His mouth was humorless. “Then you’re pleased about Hallet?”
She must behave honorably, cautiously. “I’m pleased we’ve a safari outfit at last, and whatever you think personally about Kash, even his enemies will admit he’s the best.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard. You’ve no other reason to be pleased?”
“That’s an unfair question, Vince. If there are other reasons as you suggest, you’ll allow me the dignity to sort them through on my own and in private.”
He smiled unpleasantly. “Why is it I suspect there’s little need of sorting anything out for long? You’ve already made up your mind about us. He’s already come between us.”
Her tension made the heat in the room seem suffocating, and she moved closer to the screen, wishing for a breath of air to stir things. The afternoon sun was high above the Treehouse now.
“That isn’t quite true. I haven’t made up my mind about anything except the need to wait and pray, something I should have done more of before I ever permitted either of us to discuss an engagement. I was wrong to imply I was ready.”
“You’re quite certain that praying about things makes a difference?” he asked with a small smile.
Sable traced the crawling fly across the screen with her finger. “You did know about Kash and me in Toronto. I told you about the past, how I had felt about him…. I didn’t try to mislead you, and…I’m sorry. I wanted to be fair.”
His expression softened unexpectedly. “You were fair, my dear. I’m jealous, is all. You won’t fault me for being a man?”
His eyes showed sincere helplessness, and a quick dart of guilt pierced her conscience like a thorn. “Vince, I didn’t want any of this to happen. I hope you’ll believe me about that. I…I never expected to see him again.”
He caught her hand from the screen and squeezed it, looking deep into her eyes. “I do believe you. You’re too fine a woman to play a man cheaply. I believe you told yourself you were over Kash Hallet, that you’d never see him again. You wanted to build a new future, and I was the man you were willing to consider. I still find that a compliment. And now …” His words faltered.
She couldn’t end his discomfort by rushing to deny his fears. Her heart weighed heavily in her chest. If he hadn’t meant to intimidate her with feelings of guilt, he had, nevertheless, succeeded. She began to think whether or not she’d been completely fair to Vince. She’d told herself in Toronto that she’d gotten over Kash, but that was now obviously untrue. She hadn’t forgotten him. Perhaps she never would.
Vince surprised her with his next words. “There’s still something more you should know about Kash Hallet.”
She stepped back, folding her arms and meeting his gaze. “All right. I’m listening. What is it?”
“For one thing, he’s a poacher with the worst outfit in Tanzania or Kenya. He’s working for Smith and Browning out of Tanga.”
She could have rushed to defend Kash, to try to explain his reasons for doing so, but she knew she couldn’t without betraying his cover. How could she tell Vince that Kash was working undercover for the Kenyan government?
“He brought the young elephant calf to you simply as bait to win your trust. Do you think a cold-blooded hunter with his skills cares anything about elephants? If he wants to bring you to Samburu, he has a crass reason for doing so. He intends to hunt ivory.”
She knew that wasn’t true. Her eyes swerved to his. Vince looked sincere in what he was saying, even if the charges were wild.
“He knows Skyler is doing data on the elephants up in Marsabit. What better excuse to get in the territory and cover his tracks with the authorities than to be the guide for a Christian relief group?”
She stared at him. He was repeating the words Kash had spoken of Vince, she thought, sickened, praying that they were both wrong about each other. She was unnerved because she found that what Vince was saying fit Kash in some ways even better than it did Vince. Vince had never been a hunter, and his entire work was centered in natural science and conservation. She nearly admitted to Vince what Kash had said about him but caught herself.
“I suppose you wonder why I’m making these charges against him,” said Vince quietly. “In this case it isn’t dislike based on jealousy. He needs an excuse to enter the NFD in order to track the big tuskers,” he said. “There’s a report of an old elephant up in Marsabit with tusks several hundred pounds in weight! Imagine…. Do you know the money that much ivory would bring in the Asian markets?”
“No,” she breathed with alarm, “and I’d rather not think about it. If greed can kill and wipe out an entire species like the elephant—then those to blame are less than animals! Some things can’t ever be replaced. And the unique creation of God is one of them.”
“You needn’t convince me, dear,” he said softly. “I’m well aware of the danger.”
She turned abruptly and faced him. “How can you suggest Kash would do this? What proof do you have?”
He sighed. “I have no hard proof. If I did I’d go to the authorities with it. The hunting outfit he’s bringing with him in the guise of truck drivers and safari crew is proof enough.”
The distaste in his tone alerted her. “What do you mean? What crew?”
“Smith and Browning.”
Sable couldn’t move. The words echoed in her mind, conjuring up images of Moffet and of the rude truck driver she’d come up against on the road to and from Namanga.
“Kash wouldn’t hire them,” she insisted.
He walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of paper on which he’d written a name and phone number and showed it to her. “I received a telephone call from Pete Browning this morning. He called to ask when Kash wanted the zoo trucks delivered to Kenyatta to load your supplies for Samburu. True, he claims the trucks are being used simply to deliver, but I’ve my own ideas in the matter. It’s a clever way to get the hunters and trucks up to Marsabit. From Marsabit they can cross the border into Ethiopia or Somalia and get away without getting caught.”
