The Blue Mountains of Kabuta (22 page)

She was so frightened for him that she began to wind down the window to shout at him, to get him to let the poor lion live, not to risk his life. Then she realized that she was getting hysterical, so she closed the window and buried her face in her hands, for she couldn't bear to watch Alex walking to . . . to, perhaps, his death.

The sudden roar of an angry lion jerked up her head and opened her eyes. She could no longer see the three men, they had vanished, but suddenly Alex appeared from behind a bush, glancing back at the truck, lifted his hand to give the V-sign of victory, and strangely, her fear for him went. Suddenly she knew that he knew what he was doing . . . now it was the lion she felt sorry for.

Another
angry roar made her jump, made her glad the windows were closed, that someone in the truck was watching.

There was a third roar. A strange sound, almost, she thought, a desperate sound. She leaned against the glass, gazing anxiously now towards the bushes where Alex was hiding.

Suddenly she saw the lion—a great beast walking strangely as if limping. His tail was swinging, his head rolling from side to side, then as he came out of the long grass and she could see him plainly she saw why he was hobbling. His fourth leg was being dragged helplessly as he made his way on three legs. He must have been hurt, she realized, and at that moment Alex stepped forward and she heard a shot . . .

The lion gave a stifled roar, moved forward, falling over in the same moment, jerked his legs and then lay very still. Jon sat very still, fighting the sickness that filled her as she watched Alex move cautiously to the dead animal's side, bend down, then stand up and walk towards her.

He jerked open the truck door. ‘I want to show you something,' he said curtly.

‘I don't want to . . . to see it . .' she began, but Alex was not listening. He literally pulled her down and half carried her across the patch of dry earth to where the lion lay.

‘No, Alex, I won't look!' she said, struggling.

‘You will—if we have to stand here ten
hours,'
he said angrily.

She knew he meant what he said and that in this mood all the arguments or tears would have no effect. But as she gazed at the dead lion, she cried out, clapping her hand to her mouth with horror. The damaged leg was terribly torn with deep cuts, covered with dried blood and ants and flies. The lion's mouth was badly torn, too, his jaw hanging down loosely.

‘How did it happen?' she gasped, turning her head away, trying not to be sick.

‘A poacher's trap,' Alex said, and he half carried her back to the truck, lifting her up and going round to sit by her side. ‘Wire, Jon. He must have torn himself to bits trying to get free. He broke his jaw and couldn't run, so could find no animal he could kill. Desperate with pain and hunger, he must have forced his way into a kraal and found a small child playing in the dust.'

Alex paused, looking at Jon's white face. Then he pulled a flask from the pocket at the side of the truck and a glass and filled it, giving it to her.

‘Drink it slowly,' he ordered, and went on as she obeyed: ‘You can guess what followed. He ate the child. It wasn't his fault . . . it's that . . .' Alex clamped his mouth as if afraid to let himself say what he wanted to. ‘Feel better?' he asked abruptly.

Jon nodded. The drink burned her throat but was warming her.

‘Sorry
. . . silly of me.'

‘Nonsense.' For a moment he smiled. ‘I thought you were going to black out. I didn't realize it would be such a shock.'

She shivered. ‘He must have been in agony.'

‘I'm sure he was. That's why I came out. A wounded beast has to be shot quickly—not only to spare him further agony but to protect the children.' He sighed. ‘When I think . . . It's the game warden's job, but when they're sick, I lend a hand.'

Jon glanced across the bare patch and saw that the three Africans were slowly dragging the lion along the ground.

‘What will they do with him?'

Alex smiled grimly. ‘Eat him, of course. We'll get going as soon as they get him on the truck.'

It was a slow business, for the animal was a heavy one. Jon tried not to look at that blood-covered face, not to think of his panic as he was trapped, the agony he suffered.

At last they were able to get away and Alex drove back to the main road, stopping at a small clearing where there were a few thatched huts with a fence round them. Four or five women came running, with small children clinging to their skirts.

