Red Feather Love

by Suzanna Lynne

  'Go and powder your nose, while I tell Eve I'm taking you to the gaming rooms.'

  'Thanks. I'll meet you outside that door in a moment-'

  'Right.'

  To enter a gambling room was a new experience for Gillian. There was a vibrant atmosphere of excitement and expectancy in the rooms. For a moment she was taken completely out of herself as she watched the roulette board spin and saw the pretty croupier rake in the coloured discs of the losing gamblers. She was shocked to see one rather shabbily-dressed middle-aged couple pulling out ten-rand note after ten-rand note to exchange for discs which they consistently lost.

  Graham explained the game and asked if she'd like to play. but she shook her head emphatically.

  Quite suddenly the couple's luck changed, and they began collecting in discs, until there was a treble stack of chips in front of them. As each chip represented a rand, Gillian judged they were winning quite a fortune. She hoped they would be wise enough to leave off now and not lose it all back again.

  'How about it now?' Graham tempted.

  'I dare not,' Gillian responded resolutely. 'If this fever gets into my blood there's no knowing what I'd do.'

  'Your mother used to love it.'

  'That must be where I get it from.'

  They heard a shout and a cheer from the smaller adjoining room and quickly stepped into it to discover the cause. A slot machine was disgorging a shining stream of silver ten-cent pieces into the receiving cavity. An elderly, bejewelled woman with eager, clutching hands was shovelling the coins in handfuls into a gaping evening bag.

  'Does she get all those?' Gillian gasped, astounded.

  'Yes.'

  'How much did she put in?'

  'A ten-cent piece at a time.'

  'Lend me ten cents.'

  Graham reached in his hip pocket and placed several coins in her hand. 'Have a go,' he encouraged. The lucky woman made her exit amidst a shower of congratulations from the bystanders, and Gillian took her place and was about to slide a coin into the slot when Graham laid a detaining hand upon her wrist. 'Not much hope of this one-armed bandit producing shekels, immediately after that great haul,' he said.

  'Shall I try the next one?'

  'That's what I suggest.'

  She took her turn at the other machine and nothing happened. Only when she fed it with her fifth and last coin did it perform and spit out twelve ten-cent coins.

  Gillian was delighted. She repaid her debt and was seven whole ten-cent pieces to the good.

  'Like to try your luck once more?' Graham tempted, hoping she would desist.

  'Not on your life!'

  He was glad. He didn't see Gillian as the gambling type - Eve, yes. Eve was known to win and lose fortunes at the gaming tables.

  Graham was hailed by a group of very serious- looking ranchers at the adjoining bar counter. He introduced Gillian and willing hands helped her on to a high bar stool.

  'What it will be ?'one of them asked.

  'Passion fruit, please,' Gillian requested.

  'Whisky and soda,' Graham said.

  'Isn't it dreadful news, Graham?' asked one rancher.

  'News ? What news ?'

  'Haven't you heard ?'

  'Heard what, for Pete's sake ?'

  They tried to tell him all at the same time.

  'Botswana.'

  'On the border.'

  'Just across the border.'

  'Our neighbour state.'

  'But tell me what!' Graham demanded impatiently.

  'Foot-and-mouth, man,' came in a chorus. 'Foot- and-mouth !'

  Gillian's eyes widened and she saw Graham's colour drain from his face. 'For Pete's sake, no!' he groaned.

  'Your herd's badly scattered ?' one asked.

  'All over the place,' Graham complained.

  'That's tough. How come ?'

  Graham explained: 'I've just returned from an extensive buying trip.'

  'Where?'

  'Way out in the bundu.'

  'Cancel the sale, man.'

  'I can't. I've already paid. The sellers will keep the cattle till my drivers return from the Incwala ceremony at the king's kraal,'

  'You're in a spot, boy,' sympathized a fat rancher with flaring nostrils, bald head and profuse red beard. 'You know how the Government treats this hot potato. I guess they'll stop all cattle movement by tomorrow or the next day.'

  'Not a doubt. We'll be in quarantine by tomorrow night. Right inside it, boy. Hell!'