Sable was remembering back to the dusty trailer trucks parked in the camp across the Tanzanian border and the loathsome blond-headed hunter she’d confronted over getting the calf back. Was this the crew Kash had in mind to bring them to her father?
Far worse than the anger she felt over the zoo hunters was the disappointment over Kash. Did he actually expect to use a crew and trucks known to be involved in poaching?
He’d told her he was working with Smith and Browning as a cover to bring about their arrest, but why would he risk allowing them access to the last big-tusk elephants in Marsabit? Even if he was innocent, he was making a dreadful mistake. The crew of Smith and Browning were more than fifteen; he was only one man. And what if Vince was right after all and Kash was a poacher?
“I can think of only one reason why he’d be using their crew and trucks,” said Vince.
They have the best cover possible in getting into the restricted area, she thought. But out loud she said, “There’s got to be some mistake.”
He sighed and looked out the screen. “Maybe. I hope so. For his sake.” He looked at her over his pipe. “Skyler wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if he thought he and his poachers were going to wipe out the herd.”
Her throat went dry, and the droning flies were too loud. She could have cried, But Kash has never really worked as a hunter for Smith and Browning. It was Seth who hunted for them. But Seth opposed the poaching when he found out, and he was killed in an arranged hunting accident.
But she couldn’t say anything. She wasn’t supposed to know about it. For a moment her faith in Kash slipped and took a tumble, hitting rock bottom, but …
No, he couldn’t be planning to hunt the elephants in Marsabit. It wasn’t in him. He loved the animals of East Africa too much to destroy them needlessly. He wouldn’t work with Browning. The two men were opposite in nature and had different goals. And yet—he’d been in that trailer camp when she arrived, and Browning had called Kash the �
�boss.”
Hadn’t the apostle Paul written that the love of money was the root of all kinds of evil? For money, some would do anything, compromising their standards and convictions.
Kash was not a compromiser. That was not one of his flaws. He wouldn’t lead Smith and Browning to the elephants at Marsabit…he wouldn’t let them kill them…he wouldn’t….
She stood looking at Vince, also a man whom she had believed to have convictions.
“You’ve had a rough day, dear,” he said quietly. “And now I’ve added more worry to the burdens you already find heavy.” He held her hand in his. “Don’t think about Smith and Browning. I’ll speak to Kash about it myself when he arrives. Who knows? Maybe there’s some sound and reasonable explanation for his hiring them.”
She could have told him that his speaking to Kash about it was what she feared he would do, and that the conflict between them would expand.
“I’m all right,” she said, pulling her hand away and sinking into a chair with a weariness she tried to hide. “As you say—there must be a fairer explanation to all this than what we’ve come up with. Fears can imagine the worst.”
“Yes, of course, you’re right.” He looked at her, troubled. “The truth is, regardless of who owns those trucks or the past reputation of the outfit, we need both the vehicles and the men if we expect to reach your father’s camp. And it looks like we’re stuck with Kash Hallet.”
Sable made no comment as Vince paced and went on. “The wet season is coming soon. Did you see the clouds? Once it starts, the roads will be impassable in the NFD. And with the possibility of a new outbreak of fighting in Somalia, we’ve got to take advantage of the lull to get in. If we don’t, we might as well admit defeat.”
The notion of defeat was unthinkable.
“We can’t change our minds now and quit,” she told him, standing and pacing the overheated room. “If my father trusted Kash to bring us into Samburu, then I won’t turn him down because of suspicion.” She turned and looked at him, rather surprised to see a brief look of pleasure before it faded behind his original frown.
“But he’ll need to explain about the hunting outfit,” she said, “even if we do need their trucks.”
“Yes.” He turned back to his sheaf of papers. “And that answer had better be good enough to convince the conservationists tomorrow.”
“You don’t mean Kash would have the audacity to show up with Browning tomorrow at the conference?” she asked. “Everyone knows the reputation of the outfit.”
Vince shook his head with apparent disgust. “Browning is coming with the trucks. At least he can meekly say he’s a ‘reformed’ poacher now. After all, he’s working for Hallet, a man hired by Skyler Dunsmoor, who has an impeccable reputation and credentials when it comes to wildlife protection.”
Sable considered, then turned away, relieved when there was a knock on the door and Jomo arrived with a tray of iced lemonade and a pot of hot coffee.
Thirteen
The breathless air reeked of satiated wet earth as the morning dawned sun-bright and humid after an unexpected, although brief, rain during the night. A few voluminous clouds lingered above the Kenyatta game sanctuary like sentinels as the first day of the East African International Conference on Wildlife Conservation began with breakfast.
The delegates had traveled from Europe, America, Canada, and Australia. After a breakfast served in the dining commons on tables with crisp white tablecloths and tan stoneware appropriately engraved with animal motifs, the conference opened with various short speeches by respected naturalists and zoologists, all giving grave reports of the future prospects for the wildlife of Africa.
Mini-seminars followed, and after luncheon, a sober-faced discussion panel led by Dr. Vince Adler predicted a bleak twenty-first century unless public opinion could persuade the lawmakers to enact further protection for the elephants and game animals.
