It was a delicate balance, needing to accustom her to us without going so far as to tame her. “We want her to be comfortable around people,” I told Peter on the second night, “but not so comfortable she feels she can move in on them whenever she chooses. When I eventually bring tourists to Kulinda, the animals will need to be accessible but not nosing right up to jeeps or walking tours. As much as I just want to hug that great big neck of hers and let her know she has one—sorry! two—besties in this world who love her unconditionally, however much we might think it helps in the short-term, it won’t do any of us any long-term favors.” I frowned at the circumstances. “Can you imagine hurting so much and being so close, but not being able to be touched?”
“Yes, I can.”
His words were barely more than breath upon the wind, but I heard them clearly. Just as clearly, I knew better than to pry. When he was ready to tell me, he would. All I needed to know, for now, I knew already. There was a great wound in Peter’s soul. One he was trying to outrun.
No. I looked at him with narrowed and critical eyes. He was beyond the running stage. Had no doubt come to the bitter realization he could run forever and be no further away from the pain than when he started. He was in the filling stage now, I decided. Thinking if he could just fill the wound with enough work or sex or other experiences he could smother the pain that way.
That wouldn’t work either, of course. But it wasn’t something I or anyone else could teach. There were never any shortcuts when dealing with bone-deep grief. Each stage had to be worked through. Eventually he’d realize that grief wasn’t meant to be conquered but embraced. That grief was as much a part of who we were as were our disappointments or our loves.
Jasiri would have to realize that, too, in her own time. She at least would have a new baby to love, a reason and a focus for working through her grief, whereas Peter had…
Me?
I sighed. Though more and more he looked to have Jasiri too. Maybe if I helped him through the filling stage, Jasiri could help him cross to the embracement stage.
In the dark, I reached out and held his hand.
* * *
On the fourth night, Jasiri came to the fence soon after we parked there, before we even pulled our supper out of the thermal bags Kapuki had packed. We had come a little later than usual, and night had already fallen, so maybe Jasiri had been concerned we weren’t coming at all.
“Well, hello, my brave girl,” I called to her and almost immediately she began rumbling her greetings in return.
“Something tells me this is going to be a good night.” Peter fished out the bottle of brandy Kapuki had thoughtfully included.
I was well beyond the blushing stage with Peter or I would have felt heat in my cheeks to go along with the warm tingle that settled in an area much further south. The past two nights had capped strenuous days for both of us. Two neighboring cattle herds to vaccinate, one on each day, had reminded me why I’d found small animal practice so appealing. Dealing with the big guys was long, arduous work. Rewarding, knowing the tribe’s lives would be improved with better herd management, but warm and fuzzy rewards didn’t preclude sore muscles and bruises.
Steve had also not pulled any punches introducing Peter to the hard labor that was road grading and brush clearing.
The upshot had been each of us being too tired to do anything more than hold each other in the night. Today, we’d had reprieves, following the pattern I’d noticed since I’d arrive in Tanzania—days were either all push or mostly quiet, with little moderation between the extremes.
Tonight, we looked to be favored with a visit from Jasiri, followed by one of Kapuki’s signature suppers, a plastic snifter or two of brandy, and then some adult fun under the sign of the Southern Cross. My life was well and truly blessed.
“I think Jasiri’s gained some non-baby weight. Look along her backbone.”
Peter laid his chin on my forearm and the warm breath of him curled up my wrist and along my pointing finger. “She’s been going through the stock feed like crazy. I keep looking around for the second elephant that has to be stashed in there with her.”
“I wonder where she’d be right now if WildLot had gotten hold of her?”
“Probably the same place I’d be.” Peter flashed a rueful grin. “In deep—”
The sharp but unmistakable pop pop of a rifle echoed in the still of the night.
It couldn’t have come from more than a mile away. On sanctuary land.
“Poachers!”
If there was anyone I would want more at my side when there was a shooter around, I don’t know who it would have been. The shots and my cry were still in the air and Peter was already moving, tossing rifles and ammo from the Land Rover’s cargo bay onto the front seat within easy reach of the driver.
“Call Steve!” he shouted at me, only I could barely hear him over the ear-splitting trumpet that erupted beside us. Whether in terror or rage, Jasiri trumped again. And again.
Two more rifle pops rang out and Jasiri’s agitation flamed into full-on rage. Ears pinned back, she did the unthinkable.
She charged.
If it hadn’t been one-touch dial, I’m not sure I could have gotten through to Steve so fast. As it was, he was already on his way, the jeep growling down the short half mile, its high beams visible just over the rise.
“Get in!” Peter grabbed my arm and swung me toward the passenger door as he ran for the driver’s side.
No! He wanted to take me away from Jasiri.
The electric charge slammed through the enraged ellie as she hit the inner fence, not letting up until the wires snapped as they caught around a tusk. She shook her head, showering wires to either side, then eyed the outer fence.
“Get the hell in here! Now!” Peter growled from behind the wheel.
Then Steve was there, lunging for the far side of the jeep closest to the fence almost before the vehicle braked to a stop, a rifle in his hand. Steadying the barrel over the passenger door, he fired.