  Graham gulped down his whisky. The ranchers refused his offer of a return drink and dispersed in great haste. Graham hurried Gillian unceremoniously to the lounge, whence all except tourists arid townsfolk had , miraculously vanished.

  'So you've heard,' Dirk said as he and Eve met them halfway. He held Gillian's gloves and pearled bag out to her. His smouldering dark eyes scrutinized her from the top of her golden crown to her silver-sandalled feet and dwelt on her earrings and pearl embroideries.

  'Pearls are tears,' she heard him murmur.

  It was imperative that Graham return immediately to Impala Ranch to arrange- for the newly purchased stock to be brought in before quarantine was enforced. He dropped Gillian at Eve's flat, merely seeing her to the lift gates.

  'Hurry, Gillian, I'll call for you right away.'

  He tore down the deserted Miller Street to collect his suitcase at the hotel. Normally, because of the dust, which seeped into the car despite closed windows, he would have changed into casual wear. Tonight, time did not permit.

  Eve and Dirk, beating Gillian to it, were already at the flat. Eve was in the kitchenette making coffee, while Dirk stood in the lounge smoking moodily. Without acknowledging his presence, Gillian hurried past on her way to the guest room. Quickly she slipped out of her glittering array and uncoiled her hair, letting it fall in a golden cascade around her shoulders.

  Dressed in a tan slack suit with bright yellow scarf at the neck, she stood ready behind the closed bedroom door and awaited Graham's return. The moment she heard his voice she entered the lounge, case in hand. He took it from her.

  'Good girl!' he commended. 'I knew I could reckon on you not to keep me wailing.'

  'Stay for coffee!' Eve called from the kitchenette, but Graham strode through to tell her that they could not spare the time.

  Left alone with Dirk, Gillian was overwhelmingly aware of his presence and the impregnable wall which separated them. His face was grim and set. She would not meet his glance, yet she knew intuitively that his eyes held none of their usual mockery.

  Graham returned with Eve from the kitchen. There was a quick exchange of good-byes and words of thanks. Eve, nestling against Dirk's shoulder, sought his hand and brought it to rest upon her slim waist. She looked up at him seductively. 'Darling, you at least will stay to see my birthday out with me,' she implored. -It's not nearly midnight yet.'

  He made no reply.

  The black Mercedes had hardly left town when Dirk's red Aston-Martin sailed past, sending out spurts of dust in the flash of the headlight.

  'What's the damn hurry?' Graham remarked irritably.

  'Same as ours, I suppose,' Gillian answered laconically.

  'Not at all. He's a breeder, his stud cattle are in camps close to his castle. He feeds them from his silos, so there's no need for him..

  'Castle, did you say?' Gillian interrupted.

  'That's what the locals call it.'

  'Did he buy it?'

  'Inherited it. He grew up there, until his parents sent him to England for his education.'

  'Strange that I remember neither him nor his parents, nor the castle. Yet I remember you.'

  'You wouldn't have met him. As I said, he was abroad. Your parents and his were friendly neighbours, but your mother never took you around with her. You were always left in Madelisa's charge.'

  'Poor little me,' Gillian joked.

  'Seriously, you were quite a lonely little girl - I often took compassion on you.'

  'That's what I remember ab
out you; pushing my swing and leading my pony. What a nice guy you are, Graham,' Gillian said warmly.

  Graham shot her a rueful look. 'But not nice enough to marry, eh, Gillian? Though I warn you, I'm not giving up hope.'

  'Graham, I'm so sorry. We can't just tell our heart: "Love this person, don't love that person", can we now?'

  'Too true. How I fought against my love for your mother!'

  'You said Dirk inherited his "castle". I know so little about him - are both his parents dead?'

  'Yes, it was very sad.'

  'Tell me.'

  'They had a young niece staying with them - a self- willed, precocious teenager.'

  'Dirk was still abroad?'

  'Yes.'

  'What happened?'

  'This kid made it pretty clear to his parents that she was bored to tears on the ranch. To amuse her, they took her for a picnic on the bank of the flooded river. She found their boat chained to a tree, bobbing up and down in the rushing water, and nagged and nagged Dirk's father to take them across to pick aloes on the opposite bank.'

  'She told you this?'

