The Maverick's Bride (10 page)

“You’re wrong.” She shivered as a chill wind blew over her. “My father loved Cissy.”

She left Adam’s arms to stand alone in the darkness. Her father was dead. How many times had she thought she would welcome those words? And now? Now she felt cold and empty. She felt nothing—not even the presence of God, who had sustained her through so many years of disappointment and pain. Her once-shining path to the future had vanished in a mist of confusion, dread, sorrow.

A movement from the fire drew her attention. Emma glanced over at the cluster of men. Or were they women? Light danced on elaborate braids and long, pierced earlobes.

They conversed in a rhythmic language as one rose and nodded at Adam. Emma knew by the ropy biceps and sinewed legs that this was a man. He wore a beaded leather sheet fastened at one shoulder and carried a spear with a leaf-shaped blade.

The rancher spoke several words to the warrior, who turned to offer Emma a long dry gourd. She accepted it, and Adam removed a leather cap from its neck end.

“Take a drink, Emma. It’s not water, but it will do you good.”

She lifted the gourd to her lips. A sour, nauseating odor filled her nostrils as a liquid that tasted of curdled, salty milk slid onto her tongue. Suppressing a gag, she managed to swallow. Once the concoction was down, her stomach began to unknot and grow warmer.

“Thank you.” She told the African man as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her mouth. “Most unusual.”

Adam’s grin softened his somber features. “It’s a mixture of cow’s blood and milk.”

Emma felt her face drain, but she kept her voice steady. “Milk and blood. I see. And who are these gentlemen—your slaves?”

He frowned. “They’re not exactly gentlemen, and I don’t have slaves. These are warriors from the Maasai tribe. Kiriswa shared his calabash with you.”

The warrior said a few words to Adam, who translated for Emma. “They want to take us to their village for the night. It’s not far.”

As he spoke, the men doused the campfire with dirt. In the sudden blackness, Emma knew a wave of fear. But a warm arm circled her shoulders.

“I hope you’re good for a little more riding tonight.” Adam said. “I’ll protect you now.”

He mounted the black horse, then bent over to lift Emma up behind him. She said nothing as she slipped her arms around his chest and felt the horse begin its rhythmic stride.

As night closed around them, Adam found it hard to keep his attention on the ride. Emma had rested her cheek on his back and her soft hair brushed his neck. There was something about the way she molded against him, her arms wrapped tightly and her hands warm on his chest.

Any man would be interested in a woman like Emma. What he didn’t like to admit was the growing certainty that she was more than just another woman. He had begun to care what happened to her. Snapping off the thought as though it were poison, he returned his focus to the trail and the line of tall men walking in silence ahead of the horse.

“You’re wearing the same shirt and vest you had on earlier,” Emma said, her voice drowsy. “Did you look for me a full day without stopping?”

“I wanted to get you safely back to Tsavo. I knew you’d want to be there—the situation with your father. You feeling all right, Emma?”

“I feel…odd.” She was crying, he realized. Where her cheek rested on his back, his shirt was damp. “I can’t imagine my father dead. I hardly know what to think. Life has always been the same. I hoped and planned, but I doubted it could be different. I should mourn my father, yet I can only think of Cissy.”

She fell silent, and Adam covered her hands with his. “Try to believe your sister is alive,” he said.

“I do believe it and I must find her. I shall need help doing it.”

Before he could think of a response, he saw the warriors break into a lope. A fire glowed red in the distance. One man began a low chant, echoed by the others.

As they neared the light, Adam distinguished the outlines of low earthen mounds surrounded by a high fence of piled dead thorn brush. The group entered single file through a narrow opening to find the trampled area inside almost deserted.

The warriors melted into the darkness, leaving Emma and Adam alone with Kiriswa. Adam kicked a leg over his saddle horn and slid down. He lifted Emma to the ground, set her on her feet and braced her to be sure she could stand. Then he spotted a gnarled old man sauntering into the clearing.

“Entasupai,”
the Maasai growled the familiar greeting and spat into his hand.

Adam grasped it without hesitation and gave the response.
“Hepa.”

He took a moment to explain the situation, his effort at
speaking the Maa language stumbling over the description of the railway, the missing sister and the dead father. Then he introduced Emma.

“Sendeyo.” The man slapped his hand across his chest.

Adam smiled. “That’s his name—Sendeyo. He’s the chief elder of the tribe.”

Emma gave a polite nod. “So pleased to meet you, sir.”

“Sendeyo asked if you’d like to sleep in one of his wives’ huts,” Adam told her. “Frankly, I’d recommend—”

“No.” She caught his sleeve. “I can’t sleep now. There’s no time. I must speak to you at once.”

“You need to rest, Emma.” Frowning, he looked down at her. Starlight silvered her soft shoulders, and the breeze played with her hair.

“Adam, please.” She took his hand in hers. “I have a business proposal for you.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I cannot delay. My sister’s life depends on it. I’ve been weighing this since you found me and it is the only solution. I have a proposal for you. Strictly a business proposal, you understand. We must marry.”

Adam’s mouth fell open. He stepped back and took off his hat. Flustered, he turned on his heel and took two long strides. He glanced back, disbelief washing through him.

Finally he managed to croak, “Marry?”

“I need your help to find my sister. I believe Cissy may have truly heard Dirk. To learn if he’s missing from his post requires a journey to the border. Then I must go into the bush in search of them. Cissy needs me. She hasn’t a clue how to survive on her own. Or with a man she barely knows.”

“You barely know me. What does a marriage between us have to do with finding your sister?”