Transfixed, I saw the spray of red hit Jasiri’s shoulder in the circle of light from the vehicles. Saw her falter, then lunge weakly for the fence. Head and tusks scraped along the wires. The near post gave and the others along a 20-foot stretch groaned in protest. From the corner of my eye, I saw Steve reloading.
“Wait!” I cried. “”We just need to stop her not put her down.”
“Won’t matter either way if that fence gives.” Steve’s voice was grim.
I faced Jasiri, knowing the damage I was about to do to the fragile trust we’d just managed to establish between us. Wondered how much more betrayal she could stand. “Hyah!” I yelled at her, waving my arms. “Hyah! Back!”
She stumbled back one step, two, then went to her knees. Slowly she tumbled to her side. Don’t let her have fallen on the baby! I prayed. “How much time do you need?” I shouted to Steve.
“Give me ten minutes.” He was already running for the power switch. “I’ve got this! Go! Both of you!”
I jumped into the Land Rover. “Clinic! Now!”
Peter gunned the vehicle that way, whipping it around in a tight arc before asking, “What’s going on?”
“I’m going to pick up the reversal drug to bring Jasiri around as soon as Steve gets the fence electrified again. I’ll have time to walk it back. Then we’ll need to find where those bastards got in.”
“On it.” The cold in Peter’s voice chilled me to the bone.
“No! Wait for Steve. No one goes out alone.”
“I do my best work alone.” Cold and grim, but calm. “Well, there is one thing I’m better at with two…”
“Don’t engage. They’re probably already gone by now, but if they aren’t, don’t engage. Swear to me you won’t.” I wanted to smack that damnable half-smile of an expression off his face.
Still, he nodded. “I swear.”
We stopped square in front of the clinic. “Don’t get trampled,” he called after me as I scrambled out. Then h
e gunned the engine, squealed the tires and was gone.
My thoughts as I trotted back to the boma with reversal drug in hand were black with infuriating elephants and equally infuriating men.
Steve had swung the jeep’s lights on the fence break and was twisting the last of the repair into place when I got there.
No, it hadn’t been Steve who’d maneuvered the jeep. Melea had arrived to help.
In the boma, Jasiri was already twitching. I crawled through the fence with Melea following. And not even one “Doctor Nic!” from her. When it mattered, she was solid.
I knelt beside Jasiri. Then, for the first time since she’d come, I reached out and touched her. The warm, rough elephant skin around her shoulder was caked with mud from the pond. I yanked out the red-feathered tranquilizer dart before making my way to the softer, smoother skin inside her ear flap. Melea produced the flashlight from the jeep’s emergency box and I found an easy vein in the ear and injected the diprenorphine.
With only a couple of minutes before the reversal drug took effect, I hurried around to her belly and placed the stethoscope I’d grabbed from the clinic along with the drugs to her side. The jeep’s engine, still running maybe 50 feet away, was the only sound in the night as I listened for the faint murmur of the baby ellie’s heart. Such a big expanse of belly to test across, though, and so little time. When Jasiri started kicking her feet and lifting her head, I knew it was time to run.
Steve was waiting to throw the power as soon as Melea and I cleared the fence.
Not a minute later, Jasiri rolled to her stomach. A minute after that and, after a couple of false attempts, she gained her feet.
We held our breaths, praying her next move would be a smart one.
She didn’t disappoint. With a snort and a flap of her ears, she disappeared into the copse of tambotie, done with humans for the night.
Perhaps done with us forever.
“Did you hear it?” Steve asked.
“The baby?” I shook my head. “Can’t really know, though, where it’s positioned or how it’s turned. Just thought maybe I’d get lucky and hear its heart right off.”
“But…?”
I raised my brows at him.
“You have ‘but face’.”
“Is it that obvious?” Both he and Melea nodded. “Not a but, just a…feeling. Probably nothing more than me reacting to how this night has gone. I was listening and it was like…I dunno. Like there wasn’t anything there to hear. Could just be how elephants sound inside, I suppose. An inch of skin, all that fat. Who wouldn’t sound muffled? Anyway, the baby’ll come soon enough.”
“You don’t think the darting hurt it any?” Steve looked anxious.
“At term like that?” Frankly, now that I’d seen how quickly she’d recovered, I was more worried about the fall than about the drugs. “Jasiri wasn’t under very deep or for very long. No, you did exactly what you needed to do to protect them both. To protect us all.”
Relief washed over Steve’s face. He and Melea both seemed satisfied with my answer.
I just wished I was too.
17
Peter
Speeding off down the perimeter road, my thoughts were only for the scene playing out in the boma. That was the drama I didn’t know the ending to yet. Ahead, that one had already played out. Whatever the poachers were after was long dead by now and those sons of bitches would be long gone.
I could track them, of course. If there was one thing I knew almost as well as holding my own in a firefight, it was how to track anyone or anything through desert, jungle or savanna. If poaching were a military matter, no way would I stop at the fence line or the neighboring property. But it was a civilian crime, a matter for the police once the poachers stepped off private land. On the sanctuary, the rangers were the law. A law that ended at the fence.
