The White Hunter

by Gilbert, Morris

  Lifting the calabash he took several swallows, wiped his lips with his shirt sleeves, then patted his stomach. “Good,” he said. “Thank you, Talbi.”

  A murmur of approval went around. Talbi drained the rest of the mixture of milk and blood from the calabash and said, “You are the only white man who knows what is good to eat.”

  “If you were in my country, you would have to learn to eat some strange things.”

  Talbi and the others wanted to know about this, and Jeb found himself explaining popcorn and candy and ice cream.

  Finally Talbi led Jeb away and they stopped under the shade of a baobab tree. Evidently the sharing of the meal had opened Talbi’s mind, but he still did not come right to the point. Instead, he said, “You know. Our people use every part of our cattle.”

  “Is that true?” Jeb said, although he knew it was.

  “Oh yes. We drink the milk and the blood, we eat its meat, we use its urine for medicinal purposes but also to wash calabashes. We use its dung to cover our houses, we make containers of its horns, . . .” He continued on explaining that the hoofs were used for ornaments, the hide for clothing and shoes, for house and bed coverings, and rope. He ended by saying, “All of our ceremonies must include part of our cattle in one way or another. It is through our cattle we have attained our life. We consider little else to be of any value.”

  Indeed, Jeb had understood that almost from the beginning.

  The two stood there talking, and finally Talbi said abruptly, “The people do not like the missionary lady, the tall one.” He would not even use her name.

  “She’s got a good heart,” Jeb said quickly.

  “She is too forward and too brash. She is not like Mother Annie.”

  Talbi apparently had finished what he had come to say. He turned and walked off, and Jeb stood looking after him. Finally he strolled through the village to the tent Annie and Jeanine shared while a hut was being built for them. They had insisted on getting the church built first and then building their own accommodations.

  He found Annie preparing a meal and she greeted him warmly.

  “Come in, Jeb. Chief Mangu killed an antelope and brought us a quarter. It’s almost done.”

  “It sounds good,” Jeb said. He sat down on a stool, one of the two he had made for Annie and Jeanine. They could not sit on the ground comfortably, he knew, so he had constructed it of a top and three peg legs he had whittled himself. He watched her and thought of how well she had adapted. Like himself, she had fallen into the rhythm of the village. She loved to do small things and would watch the people for hours when she was not busy with her own work. Now she brushed the smoke away from the fire, where she was roasting several chunks of meat. Looking up, she smiled and said cheerfully, “No salad today.”

  “It’s all right. It reminds me of the meals we had back at Luigi’s. Remember?”

  Annie had removed the chunks and was putting them onto wooden platters also carved by Jeb.

  “I think of them often. Why, I’d like to have a big plate of his lasagna right now.”

  “Yes, or spaghetti.” Jeb took out his knife and began to carve the meat. “Ouch! It’s hot!” he said.

  The two sat there chewing on the meat, which was rather tough but quite tasty. Jeb did not know how to bring up the subject but finally said, “You know, Annie, I think Jeanine is trying too hard.”

  Annie shot a glance at him. His face was serious and she happened to think, I wish he weren’t so serious all the time. She knew he had had a hard life as a child and wondered how much of that still remained with him. “I know, Jeb,” she admitted. A thought came to her and she asked, “Has someone complained?”

  “Well, the people here think Jeanine is too brash.”

  Annie chewed a small morsel of meat for a time, then swallowed it. “I don’t know how to tell her, Jeb.”

  “She’s not the kind of person you can tell things to, is she?”

  “No, she isn’t, but she’s got to adapt. She won’t survive otherwise. I pray for her every day, and I hope that you do, too.”

  “Of course. It’s a new life for her. So different, isn’t it?”

  “It’s hard to believe that she’s here. She’s had everything she’s ever wanted out of life. She used to gratify her every whim, and now she doesn’t have those things. You and I had some discipline growing up, but Jeanine didn’t have any. I think it’s going to be very difficult for her. It already is.”