“You know the protectorate, Adam. How to speak to the people and find your way about.” Emma’s green eyes blazed hotter than the fire. “And you need money for your ranch. I need money, too—but unless I’m married, I cannot touch my inheritance. If you agree to the partnership, I shall pay you the sum of two thousand pounds. We’ll take the train back to Mombasa and make a draw from the bank on my affidavit of marriage. That will provide the funds I need to finance my search for Cissy. We must have supplies, horses, tents.”

He was trying to think of a response when Emma spoke again. “After two months, whether we have found Cissy or not…” She looked away, her face drawn. “No matter what, we’ll dissolve the partnership, and I shall pay you what I promised.”

“But we’d be…married.” He shook his head. “For two months, you’d be my wife.”

“Only the bank in Mombasa and its affiliate in England will know. You’ll soon be free of me.”

“And you’ll be free, too.”

“To find a hospital that needs my service, yes.”

“Emma, I can’t—”

“But you can! Think of it—two thousand pounds. For your ranch. Think what you could do with that much money. And all you would have to do is help me find Cissy. Please, sir, just help me.”

Adam studied the brim of his hat in silence. He straightened the braided leather band and slid his hand through the crown’s center crease.

The woman was crazy. Why would he even consider her half-cocked scheme? He’d be loco to haul a citified Englishwoman around the countryside searching for a sister who was probably dead.

But Emma did have guts, and Adam was ripe for a challenge—if he could get what he wanted from her.

He looked up. “I’ll do it on one condition. You come to my ranch and tend to my friend after our visit to the border.”

“Impossible! If I stop even for a day, something might happen to Cissy. You cannot ask that of me.”

He shrugged. “I’m not crazy about the idea anyway. Marriage isn’t much my style.”

Shucking his hat onto the back of his head, he gave her a long look before turning toward his horse.

“Wait!” Emma caught his arm. “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll see your friend. But I won’t stay long, Adam. You don’t know Cissy as I do. If she’s still alive, she’ll be frantic. She can’t do anything without help. She can’t fix her hair or lace her corset or—”

“If she’s out in the bush with a runaway German soldier, she’s going to have a lot more to worry about than lacing her corset.”

“Just as I’m trying to tell you. Can’t you see?” Emma brushed a hot tear from her cheek.

“Okay.” Adam took her hand and pulled her closer. “Okay, I’ll help you find your sister.”

Her green eyes shimmered. “Thank you. We’ll find a church in Mombasa. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“Now hold on.” Adam took a step backward. “You never said anything about a church. I’m not going to do this thing in front of a preacher.”

“God knows I would never make light of the sacrament of marriage, but we must have the union witnessed. The bank in England will require signed documents. We can’t marry out here in the middle of the bush with no one to see but these savages.”

“Sendeyo and his family are not savages, Emma. They’re people, with pride and a culture as good as yours. Better,
probably. They marry and raise families and take care of each other. We’ll get old Sendeyo over there to do the honors.”

Adam tipped his head at the two men who had stood watching in silence. Sendeyo smiled back, as if he already knew that something interesting was afoot.

Adam related the scheme to the elder, who listened with bowed head. Then Sendeyo began to respond, his deep voice lilting over phrases almost as though he were singing. At last he stopped and leaned on his spear.

Adam turned to Emma. “He won’t do it.”

“But why not?”

“He says it’s not their way. We have to observe the proper waiting time, and it’s not even calving season. You don’t have a hut, there’s no cow to slaughter for the feast and we aren’t even betrothed.”

“Preposterous. Surely they don’t get betrothed.”

“It’s called the
esirata
—the picking of one girl from many.”

Emma’s eyes flicked to the old man. He was staring at the stars. “Tell him I shall pay him well. I’ll give him fifty pounds.”

“Fifty pounds? Why not fifty thousand? Sendeyo wouldn’t know what to do with one shilling. The Maasai way of life is based on the cow.”

“Then I shall send him a cow. Ten cows.”

Adam laughed. “He’s not going to do it, but I’ll try again.”

He spoke to Sendeyo, stressing the urgency of the missing sister and the German who had stolen her away. Then he mentioned the cows. Sendeyo made a brief answer and prodded Adam with his cattle stick until he was facing Emma again.

“All right,” he said. “He’ll do it.”

She let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Sendeyo. I shall see that you have as many cows as you like.”

“He doesn’t want cows, Emma. He wants me to pay the bride price.”

“Bride price? What is that?” she asked, her desperation growing.

“Payment—for you. And since there are no parents to negotiate, he says I’m to give the bride price to you. Wait here.”

He walked to his horse, slipped a knife from his boot and sliced into a leather strap on one of the saddlebags. It was one of four that held the bag closed with brass rings.

“Here’s the bride price,” he told Emma.

Unwilling to meet those green eyes, he took her hand and slid the ring onto the finger of her left hand. Sendeyo held aloft a knobbed stick. As he lowered it, he spoke in a raspy voice.

“I’m to take care of you,” Adam translated. “I’m to give you many children and a hut and lots of cattle. You’re to take care of the children and the cattle and the hut. I can’t divorce you unless you’re barren, or you practice witchcraft, become a thief, desert me, behave badly, or refuse me conjugal rights.”

He glanced up but she was not smiling. “You can’t divorce me unless I commit the same evils you’re supposed to avoid,” Adam went on. “You can leave me if I get drunk or treat you badly.”

Sendeyo set the stick on the ground. His next words were firm, uncompromising. Adam turned to Emma.

“As God has willed it,” he told her. “We’re married.”

“I see.” Emma looked down at her finger. The brass ring glinted in the firelight.

“I’ll get Sendeyo to sign something in the morning.”

“Morning, but…?”

“I’m not going back to the train tonight, Emma. The horses are too tired, and so are we.”

She sighed in resignation as Adam thanked the two men and watched them melt away into the shadows.