Echoes From A Distant Land Part 22

She put aside her misgivings and hurried across the compound - her skirt wrapping around her legs in the wind - to the stable, where she quickly saddled Dancer. She had no intention of travelling far, and Dancer had had little exercise over recent days. She thought the walk would be beneficial to both of them.

When Dana led her from the security of the stable the mare whinnied and shied at the swirling dust devils scampering across the yard.

'Ssh ... easy girl. Settle, my darling,' she cooed to her.

Dana headed the filly to the west, not daring to take the northern road that would lead past the track to the banda. Within a few minutes, with Dancer's steady gait taking her mind away from her temptation to be with Sam, she found herself trying to recall the details of her life in England after she had married Edward. It was now so far away in time and s.p.a.ce that she had difficulty doing so.

She had lost track of the time and realised she'd come much further than she'd planned. Looking into the sky, she found the clouds had begun to swirl and billow, black and threatening, high into the heavens.

She was more than halfway to the Banfields' and, recalling that Eliza was home alone, decided to call in for a visit and to take shelter in case the storm actually eventuated.

Immediately she came over the rise on the track leading to Eliza and John's ranch she saw the old Albion parked at the front door of the farm house. She at first thought that Edward had changed his mind and decided to collect the scarifier although John was not at home. Then she saw Eliza's house servant and cook sitting under a tree some distance from the house; as she approached they stood and walked away rather than greet her as they usually would.

Dana's surprise turned to suspicion. She dismounted and walked through the home garden and into the parlour unannounced. The sounds from the bedroom were unmistakeable.

Dana stormed into the room to find Eliza on the bed and her husband between her legs with Eliza's fingers grasping his thinning red hair.

'Dana!' she spluttered.

Edward turned and simply stared at her.

Dana spun on her heel and left the bedroom without a word.

In the garden she found a pitchfork planted into the soft soil of a flower bed. She took it to the Albion truck and, with all her might, sunk the tines into the front tyre, which gave a very satisfying pop. She then went to the remaining three tyres and within a minute the Albion was sitting on its wheel rims.

Dana eased the filly into a fast walk, afraid to strain her stamina too much, but she felt an urgency to climb to the high pastures as quickly as possible. The wind got under the brim of her hat and flung it away. She let it go.

The sky was now the colour of ink, but a thin brilliant stripe along the western horizon gave the tossing gra.s.ses an eerie glow. The wind swirled and tugged at horse and rider. A worrying thought entered her mind. Maybe Sam had become angry with her for her off-handed reception and he'd decided to take the horses onwards to Nairobi without waiting to rest them. She would be stuck alone in the hut until morning. It was a frightening prospect, and she briefly considered turning back, but the hope that he would be there spurred her on.

The sun dropped and in the darkness she had no idea if Dancer was still on the narrow track leading to the hut. There were many stumps and antbear holes across the hills, and she had to trust the horse to find her footing. In spite of her urgency to find the safety of the hut she slowed Dancer's gait to little more than a walk, but the filly was very unsettled, tossing her head and wanting to veer away to the left. Now Dana wished she'd fitted the bit instead of using just the simple noseband.

From up ahead and to the right, Dana heard the cough of a leopard and realised the reason for Dancer's nervousness. The predator was obviously taking advantage of the early darkness to search for prey. Dana let Dancer ease off to the left and hoped she could resume the correct course when they'd distanced themselves from the leopard.

A loud snarl came from the darkness. Dancer reared and plunged then took a great leap forwards, throwing Dana from the saddle. She hit the ground with a sickening thud and at the same moment there came the crack of thunder.

She took a moment to regain her senses, then she shouted for Dancer, but her voice was ripped from her mouth by the wind.

Dana scrambled to her feet, fighting her panic. She knew the leopard was close and would now be emboldened without the intimidating presence of the horse. She listened, but could hear nothing above the howling wind. The silence could mean that the leopard had gone on its way, or was now stalking her in earnest.

Walk, don't run, she told herself, as she continued up the slope, but with the last of the daylight now gone, she had no way of knowing whether she was heading in the right direction.

A shadow loomed at her from the darkness.