  “Well, whom the Lord loves He chastens, so she may have to be chastened a little.” He smiled and got to his feet. “We’ll pray for her. Now, come along. I want to show you something.”

  Annie laughed and got to her feet. “You always want to show me something.”

  “It’s so fascinating, isn’t it, Annie? I’m so glad to be here. I’m not a missionary like you, of course, but I’ve learned to love these people.”

  Annie suddenly stood stock-still. “You know, Jeb, sometimes I think that’s all a missionary is. Someone who loves people and wants to help them.”

  Jeb flushed. He appreciated any compliment from Annie, and he said, “Thank you, Annie. That was a kind thing for you to say. Now, come on,” he said eagerly. “You’ve got to see this.”

  ****

  Annie looked up and felt a rush of pleasure to see John Winslow striding quickly toward her. He was wearing, as usual, faded jodhpurs and black boots that came up to cover his calves. The strong muscles of his chest and his shoulders were revealed through the thin white shirt. The Australian bush hat was pushed back on his head, and his eyes lit up as he saw her.

  “Hello, John. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  Pulling his hat off, John stood before her, a rueful expression on his face. “I didn’t expect to be here,” he admitted.

  “You sound like you’re sorry of it.”

  “It’s not that,” Winslow said quickly. “But I’ve got a client camped just outside of camp. I mentioned you and Jeanine to him, and he insists that you come out and have dinner with him tonight.”

  “Well, I think that’s nice. We don’t get many dinner invitations,” Annie smiled. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t had any where they didn’t offer us blood and milk.”

  “They tried that on you, did they? It’s one of the hardest things I ever had to do,” John said. “When they offered me that awful mess, I drank it down and smiled. Later I went out and vomited.”

  “You did better than I,” Annie laughed. “I just said no and so did Jeanine. But you sound like you don’t want us to accept the invitation.”

  “It’s not that at all. I just don’t think you’ll like him very much.”

  “Who is it, John?”

  “He’s a German named Fritz Rutger. Got more money than he needs, so he comes out once a year and spends a fortune on a safari.”

  “You shouldn’t mind that. He pays well, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not my kind of man.”

  The statement intrigued Annie. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I just don’t like him. He shoots everything that moves and he’s a terrible shot. He nearly shot me yesterday.” He laughed suddenly and looked much younger. His white teeth seemed to flash against his golden tan, and the breeze, which was stirring slightly, blew his auburn hair down over his forehead. He brushed it back as he answered. “I have to practically put him in a position where the muzzle of his gun is touching the game. A fellow could get hurt like that.” He looked up and nodded toward Jeb, who was approaching. “Hello, Jeb. Got an invitation for you.”

  “What kind of invitation? Not that any won’t be welcome.” He listened carefully as John Winslow described Rutger and then said, “I’d eat with Judas himself if he had some good grub.”

  “He’s got that all right.” A wry expression swept across John Winslow’s face. “He brings his own chef along.”

  “Oh, that’s not true!” Annie protested. “You’re teasing us.”

  “I’m not. He does bring his own ch
ef along, a Frenchman. And not only that, he brings his own champagne and caviar.”

  “That’s the only invitation I need,” Jeb said. “I’m getting so tired of my own cooking, I’d eat anybody’s food. I’ll even put up with your Mr. Rutger. Are we all going?”

  “I haven’t asked Jeanine yet, but you can bet she’ll come,” John grinned. “Don’t you think so, Annie?”

  “I’m sure she will. She may even drag out an evening dress, although I didn’t bring anything like that.”

  “When does this big feast take place, John?” Jeb asked.

  “He sent me in to get you.” Looking up at the sky, he estimated, “It must be about four. Why don’t you just come along now?”

  “I’ll go get Jeanine and we’ll get ready.”

  “Well, that may take a couple of hours,” John winked at Jeb, “knowing how slow women are.”

  “Not me. I’m hungry for some caviar. I had some on the Titanic and didn’t like it, but I think I’d like anything out here after a steady diet of antelope.”

