The Treehouse was built on piles, with a flight of steps leading up into the sturdy, reinforced branches, and there was a circular pool of muddy water in front. Salt was thrown down to attract the animals, and sometimes fresh meat was put out to lure the leopard, one of the most difficult and rare of the big cats to see on the reserves. When a leopard put in a stunning appearance, it was the talk of the breakfast table the following morning. And, of course, the other animals came to the pool as well: black buffalo, hyena, silver-backed jackal, and elephants.
Knowing that poachers continued to hunt the rare and endangered leopard for its skin infuriated Sable.
She had climbed the steps to the unpainted door and, finding it unlocked, stepped inside, closing it silently behind her.
The rustic sitting room was done in Maasai colors of clay and ocher, with blue bead work and leather on the walls as decorations. The small sword called a “simi” in a red sheath, a spear, and a tribal headdress in black and white ostrich feathers decorated the plain wood wall. There were also lion and elephant crafts made from sisal rope that Zenobia had bought from one of the shops in Mombasa, and some Turkana tribe dolls from the NFD region, suitably dressed in leather aprons and beads. And a large sesame-wood chest, which had also been bought in Mombasa from one of the Arab dhows that came in with the monsoon winds to sell their goods, stood in the far corner of the room, now scarred from seasons of use since the days before the Second World War. Arrangements of dried grass and flowers were in old Maasai milk containers, and a grinning baboon made of coconut shells sat on the floor holding a tray of real fresh fruit that the waiter had brought this morning. Vince sat at the window behind the 1940 vintage rolltop desk. When she entered the room, he stood, removing his pipe from between his teeth. He wore a wrinkled but clean short-sleeved white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Tall, lean, and tanned, he was keen-eyed and unsmiling as she walked to the center of the room, where shadows from the tree branches made moving arches on the wood floor.
“Hello, Vince. Hope I’m not interrupting your work,” she said quietly.
“Your presence is a joy that never interrupts. I saw you arrive with Kate.” He gestured his head toward the window. “I assume Kate’s arrival means the camp was closed down?”
Sable nodded, aware of the heat, of the shadows that danced, of the buzzing insects on the fly screen. “They were taking the tents down when we left early this morning.”
A line of concern was etched on his face over some thought that made him uneasy. “Who’s seeing to Kate’s medical dispensary—Markingham?”
“Yes, and a driver, I think, a man he called Bigsby. They were packing things in crates when we left.”
As though satisfied, he walked over to the desk, where his work was stacked. “I regret not being there these last few days. I’ll miss doing research on the Maasai’s customs. They’re a noble tribe, closely related to the Samburu. I’ve feared your evangelistic tactics might be considered by them to be insulting.”
Startled, she looked at him, trying to judge by his expression whether or not he was serious.
“I don’t understand. You’re not implying that my showing the JESUS film is in any way detrimental to the East African tribes, are you?”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that I have gained an appreciation of their pristine culture—well, it doesn’t matter now. We’re leaving soon. However, I doubt you’ll find the Samburu and Turkana tribes of the NFD much interested in your film, not that I don’t think your intentions are well meant.”
“I hope you’ll permit me to disagree. Wherever the film is shown in the language of the people, they respond to Jesus because of who He is: the Son of God. Jesus isn’t Asian, European, or Armenian. He is the Savior of all people. He speaks their language, you see.”
Vince smiled uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, dear, I’ve gotten you riled. I didn’t mean to. I think what you’re doing is commendable, even if it is rather ‘missionary.’”
“I’ve always thought ‘missionary’ was a term deserving my highest regard, but I don’t represent any organization. What I’m doing, I’m doing on my own. I’ve paid for the film and equipment myself. So far I haven’t embarrassed anyone.”
He laughed. “We’d best change the subject before you refuse to have dinner with me tonight. I wouldn’t want you at Hallet’s table with that energetic MAF flyer friend of his either.” He changed the subject smoothly. “About Kash Hallet thinking I was somehow involved in the accident of his brother—were you able to find out anything?”
His question set her on edge. She couldn’t tell him what Kash thought. “He believes Seth’s death might have been arranged. Of course, there’s no proof.”
“There wouldn’t be, naturally. The entire matter was an unfortunate hunting accident. Did he say why he thought otherwise?”
“He believes it had something to do with poaching,” she said carefully.
“A vile situation that’s not likely to change anytime soon, but I hope Hallet realizes how committed I am to the reserves.”
Sable’s thoughts were darting about like nervous swallows. She didn’t particularly like the way he spoke about Dean and Kash, or the idea that Christian missionaries were well-meaning but naive to be somehow infecting the “pristine native culture” with their own biased values. The gospel, she thought, is not cultural, neither did it originate with any man. The JESUS film was not a cultural message, but taught the life of Christ by enacting the Gospel of Luke.
Bringing Jesus to the world didn’t destroy cultures or wholesome customs; it brought them the only Savior of mankind and the love of the wonderful Shepherd. She remembered how the Lord saw the people as “sheep without a shepherd.” She felt her calling to be a high and holy privilege, one she wouldn’t change for anything.
