~*~
Louisa and Cynthia were in their seats while the others strolled around to flex their bodies. “I thought Jace ensnared her Sunday night after that foiled attack,” Louisa whispered. “He certainly stayed in her room a long time and left in a happy mood. He couldn’t have seduced her, or she wouldn’t have been after Chad last night. Damn the greedy bitch. She wants to play with both of them, the little hussy. It looks as if little Leigh isn’t so sweet and gullible after all. No one plays me for the fool. I’ll teach her a lesson or two. She won’t get either of them, and neither will get her. Once we’re in that jungle, she’s dead game, Cynthia; I swear it.”
~*~
Reid Adams wiped red dust from his sharp features and tousled his brown hair. “How is the chase going?”
Chad grinned, “Better than expected.”
Reid observed the black-haired man and realized Chadwick Hamilton was under Leigh Webster’s spell. He glanced at the returning and genially chatting Leigh and Jace, then thought,You’re fooling yourself, old boy. Jace has her hooked already. When you realize you’ve lost to him, love her or not, you’ll kill them both.
Chapter Eleven
The train halted. Leigh’s suspense and anticipation increased with each passing hour.
“Jambo,Bwana Jace,” Jim’s men greeted him.
“Jambo,” he echoed a welcome and smiled broadly. He asked if everything was prepared.
“Ndiyo” came the affirmative response.
When Jim Hanes’s men questioned their boss’s whereabouts, Jace told them, “Hanesaliumia mguu,” which meant, “Hanes hurt his leg.” Jace had hired a few of Jim’s men who had been awaiting their boss’s arrival in Mombasa. The fact the other guide had made the necessary arrangements for a safari caused confusion in Jace’s mind about a possible deceit. Of course, it could have been done to throw off suspicion.
“Safiri saloma. Subira,”the train guard told them, which meant, “Have a safe trip. Take it easy.”
“Hakkuma mattata. Kwaheri. Asante, rafiki,”Jace responded, which translated, “No problems. Goodbye. Thanks, friend.”
Everyone gathered nearby while their baggage was unloaded. Leigh could not count the number of bearers, but it looked to be around sixty. The dark-skinned men efficiently packed their burdens and hoisted them above-head. The train blasted its whistle and began to back away from the large group to return to Mombasa.
Leigh observed her lover as he gave orders and made plans. Jace was attired in a four-pocket jacket in khaki, with matching pants that displayed huge bellows pockets on his muscled thighs. He was wearing brown boots, and he placed a felt hat on his head. He had used it often, and it had lost much of its strength and shape. A holster with a Mauser .44 caliber pistol was secured about his waist.
Her gaze shifted to the other men in their party. Chad and Reid were dressed nearly alike in khaki pants, dark boots, water-resistant pith helmets, and Bombay shirts. The shirt of cotton had first become popular in British India because it was soft, airy, and comfortable. Chad’s was blue and matched his eyes, while Reid’s was khaki. Both men looked rugged and handsome, and very much at ease.
Leigh glanced at the whispering women. Louisa and Cynthia were also attired in similar garments: they looked sleek and relaxed in their khaki drill skirts and well-made jackets. They quickly donned their “topees”—pith helmets—to ward off the sun.
Leigh was wearing a six-gore skirt in Egyptian cotton with a matching shirt. It was tailored to fit, yet its bottom flare allowed graceful and easy movement. The skirt reached the tops of her brown boots. She, too, put on her helmet to combat the fierce sun overhead.
Leigh longed for a bath. It was hot, and she was still covered in red dust. She moved forward when Jace motioned to them to approach for final instructions and departure. He had already assigned them weapons, as guns were under governmental control in this land. Chad received a Lancaster shotgun; Louisa and Cynthia got Ross automatic rifles; Reid was handed a Krag-Jorgensen carbine; Leigh got a Winchester ‘94; and Jace took the Mauser carbine.
As each examined the weapons, he said, “We’ll swap around during the safari so you’ll get familiar with all of these guns. We’ll head for the Tsoyo River first, then the Tanzania border. We should reach the Tsoyo tomorrow night, if nothing goes wrong and you all keep up. I sent a runner ahead to have boats waiting to pick us up. We’ll make our first main camp near the border. I want to remind you not to drink unboiled water or to forget your daily quinine tablets. Don’t bathe your feet in mudholes or go without boots. We have troublesome chiggers, ticks, and hookworms that’ll drive you crazy. If I give the order to halt and stand still, do it immediately. You never can tell when we’ll encounter an irritable beast. I’ve gone over the laws, rules, and regulations about hunts, so stick to them. Anyone breaking or abusing them gets sent back. Understand?”
After they all nodded, Jace added, “Walk between the bearers and keep up. Don’t interfere with their pace; they’re carrying heavy loads. If anyone gets tired or hurt, step aside and send word up the line. If you hear or see anything in the bush, don’t panic and fire. Most animals and natives ignore the passing of large groups. If you have your canteens and weapons ready, let’s go.”
Jace slung his carbine over his left shoulder and took the lead. His friend, helper, and hunting-gun bearer—Wanjohi—trailed close behind, chatting swiftly in his tongue. Leigh was next in line. Ten bearers followed her. Chad and Louisa came next, with more bearers between them and the other couple. The remaining bearers stretched out behind Reid and Cynthia. It amazed her that the men could carry so much weight, along with bows and spears.
They walked through the remaining woodlands, occasionally sighting or hearing an animal in the bush. Jace skirted most of the hills, making the trek easier for them. They passed a village where friendly Taita people observed them with interest. Grasslands appeared. Jace had told her this area provided the quickest changes in climate and scenery than any other in East Africa.
As they moved at a steady pace, Leigh studied the man ahead of her. Johi was five eleven, slim and sleek. Except for small eyes, his features—nose, mouth, chin, and ears—were large. The Kikuyu African had short, curly hair as black as midnight. His shiny flesh was dark brown. There was an undeniable rapport, respect, and deep friendship between him and Jace. From what her lover had said, they had been together as a team for a long time, and the skilled Kikuyu was one of Jace’s most valuable assets in the wild. Attired in his native tuniclike garb of multicoloredkikoicloth, the African carried a spear and his neck was adorned with several beaded necklaces. His Mannlicher carbine was slung over one shoulder, and a bow and quiver of arrows hung over the other. Around his slender waist was a canteen of water on a rope. None of the objects or combined weight seemed to be noticed by the alert, agile, and reserved assistant.
~*~
Two hours later, Jace halted them near a towering termite hill to rest and to allow the group to examine it and take pictures with their new Kodak box cameras. The bearers laid aside their burdens and sat down to relax. Most, with their weapons across their laps, sipped water from makeshift canteens of gourds or ostrich eggs. If they were amused or fascinated by the English gentry, it did not show.
Leigh stared at the vivid red insect home that was over twelve feet high, the color making a startling contrast amidst the lush green base. She sipped water from her canteen, then replaced it over her shoulder. She was surprised when Louisa asked to take her picture with their guide. Leigh stood beside Jace and before the tall hill. Her heart pounded with the need to touch him, to kiss him, to—
“I’m finished,” Louisa said for the second time.
Leigh glanced at Jace, who grinned at her distraction. She removed her helmet and mopped perspiration from her brow. “It’s hot.”