  The two men sat down on a log to wait, and Jeb listened as John described his client. “It’s clear you don’t like him,” he said. “But I suppose you have to take whoever comes.”

  “Takes a lot of money to go on a safari. So you’re right. I have to take what I can get. How are things here, Jeb?”

  “Every day is about the same.”

  “But you like it, don’t you?”

  “I really do.”

  “You’re a strange fellow. I didn’t think you’d make it out here. You were all white and soft, but you’ve toughened up a lot.” He glanced over in the direction of the tents where the two could hear the excited voices of the women. “I didn’t think they’d make it, either.”

  “They’re going to make it. They’ll do fine.”

  “Even Jeanine?”

  “Well, she’s going to have a hard time of it along the way. But you know, she’s got some quality I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “Hard-nosed arrogance.”

  “Oh, that’s on the outside. Deep down inside I think there’s something else. You know, she talks a lot about that fellow who died for her. The one who got her off the Titanic alive. She’s never really gotten over that.”

  “She never says anything to me about it.”

  “I think you two are a little bit too much alike.”

  “Hey, I resent that,” Winslow said. “She’s rich and I’m poor.”

  “You know what I mean, John. Both of you are pretty stubborn. Lock you two up in a room together,” Jeb grinned, “you’d probably kill each other.”

  “Heaven forbid! Well, here they come.” Getting up, John Winslow watched the two women as they approached. “Rutger will be pretty surprised at Jeanine. I wonder why she dragged that outfit along. Nowhere to wear it out here in Africa.”

  Jeanine was wearing an unusual outfit, at least for Masailand. She was wearing a deep red skirt made of fine silk. It came down to her ankles and showed off her black heeled shoes. Her blouse was white, high necked with delicate lace surrounding the neck-line, and ran down into a V along the bodice, where it was tucked into the high-waisted skirt. The blouse had short, puffy sleeves that came to just above her elbows and were tied with white ribbon neatly in a bow.

  “Well, you look beautiful, Jeanine,” Jeb said.

  “Thank you, Jeb.” Jeanine turned and smiled at John, which was rather rare. “So you’re going to take us out to dine tonight.”

  “I’m just an errand boy. You’ll have to thank Rutger for the food. Come along, and remember, you have to be nice to him. He’s rich and they’re used to it.”

  “I’m rich, too,” Jeanine said. “He’ll have to be nice to me.”

  John Winslow studied her as they moved along. “That’s true, isn’t it? How much money have you got?”

  Jeanine was not often shocked, but this did silence her for a moment. “People don’t usually ask that.”

  “I’m just curious.” John smiled and added, “I like to say things that set you back. Just like you like to set people back.”

  Jeanine suddenly laughed and turned to look at him. “You’re a brute,” she said, “and you’re probably right about that. Both of us like to show off a little bit, don’t we?”

  “Sure. But those two back there, they’re good people. You and I, we’re bad.”

  Jeanine enjoyed his teasing. He was a handsome man, and she found his appearance pleasing. “Tell me more about Fritz Rutger.”

  As they walked along, Winslow told her all he knew about the man, but when they reached the camp, even Jeanine was shocked. “Some setup, isn’t it?” Winslow said.

  “How many people does it take to carry that tent?” The tent Jeanine spoke of had a high peak and looked like it belonged in an Arabian desert. It was made of some sort of buff material, and it moved slightly in the breeze. It was a huge circle at least thirty feet in diameter, and rose high in the air.

  Fritz Rutger was sitting in a canvas chair outside of the tent. He rose at once and came to greet them. “Ah, you’ve brought our guests, John. Please introduce me.”

  Rutger was a tall, muscular man in his late forties. His hair was clipped short in the Prussian manner and was a premature gray. He had very pale blue eyes, thin lips, and a broad face with a scar that ran down his left cheek. He wore a pair of spotless white trousers with a light green shirt, and a pair of soft house slippers adorned his feet. When he heard the names, he said, “Glad to meet you, ladies, and you, too, sir. Suppose we have our meal first and then we can talk.”