She watched Vince thoughtfully, troubled. What would his response be when he found out that her father had hired Kash to bring them into the NFD? She walked slowly to the window and looked below at the pool of muddy water. Some birds were pecking the ground looking for dung beetles.
“Neither Kate nor I like closing down and moving on, but the Amboseli camp was only temporary; we all knew that. Kate feels permanently called to the camp at Samburu, and despite your misgivings”—she turned and looked over at him—“I feel motivated to show the film there, and even in Somalia if I can.”
She thought of Kash arranging the showing at the manyatta and wondered with concealed excitement if she might not gain his support for some of her other ventures….
“You’re smiling,” said Vince, relighting his pipe that had gone out and watching her with his keen dark eyes.
She sobered. “Was I?” She touched her hair, tucking a mussed strand into place rather self-consciously as she covered her thoughts. “It’s not about leaving Amboseli with so many needs still unmet, I can assure you, but we’ve learned others will take our places. Some Christians from the Nairobi church are going to be coming out. Some have come to know the Lord, and the children seem especially responsive to the film.” Her enthusiasm grew. “Oh, Vince, it’s wonderful to see the impact that it’s making. The nationals hope to raise money to build a small clinic and even start a church near Namanga. And now that the wells will be drilled, the Maasai will have even more cause to understand the depth of goodwill in the name of Christ—”
“The wells will be drilled, you say?”
He had showed mild tolerance for her private endeavor in using film evangelism, and it wasn’t until her mention of the wells that he came alert. The frank curiosity in his eyes told her he hadn’t expected the announcement.
“Where did you get the money to drill?” he asked, surprised.
“Oh—so Kate already asked you about the mix-up with the funds?”
“Kate? No, she didn’t tell me,” he admitted quietly, and a frown showed on his dark brow. “I knew about it before you arrived.” He looked at her, then drew in a breath. “Sable, I’ve a confession to make to you and Ka
te both about the wells intended for the Maasai. I misunderstood your intent where the money was concerned and thought you had allocated it to me to use for the research we’re doing up at Lake Rudolf.”
So he admitted it. And Kash had been right. At least about Vince taking it for the work at Lake Rudolf.
“You haven’t told me anything about your project, Vince. I’d be very interested to know what it’s about. And when you say ‘we,’ who are the people involved?”
The change in him was dramatic. She’d never seen his eyes glitter with such excitement or his energy level shoot up like a volcano. He came to her, smiling. “I’ll take you up to the camp as soon as we get into Samburu. Katherine is there now, and Dr. Willard from our research lab in Toronto. I tell you, the possibilities are astounding.” He gripped her arm in his lean hand, giving her a tiny exuberant shake. “We have found a new source of knowledge. We’re on the verge of a discovery that will exceed anything yet unearthed at Olduvai Gorge. Dr. Willard has a new method of discovering man’s origins—a way that could make present methods obsolete.”
A deadness settled over her soul as her eyes searched his. “Is that what you did with the money meant for the Maasai wells? You sent it to Dr. Willard and Katherine Walsh?”
“I thought you knew about the research work going on there,” he said quietly, his hand releasing her arm. “I thought Skyler told you the money was meant to fund the project for another year. I’m sorry, Sable, but I’ll get the money back to you as soon as possible. But meanwhile, I’ll make sure you won’t regret the investment.”
Kash had been right….
“You never told me you were an evolutionist.”
He gave a short laugh. “Sable! I’m not—not in the way you think.”
“I’m serious, Vince. You should have told me.”
He waved his pipe and walked to the desk, reshuffling his papers. “I’m an anthropologist, Sable. I examine all avenues, all possibilities, to explain man’s origins. I deal with facts, not stories. What don’t you understand?”
“I thought you were a Christian—that you believed God uniquely created man in His image. Are you saying that you can’t study man’s beginnings without being an evolutionist?” she accused.
“Let’s not get into that can of worms. I told you, I’ll get the money back as soon as—”
“It’s not just that, Vince. You did tell me you were a Christian when we dated in Canada. You carried a Bible to church, you evidently approved of my interest in returning to East Africa to work with my father, to show the film about Christ to the tribes—”
“If it makes you happy, I approve! Why not? I am a Christian…in my own way, but don’t insist I come through your little wicket gate.”
“It’s not my little wicket gate. It was Jesus who said ‘I am the door.’ The truth of Christianity isn’t a smorgasbord open to picking and choosing what you want on your plate.”
“I believe most of the Bible. But don’t expect me to believe the myth of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden biting an apple and sending creation into a nose dive. I believe Jesus was sent by God, but—”
“Are you telling me you’re a theistic evolutionist?”
He bit his pipe and gritted, “No, I am not. I used to be. I’m not sure I’m an evolutionist at all in the way you mean it. I can best explain what we’re doing at Rudolf when I bring you there to meet the team. Look, my dear, let’s not fall out over this. It’s not as drastic as you seem to fear, nor anything serious enough to come between us. As for the money, I’ll write Toronto today and see if you and Kate can be reimbursed. And I’ll take you on a tour to Lake Rudolf. Once you meet Dr. Willard and Katherine, you’ll see our work is certainly worthy of your respect.”
