“Just a minute, Jade. I didn’t tell you the message yet. This was fresh trouble. There was a raid while some Boran women drew water at the singing wells near the mountain base. Several women and children were taken for slaves.”
Jade scowled, and her right hand clenched into a fist. “One of Smythe’s men told you this today?” She paused and thought out the geography. There was a group of wells at the southern end of the volcanic chain, and another to the east. Which was it? Had Smythe sent the runner on to her camp as well, or had he assumed her group had gone, as he’d ordered? She hoped Smythe was hot on the slavers’ trail right now, but that also meant the poachers here were not being attended to. “Do you think it’s the same people, Harry? I mean, these slavers and the poachers?”
Harry shrugged. “Possibly. Possibly not. For years, this entire frontier’s been a hotbed for tribal raids by either the Somali or the Abyssinians or some other northern group. Smythe certainly has his hands full—that’s for certain. The last man, Captain Ross, was killed in one of those raids.”
“I’ll tell Avery and Beverly when I get back to camp, assuming the askari hasn’t told them already.” She took one step when she heard the sound of snapping twigs and padding feet. A large quadruped trotted towards her, golden eyes flashing.
The Prussian shouldered his rifle and Mueller slipped behind him, eyes bulging in terror. Jade, hearing the clack of a rifle bolt, spun around, leaped to Vogelsanger’s side, and shoved his weapon up just as he fired.
“Verdammt! What are you doing?” he demanded. He pulled back the bolt in his Mannlicher to put another round in the chamber. “It will kill us!” he exclaimed.
Chiumbo stepped forward, hand raised to grab either the weapon or the man; Jade didn’t know which.
“Stop!” she commanded, and moved between them. “It’s only Biscuit, my pet cheetah, you idiot. Besides, you could have shot Chiumbo or me.”
The other hunters stared, mouths agape, as the cat loped into view and bounded up onto Jade’s chest. She stroked his head and grabbed for his loose lead to hold him. “Naughty boy,” she scolded. “You’ve broken loose again.” Biscuit dropped down and wound around her legs, chirping his greeting. Jade chirped back in reply and scratched the cat’s large head just behind the ears while the cheetah purred in pleasure. Jade untangled herself from the lead and glared at Harry.
“Hascombe, you need to teach your crew not to be so hasty. But at least,” she added in a softer tone, “I didn’t see you take aim.” Jade wound the lead twice around her hand to shorten Biscuit’s line. “Now if you, um, gentlemen will excuse me, I need to hurry back.” She saw the question form on Hascombe’s face and answered first. “Jelani is probably on his way now to retrieve Biscuit. He shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“He’s not.”
Jade turned suddenly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. A tall, rangy-looking young man approached them, one arm around Jelani’s shoulder, the other gripping a Remington rifle. He had a slightly elongated, narrow face distinguished by a very masculine nose that seemed to emerge directly from the high brow line, and piercing dark brown eyes like doorways into an African night. A thin mustache underlined the distinctive nose, making it look like it was chiseled out of granite.
Jade calculated him to be nearly six feet tall and maybe 160 pounds. He wore the standard multipocketed dun-colored jacket preferred by many people on safari, but there was no mistaking the oil-stained leather boots and the well-worn jodhpurs made of black Leathertex canvas. Holy socks, a pilot?
The young man shouldered his rifle, then removed a broad-brimmed campaign-style hat, exposing a thick mop of brown hair cut shorter on the sides but longer on top and parted just off center. One lock flopped down over his forehead.
“And just who in the name of Saint Peter’s tailor are you?” Jade asked, careful to keep any trace of hostility or friendliness from her voice.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Sam Featherstone.”
CHAPTER 8
Elephants have few natural enemies and so live most of their lives peacefully. However, even in this isolated refuge, they’ve come to associate the scent of man with death. The elephants have no intention of submitting peacefully, and heaven help the foe that a bull or an angry cow turns against.
—The Traveler
“AND YOU MUST BE Miss del Cameron,” continued the young man. When he pronounced “del,” his bass voice carried just a hint of twang that spoke of the Midwestern United States.
