by T. M. Clark
Nick flashed on the light—and then quickly flicked it off again.
‘It’s not him,’ she said.
‘Okay, but now we have given away our location in the house, we can expect him,’ Nick said, smacking the man on the back of the head with the butt of his hunting rifle. ‘He’s out now. Quick, pass me the telephone. We can use the cord to tie him up.’
Chloe grabbed the phone, pulled the cord out of the wall and took it to Nick.
The door opened with the same creak as before just as he finished tying him up tight.
Xo’s back appeared and he was dragging Mike, half on his shoulders, half on the floor. ‘Chloe, you ready with that door open?’ he called softly.
‘Shit, Xo, couldn’t you hear the commotion going on in here,’ Chloe said.
‘No, I was across the hall with the door closed. I thought it was in the other rooms, obviously. What’s that smell? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. So is Nick. One of them got in here!’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t move the table. One of its legs is on the trap door …’
‘Come on, Xo, put Mike down. You and I should be able to shift it,’ Nick said and they went to the table.
The door opened just as Nick and Xo began to push.
Nick grabbed his rifle off the top of the table but was a split second too late.
‘Drop it. Don’t move or you’re dead,’ the voice of the Caçador Escuro said. He turned on the light.
Chloe could see that his hunting rifle was pointed directly at Nick.
‘Hands on your head. I told you I would kill you, didn’t I,’ the Caçador Escuro snarled.
Nick still had his rifle in his hand.
‘I said, drop it,’ Douglas said again.
Nick said, ‘I’m dead either way, what’s the difference?’
‘The difference is me having the pleasure of seeing your face when I fuck your girlfriend, Chhhhh-lllllll-ooooo-eeee, and there is nothing you can do about it.’
A strange noise came from somewhere near the door. It sounded raw. Guttural. Unnatural. Only once before had Chloe ever heard her father make it, and that day had ended with Sebastian dying.
‘No, Dad,’ she called at the exact moment Douglas cursed, ‘What the fuck!’
Chloe could see her father’s outline as he had gripped the fallen silver pheasant, and used its tail to stab into the Caçador Escuro’s leg, just above his boots. He was jerking the projectile downwards now that it was in. Still hanging onto it.
At Douglas’s curse, Xo spun on the balls of his feet and rushed at Douglas so fast that he was almost on top of him before a shot went off.
Chloe screamed. ‘No!’
At that moment, the Caçador Escuro slid to his knees. But he didn’t go any further. Filipe stood behind him, his bayonet protruding out the front of the man, holding him in place.
‘It is over. He is dead. I can go home now. I have kept my promise to my general and protected your life, Miss Chloe.’
CHAPTER
38
Chloe woke to the familiar sounds of the farm. The crowing of a cockerel somewhere in the compound, and the answering cock-a-doodle-do from a rooster closer to the house. She heard the men whistling as they moved cattle that bellowed in protest at being roused from their sleep, and the bells of the billy goats that clanged so that the herd boy could find them when they wandered away while grazing. From somewhere closer came the rhythmic sound of someone sweeping back and forth with a broom.
Sounds of home.
But one sound was missing. That of her father being moved around in the next room. Of Enoch’s deep voice as he attended to Mike’s needs early in the morning.
She dragged herself out of bed.
She still couldn’t believe that they’d travelled so far, only to lose her dad on the night they got home. She would never forget the sacrifice he’d made to save her, Nick and Xo.
After checking the time, she showered and got herself ready for the burial of his ashes.
She wondered what had happened to the body of the Caçador Escuro, if he had family somewhere to mourn him. She hoped not. She wanted his spirit forever lost, forever tortured for the hurt and misery he had caused her family, and so many other families. Killers like him should not be allowed to have rest and redemption in the afterlife.
She took a deep breath as they all gathered. Nick stood close to her and held out his hand. She grasped it tightly and looked at the others. Xo wore a pained expression. Next to him, Aunty Grace’s quiet tears tore at Chloe’s heart. She knew that her aunt had cared deeply for her dad, and she had done everything she could to help him. Including live alone on his land, so far from any town.
