As they went inside, Meggie’s hand brushed the carbine causing a spark of static that shocked them both. Stan placed the things he was carrying on the table and turned to Meggie. Holding her by the shoulders, his lips found hers. Their kiss turned to fire and Meggie moaned with the heat it released in her. There, in the living room of Stan’s rather austere home, both gave in to what until that moment had been unspoken between them. Any thoughts of others vanished as their bodies crushed together in a physical release of feelings held in check for far too long. The fact that he was twice her age never once occurred to either of them.
‘I love you, Meggie, ’Stan said into her curly black hair, breathing in the scent of this woman he had missed so much. ‘God knows, I’ve wondered long enough if the vision that you are could ever see anything in a broken old man like me. I love you with all my heart and soul. Never have I loved another as I do you right now.’
Meggie had always wanted to hear those words from him but suddenly they frightened her. She was fully aware of the implications this moment would have for the rest of her life.
Stan felt Meggie tense and pulled back, finding fear in her eyes. Dropping his hands he looked away. ‘I’m sorry, Meggie. Do please excuse my impulsiveness.’
She knew that he was about to walk away. ‘No, no.’ Meggie clutched at his arm, seeing sorrow and pain replace the passion of only seconds before. ‘I think you are the most wonderful man I have ever met.’ She reached up to gently touch his unshaven face with long and delicate fingers. ‘Until today I could never have been sure this moment would ever be.’
The gesture and her words caused Stan to bow his head. ‘Then let me tell you that whatever happens from here, the opportunity to kiss and hold the only woman I will ever love has made me the happiest man on this earth.’
She smiled at the sincerity of his statement. It had come from the heart of this gentle giant, baring his very soul. ‘Then your death would be such a waste for I love you, Stanley King. I think I have from the moment I first saw you at the hospital. Oh!’ Meggie exclaimed, throwing both hands to her face and laughing as she remembered what had happened that day.
‘What is it?’ Stan smiled too, though surprised by the sudden change in her demeanour. ‘Is it something I’ve done?’
Meggie shook her head. ‘Far from it.’ There was a mischievous look on her face. ‘It’s not important.’ With that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth.
Stan bent and scooped her in his arms. With ease he carried Meggie towards the one room she had never been in, kicked open the door and sat her on his rumpled bed.
She did not protest although she was terrified and at the same time excited by what was happening. Standing close he began to remove her clothing, unbuttoning the ruff-necked blouse and bodice beneath, peeling them clear of her slim shoulders to reveal small but firm breasts. He stooped, kissing each nipple in turn before pulling off his shirt, exposing the powerfully built torso scarred by so many adventures. Meggie had seen his body before, but the most recent wounds were now healed and somehow it seemed different. With one finger she traced a scar on his muscular chest, excitement surging from deep within her.
Stan guided her hands to the buckle of his belt and soon both boots and breeches lay in a heap on the floor. Slowly he eased Meggie back onto the bed and lowered himself to caress her milky white body. When his mouth found her most private places she held his head, moaning in exquisite pleasure as the fire from her loins became a raging inferno. Meggie could hardly remember him removing the split skirt she had worn for her ride over but was only too aware of the one word she cried out when at last, with a slow, smooth thrust, he entered her eager body. ‘Ndlovu!’
Now she lay secure in his arms, the setting sun leaving its shadows in every corner of the room. Time had lost all meaning and only now could she contemplate the beauty of what had occurred between them. Stan was dozing, his eyes closed, and she gazed at his face in wonder. No matter what her family might say or do – especially her father – she would never leave this man. As his wife she would bear him many children.
Meggie stayed only the one night, knowing she had to leave the next day if harmony were to be maintained at home. In the morning Stan showed her the pair of tusks belonging to Michael Duffy. They were huge indeed, and yellowed with age, the largest she had ever seen. After a breakfast of mealie meal and fresh milk they walked and talked, easy in each other’s company. Lunch never happened. There were more important things to be done.