A Yank! Jade immediately regretted her rude question regarding his identity. “Yes, yes, I am.” She extended her right hand to her fellow American. “Mr. Featherstone, I believe you said?”
The man transferred his hat to his left hand, which still rested on Jelani’s shoulder, and shook Jade’s hand. “That’s correct. I should apologize for intruding in the middle of nowhere, but I’m a friend of old Dunbury’s.” He kept hold of Jade’s hand. “I’d just arrived at your camp and said hello to him and his bride when Biscuit trotted off without so much as a wave bye. When the lad took off after the cat, I offered to go along. Seemed risky for him otherwise, and Avery appeared reluctant to leave his wife.” Featherstone turned his attention to Harry, released Jade’s hand, and extended his own to Hascombe. “Sam Featherstone,” he repeated.
“Harry Hascombe.” They shook briefly, testing each other’s dominance in their grip. “These gentlemen are my guests on safari.”
“Ah, then you’re the great white hunter.” Featherstone grinned. “Dunbury told me you were hunting around these parts.” He turned his attention to the three men standing near Hascombe. “Three Germans, right?” For a moment the smile diminished; then it returned with a mischievous twist on one side. “Damn fine airplane, that Fokker, although that’s not quite how we pronounced it at our airfield. Shot three of them down myself and it wasn’t easy. No hard feelings, right? All’s fair in love and war, and I confess I loved shooting down Fokkers.”
Jade ducked her head and turned her laugh into a cough. Biscuit looked up at her and chirped before padding over to Jelani.
Herr Vogelsanger’s brows drew down as he scowled. He pulled himself up in a rigid stance, chin high, nose in the air, and stared at the young American. “And what,” he demanded, “means that?” His hands worked in and out of clenched fists.
For a moment Jade worried that the man would haul off his shooting glove and slap it across Featherstone’s face in the best European tradition. Judging by his facial scar, dueling was apparently still popular in his culture. She decided intervention was the better part of valor.
“He made a compliment about the plane.” She turned back to the American. “Thank you for watching over Jelani, Mr. Featherstone. I appreciate that.”
“Call me Sam. I was glad to help. He’s a brave lad.” Sam patted the boy’s shoulder.
Jelani stood beside his protector as though awaiting permission to move. Sam shifted his weight off his left leg and slipped his arm from the boy’s shoulder with another affectionate pat on the back and replaced his hat on his head. Jelani took the opportunity to grab Biscuit’s lead and scold the cat.
Jade watched the cheetah reply by butting his large head against Jelani. Despite Sam’s explanation, she still wondered why Avery and Bev had sent a stranger instead of following the boy themselves.
Almost in answer to her thoughts Sam added, “Lady Beverly was napping, and as I said, Dunbury didn’t want to leave her. Seemed very concerned about her health. It appears she’d done a Daniel Boone on her lunch,” he said, using the American slang that jokingly referred to the fact that the pioneer always “shot” his supper.
Vogelsanger’s tight-lipped grimace still expressed his anger at Featherstone’s offhand comments. He opened his mouth to either demand an apology or issue a retort when Harry cut him short.
“We must be getting back to camp.” He looked first at his hunters, then at Jade, and finally at the American pilot. Harry’s jaw clenched and he frowne
d as though he was trying to decide what to do. Sam Featherstone clearly aggravated his clients, but he didn’t seem to want to leave Jade behind. “You should stick with us, Jade,” he said. “It wasn’t a very smart idea coming out here all alone.”
“I told you I wasn’t alone.” She nodded once more to Chiumbo, who continued to glare at the Germans, his arms again folded across his chest.
“If it will ease your conscience, Hascombe,” Sam offered, “I’ll be delighted to escort Miss Jade back to her camp.” His dark brown eyes twinkled. “I’m heading that way anyway. Dunbury has extended an invitation for me to stay.”
Harry’s scowl deepened. “That’s entirely up to the lady. We can all walk together.”
Jade looked at the Kikuyu youth, happily engaged in stroking the beautiful cheetah. The last thing she wanted was to put the boy in danger. Since both Harry and Vogelsanger looked as if they wanted to pulverize Mr. Featherstone, and Chiumbo appeared willing to take his panga knife to the lot of them, she decided it would be best if they went separate ways.