Now he was gone.
Khululani stood beside Nick, and Filipe was notable by his absence, having disappeared before they could even call the police after the attack ten days ago. She hated that he hadn’t said goodbye. That she hadn’t got to thank him. She hadn’t even got to give him a Christmas present. But she could understand why he had left.
Enoch was in the middle of the area marked off by the small iron chain where her mother was buried. Her grave was covered in white quartz stones and outlined with white washed rocks. Rosebushes had been planted close by, and on the grave itself grew African daisies. Now they were to the side, and Enoch had dug a hole about half a metre deep. He stood with the spade next to him.
There was no piper to make her cry by playing ‘Taps’ on his bagpipes as there had been at the formal military service that had been held for her dad. The forlorn ‘Day Is Done’ song got her every time. There were no Grey’s Scouts’ flags to decorate the area, or people she hadn’t seen before offering their condolences for her dad. Just the people who cared enough to be there to place him in the deep ground and reunite him with his beloved Sarah.
Chloe said, ‘I love you, Dad. I’m glad we managed to get you back here so you and Mum can be together again. I’m going to miss you.’ She stepped forward to place the urn in the hole, then looked up. ‘Anyone want to say anything else?’
Xo kissed his fingers and pointed to the urn.
Grace said, ‘May he at last rest in peace.’
Enoch took the urn from her, and kneeling in the dirt, reached deep into the hole and gently placed it inside. ‘Rest now, my brother.’
As he began to fill the hole silent tears fell from Chloe’s eyes and ran freely down her cheeks. She looked around. At the top of the gravesite, Grace had organised a small white plaque that said,
Sarah Elizabeth Mitchell
6th April 1939 – 5th May 1980
‘Gone to fly with the angels too soon.
Loved and missed by all of us.’
She would have to get the wording changed now so that it had both her mum and dad together.
‘Thanks,’ Chloe said as she watched Enoch close up the hole and put the quartz and flowers back in place. When he was done, he placed the spade on the ground, pulled his feet together as he snapped to attention, and saluted the grave. Something she had never seen him do.
‘Farewell, Corporal Mike Mitchell.’ He dug in his pocket and removed a horseshoe which he placed next to the white plaque.
Nick saluted the grave as well.
She saw tears in Enoch’s eyes as he turned from the grave and walked away. She ran to catch up with him and hugged him tightly. He stood still for a moment then enveloped her in a bear hug, and Xo and Nick joined in.
She didn’t know if everything was going to be okay, there was still so much uncertainty, but while their epic run back to Zimbabwe was going to make their life different, the closeness that they’d shared as a family had survived the ordeal, and together they could all face a new future.
CHAPTER
39
Chloe sat on the stable floor watching as Pampero delivered her foal. It was the best New Year’s Eve gift any horse could give to her owner.
Knowing that the time was coming, they’d brought her into the birthing stable to keep an eye on her. It couldn’t
have been a day more filled with contrast if Chloe had planned it.
Her father’s burial had been filled with a heart-wrenching sadness that would always be there, but it had also brought her so much peace. Knowing that he’d been there to protect her as a daughter, right to his last breath, was a gift she would never forget, but it also brought into focus everything he’d done. She understood her father had done it all for love. She knew that he had been trying to make things right when he was hurt, and this incident had helped her to comprehend fully the depth of the love he must have felt for her mother. Knowing that at last he was no longer in pain, stuck inside a body that didn’t respond to him, that his mind was very much still there, in the present with them at the end, had made the last five years of hardships worth it.
She was now totally alone in the world, but the knowledge that he rested beside her mother, and they would forever be together filled her with an unexpected joy. Her parents were reunited.
She sniffed. It was all so emotional, and a sad close to their year.
At least with the birth of Pampero’s baby, not everything was doom and gloom.
