.

Mrs. Beale sighed then shook her finger. “Stay put, yeah? The train’s almost here.”

Turning to Denny, she held out a fat wad of bills. “I’ve decided to pay extra for your trouble.”

“Not extra, lady.” He raised one brow. “Double.”

She drew back, narrowing her eyes.

Denny wiggled his fingers. “I earned every copper.”

Releasing a huffy breath, she counted out a few more pounds. “Very well. Done.”

Loud tapping pulled their attention to the boy. Kneeling before a window, he rapped hard on the glass with his silly rock.

“Oh bother. What’s he doing?” Denny waved his arms. “Hullo there, sonny! Stop that, now.”

Fidgeting, Mrs. Beale stared down the track, deaf and blind to the child in her charge.

“Call the lad away, Mrs. Beale, before he breaks something.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Leave him be, Mr. Currie. He’s not hurting anything.”

Gritting his teeth, Denny turned aside in disgust. “Right,” he whispered. “What’s it to you? You’ll soon be rolling south, free as the wind. I’ll be left to square the tab.”

Charlie appeared as the hulking engine rumbled past, the squeal on metal piercing as the engineer braked to a stop.

Denny hooked his thumb in Ceddy’s direction. “I’ll load their bags. You go fetch the brat so he can board. We can’t have her leaving without ‘im.”

Nodding, Charlie dropped his burden then hustled to the boy and leaned to speak to him.

Cedric pushed to his feet and ran to join his aunt.

As they climbed the steps of the passenger car and disappeared inside, Denny drew a deep, cleansing breath. He didn’t relax until the rods on the massive wheels began to pump, rolling the bothersome blighters out of his life. Patting the wad of money in his pocket, he grinned and strolled to join Charlie. “Looks like we scored a profit after all.”