Her heart caught in her throat and she surrendered to her panic and took flight.

Something snared her arm.

She screamed.

'Dana! It's me. It's all right. It's me.'

'Oh, Sam!' she sobbed, and fell into his arms.

CHAPTER 26.

Dana glanced around the banda while Sam was outside putting Dancer into the boma he'd built to protect the horses. She marvelled at how easily a little warmth and light could dispel a bad experience.

He returned with a handful of sticks to stoke the fire in the middle of the hut and, as soon as he'd straightened from his task, she wrapped her arms around him again, feeling the long strong muscles of his back and his warmth. She didn't want to ever let him go.

He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

'I've been watching all day,' he whispered. 'Hoping you'd come.'

'I wanted to, but I've been afraid.'

'Afraid?'

'Yes. What I feel about you frightens me.'

'Don't be frightened.'

She stroked his back from his shoulders to his waist then ran her hands down to feel the muscles of his b.u.t.tocks.

'I'm better now,' she said. 'Being with you makes me feel alive. Wonderful.' She looked up at him. 'I want you, Sam. I'll always want you.'

He kissed her softly and his lips lingered on hers as his tenderness slowly turned to pa.s.sion.

She pulled at his b.u.t.tons and when she'd stripped the shirt from him she helped him loosen the clasps on her new-fangled bra.s.siere. When their last items of clothing fell to the floor, he lifted her and laid her on the cot. She felt the coa.r.s.e hair of the zebra hide against her back and Sam's smooth skin as he lowered himself onto her.

They lay naked in the flickering light of the fire with one of Sam's woollen blankets pulled over them. Dana's head rested on Sam's shoulder and as his breathing returned to normal he enjoyed the feel of her fingers idly caressing his abdomen. The wind had abated; it was no longer howling through the forest above them, but occasionally gusting enough to part the door covering and make the flames briefly dance in the fireplace.

Dana asked how he knew she was approaching the banda.

'I heard the leopard before the wind came up,' he said, 'and I went out with my rifle to watch over the horses. I saw you coming up the hill, but then I lost you in the gloom until just before the leopard pounced. I must have got lucky with my old Rigby.'

'It was your rifle!' she exclaimed. 'I thought it was thunder.'

After he'd released the shot his heart almost stopped when he thought he'd missed the leopard and hit Dana. If he'd had time to think, he might not have taken the shot because of the risk, but then the leopard would have torn her apart. Thinking back on the possible consequences, the cold hand of dread touched him, and he felt such a strong sense of loss at the thought of going through life without her that a hot wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

He forced the notion from his head and played with her hair. It was so much finer than an African woman's. It slipped like silk through his fingers.

'Have you always been in the horse smuggling business?' she asked.

'No. I'm quite new at it. A few years ago I almost became a respectable settler - a coffee man, in fact.'

'When was that?'

He felt her snuggle close to him. He loved the feel of her compact body pressing against his, and her warmth.

'It's quite a long story. Are you sure you want to hear this?'

'There's nowhere else I'd rather be,' she said. 'No one I'd rather be with.'

'It must have been five or six years ago ... yes, it was 1926, and I had just come home from the States. I had a big idea, and plenty of money, but not quite enough to get it all started.'

'What happened?'

He explained the scheme and how all the coffee growers would share the benefits of the refinery.

'But when the bank realised they were dealing with a native, they went into a spin. Apparently the banks have an unwritten policy not to lend to Africans. There was nothing said officially. The bank simply backed away from the agreement to extend the remaining twenty per cent I needed.' He shrugged. 'So n.o.body won.'

'And that was how you lost your money?'

'No. I didn't lose a lot of money on that. I only lost some people I thought were friends. I lost my money, quite a deal of money in fact, through anger.'

'Anger? What do you mean?'

'When my business a.s.sociates and friends abandoned me simply because I was a black African instead of a black American, I was stunned. But it was the inst.i.tutionalised discrimination by the banks that got me angry. I was determined to strike back, to do something for the ordinary Kenyans who the banks refused to help.

'My anger drove me into a business I had no idea how to run. When it failed, I failed a lot of people who had come to rely on me.'

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. 'So now it's Abyssinian horses.'