I had a mile of rough road to come to terms with that. With less of a head start on the poachers’ part, a little vigilante justice might go unremarked in such a vast wilderness with too few public rangers or police to patrol.
Next time, I vowed.
Next time, when Nicky wasn’t about to go into a fenced arena with a depressed and crazy elephant.
Next time, when getting back wasn’t more important than going forward.
The bastards had been neat, at least. The 10-foot section of fence between two T-posts had been cleanly cut on either side and dropped in place. Two sets of tracks lay across the primitive road—they’d come in and gone out right over the downed fence.
It would need a proper repair in the daylight. For now, a coil of rope stitched the tire-crumpled section back in place. The electric wires had been snipped too, of course, but only the worst luck would mean a problem with the juice being off a few hours. Power apparently went down routinely for maintenance work. Animals would have to be actively challenging the fence along the cold section at the exact time power was off for them to discover the breach.
Unfortunately, I was also on pretty close terms with Murphy and those damnable Laws of his. But sometimes taking the risk was the better of two evils.
Satisfied nothing would be entering or leaving the sanctuary, at least on a casual basis, I swung the Land Rover’s lights around to follow the tracks. A handful of gazelle sprang away from the pools of light from the headlamps and the spotlight over the cab. Not quite half a mile in, I spotted a beat-down clearing. Night drained color from the scene, and while I wasn’t wise yet in African fauna, I had a pretty good idea of what I would find if not the exact species of it.
Slowing the Land Rover to a crawl, I beat the steering wheel with my palm. Impotent anger. Transference. Whatever psychologists wanted to call it, it was no secret I would far rather be beating the face of whatever vipers had deliberately trespassed here with guns.
I felt the old anger, cold and deep, settle into me.
Anger that froze with crystalline precision when the headlights spread a wash of color over the large antelope, picking out light stripes along its back and withers. An eland, if memory served, lying on its chest, head resting on the long forelegs splayed out before it. Where a graceful pair of horns should have risen proudly, there was…nothing.
I swung the spotlight around. There had been another round of shots and, not 50 feet away, another eland lay—a hornless brother to this one.
With deliberate purpose I stuffed the chill of my anger deep, then deeper still, down into the depths of my bones where it could become a part of me. Where its presence could remind me every day of the atrocities of my fellow man. Down to join the ever-growing chill that rimed my every deed and rose to shield my heart in ice.
Down deep inside where nothing was ever forgotten. Where every frozen shard of crystal anger was a memory to be atoned.
So many memories.
So much yet to atone.
* * *
What kind of commentary on the night’s events was it that we counted it a win that Jasiri hadn’t escaped and seemed to have recovered from her darting with no ill effects to her or her unborn calf.
We were all rattled, but in the way that quiets and subdues and beats on the emotions with a ham fist. Even Abasi, when he at last made it down the hill, was reserved. No bravado from him, no hysterics from Melea. Nothing had been won here.
And until we were all in Nicky’s living room being plied with coffee and alcohol, I didn’t realize just how much had been lost.
18
Nicky
“So it’s a matter of earning Jasiri’s trust again.” Peter paced the room, walking off his adrenaline overload. Like a lion after a hunt without a kill.
“I just hope it’s that simple. We betrayed her, darting her like that. We know we did it for the right reasons, but she doesn’t. Is that a trust that can even be regained?”
“Are her thoughts really that sophisticated?”
I bit back the retort that sprang like reflex to my lips. Peter’s question was a sincere one. And none of us here was an expert in eleph
ant psychology. “I think we need to move forward in the belief that we’re underestimating her mental capacity, not overestimating it. Every elephant study done seems to point to a more and more complex social structure, which indicates more complex…and sophisticated…thinking. Whether she processes things the way we do—well, who knows?”
I loved that not one of my team questioned whether Jasiri was worth the trouble. “If she’ll have me, I intend to continue spending the nights with her. At least until the baby’s born.”
Nods all around indicated their agreement to start back over with Jasiri.
“I’d like to hire some night patrols,” Peter said, moving on to the next problem on the table. “Locals. Arm them with phones or shortwave. Post them on random schedules—maybe even different nights off—to keep our poacher friends guessing. Abasi can set up the schedules and coordinate them right from his room. That way he can still be contributing to the defense of the sanctuary.”
“Defending Kulinda”—Abasi nodded, patting his chest—“I can do that.”
An elegant handoff that would make Abasi feel valued while he recuperated.
“It’ll mean night work, sleeping during the day,” Peter emphasized, as much for the rest of our benefit as for Abasi’s.
Abasi nodded again, his expression very grave while the rest of us smothered our laughter. “I will be an owl.”
“A practical solution to a mass of problems.” I winked when I caught Peter’s eye. Tactically, it was a good idea. I would have approved it even without Abasi in the mix. With him, the idea was genius.
We had another drink each before the impromptu meeting broke up and we retired to our separate homes to grab a few hours sleep before dawn.
* * *
After making my clinic rounds, short as they were, I jumped in the jeep with Peter, Steve and the police constable who came out to take the incident report. We drove out to see what the poachers had done.
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 30