  'No, I have the story from Dirk's major-domo. He carried their picnic basket and rugs down and witnessed it all. The moment they'd entered die boat, the flood swept it away. He says the girl panicked midstream, screamed and jumped up, overbalancing the boat. She was the only one to come out alive.'

  'Dirk told me once that precocious teenagers were not his particular brand of humanity.'

  'He did, did he?'

  'Yes, and I thought he meant me. Maybe I remind him of this girl; maybe he's taking it out on me. That would explain many things.'

  'One should guard against false interpretations. I've no doubt he was merely referring to his niece.'

  'What happened to her eventually?'

  'Dirk flew out for his parents' funeral. The girl, in her guilt-stricken state of mind, seemed to hold the contorted idea that in expiation she should marry Dirk.'

  'And he?'

  'He made it quite clear that nothing was further from his mind and bundled her back to her parents.'

  'When did all this happen?'

  'Several years ago.'

  'Was Dirk studying in London?'

  'No, he was in the States then; he'd completed his academic course and was at the time gaining practical ranching experience. After the funeral he didn't return to America, but stayed on here.'

  For a while they drove in silence, each deeply engrossed in their own thoughts.

  'Gillian,' Graham broke the silence.

  'Yes?'

  'While I'm away, promise me you'll not go for one of your long walks.'

  'Why not? I have Ntombi to protect me.'

  'The felon could be armed.'

  'Felon?'

  'The ritual murderer.'

  'You mean he could shoot Ntombi and carry me off?'

  'Yes.'

  'He wouldn't dare, with the Swazi and South African police cordoning off and searching our area?'

  'I heard tonight they've been recalled.'

  'The hunt is off?'

  'Unfortunately, yes. If the fellow evades capture, the danger of a second murder exists. Please me in this, my dear — stay close to the house.'

  'You know, Graham,' Gillian put a gentle hand on his black sleeve, 'when a person asks me nicely, as you do, I easily submit. It's when I'm commanded that the devil in me is raised.'

  An amused little quirk played about his thin lips. 'Has Dirk been commanding you?'

  Gillian's eyes sparked fire. 'I'd like to see him try!' she flared up.

  Graham chuckled, then became serious once more. 'In any case, my dear, be careful. The Swazis are a peace-loving, friendly people, but as with any emergent nation, sinister aspects of barbarism remain. The Swazi believes in and practises witchcraft and magic. His whole life from birth to death is conducted against a belief in the malice that can be worked against him by a witch, or sorcerer - I'm speaking of the tribal areas. There's less of this amongst the more enlightened urban people, though even the Christianized Swazi attends the barbaric tribal ceremonies.'

  A wind had sprung up and in the gleam of the headlights, the tall ochre-seeded tamboeki grass lining the ribboned road was waving and tossing incessantly, mesmerizing Gillian by its soporific movement. Once or twice, as drowsiness threatened to overwhelm her, her head fell sideways, at which she would sit up with a start and make some paltry remark to keep herself awake. Eventually she succumbed and for the last few miles lay with her head against Graham's shoulder, fast asleep. He drove with one hand and supported her young body with his free arm.

  She was still asleep when the car drew up in her backyard and he switched off the engine. Ntombi's excited barking awoke her. She opened her eyes sleepily. Through the car window she saw Dirk's stony face gazing at her, while she was still cuddled in Graham's arm. Ntombi was jumping up beside him, scratching at the black deco of the car. 'Down!' Dirk commanded almost viciously. Instantly the dog obeyed and went to lie with its head on its paws in the light that streamed from the kitchen door.

  Gillian was too heavy with sleep to resist when Dirk, opening the car door, lifted her into his arms, carried her into the kitchen and deposited her in the fat arms of the laughing Madelisa waiting up for them. Graham, smiling, entered with her Suitcase. Madelisa promptly put her young mistress on her feet. 'Wake up, wake up, Missie Gillian!' She gently slapped her rosy cheeks. 'Just like a baby you are, when it wakes from sleep.'

  Gillian yawned with the abandon of a little lap-dog disclosing its little pink tongue; then she laughed ruefully: 'Sony! I'm awake now. What's to do?'

