Today's Embrace (50 page)

“Heyden is a killer,” Rogan stated coldly. “I've no doubt he'd have killed the three of us if he could. And he won't give up. If he's left for the time being, he'll be back. If not here, then in Bulawayo. But when he does show up again, I'll be waiting for him.”

Derwent rubbed his neck, looking unhappy. “ 'Course, everything was in a ruinous commotion, and I'd not say on oath that it was Mr. Heyden, you understand. He just had the look about him.”

“There were more men besides Heyden,” Rogan said. “Did you see anyone else you might recognize?”

“I had a feeling I'd seen the second man before too.”

There was a solid chance Heyden and whoever was working with him had been in Bulawayo all along.

“Do you think he killed Anthony?” Parnell asked, licking his lips.

“I wouldn't put anything past him.”

“But on what motive?”

“That's the question. I have my ideas, though I'm not ready to say just yet. I want to talk to Retford first. But think about it. Why would anyone want to kill Anthony? There can be only one reason, as I see it. Someone was afraid he had information to ruin either them or their plans. Or they had something to gain. Something that meant a great deal to them.”

“The Transvaal is important,” Parnell stated woodenly. “If it was Heyden, who sent him here?” he continued, his wary eyes shooting to Rogan. “Who else knew we were coming?”

“No one
had
to send him. He's probably hunting me, but that goes both ways. I confronted him at Grimston Way over Evy. He confessed to killing Henry. I told you about that.”

“And Vicar Edmund Havering,” Derwent said darkly. “A wicked thing, for sure. A good servant of the Lord.”

“It seems bizarre to me that Uncle Julien would send you here to locate the gold, though,” Parnell insisted. “All these years he's been trying to jump ahead of you, and now he steps aside. Then Heyden shows up and nearly blows all our heads off.”

Rogan tightened his jaw. He saw Derwent watching him with a curious look in his eyes.

“What about the second man?” Rogan asked again roughly.

Derwent shook his head. “Can't be sure. I saw him for just a second or so. Almost thought I was seeing double. They looked alike, or else I imagined it. Then that lion gave me a scare.”

“Hah, as it did me,” Parnell said and groaned as he moved on the rock. “I think I'm getting stiffer sitting here …” Suddenly he rubbed his eyes and shook his head as though his brains were scrambled.

“Am I seein' things? Over there …”

Rogan turned his head, rifle raised. Some distance away stood an ancient baobab tree, its giant limbs looking like snarled black roots sprawling in all directions, lifting toward the sky. The tree was so old that at least half of the leafless branches were dead with bark falling off.

Rogan whipped out the map and looked at the tree, looked around him, then gazed off toward the Sentinel, the crouching lion.

“The two are lined up with this trench.”

Even Parnell scrambled up from the rock and rushed after him.

Rogan strode to the trench and walked along its edge. “There's no disguising it. This is man-made. Take a closer look, both of you. You can see the rock's been broken up here.” Rogan stooped down and broke off a bit of rocky earth and crumbled it in his hand. He looked up at them with a ready smile. “I think we're onto something this time … Well, Derwent, do you think the miners who dug through this solid rock could be from the time of the ancient Zimbabweans?”

“Aye, Mr. Rogan, but I wonder how they blasted through the rock?”

“They had their ways. I studied about how they heated the rock with a fire, then splashed it with cold water, causing the rock to split. Then they used plain muscle, mostly slaves and prisoners of the ancient wars. They also had child slave labor, sending small bodies down into mine shafts.” He stood and looked up and down the trench. “We need to locate the shafts. This is the place, all right. This is Henry's find.”

Derwent and Parnell looked at each other and grinned.

Rogan, with map in hand, once again lined up the ancient tree with the crouching lion. Then he counted off the meters that Uncle Henry
had placed at the north end of the map. Thirty meters farther ahead he stopped, coming to a depression in the ground. He stooped, and Parnell and Derwent gathered around.

“The shaft,” breathed Derwent, and a wide grin broke. “You did it, Mr. Rogan! You found Henry's prize!”

“No, Derwent,
we
found it. The three of us.”

Derwent looked at Parnell, whose hazel eyes glowed with renewed enthusiasm.

The ancient opening of one of several mining shafts on the ridge had been filled in with chunks of rock.

“Henry must have done this,” Rogan said. “You can tell it's been opened in the past. He had his natives fill it in again to hide the opening.”

Rogan handed his rifle to Derwent, then removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his thin cotton shirt.

“Were going to open it up,” he told them. “Parnell, you keep guard.”

He and Derwent maneuvered their way into the shallow depression until they stooped over the narrow blocked entrance. Rogan began to clear the rocks, Derwent helping.

They worked for half an hour, then Parnell, who seemed to have forgotten his cuts and bruises, climbed down and began to work while Derwent kept guard.

Rogan used a section of a dry branch to pry loose the boulders, the muscles straining beneath his sweat-soaked shirt. Lifting and rolling the boulders aside, they managed after an hour's work to reveal a square shaft opening.

Rogan looked at the opening with dismay. It was small and narrow, so that he could not carry through his plans to go down a ways with matches to have a look.

“Look, there it is,” he called, “Henry Chantry's mark.”

Derwent, too, came scrambling down to see.

Rogan knelt and lit a match, holding it there, as he brushed away the dirt. He could read the chiseled words:
H. Chantry, September 13
,
1874
. Beneath the date was a crude, hurried drawing resembling the great bird of Zimbabwe.

“So we have it,” Rogan said, “Henry's gold reef!” He peered down into the hole. “There's no telling how deep it goes.”

“Black as pitch, too,” Derwent said warily.

Rogan smelled fungus. Engrossed, he stared into the opening, though he could see nothing.

“If we had a candle …” Parnell said.