The afternoon had passed under its own cloud as the somber mood expanded, with conservationists documenting on video the diminishing numbers of the endangered animals across Africa’s reserves.
“Unless something can be done internationally to put an end to poaching by penalizing those who buy as well as those who pull the trigger and set merciless traps—then within the next decade we will be adding several more species to our list of extinct animals.”
The panel ended the grave discussion for a much needed coffee, tea, and fruit break, with the next main lecture to be held after dinner that evening. The speech was to have been given by Sable’s father, Skyler T. Dunsmoor, but since everyone seemed to know by now that he wouldn’t be coming, they had opted to ask Vince to fill the podium.
Throughout the day and during the breaks, Sable heard her father’s name quietly mentioned among the gathered delegates, but she pretended not to notice how their voices noticeably fell off whenever she entered the vicinity. She had overheard one American professor speaking to a delegate from England: “Whatever the rumor concerning his mental balance, I’m not convinced. I met him last year, and Skyler Dunsmoor isn’t the sort of individual to crack under pressure. If he’s in seclusion somewhere in the Northern Frontier District, there’s got to be a logical reason for it.”
“I quite agree. The entire scenario of his turning into a recluse, talking to elephants, is a bit strained if you ask me. Then again, old boy, Vince isn’t known for his exaggeration, either. Seems to me he’s in a position to speak on the subject with some credibility. He and Dr. Katherine Walsh were with Skyler in the NFD when he disappeared into the volcanic region while tracking elephants.”
“Dr. Adler’s the best man to speak on that. He’s arranged for a guide to bring him up into the Marsabit region—one of the best, I hear, raised right here on Kenyatta.”
“You’re speaking of Kash Hallet. He’ll be here tonight. If it’s true, I must say I’m rather surprised. Hallet’s been staying fairly aloof from the conservationist route lately—ever since his brother was killed. There’s a bit of nasty business about that, I’m told.”
The long day ended with an elaborate dinner and a delay in the evening lecture. Delegates began to drift from the dining commons to refresh themselves in their rooms or to get a breath of fresh air in the steamy night out on the game-viewing veranda overlooking the water hole.
The night was heavy with the pathos of Africa. Stillness wrapped everything with a dread of the strong preying on the weak. In this case, to Sable, it was fallen man who was the enemy, out to mar and destroy the image of an awesome creation that bore witness to God’s handiwork. Thoughtless killing to the point of extinction seemed to her a profane behavior that insulted the great Designer.
A breeze stirred from somewhere, gently touching the hem of her long slim-style dinner dress of draped cream-colored silk. Her hair was worn up with casual elegance, and two small glitter combs winked like genuine diamonds.
Kash’s place setting at the table next to her own had stayed empty, and she wondered what might have happened to delay his arrival. He had commented earlier that he wanted to hear the lecture Vince would give to the delegates in place of her father. She glanced at her delicate silver herringbone wristwatch. The lecture was already five minutes behind schedule.
Below, the floodlights fell on the circular water hole, which shone like a pale gray looking glass, but so far no animal life stirred.
Perhaps there are no big game animals left alive, she found her strained emotions thinking, exaggerating the depression everyone apparently felt at the conference. The threat had been brought to its worst possible conclusion by excellent speakers, but those who needed to hear it the most were busy elsewhere in the world, either oblivious to the danger or uncaring.
They just don’t know, she thought, and because of her deep feelings for the reserves, she couldn’t envision anyone not caring if they knew, especially Christians who delighted in the work of their heavenly Father, and who would be grieved that elephants and lions were so few in number.
&nbs
p; Some of the wildlife conference delegates had already spoken throughout the day, and the news and information brought for the international group was bleak. There were few one-horned rhinos left in the world, the leopards were endangered to the point of extinction—as well as lions, tigers, elephants, rare birds….
The list of God’s magnificent creation went on: five left here, maybe twenty somewhere else. And always the danger increased. “The poaching continues. Skins, ivory, horns—still being ruthlessly taken with no regard for animal preservation of the greatest large animals of the world. Within a decade there may be no more elephants, no lions, no cry of a bird in either Africa or the rain forests of the world.”
How can anyone who worships the Creator not weep for such carnage against His handiwork? Sable thought.
She stood on the veranda, staring down through the night’s blackness and thinking that the small hope her father would arrive to speak to the conference delegates was growing slimmer by the hour.
As she stood there, the big circular pool showing pale and flat, she thought of all the tourists who had sat on this veranda through the years of past generations, lolling with ice-cold drinks, watching for elephants and leopards, as well as all the small creatures that had come like shadows out of the African night to quench their thirst at the floodlit water hole. Things had been different in Gran’s day, the lodge so carefully planned and the water hole like a stage set. Now it seemed to Sable that fewer and fewer animals came, and they had to leave bait to lure the few remaining leopards.
“A wildlife conference without wildlife,” she murmured to herself.
The voices of some of the delegates farther down the veranda were raised among themselves in disagreement: “Killing, you mean. Let’s call it by its real name. Shooting endangered animals for sport is killing for pleasure!”
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