Reluctantly she kissed Stan goodbye and swung into the saddle. ‘I’ve put some biltong in your saddlebag, ’he said. ‘Beside that little revolver.’
‘A girl’s got to protect herself.’ Meggie laughed. ‘Look what can happen!’ With that she waved and was gone.
Lorna was sitting in the drawing room putting the finishing touches to an embroidered tea-cosy when Meggie stuck her head round the door and said, ‘I’m home. Don’t worry about dinner for me.’
Before she could retreat, her mother’s voice cut back, the tone of authority unmistakable. ‘In here, if you please.’ Meggie hesitated then stepped into the room. Lorna went on: ‘I believe we need to talk, young lady. That is, if our little secret is to be kept from your father.’
Meggie was momentarily stunned by her mother’s perceptiveness and outward calm. ‘How did you know?’ she asked.
Sighing, Lorna patted the settee beside her, indicating that her daughter should come and sit down. ‘I am a woman, my dear, and despite what you children may think, I know what it is like to discover love and the intimacy that goes with it.’
Meggie was more than shocked at her mother’s explicitness. ‘What has this to do with me?’ Still standing, Meggie attempted to avoid the conversation she could see coming. ‘I should go and change.’
‘Sit down, ’ Lorna said. This time it was a command. ‘You and I need to understand each other before your father returns and finds out that you have been seeing a man twice your age.’
Meggie slumped into a chair opposite her mother. ‘I have been seeing the man I am going to marry, ’she said defiantly. ‘So there is nothing to discuss.’
‘I am not your enemy, darling.’ Lorna spoke quietly. ‘Your father and I love you dearly and it is no secret in the family that you are the apple of his eye. It would hurt him terribly if that were to change. For that reason it is important that you and I talk – woman to woman – about your infatuation with Stanley King.’
Meggie blushed. She had no idea how her mother could even have guessed at their relationship. Lorna’s eyes had her fixed with a steely stare from which there was no escape. Never lock eyes with a lion. That was what her father once said. No doubt it applied to a lioness as well. ‘It is not infatuation, ’she said softly, bowing her head in submission. ‘We love each other.’ Meg heard her mother sigh, not knowing what it meant. Her next words spelled it out.
‘Stanley King is a fine man, but don’t you think he’s just a little old for you?’
Meggie leapt to her feet and strode towards the door. ‘It is no concern of yours whom I should choose to marry, ’she shouted. ‘Stan and I will wed and no-one – not you or Father or even the devil himself – can stop that from happening.’
With her daughter’s angry words still echoing in the room, Lorna was left to ponder if she should break the news of Meggie’s announcement to Dallas. How did you tell something like this to a man who still thought of his daughter as a baby? Her husband could be so blind at times. Lorna sighed. Meggie was a young woman who had obviously explored the forbidden fruit of a sexual encounter. But was it love? Lorna rose stiffly to her feet, none the wiser.
President Kruger was long gone, escaping into Portuguese East Africa on 11 September. In mid October he sailed for Holland to try to drum up European support for the Boer cause. Never again would he set foot in his beloved Transvaal.
Lord Roberts annexed the former Boer republic on 25 October, declaring it part of the
British Empire. At long last the goldmines which Milner, Rhodes and Alfred Beit had coveted for so long became the property of Queen Victoria.
In Britain, the Secretary of State for the Colonies, Joseph Chamberlain, survived a profiteering scandal over his family’s armaments business and the ‘Khaki Election’, as it had become known, returned a government which had been hard pressed by David Lloyd George’s Liberals. In Africa, the white man’s war went on.
October brought with it the promise of rain but no more than that. Clouds would build then disappear from whence they came, leaving only an early summer heat. Cameron rode with Henry at his side, well aware that some of the men did not approve of the bond that existed between their commanding officer and a Kaffir. Others, knowing Henry to be from their captain’s family farm, saw it as no more than a master and servant relationship – an African always close at hand to cater for the other’s needs.