As much as Chloe hated interfering with nature, having Pampero foal out in the paddocks was risky. There were too many predators on the farm—leopards, jackals and even hyenas. She had to give her horses—both mums and foals—the best chance possible, and this was the only way to ensure that they weren’t attacked while giving birth.
Chloe knew from experience that sometimes the birthing would take an hour and be over, and sometimes it would stretch on for ages. It just depended on the horse’s stamina and the confidence of the mare.
Pampero had been restless until finally lying down for a while. The stable cat, Sparta, meowed and rubbed up against Pampero as if to comfort her. The cat was friends with all the horses, and while Chloe patted her horse, she gave the cat an affectionate stroke, too.
The cat was diligent with its duties in the stables: catching the mice and other vermin, which included the odd snake delivered to the grooms, and now, being there for Pampero to give birth, apparently. Encouraging the mare along with helpful meowing and a brush of affection, including the occasional headbutt, as they progressed along. Sparta was part of their team, and Chloe hadn’t seen a single horse object to having her in the stables.
Pampero stood up again. Pawing the ground. Her breathing changed, and the little bag-bubble started to appear. While Chloe had managed with assisted births before, she couldn’t stop herself as she crossed her fingers, hoping she wouldn’t have to with this one. She so wanted it to be all natural. Sparta jumped up onto the wooden side of the stable to be out of her way and began to sharpen her claws, meowing all the while.
With a heave, Pampero buckled her front legs and went down gently, then lay on her side on the fresh hay that had been put down for her. She lay flat, and Chloe could hear her clearly heaving as her waters poured out, and she grunted as her contractions gained in strength.
With much effort, the front legs of the foal came out, and after a few more pushes a little nose began to crown. ‘Come on, girl,’ Chloe said.
Sparta, as if realising that the horse needed encouragement again, jumped down and rubbed along Pampero’s neck.
Pampero grunted as the next contraction rippled through her. The full head was out, followed quickly by a little black body. Chloe removed the sack from the foal’s nose then face to clear it away as the newborn started to move its head.
‘Your baby is breathing, it’s going to be okay,’ Chloe said. ‘Come on, girl, you can do this.’
As if understanding that her foal was being watched over by Chloe, and she and the foal were safe, Pampero rested—she could afford to have a little break. Sparta gave her some more encouragement, rubbing her again, only this time on her velvet nose. After about a five-minute rest, the young mother lifted herself up and looked backwards.
Her foal lay still attached to her in the sack. But it wanted its freedom, so it put its little front legs out, using its hooves for the first time, and attempted to move to get its nose closer to its mother’s.
Pampero struggled, trying hard to expel the foal’s legs from her birth chamber. Her baby planted its feet forward and attempted to move, but with its back legs still inside Pampero, it wasn’t going anywhere.
Chloe wanted to rush forward and remove what was left of the sack, to help the little tyke, but she’d once been told that the foal needed to fight the sack itself, and to use that time to know that it could move and get itself acquainted with its own muscles. It made sense, as much as moths needing to break out of their cocoons themselves, giving them the strength needed to fly with their wings. She didn’t interfere—just carried on encouraging Pampero with words as she sat a little way from her and her foal.
Pampero watched her baby as it struggled to gain the coordination to complete the job, taking the time to regain her breath and rest, knowing that for the next few months she was going to be an active mum with the little one at her tail end.
The foal eventually moved its legs and wiggled its body enough that it was facing away from her. It managed to pull its legs out of the canal, and then break the sack with its sharp hooves.
Pampero grunted as the foal kicked at the sack, which was almost totally off now. She gave her baby an encouraging soft kick with her hoof, but she didn’t stand up just yet. Her foal collapsed back to lie flat on the hay, grunting and moaning, tired from the birthing experience. The little one gave itself one final heave with its little rubbery legs, and its nose touched Pampero’s.
Chloe watched as mother and child met each other for the first time, tears of joy running down her cheeks.