  The meal was scrumptious. It included exotic canned meats such as tuna and caviar, and there were at least four different kinds of fresh meats. Rutger drank often out of the wine, and John Winslow joined him, although he drank of it sparingly. Fritz laughed at the others. “I forgot that you are missionaries, and teetotalers, no doubt.”

  They were sitting around a table that was covered with a spotless white tablecloth and crystal glasses. It was like a table in an elegant New York restaurant, and even Jeanine was impressed.

  “I haven’t had a meal like this since I left New York, Mr. Rutger. Everything is excellent.”

  Rutger beamed at her. His face was beginning to glow from the many glasses of wine, and it was obvious he was impressed by Jeanine. “Ah, my dear Miss Quintana, I have read about you and your adventure on the Titanic. Most extraordinary. I would like to hear your version of it.”

  Jeanine glanced around and Annie nodded encouragement. She began to speak of their experience on the Titanic, and when she got to the point where she was saved from death, she smiled and said, “So I was saved by the grace of God, you see, Mr. Rutger.”

  “Please call me Fritz.” The German leaned forward and studied her. “I myself have been very close to death more than once. Has it changed your life?”

  “I gave my life to God in that barrel, and I’ve been trying to follow His will ever since.”

  “Admirable! Very admirable indeed!”

  The meal went on for a long time, with Fritz Rutger drinking far too much, and finally John said quickly, “I’d better get the ladies back to the village. I wouldn’t want them to go alone.”

  Rutger protested, “I’ll say when the meal is over!”

  “I’m afraid not, Fritz,” John said firmly.

  Rutger’s face flushed. He was accustomed to having his way, and it was obvious that he felt John had challenged his authority.

  “I’m the one that pays the bills, and I will say when the meal is over!”

  “Fritz, you can say all you want to. I’m taking the ladies back.”

  “You’re fired!”

  “Fine! You can send the check to my address in Mombasa.”

  On the way back to camp, Annie said anxiously, “John, you’re going to lose your client.”

  “No, I’m not. He won’t even remember it. He’s half-drunk now, and he’ll drink himself into a stupor. In the morning he will have forgotten all ab
out it.”

  “Not a very pleasant man to work for,” Jeb observed.

  “No. He’s not.”

  Later on when Annie and Jeanine were alone in the tent getting undressed for bed, Jeanine observed, “I rather admire John. I’ve had my clashes with him, but he’s a strong man.” She had slipped on a nightgown, and now she pulled the sheet back and got onto her cot. She leaned over with her hand under her cheek, which was her customary way of sleeping, and said, “You still think about him a lot?”

  Annie knew that Jeanine was very interested in her feelings, but she refused to answer. “Not much,” she said. “We’ve got too much to do.”

  ****

  The next day was Sunday. As usual, the three white inhabitants of the village met for a service. They were surprised to see John Winslow walk in just before they began.

  “My client’s got a terrible hangover. I thought I’d come to church.”

  “Will you interpret for us again, John?” Annie asked.

  “If that’s what you want. Jeb could probably do as well, though.”

  Jeb shook his head. “Not quite. I’m still learning.”

  The service went very well. Annie was the speaker and Jeanine had little to say. It lasted a long time, for they had learned that the Masai loved long services. John seemed to enjoy the interpreting, although more than once he had to say, “I don’t know how to say that, Annie.” The statement was having to do with being born again, and John shook his head. “They know about being born once, but this being born again. I don’t even know how to put it into their language.”

  Annie smiled. “Maybe you can think on it and talk with some of the Masai, then the next time one of us uses it, you’ll have a word for it.”

  Afterward the two went around the village. John knew many of the warriors, and he had a real respect for the chief. The feeling was mutual, and they spent some time speaking of unimportant things.

  John went back to his camp after the service, but he returned later that night. He found Annie sitting in front of her tent. “Where’s Jeanine?” he asked.