‘They don't usually have lions down here, but there's been a long drought,' Alex explained as the lion was pulled off, hitting the ground with a heavy thump. ‘And they've come
in
search of water. That's how he got caught in a cunningly-laid trap.'

Gradually as Alex talked more and more, some of the nausea left Jon and she could relax and listen to what he said as he drove the truck. She had to sit close to him as otherwise he had to shout above the noise of the engine. She was fascinated by what he told her.

‘Life as a game warden is exciting and interesting, but there are tough moments. If too many elephants are bred, they destroy the trees and, in this way, make life impossible for other animals, so we have to make a regular check on the number of elephants or else the reserve will become a dust-heap. It's the same with lions. We have to know how many there are because, of course, they live off the other animals and if the number gets out of hand . . .' He shrugged.

‘And if there are too many?' she asked.

‘We shoot them.' He glanced at her. ‘It's a quick death, Jon, and better than letting them die starving or caught in a trap.'

Later he talked about his sanctuary and his plans.

‘That reminds me, Caroline said I organized safaris? I thought so. The truth is I only went on one in my life. Certainly it was with Americans, wealthy all of them. I did go to shoot—but my weapon was a camera.' He chuckled as he looked at her face. ‘Some time—if you won't be too bored—you must
see
my films.'

Alex talked to her as he had never talked before. Relaxed, he told her about the animals that were rescued when the Kariba Dam was built; he explained about the arrows that were shot into wild animals and that sent them to sleep long enough so that they might be examined to see if they were healthy, or to move them to a less crowded part of the reserve.

She felt quite sorry when she recognized the road to the valley where she lived. Alex must have noticed it, too, for his whole behaviour changed. He became serious.

‘I'm sorry I was difficult on the outward trip, Jon, but I was so angry I could barely trust myself to speak. I felt I might explode and use language that would startle you.' He smiled. ‘I'd hate to shock you!' Then his smile vanished and she saw his hands clenched round the steering wheel. ‘You know, Jon, when I think of what those poachers do, I feel I'd like to kill them with my own hands.' His voice was unsteady for a moment. ‘Kill if they must, but not by slow torture.'

Jon turned to him impulsively. She had not long, because they were under the jacarandas and would soon be home.

‘I owe you an apology, too, Alex. I shouldn't have believed what Caroline said. I should have known better and trusted you.'

He smiled. ‘Well, while we're apologizing, I
should
say I'm sorry I forced you to watch the kill.'

‘But it wasn't a kill, Alex. It was an act of mercy, to put him out of pain. I didn't realize there were poachers and such things happened. I didn't realize the awfulness of it all.'

He drove round the back of the house and helped her down from the truck. ‘How could you know? This is a totally different world.'

She watched the truck until it was gone from sight, then went slowly indoors, conscious of her tiredness, and the need for a bath or shower.

Tim came striding into the empty kitchen, his face furious.

‘Where the devil have you been? I was worried sick.'

‘Tim, I'm sorry. We told the girls.'

‘You could have left me a note.'

‘Tim, there wasn't time. We had to find the lion and shoot it.'

‘Lion? What on earth are you talking about?'

She followed him into the lounge, describing the awfulness. ‘That poor lion— what he must have suffered!' she finished.

‘Sounds daft to me, Jon. The lion would have died in the end.'

She stared at him. ‘But he was starving and in agony. He'd killed a baby . . .'

‘And gave wonderful Alex Roe the chance to
look
like a hero. Why didn't one of the game wardens shoot it?'

‘They're all ill.'

He caught hold of her shoulders and looked at her. ‘Jon, will you marry me?' he said bluntly.

She was close to him. She could see the two freckles on his longish nose, the way his mouth curled down, the longish hair. But she saw a stranger, no longer the pleasant amusing helpful Tim she had grown fond of—the man holding her shoulders was just a stranger. A man who could put a little cat where it could only die in agony—a man who said let the lion die, again in agony. What sort of man was this? How could she have believed all he said? Letting him make her doubt a man like Alex, persuading her to believe lies.