Dust kicked up in small explosions from the horses’ hooves as the patrol plodded wearily through the lowveld scrub north of Crocodile River. They were in the Sabi Game Reserve, an eighteen hundred square mile wildlife sanctuary created by President Kruger in 1898. Despite this, the evidence of recent poaching lay everywhere. It was also fly country and in the last week two of their unsalted horses had been lost to sleeping sickness.
Cameron’s contingent had been caught up in Lord Roberts’s overall reshuffle and was now spearheading the search for what was left of Louis Botha’s Transvaal army. It had split up, moving north from Komatipoort after almost two thousand disillusioned and war-weary fighting men – including many foreign mercenaries – surrendered to the neutral Portuguese authorities.
As he rode, Cameron was not thinking about the task at hand. Far from it. His mind dwelt on the contents of a letter he had received the day before when a bag of mail finally caught up with his troop. Thanks to their transfer from the Orange River Colony, it was over two months old. Cameron had been delighted to see Ginnie’s familiar handwriting and sought the shade of a fever tree well away from his men, where he could devour her loving words in private. What he read brought only a cold, creeping fear.
I am sorry, my love, but I must be honest and find myself having to use words which I know will bring you great pain. I do not write this letter with ease, the more so as you are in constant danger. Better this than live a lie.
Kevin will never walk again and I have family at home who need me now more than ever. This is no life for you, dearest Cam, and it breaks my heart to say that we can never be husband and wife. Please do not hate me for my most difficult decision. You too must forget what might have been. I pray that one day you will find the love you deserve.
The letter continued with news of the farm and comment on the weather. Ginnie seemed to ignore the fact that she had changed his life forever.
Cameron sat stunned, reading her words over and over again, a sense of frustration and anger replacing the euphoria he had felt just minutes earlier. If only I could go home and reason with her, he raged inwardly. But that was impossible and Cameron knew it. All he could do for now was live with her words of rejection. At least he could sympathise with others who had received similar letters from wives or sweethearts. One young soldier had even shot himself. In those first few hours of grief, Cameron understood why – the thought also crossed his mind. In all the months of active service he had suffered the hardships knowing that when the war was finally over he had a wonderful woman waiting for him at home.
‘Are you sick?’ Henry asked, leading Cameron’s gelding to where he sat alone under the yellow-barked fever tree. ‘You look pale, even for a white man.’
Cameron looked up and grinned at his boyhood friend, forcing back the urge to weep. ‘I’m fine, ’he replied, but his words lacked conviction. ‘Just a bit of bad news from home.’ Seeing Henry’s sudden look of alarm Cameron hurried to reassure him. ‘Nothing’s wrong at Morningside, ’ he added. ‘Ginnie has decided not to marry me.’
Henry shook his head in sympathy. He knew of his friend’s deep and longstanding love for Virginia. ‘I am sorry, ’the Zulu said. ‘My heart is heavy for you.’
‘Not your problem, ’Cameron replied, rising to his feet and brushing the dust from his khaki uniform. ‘C’est la vie, ’ he added, feigning the attitude of one resigned to his loss.
Henry had not the faintest idea what Cameron had said but could see the agony written on his friend’s face and realised such pain could easily become an all-consuming madness. He had seen it in others on the field of battle where they gave little thought to themselves or those around them. It was a pain that could so easily cause death.
That had been twenty-four hours earlier and still Cameron could not get the contents of Ginnie’s letter out of his mind. The men noticed a change in him and it worried them too. Cameron had proved a capable leader and his sudden indifference was of considerable concern.
‘Rider approaching, ’ Henry called. He was usually the first to notice any movement in the country around them. Certainly Cameron hadn’t seen it. Beyond a flat plain of waving yellow grass the bush became quite thick where it followed the Sabie River. From it burst one of the forward scouts returning at the gallop. Halting the patrol, Cameron and Henry rode forwards to meet the African.
‘There is a farmhouse about one mile beyond the river, ’the scout reported. ‘There are three men but maybe more inside. They are Boers.’
‘Did you see if they are armed?’ Cameron asked.
‘I think they must be.’