  'I'm fetching the cattle drivers with the jeep from the first fruits celebrations at Lombamba,' Graham informed her.

  'Immediately?'

  'You'll have a tough time getting them to leave,' Dirk interposed.

  'I can but try.'

  'I'm going with you,' Dirk proffered. 'I have some influence with the king. Under the circumstances, he may release your men from their duty to him.'

  'Thanks.'

  They reached quickly for the coffee which Madelisa placed on the table.

  'The idea, I take it,' Gillian said, 'is for the drivers to collect the oxen from way out and to try and get them here to join the main herd, before all cattle movement is stopped?'

  Graham nodded between sips of coffee. 'In a little more than an hour, we hope to pass here with the men on our way to fetch the new cattle. We'll take them as far as the jeep can penetrate, then we'll drop them at that point, while they go into the mountains. It may take a day or two. It's a hazard. Still, there's a chance and we're forced to take it.'

  'How can I help?'

  'I was coming to that. On our way back from the Incwala, we'll touch here. There'll be about five men. It would be just as well to fill their stomachs before they set out.'

  'They'd need food to take along?'

  'Yes, mealie porridge and meat - Madelisa knows.'

  Madelisa's fat old face beamed. She threw an ample arm heavenwards, rolled big eyes to the ceiling till only the whites showed and said dramatically, in a deep, guttural voice: 'Putu pap and nyama.' There was a burst of laughter from them all, for the Swazis' love of mealie porridge and meat is phenomenal.

  Gillian stood on the kitchen steps to speed the two men on their way. She saw Dirk roll down his window pane and beckon to her. Half reluctantly she obeyed his summons, and moved to his side of the jeep. He leaned out; his magnetic eyes held her questioning ones; his face was earnest, his voice imperious: 'Keep Ntombi at your side.'

  Without warning, his hands slid along her cheeks, imprisoning her face, and the next minute he laid gentle lips on her protesting mouth. 'Good night, Gillian,' die heard him say tenderly, just before the car moved off.

  For a moment she stood under the bright stars, completely nonplussed. Beside her, Ntombi sat on her haunches, uttering piteous little whines in the direction in which the car had carried away her master. Gillian was filled w
ith a happiness and exultation so great that her overflowing heart felt as if it would burst. She bounded to the kitchen, snapping her fingers all the while for Ntombi to jump and bark joyously beside her.

  Already Madelisa had placed a large black cast iron pot with salted water on the hot coal stove. She helped Gillian lift half a slaughtered lamb from the hook in the cool meat room, and together they cut it up in parts, and popped it, well salted, into the huge oven. Madelisa stirred the mealie meal powder and water to make vetkoek for the drivers to take along with them. She made sandwiches and meat frikkadels for the white men's padkos so they would have something to eat on the journey.

  Time passed quickly.

  'I hear them, Nkosazana,' cried Madelisa, as the jeep neared the house.

  Graham brought the Swazi cattle drivers to the kitchen door. Gillian felt sadly depressed that Dirk was, not with them. She supposed he had driven his car home to garage it, would change from his dress suit and be picked up by Graham.

  While the men were eating, Graham himself went hurriedly to change into a safari suit. Madelisa and Gillian saw them all off just as dawn was breaking.

  'Pearls are tears,' Dirk had said, but as she fell into bed at last, she was too tired to feel or think or weep, and drifted immediately into dreamland.

  The sun shining on her face woke her. She dressed quickly in beige jeans and emerald green silk shirt, with an emerald and beige paisley scarf tucked in at the neck. She cajoled Madelisa to help her convey the rose tiles from the boot of Graham's car to the bathroom. 'It is good to be without those workmen at last,' Madelisa said, brushing tile adhesive on the wall. 'Especially the evil one.'

  'Evil one?'

  'He with the pocks.'

  'You don't trust him either?'

  'No, Nkosazana. Before they left, I caught him giving Ntombi meat. She would not eat, but growled at him!'

  'Good girl!' Gillian patted Ntombi, who was sitting next to her, watching her place the tiles. 'I never feel comfortable when that man is near,' Gillian told Madelisa. 'His eyes burn when he looks at you.'