Jennifer eyed the Coloured man beside her with a certain amount of disbelief. 'Are they really that vicious?'
'Nonnie?' he shook his head and whistled through his teeth. 'I've seen a mannetjie kick a big man like myself and tear his chest open from the throat down.' He pointed to the male bird with its black body feathers and white wing plumes. 'When a mannetjie's beak and the front of his legs are red like this one's, then you must stay away from him, nonnie, because it's a sure sign that he's broody, and then he's dangerous.'
The male bird uttered that booming sound she had heard before as it followed the drab-coloured female across to the far side of the camp, and his graceful neck was raised proudly now as he flapped his wings and tripped lightly after her.
'How much would you say an ostrich weighs?' she questioned Danny, anxious to know more.
'A mannetjie like this one could weigh almost three times your weight, nonnie,' he told her, then his attention was diverted towards one of the nearby camps, and he swore lightly under his breath. 'Excuse me, nonnie. That stupid Pieta has left that gate open, and the chicks are going to come out.'
There was no time for Jennifer to reply, for Danny was already dashing across towards the camp where the inquisitive chicks were rapidly approaching the gate which had been left open accidentally.
'Hey, Pieta!' she heard Danny shouting angrily. 'My magtig, man! What do you think you're doing?'
At the sound of Danny's angry voice, Pieta, a young Coloured boy, jumped off the trailer behind the stationary tractor and, realising his error, he ran towards the gate and closed it with seconds to spare as the chicks were preparing themselves for a bold dash out of the camp.
Jennifer's attention wandered back, however, towards the two fully grown ostriches just beyond the fence where she was standing. The hen, with her head lowered and her wings outstretched, seemed to be enticing the male, and he responded at once by going down on to his knees. With his wings outstretched to form a straight line across his breast, he lowered his neck until his head was on a level with his back, then he swung his head and neck from side to side rhythmically as he courted his mate. The hen, unpredictable like most females perhaps, suddenly displayed a total lack of interest, and wandered further away from the male, who finally relinquished his amorous efforts to capture his lady's attention.
A strong breeze came up across the sun-drenched veld as Jennifer continued her observation of the ostriches. It stirred the leaves of the pepper trees and, before she could prevent it, it lifted the brightly coloured scarf from about her neck and swept it over the fence into the camp.
If it had been any other scarf, Jennifer would not have bothered with retrieving it, but it was one of the last things Colin had given her before his death, and she could not leave it there to be trampled, eaten, or torn to shreds.
The ostriches were both on the far side of the camp and, calculating the distance from the gate to where her scarf lay, she decided she could quite easily retrieve it and reach the gate before either of the ostriches were any the wiser. She lifted the chain off the gate-post and stepped into the camp, but the male ostrich had been quick to notice the colourful object lying in the veld, and he had raised his head warily to observe it with a natural inquisitiveness before approaching it. It was too late now to change her mind, and she could still make it if she was quick about it, she decided firmly.
'Nonnie!' she heard Danny shouting to her from a distance. 'Nonnie Jennifer! Get out of there quickly!'
She had to get her scarf back, she told herself and, turning a deliberately deaf ear to Danny's instructions, she dashed into the camp and sprinted across to where her scarf lay caught up in the grass. The male bird could not avoid seeing her now, and he approached threateningly, his wings flapping and a hissing sound emerging from his parted beak. His speed was incredible, she realised as, paralysed with fear, she stood there facing the charging bird, her scarf clutched in her damp hands, and her heart beating in her throat:
'Run, nonnie, run!' Danny shouted, and the sound of his raised voice somehow activated her limbs.
Taking one last look at the infuriated bird, she ran as if the devil himself was treading on her heels. She could not quite remember afterwards what exactly had happened, but Danny was there in the camp with her, and he was shouting something to her while waving a long thorn tree branch at the hissing ostrich.
'Get behind me, nonnie!' his instruction finally penetrated her numbed brain. 'Get behind me!'