'Yes. For now, I'm sticking to something I know.'

Sam slipped his arm from around her shoulder and added some fuel to the fire. When he returned to the cot, Dana lifted herself onto an elbow. She placed her warm hand against his cheek, ran a fingertip down his nose, and tickled his lips with a long fingernail.

'What will we do, Sam?'

He knew what she meant. This was more than a brief fling that could be enjoyed then forgotten.

'I don't know,' he said. 'All I know is that I don't want it to end.'

CHAPTER 27.

Dana drove past the m.u.t.h.aiga Club's main building and on through the car park to an area of bush beside the golf course. It was then only a short walk to the flat Sam used while in Nairobi. Both agreed it was most important to avoid raising any suspicions around the town, and a rendezvous in a Nairobi hotel was sure to be noticed. It had been a month ago that they had their first meeting at m.u.t.h.aiga; and on each of the four occasions since, she'd safely made her way to his door without seeing anybody she knew.

Edward knew she was with Sam on the night of the storm when she didn't come home until the following afternoon. On that occasion he could say nothing considering she had caught him in bed with Eliza Banfield, but Edward didn't know they had continued to meet. Nairobi was a small town with an even smaller white community. Dana and Sam didn't want their affair to be the topic at every dinner table from Mombasa to the lake, so discretion was essential.

She and Edward had resumed a cordial but cool relationship. He continued to talk about leaving Kenya as soon as possible, but now made it clear he would do so with or without her. With no a.s.sets or means of support, Dana had no option but to go with him. This made her uneasy about continuing her relationship with Sam. She liked him very much. He was kind and attentive and the s.e.x was more exciting than any she'd had, but neither of them had used the word love, and they made no plans together beyond agreeing the next time they would meet. With Edward pressing her for a decision, she decided to raise the matter of their future to find out if Sam wanted more than what they had.

This was not the first time she had planned to do so. Two weeks before, when Sam came through Kipipiri with more horses from Abyssinia, they met again in the banda. It was the perfect occasion to raise the matter as, unlike in Nairobi, she didn't have to hurry home until late afternoon. On that occasion they dozed after making love and then made love again as the sun sent pins of light through the banda walls to move like fireflies over their naked, sweating bodies.

She preferred making love there in the banda, because at the m.u.t.h.aiga Club she arrived late morning, but needed to leave by mid-afternoon, otherwise she'd be caught on the treacherous road down the escarpment after dark. However, as she picked her way through the bush towards Sam's flat, she had to admit it had an extra degree of excitement. The secrecy of their meetings added a touch of danger, and her body tingled in antic.i.p.ation.

She knocked gently on the door and he opened it with that broad smile that said he was happy she was there. He drew her to him as he closed the door and they kissed. His lips pressed warmly against hers and he wrapped his arms around her and slid his hands to her bottom.

'You have no underwear on,' he said with a grin.

'Exactly. Isn't that how you like me dressed?'

'It is,' he said and took her in his arms again, fondling her as he slid the shoulder strap from her dress.

'No,' she said. 'Don't undress me. I want you now. Take me here, standing at the door.'

He lifted her dress and felt her wet warmth with his fingers, and rubbed her little nub until she moaned for him.

He opened the front of his pants and, gripping her under her b.u.t.tocks, used his weight to pin her against the wall then pressed into her.

As she clung to him, teeth biting into his shoulder, she couldn't think about love, but she knew she never wanted this to end.

'Sam?' she said from beside him on the bed.

'Hmm ...?'

He sounded as if he'd come from a light sleep.

'Sam, can I ask you something?'

'Anything, my darling,' he muttered.

'Seriously. But you don't have to answer if you feel you can't.'

'Mmm ... must be something important. I'd better listen.' He raised himself on an elbow and rested his head on his hand, looking at her.

She felt self-conscious under his gaze and lost her nerve.

'Edward wants to leave Kenya,' she said bluntly, then bit her lip. It wasn't at all how she'd planned to tell him.

He stared at her for a long moment without a word. She tried to read his expression, but failed.

'I see,' he said. 'And you will leave with him, I presume.'

'I ... well ... Yes, I suppose I will.'

He nodded.