Sable sat down slowly, watching him.
“I thought you and Dr. Katherine Walsh were working with my father at his camp in Samburu. Now you say she’s at the digs at Lake Rudolf with Dr. Willard. Just what is the connection with my father and his work?”
He walked to the window, smoking his pipe, one hand shoved in his khaki trousers.
“There’s no connection, actually.”
“No connection—” she began, astounded. “But I was under the impression you were working with him.”
He looked over at her above his pipe. “We were first working with Skyler. Katherine inscribed the data he wanted to include in his book. But we were always much involved with Dr. Willard at Lake Rudolf. She’s his niece, as I think I already told you. On weekends Katherine and I would hire one of the bush pilots to fly us up to Rudolf, where we met with the Toronto group.”
“Is Dr. Katherine Walsh also from the same private Toronto group?” she asked uneasily. “Does she also believe in evolution?”
He waved a hand as though the question were irrelevant. “Please, dear, Katherine and her personal beliefs have nothing to do with us.”
“I’m beginning to think she and Dr. Willard’s beliefs may have more to do with your interests than I ever imagined.” She stood. “I’m glad you want to show me the work there because I now wish to know all about it.”
“And you shall, just as soon as we arrive. I’ve no cause to keep secrets from you, Sable. I used the money, yes, but I was under the impression you meant it for the research. I’ve nothing to hide, and there certainly isn’t anything sinister going on.” He walked to her, his eyes pleading. “Once you give us a chance to show you, to explain, I’m sure you’ll be enthusiastic.”
Sable’s heart beat painfully slow, and her frustration mounted as his gaze insisted on the impossible.
“Vince,” she said softly, “you can’t serve two masters.”
He laughed. “You’re never more charming than when you play the little evangelist.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m serious. There aren’t two Gods—one humanistic and secular, and the other the God of the Bible and special creation. You may walk the Christian path for a while, but you’ll soon come to a fork in the road. It’s inevitable. You’ll then need to choose. Will it be this world’s system, which seeks to deny its Creator and Savior? Or will it be the God of revelation?”
“I will do what truth demands of me. Is that sufficient to soothe your worries?” He strode to the desk and opened a drawer. He produced a black Book and held it toward her, his eyes glinting. “I read the Bible. And I find much wisdom and good in its pages.” He put it back and watched her evenly. “I suppose Kash Hallet has suddenly become a saint? You think he took you out to the manyatta and showed the film because he cared about the souls of the Maasai? He did it to impress you. He’s a poacher and a scoundrel.”
Sable turned away. “He’s never claimed to have dedicated himself to the service of the Lord, but he did arrange the film showing with the warrior chief. And the wells are going to be built—and Kash is arranging it—out of his own bank account. I think that speaks well of him.”
Silence enveloped the room, and nothing was heard except the branches of the tree scraping the side of the Treehouse. A moment passed before Vince walked up and turned her around to face him. His jaw was tense, and his black eyes flickered with emotion.
“There’s something else about Kash you better know before you canonize him.”
“Will you stop it?” she breathed, pulling her arm away. “I’m not setting him up as a saint, nor anyone else either, including myself. We’re all human, with faults, weaknesses—and sins! I’m not making excuses for him—or you. But I know what I believe, and I don’t want to compromise to please you.”
“Good, because I don’t want you to,” he assured her. “Yet you can’t fault me for wanting you away from him. Then again, even in Toronto you never did actually say you loved me. An odd thing, considering we discussed an engagement. All rather businesslike, wasn’t it? I wonder how businesslike you and he were when you considered marriage—”
“Please, Vince, don’t start that now. You agreed quite willingly to leave the future until after Samburu, and I took you at your
word. If every time we meet to talk you bring up Kash, it’s going to interfere with our work there.”
He sighed. “You’re right, the work is far too important to suffer because of personal issues, and I’ve no intention of compromising either my calling or yours to wrangle with Hallet again. If I bring him up now, it’s because we’re going to see much more of him than even I expected.”
Sable cast him a glance. Did he know? He couldn’t.
He studied his pipe as though he had never seen it before. “About the supplies—I think we have the trucks we need. I received a telephone call yesterday from the safari outfit in Tanga.”
She tensed. Vince walked up to stand beside her at the window, looking out and watching a warthog at the water’s edge.
“I didn’t know it the other night when we talked,” he said, “but Zenobia did.”
“Zenobia knew what?”
He looked at her. “That Skyler hired Hallet to bring you to Samburu.”
“Zenobia knew?” she asked, surprised.
“She admitted it today when she found out about the telephone call.” His eyes were shadowed where he stood and she couldn’t tell what his reaction was, but she was certain he was displeased. It would be best to make as little of the matter as possible.
“Yes, Kash told me at the Amboseli camp that my father had hired him. He refused at first, of course—you know Kash. He’s dead set against my going there, but he finally relented.” She smiled. “You should be pleased, actually. Without him and Mckib we might end up being stuck here until the rains come, then I’d never get to tour your group’s work at Lake Rudolf. You did say you couldn’t find any guide in Nairobi.”
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