There was a soaring in her ears, and for one dreadful moment she thought she was going to faint, but she did as she was told and, miraculously, he held the ostrich at bay with that thorny branch while he backed her and himself towards safety.
She knew, without doubt, that she had faced death a few moments ago because of her thoughtless action, but she faced another kind of death when a large hand gripped her arm and jerked her roughly aside.
'Make sure that gate is shut, Danny!' Hunter Maynard thundered, and without waiting to see whether Danny carried out his instruction, he steered Jennifer unceremoniously towards the ancient pepper tree some distance away. It was only when they stood beneath its welcome shade that he jerked her to a halt and swung her round so that she was left with no option but to look up into eyes which were flashing blue flames of fury. 'What the devil did you think you were doing?' he demanded in a voice that made her quake inwardly.
'I'm sorry, but I—' She swallowed convulsively. 'I can explain.'
'I'm waiting!' he savagely rapped out the words.
Shaking from head to foot, and with a mouth as dry as the dust beneath her feet, she said: 'My scarf blew into the camp. The ostriches were grazing on the far side, and I thought it would be quite safe to slip in quickly to retrieve it.'
Her explanation, put into words, seemed foolish now, and Hunter obviously thought so too, for his contemptuous glance raked her mercilessly. 'So you thought you could outpace an ostrich that can manage anything up to thirty miles an hour?'
'I—I never thought anything of the kind. I—' His blazing glance conquered her angry defiance and, lowering her eyes before his, she murmured helplessly, 'I'm sorry.'
'What was so important about that scarf anyway?' he demanded harshly, ignoring her apology.
'It—It was a gift.'
'My God, I could strangle you!' he announced gratingly, taking both her arms in an agonising grip and shaking her until it felt as though her neck would snap. 'Do you realise that your stupid sentimentality nearly cost you your life?'
'You're h-hurting me,' she managed with difficulty, biting down hard on her lip to prevent herself from crying out, and he released her at once with a force that sent her staggering back against the rough stem of the tree.
'Get yourself back to the house,' he ordered harshly, the muscles in his jaw standing out prominently as if in an effort to control his anger. 'And if you want to behave like an irresponsible child, then I suggest you stay away from these camps in future.'
Feeling utterly foolish, but clinging desperately to the remnants of her dignity and shattered composure, she walked back to the house with the withering sensation that those blazing, contemptuous eyes were following her every uncomfortable step of the way.
CHAPTER THREE
Jennifer's hair had come undone during her punishing ordeal at the hands of Hunter Maynard, her white overall clung limply to her damp body, and there was a dirty smudge across her one hot cheek where she had wiped away a stray tear, but it was nothing compared to the way she had been shaken inwardly.
Alice Maynard took one look at her when she stepped on to the verandah before she exclaimed with concern, 'For goodness' sake, child! What happened to you?'
'My scarf blew into one of the camps,' Jennifer explained briefly.
'Don't tell me,' Alice remarked, looking quite horrified. 'You went in to fetch it, and the ostrich charged you.'
Jennifer sat down heavily on the cane chair and nodded miserably. 'Yes, I'm afraid so.'
'My dear, how could you have done such a ridiculous thing!'
'I couldn't leave the scarf at the mercy of the ostriches,' she confided unhappily. 'It's one of the last things Colin gave me before he died.'
'Colin?'
'Dr Colin Ashton,' Jennifer replied, looking up into those curiously intent grey eyes. 'We were engaged to be married.'
'I understand,' Alice Maynard nodded, her glance sympathetic now, 'but don't risk your life in that way again.'
Jennifer shuddered and pulled the remaining pins from her hair before shaking it free, and her action trapped the sunlight in it to accentuate its golden sheen. 'It was foolish of me, I know, and it won't happen again.'
Alice Maynard nodded, then a frown settled between her brows. 'You'd better not let Hunter hear of this.'
'I'm afraid he knows already,' Jennifer confided, grimacing as she examined the bruises on her arms where his hands had bitten into the soft flesh. 'He arrived just as Danny was edging me out of the gate.'