‘I'm sorry, Tim, but . . .' She tried to free herself, but his hands gripped her.

‘I thought you loved me,' he said accusingly. ‘We've been everywhere together.'

‘That doesn't always mean marriage. Please, Tim, you're hurting me!' He let her go and she rubbed her shoulders. ‘Look, Tim, I like you a lot, an awful lot, but marriage . . .'

‘You're in love with Alex Roe, aren't you?'

She felt her cheeks burning. ‘I am not! In any case . . .' she began, then stopped suddenly, remembering that her mother had asked her not to tell anyone.

‘What has he got that I haven't?' Tim
demanded.
‘Money? Is that what you girls are after? Or do you like his arrogance, his sarcasm, his showmanship? There must be something that attracts you all!'

He turned away and went to his room, slamming the door angrily. Jon stared after him. She hated having to hurt him, but he mustn't have even the smallest hope, for she knew that there could only be one man for her—Alex Roe. And if she could not have him, then she would remain a spinster for life!

Soaking in the bath, she went over Alex's words on the truck. How easily he had talked to her, not once had he teased her. If only he was always like that!

She closed her eyes, remembering something he had said that she would never forget and that helped her understand his absorption in his sanctuary.

‘A true hunter must be a naturalist, Jon. He must love the wild, his animals, his bushveld, his mountains, his birds and the wild flowers and trees. He must love it all. A true hunter needs a strong heart, a sharp eye, natural reactions and quick reflexes. It's a great life, Jon, although it can be tough.'

She went over the words again and again, for that was how she felt. She loved the beautiful mountains, the gay little coloured birds who flitted from flower to flower, who sang such odd tunes; she loved the dogs, the cattle, even the tiresome goats. She loved the
trees,
too.

Alex's words had been a revelation. They had shown her a different kind of man from what she had thought him. And it made her love him more. Maybe, she told herself, maybe in time she could learn to love him as a stepfather instead of as a man.

Her mother came back as she was dressing. Jon was glad, for she rather dreaded Tim's reactions. However, they had a quiet evening for a change, for the rain that had stopped at lunch time had begun again and the roads were pretty bad, so Tim decided to stay at home for once. He was his usual amusing self, but all the time Jon was conscious that he was looking at her. And not with love.

Was it hate or contempt? she wondered.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Next morning when Jon woke, the sun was streaming in her room. Rex was wandering around restlessly and Dorcas brought in a cup of coffee. Jon drank it quickly, had a hasty shower and then took the dogs for their usual walk.

How beautiful everything was—so pristine fresh with the sparkles of rain water still on the leaves and flowers. That was, if you ignored the ankle-deep mud on which she kept slipping
and
sliding!

As she walked, she thought of Alex and all the things he had talked about. Now she could understand his love for his sanctuary, his desire to fight the poachers, to protect the animals. She wondered for a moment if her mother would. When she got back to the house, she saw a strange car outside the door. Tim's was not there, but he often drove to distant parts of the lands and hated going in the truck which made his back ache, he said. But who could the stranger be? It was a beautiful white car, a Mercedes, too.

She slipped in the back way and hastily showered and pulled on her pink cotton frock, gazed in the mirror and pulled a face at her reflection. If only she could look her age, she thought ruefully. If only she could look twenty-three!

‘Darling, are you there?' her mother called, a note of excitement in her voice.

‘Coming, Mum!' Jon called. Would the visitor have breakfast with them, she wondered, and where was Tim? Usually they waited for him if he was late, but if there was a visitor . . .

She went out on to the stoep and stood still in amazement. She recognized the man. He was the old Colonel she had met before—the friend of her mother's who was teaching her bridge.

‘Jon darling, I do want you to meet
Geoffrey.'

Jon smiled and held out her hand. ‘The Colonel and I have met before.'

‘I know, darling, but you didn't really meet him. I want you to get to know him well.'

Jon was staring, puzzled, at her mother, who sounded quite nervous.