Cameron dismissed the scout and sent Henry to summon Lieutenant Christison. He returned a few minutes later with the young officer Cameron had come to like and respect. ‘Got a job for you, ’ he said, wasting no time. ‘There’s a farmhouse up ahead, a mile or so beyond the river. Take your section and search the place. Also ascertain the status of any occupants. There are at least three. No natives have been reported but take Henry with you in case an interpreter is needed. The rest of us will cross the river and wait in the trees. Have the scout tell you what to expect and let him act as your guide. Any questions?’
Grantley Christison thought for a second. ‘No, sir, ’he replied.
‘Then you’d better get going. Good luck.’ Cameron nodded at Henry and watched the two men as they rode off. A few minutes later he followed.
Sergeant-Major Mulligan went quietly about his duties ensuring that everybody was properly prepared. Weapons and ammunition were checked, saddle girths, even water canteens. Nothing was left to chance. The house up ahead could be an ambush. Mulligan glanced at his captain and wondered yet again what had changed him. The man he had ridden with for so long had suddenly become distant, as if his mind were somewhere else, and that worried the battle-hardened NCO.
After Lieutenant Christison led his men forwards, Cameron gave the order to follow. The river was shallow and once across it was not difficult for them to find a well-hidden spot from which to observe the farmhouse. Using binoculars, Cameron saw a big bearded individual appear at the front door and step into the sunlight, his hands in the air. Two others followed close behind.
‘Much happening, sir?’ Sergeant-Major Mulligan enquired softly.
‘Take a look for yourself, Sarn’t-Major, ’ Cameron replied, handing him the glasses.
Mulligan watched as three soldiers dismounted and cautiously entered the mud brick structure, weapons at the ready.
Without binoculars everything shimmered in the midday heat. The farmhouse sat on a grassy slope surrounded by fences that looked in dire need of repair, as did the building itself. Cameron suddenly started to feel uneasy about the situation. Taking the glasses back he carefully scanned the surrounding country, seeking out places that might conceal a body of men waiting to trap the unwary. There was a fold in the ground off to one side of the farmhouse which made it impossible to see what lay beyond. Cameron cursed himself for not being more thorough before sending his second in command to carry out the search. A hundred mounted men could be hidden th
ere, he thought, realising that his mind was not on the job.
‘Looks like the lieutenant is on his way back, ’ Mulligan said, shielding his eyes against the golden glare which lay between them and the farmhouse.
Cameron swung his glasses to watch Lieutenant Christison signalling his men to pull out. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the young officer pitched from his horse and fell to the ground. A shot rang out, then another and another as pandemonium broke loose. Someone next to Henry came down then a third man toppled forwards in the saddle, saving himself by grabbing the neck of his mount.
‘God almighty, ’ Cameron swore. Through the glasses he could see at least one rifle barrel protruding from a front window of the building his men had so recently searched. ‘The bastards have tricked them.’ From the dead ground off to one side a group of horsemen burst into view, riding at full gallop towards the rear of the house. They were leading three saddled horses. Cameron’s first instinct was to order an attack but he could see that they would never reach the farmhouse before the three Boers still firing from inside made good their escape.
‘What do we do, sir?’ Mulligan waited. ‘Sir! What are your orders?’
Cameron could hear the frustration in his NCO’s voice. Comrades and friends were being killed within sight of their position and he was doing nothing to help. For precious seconds Cameron wavered, unable to make a decision. He had forty men under his command and had failed them all.
‘Sir?’ Mulligan shouted it this time, a look of thunder on his face.
‘We stay put, Sarn’t-Major. Lay down cover for the incoming patrol. Fire at will. Get to it, man.’ Cameron saw the look of disgust on Mulligan’s face as he turned to relay the order. His men were straining their stirrup leathers waiting to charge the enemy.
The survivors were galloping at breakneck speed towards them, except for one. Henry had dismounted and was dragging Lieutenant Christison towards his horse, ignoring the unheard command to save himself.
Footprints of Lion Page 31