'Oh, dear!' Alice sighed, clasping her hands together in prayer-like fashion. 'I suppose he was furious?'
'I was more than furious, Mother. I was murderous!' a deep, thundering voice replied, and both women swung round in their chairs to face the man coming up behind them. 'When I think of what might have happened, I could shake her all over again,' he added menacingly.
'Hunter, you didn't!' his mother exclaimed reprovingly.
'Be thankful that I didn't thrash her!' he rasped explosively, his eyes burning down into Jennifer's before taking in the disarray of her silky hair.
'Hunter!' his mother repeated in that reproving voice, but Jennifer rose from her chair to face him before Alice Maynard could continue speaking.
'I'm well aware of my stupidity in going into that camp, Mr Maynard, and I promise you, it won't happen again.'
'I should hope not!' he barked at her, making her flinch inwardly. 'What on earth possessed you to risk your life for a silly piece of silk?' he demanded, making a disparaging gesture towards the scarf she still clutched in her hand.
'It was a gift from her late fiancé,' Alice Maynard replied before Jennifer could stop her.
There was an incredulous silence, then a look of black fury flashed across his hard, angular features as he said bitingly, 'Well, she very nearly joined him in whatever realm he's progressed to.'
Jennifer winced inwardly and paled. 'I think I'll go upstairs and tidy up before tea, if you don't mind.'
Hunter's hard glance never gave her a moment's peace for the rest of the day. Whenever they met he would look at her as if he wished he could burn holes right through her, and no matter how much she tried to avoid him, he was always there, his large frame barring her way, or close within range as if he were observing her every move.
She felt relieved that night when she could at last return to the privacy of her room, but she felt restless after her bath and, tightening the belt of her silk robe about her waist, she pushed open the glass doors leading out on to the balcony and stepped outside.
It was a warm, scented night, with the sky studded with stars, and as she looked out across the darkened veld towards the Swartberg mountains, a tired little sigh escaped her. After almost two weeks at Vogelsvlei, she no longer found the silence strange, and if it were not for Hunter Maynard's hateful attitude, she could almost say she was happy and contented in her new surroundings.
'It's a perfect night, isn't it?' a deep voice remarked behind her, and her body tensed as she turned to face the dark shape leaning against the wall a little distance from her. How long had he been standing there? she wondered frantically, and what must he think of her wandering about in her robe and slippered feet?
'Have you suddenly lost your tongue, Sister Casey?' he mocked her, looking infinitely dangerous in his black slacks and matching shirt, and she backed involuntarily against the railing as he approached her.
'I'm surprised you should speak to me in this civilised manner, Mr Maynard,' she said the first thing that came to mind, a strange fluttering in her breast when he stepped into the patch of light coming from her bedroom.
'I'm always civilised, except when crossed,' he replied mockingly, and she almost jumped out of her skin when his fingers brushed lightly against her arm below the short sleeve of her robe. 'Did I do this?' he asked softly.
She lowered her glance to where his fingers explored the bluish marks beneath her skin, and it was with some difficulty that she said: 'I bruise easily.'
'I shall have to remember that.'
His voice sounded odd, but it was nothing compared to the odd feelings his light, almost caressing touch was arousing within her. Her pulse leapt wildly and, stepping away from him, she said jerkily, 'Goodnight, Mr Maynard.'
'Dr Tremayne telephoned,' his voice stopped her before she could enter her room. 'He's coming out to Vogelsvlei tomorrow morning to see my mother.'
She turned to glance back at him, and experienced again that violent reaction to his physical appearance which reminded her of their first meeting in the hospital. She was conscious, too, of his disapproving glance on her hair as it hung loosely about her shoulders, and she said tritely, 'Thank you for telling me.'
'Goodnight, Sister Casey,' he said abruptly now, and he was gone before she could reply.