Sparta plonked herself into Chloe’s lap in a ball and purred, content. ‘Come on, Sparta, they’ve done well, let’s get out of here and give them some time alone—our job here is done.’
But she continued to sit, leaning her back against the wooden panel as the little foal and Pampero touched and bonded. Eventually, it got itself up on its little rubber legs, and Pampero stood and began to nurse her new baby for the first time.
‘This never gets old,’ Enoch said from behind her.
‘Hey—how long have you been standing there?’ she asked.
‘A while. You and that cat were content, so I did not want to disturb you.’
‘But you are always welcome to join me,’ she said. Sparta carried on purring, happy to have a warm human lap to sit in.
Enoch entered the stable, closing the door behind him, and sat down next to Chloe. ‘What are you going to call this one?’
Chloe said, ‘I was thinking of calling him Alexandrite.’
‘Like Kimberlite,’ Enoch said, before falling silent for a while. Then he said, ‘Kimberlite and Diablo, they saw a lot of Africa with your dad and me. We travelled many, many kilometres together. From when we first captured them in the Matopos.’
‘Yes, and now you are all home again, and the new generation is here. Little Alexandrite here has got big hooves to fill, hopefully under the watchful eyes of both those special horses,’ Chloe said. ‘It’s hard to believe so much time has gone so fast since that day of the capture. But I still remember it.’
‘Me too.’
She put her head on Enoch’s shoulder, and they sat in silence, watching Pampero and Alexandrite as they got to know each other.
‘Why are you sitting here alone? Where is Nick?’
‘In the house, I guess. Probably getting ready to pack up and leave tomorrow now that Dad’s at rest.’
‘Did he tell you that was still his plan?’
‘He didn’t tell me otherwise,’ Chloe said.
‘I am an old black man, and not good with showing gestures of love. I fail horribly at those. I am lucky Xo is a boy and I did not have to deal with two emotional people these last few years. But I do know that despite your smile, not having Nick here tonight is hurting you. And I know that he will be sorry that he missed this birth,’ Enoch said, reaching over and giving
Sparta a scratch behind the ears.
‘Guess at least we were here for it. That’s what matters.’
‘You should have told him this was happening. He would have been here with you, and the two of you could have talked. Lord knows you need time alone together,’ Enoch said.
‘I’m not so sure,’ Chloe said. ‘I don’t think he realises that I love him. I don’t want anyone else. I never have, and I don’t think I ever will.’
‘When you love someone the way you and Nick do, I do not know if you will ever need anyone else,’ Enoch said softly.
‘Nick doesn’t love me.’
‘What? Did he say that?’
‘No, not outright. But when we got here, he was so keen to leave, get away from me again, go back to the Kruger. The only thing that kept him here this long was the fact that Dad was killed, and we had to have a funeral and a burial.’
‘You are wrong. He does love you. I saw his face that very first day he saw you as a little girl. You were tiny when Sarah and Mike brought you home wrapped up in a pink blanket. He got to hold you then, and he watched you with the eyes of someone who was dumbstruck.’
‘Dumbstruck because he couldn’t believe I was a girl.’
‘No, as in he was lost to you already. He was just seven, you were only ten days old. You were an angel to him. He wanted to protect you then. He was already sunk. I saw his face the night he left you here, after your father’s accident. The determination that it took him to drag himself away from you then at fifteen. I saw his face at Nigel’s house, when he saw you again all black and blue after Sebastian’s attack. If he could have killed that man there and then, I believe he would have.’
‘Good thing he was already dead, then,’ Chloe said.
‘I suppose so.’
‘If he really loves me, do you think he would stay?’ Chloe said.
Enoch smiled. ‘So like your mother. Proud. Strong. So independent. So stubborn. I remember when your father fell in love with her, and how they almost did not become a couple because pride got in their way, too. Be careful, Chloe. Unless you spell it out really carefully to Nick that you are in love with him, he is just a man, he will not know.’