“I wouldn’t want to slow you down, Mr. Hascombe, and I’m not sure it’s all that safe traveling in your company, especially with that valuable ivory.” She jerked her head towards the newly arrived porters burdened under two large tusks. “Captain Smythe of the King’s African Rifles told us the Abyssinians have come south for ivory raids,” she explained to Sam. “And Chiumbo and I saw more of their handiwork today. An entire bachelor herd was slaughtered not far from here.”
Out of the corner of her eye she watched the Germans’ expressions for any signs of gloating but found none. Mueller maintained his sleepy, calm composure, and von Gretchmar’s face still glowed red as though he suffered from the day’s exercise. Vogelsanger surprised her the most when he erupted in a volley of mixed German and English.
“Donnerwetter! Mein ivory. They must not take it! We must at once leave!”
Jade wasn’t sure if he meant leave this spot and hurry back to camp or leave camp entirely. Von Gretchmar seemed to think the latter, judging by his reply. He suddenly came to life and voiced his dissent in breathy puffs.
“So! You decide when we leave? I am not through. I have not got mein elephant.”
Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Let’s get on back, shall we, Miss del Cameron?”
“Call me Jade, and this is Chiumbo, my headman.”
Sam offered his hand, but Chiumbo shifted his feet in apparent confusion and discomfort. Finally he touched Sam’s palm lightly with his fingertips and nodded. “Jambo,” he said.
“Jambo,” replied Sam.
Chiumbo led the group back to camp. Jade went second and motioned for Jelani and Biscuit to follow her. Sam fell in behind them all. Jade turned around momentarily to make sure Biscuit was behaving himself. That was when she noticed Sam’s limp. Another war casualty. She wondered if the injury had affected his ability to fly, since the rudder was controlled with foot pedals.
“Does it hurt much?” she asked, and nodded to his right leg.
“What? Oh, the leg? No. Got used to it by now. Hardly know it’s there. Just lost some flexibility.”
He didn’t add anything more, so Jade let the subject drop and turned back around. War wounds were something most veterans didn’t care to discuss, which always surprised those who didn’t have any. Jade certainly didn’t want to talk about her left knee and the fact that it seemed to hurt only when either rain or death was imminent. The latter fact bothered her most. It seemed wrong, contrary to nature and her religious upbringing, as though she were some sort of soothsayer.
“So how is it you just happened to run across Avery all the way up here in the Northern Territory?” she asked over her shoulder. This location was too remote for two men from different continents to just happen to bump into each other.
“It was not an accident or coincidence, as you can well imagine,” he answered from behind her. “Dunbury and I met in Paris when we were both on leave, and hit it off. We’ve corresponded since the war. You know, former pilots and allies.”
“Yes, of course,” Jade said, urging him to continue.
“After the war I found myself too restless to simply wander back to Indiana and settle down there. Two of my pals had plans to fly around the country and do air shows. They even offered me a job as a mechanic, since I’m an engineer, but I know they didn’t really need me.”
Jade nodded. Charity, she thought. That, and the constant reminder that he wasn’t the one up in the air, would hurt.
“Have you ever been to New York?” Sam asked.
“Once,” Jade replied, bewildered by the sudden change in topic.
“I went there to see the Museum of Natural History. While I was in New York, I saw an amazing motion picture called In the Land of the Headhunters. This man Edward Curtis filmed the Kwakiutl Indians on Vancouver Island.”
“Curtis,” said Jade. “I heard him talk once in New Mexico. He had a film of the Hopi Snake Dance.”
“That’s the very man. Well, to make a long story short, when I got home, I thought I’d like to try my hand at making moving pictures. After all, if he could do it, why not me?” He shook his head and chuckled. “I bought a secondhand camera and moseyed around out West trying to film buffalo herds. What I discovered was there aren’t any more buffalo herds, at least not that I could ever find. Then Avery suggested I come to Africa. Said he was now living in Nairobi.”
The trail widened where elephants had pushed a broader swath, so Jade stopped and waited for Sam to join her. Chiumbo insisted on going first to keep an eye out for danger, Jelani and Biscuit in between.