Rogan stood. “We need to go back down for our baggage. We'll camp here for the night.”

“I'll go back and tell the Basuto,” Derwent said.

Rogan stopped him. “We'll all go. I've no confidence Heyden and his friend won't try again. Anyway, we need some things before anyone ventures inside.”

“Derwent's smaller than either of us,” Parnell said.

“No.” Rogan stood and dusted himself off. “One slip and we could lose friend Derwent. We won't risk it till we're ready.” He grinned, his face dusty and sweaty. He held out his hand, and the three of them shook hands and laughed in agreement and hearty expectation.

It was toward sunset, and the vast sky was slashed with vibrant colors of burnt orange and scarlet. Rogan walked the narrow passage back to the Valley of Ruins. He took the steep rocky steps downward. Just as he was nearing the bottom of the narrow steps, several riders waited in a half-circle. He lifted his Winchester and motioned behind him to Parnell and Derwent to be ready.

Rogan didn't know who to expect astride the horses after being shot at. He wouldn't have been surprised to see Heyden and some of his Boer zealots. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted the fair face and form of Darinda Bley. Beside her rode Captain Retford, Harry Whipple, and
a few other men he had seen around Government House. Julien commanded his attention.

Sir Julien broke rank and rode up. He was dressed in rugged clothing and hat. His black eye patch gave him the appearance of a brigand.

Julien laughed too cheerfully. “Success, Rogan, my boy? Did you taste the sweet cup of success at last? Well, bravo! Henry is dancing a jig.” He sobered and waved an arm toward the kopje ridge. “It's yours. A bargain's been made, and we'll keep it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The Matopos expedition. Now is the time. Everything is ready. We've more guards and supplies waiting near the hills. I decided I'd better ride to meet you. Nothing like a safe escort back. I wouldn't want you running into any trouble, or”—his voice changed to a chill warning—“changing your mind.”

Rogan had not yet explained things to Derwent. He assumed that Retford had agreed to come … because of Darinda. Had she come only to Zimbabwe, or did she expect to go on the Matopos trek? Rogan was pleased to see Retford. He'd proven a steady, dependable ally on Rhodes's trek to Fort Salisbury. He did not see Peter and was glad of it. He didn't appreciate all the guards being gone from Government House with his sister there.

“We were ambushed up on the ridge. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?” he asked coolly.

The look of alarm on Julien's face convinced Rogan he'd had nothing to do with it.

Rogan scanned the faces of the other men on horseback. Except for Retford, who was alert and interested, Harry Whipple and the others looked as though they'd been carved from wood.

“Ambushed? By Ndebele?”

Rogan shook his head no. “Winchester repeating rifles. I'm thinking now it was Heyden.”

Was he right? Had there been an uneasy movement by one of the
riders near Julien? Rogan glanced again at the faces, but he must have been wrong. Both Harry Whipple and the others wore angry faces.

“Boers,” Whipple said and spat in the dust.

Julien sat tensely. “We can't loiter around here talking much longer,” Julien said. “We'll need to get moving.”

“I need a few minutes to get organized before I can travel.” Rogan went to find Derwent. He knew he had some explaining to do, and he didn't think it would go over well. As for Parnell, he'd already walked up to the side of Darinda's horse.

Derwent had gone to the Basuto and had them gathering up supplies and horses. He was leading Rogan's horse, as well as his own, toward him. Rogan stopped and waited.

Rogan pulled his hat lower and stood as he came up.

“Look, Derwent, I made a bargain with Julien. I can't go back on it now.”

“I think you made an error, Mr. Rogan, but I'd sure not be telling you what you can and can't do. Maybe I shouldn't, but I think Sir Julien is a snake in the grass. He'll bite your leg the moment you get too close to what he's about.”

“I'm aware of that and have been since a boy. He hasn't deceived me. I'm going to the Matopos to guard him. It's because I want the mystery of Henry's mine solved and put behind us once for all.”

“I'm taking you at your word, why shouldn't I? I think I know you through and through. You've been a true friend, and fair with me for sure. I'll be going along, but if anyone needs a bodyguard it's you, Mr. Rogan. Those bullets earlier were for you, not for me or Mr. Parnell. On the Matopos it will be you again that someone's wanting to kill. That's why I'm going.”

“Heyden,” Rogan repeated. “It has to be. He's heard of the diamond, knows the story about Lobengula, and he'll kill anyone who stands in his way of getting it.”

“Seems like Sir Julien and Mr. Heyden are cut from the same piece
of cloth. There's going to be more trouble than we can shoo away if they both reach for it at the same time.”

“If I had my way, that diamond would be better off if no one had it.”

“You mean leave it with King Lobengula?”

“Suits me. From the time I was a child, all I heard about at Rookswood was that diamond.”

“I wonder where it first came from.”

Rogan turned and looked after Julien, who was waiting a good distance ahead.

“Julien claims he found it when mining with Carl van Buren. I'm not convinced. Dumaka brought that diamond to Zululand and King Cetshwayo before the Zulu war. Then he carried it to Lobengula. I think there's more to how Julien got hold of it than he's telling.”

Derwent nodded. He shook out his hat and put it back on. “I just wish there was a way to let Alice know why I won't be coming back when I said I would.”

Rogan avoided his eyes. He reached over and took the reins of his horse and shoved his Winchester in the rifle boot. He had promised Evy he'd return in two weeks. At least she was safe with Jakob and Mrs. Croft. At any rate, he'd be back in plenty of time for the birth of their baby.

“We'll be at Fort Victoria soon. You can send a wire for both of us to Peter. He and Arcilla can ride out to the mission and tell Evy and Alice where we are and not to worry.”

“Good idea, Mr. Rogan. I'll do that.”