Jennifer was frowning when she stepped into her room and closed the doors firmly behind her. Hunter Maynard was a disturbing and often puzzling man. Those hands which had inflicted pain that very morning had moments ago caressed the bruises left by his brutal fingers, and it had been a devastating experience. That light touch had awakened dormant nerves, and it had quickened unheard-of pulses, but most of all it had made her aware of how susceptible she was to a gentle word, or touch, from this man who had declared himself her enemy from the moment they had met. She did not want to delve too deeply into her feelings, but what she suspected was enough to shake the foundations of her existence, and it was perhaps best that she did not dwell on the subject.
Jennifer heard Dr Tremayne's car coming up the drive towards the house shortly after eight the following morning and, leaving Alice Maynard fully dressed and resting on her bed, she walked out on to the verandah to find Hunter already there.
'It seems as though Dr Tremayne has brought someone with him this time,' he remarked frowningly.
Jennifer's glance followed the direction of his, and she caught her breath in surprise when she saw the tall, lean man in his early thirties climbing out of the car and accompanying Dr Tremayne towards the house.
Mike Hoffman had changed very little over the years, she decided with a touch of humour. He was wearing his dark hair considerably shorter, but the lean, tanned face was still as handsome as ever. He looked up suddenly, and a look of surprise flashed across his face as his eyes met hers.
'Jennifer!' he exclaimed, his white teeth flashing in a familiar smile as he leapt up the steps and kissed her quite deliberately on the lips.
Aware of the two men who had witnessed that little scene, Jennifer blushed scarlet, and murmured selfconsciously, 'Hello, Mike.'
'Well, for heaven's sake!' he laughed down at her. 'I never imagined I would ever meet you again, and most certainly not here on a farm in Oudtshoorn.'
'You two know each other?' Hunter asked unnecessarily, his tight-lipped expression filling her with a sense of foreboding.
'Jennifer and I have known each other since she was a student nurse and I a fledgling doctor,' Mike announced, draping his arm comfortably about Jennifer's shoulders as he glanced down at her for confirmation. 'Isn't that so, darling?'
Mike's 'darling' meant nothing, but Hunter, whose eyes had narrowed at the sound of it, that word obviously spoke volumes, and, rising to the occasion, she glanced up at Mike and smiled a little provocatively as she said: 'Don't divulge all our secrets, Mike.'
'Well, I must say it's good to see you again after all this time,' he remarked, hugging her against him before he released her.
'Perhaps you would like to come insid
e,' Hunter said stonily. 'My mother is expecting you.'
Dr Tremayne, who had not spoken a word since their arrival, gestured to Mike to follow him, and somehow Jennifer ended up at the rear with Hunter's eyes boring into her back once more until her skin crawled. Fortunately he did not follow them into his mother's bedroom, and the incredible tension within her eased considerably while Dr Tremayne and Mike examined Alice Maynard with a thoroughness which almost succeeded in tiring her out.
The instructions Jennifer received were explicit. Her patient was to be allowed more freedom of movement, the daily exercises were to continue, and Dr Tremayne agreed with Mike that Mrs Maynard could try walking with crutches. It was arranged over tea that Hunter would pick them up at the hospital the following day, and with Mrs Maynard firmly ensconced on the verandah with Dr Tremayne and Hunter for company, Mike drew Jennifer aside and out into the garden where they could talk privately.
'How long have you been looking after Mrs Maynard, Jennifer?' he asked when they were some distance away from the house.
'It will be two weeks this coming Monday,' she replied, aware of Hunter's brooding glance following their progress across the lawn. She could well imagine what was going on in his twisted mind, but being with an old and trusted friend like Mike Hoffman was enough to obliterate her cares.
'I imagined you'd be safely married to Colin by now,' he interrupted her thoughts. 'What happened to change your mind?'
Of all things, she had never imagined that Mike had not heard of Colin's death, and, taking the task upon herself, she said quietly, 'Colin died almost seven months ago.'
Mike's dark eyes looked bleak as they met hers. 'I'm sorry, Jennifer.'
'I thought you knew.'
'No one passed the news on to me, and I'm afraid I don't get much time to read the newspapers these days.' He took her arm and guided her towards the shade of the pepper trees. 'Tell me what happened.'
The Spotted Plume Page 4