Sam slipped off his hat and ran a hand through his brown hair. “Of course, Dunbury wasn’t actually in Nairobi by the time I arrived. I made a few inquiries, ran into that Blaney Percival fellow, and learned where you’d all gone. Must have missed you by only a few days. Once I convinced Mr. Percival that I knew Dunbury, he helped me put together a decent crew, including an old truck.” He flashed a toothy grin at Jade. “I certainly didn’t expect to find a fellow Yank out here.”
“I suppose Avery told you what we’re doing here.”
“Yes. Well, briefly. We didn’t have much time to catch up before your pet ran off, but he said something about photographing elephants. Rather a coincidence, isn’t it? I mean both of us interested in cameras.”
“Do you plan to film animals or—” Jade clamped her mouth shut, keenly aware of a stabbing pain in her left knee. At that moment Chiumbo stopped abruptly in front of them and stared to their right. Almost immediately came a shrill trumpeting blast and the sound of crashing underbrush.
“That sounds like an—” began Sam.
“Elephant!” finished Jade. “Terrified, angry, and headed our way.”
Jade looked around quickly and spied a thick Cape mahogany tree with branches low enough to reach from the ground. “Climb!” She pushed Jelani towards the tree, clasped her hands into a makeshift step, and gave the boy a boost up. “Help him, Chiumbo. Then get up there yourself.” The crashing came nearer, and Jade felt the ground tremble beneath her feet.
“Biscuit?” the boy asked as he grabbed a lower limb and hauled himself up into the branches.
Jade shook her head as she removed the lead from the cat’s collar and slapped the cheetah hard on the rump. “Tent!” she ordered, and hoped the cat would head for camp. She needn’t have fretted. Biscuit had no intention of staring down a rampaging elephant and tore down the trail as Chiumbo followed Jelani up the tree, pushing him from behind. Another trumpet blast blared from their right, this one ending in a shrill shriek of pain. Jade looked at Sam’s injured leg. “Can you climb?”
“Be right behind you.”
They hauled themselves up to the thunderclap of snapping wood, the elephant’s strident peals, and one boom from a heavy-caliber rifle. The earth beneath them shook as nearly six tons of flesh thundered nearer and nearer. Jade swung her leg up over another branch and spied Jelani above h
er scrunched tightly against the main trunk, Chiumbo’s strong arm stabilizing the boy. She tried to smile encouragement when another rifle blast ripped the air. She slid out of the way and reached down to offer a hand to Sam.
“Are you sure we’ll be safe up here?” he asked as he swung his bad leg over a limb.
“No, but it’s better than being down there in his path,” she whispered. Jade wrapped her long legs around the branch and grabbed hold of an upper branch. She and Sam were ten feet high and somehow that seemed about five feet short of safety.
“I’ve seen an elephant trample something when it’s mad. There’s not much left. Right now I’m more worried about the hunters spotting us and shooting us either accidentally or intentionally. Lie low and keep quiet.” She put a finger to her lips and made sure everyone understood. They did. Whizzing arrows and that last rifle shot helped clarify the need for secrecy.
The thundering came near enough that they felt the vibrations in their perch. Several nearby wild coffee saplings snapped and a massive bull crashed into view. A dozen arrows penetrated his thick hide, blood dribbling from each. Jade caught her breath as she recognized the old patriarch that she’d been hunting on film.
He was a magnificent beast with tusks that must have weighed over a hundred pounds each, nearly crossing each other as a testament to his age. One was broken a foot from the tip, the result of an ancient battle for dominance. Both tusks had been polished to a golden amber color like piano keys that had seen innumerable fingers caressing them. Even his wrinkled hide bore dozens of scars like medals of honor. The old bull growled, a low ominous rumble.
The drugged arrows and the frantic race through the forest had taken their toll on the aged giant. The elephant’s steps slowed and the great beast staggered once. From behind him came the babble of excited human voices, but none of the people approached close enough for Jade to see or the elephant to reach. An arrow zinged out of the trees and struck the bull in his right hind leg. He screamed another challenge and turned to fight rather than flee.
Stalking Ivory Page 9
