Guarding the Princess - By Loreth Anne White Page 0,77
way,” he told B.K. as he pointed west. “They call me Tautona where I come from.”
B.K.’s eyes went to the lion tattoo on Brandt’s arm.
“I have a plane, and I fly tourists to lodges all over Botswana. I’ve flown guests to Masholo Lodge, too. Do you have villagers who work at Masholo?”
B.K. said there were.
“They will know of my plane,” he said, drawing Dalilah closer. “And this is my friend.”
There was no point in hiding his identity—his tag was emblazoned across the tail of his Cessna, and Amal wouldn’t have to dig too hard to find out who the plane was registered to.
“We want to buy, or borrow, your jeep—my plane is not working, and we have far to go.” Brandt took out the wad of greenbacks again, fanning them out so the chief could see the amount. “We’re also in a hurry.”
Suspicion crossed B.K.’s face. He looked up from the money into Brandt’s eyes.
“It’s not enough money to buy the jeep,” B.K. said.
Brandt inhaled slowly, tempering his mounting sense of urgency. “I will bring more money when my plane is fixed.”
B.K. shook his head.
“What is he saying?” Dalilah whispered.
“He’s saying it’s not enough.”
A group of five women, one with a baby wrapped onto her back, another with a toddler at her feet, had gathered nearby. Brandt felt the fire of panic burning through his gut. This was just going from bad to worse—they had to get out of here.
The toddler waddled over to Dalilah and she smiled, dropping into a crouch. The baby touched her face and she laughed, a husky, warm sound. Anger braided through Brandt.
“Leave that kid alone,” he whispered harshly in English.
Surprise widened her eyes. “Why?”
“Don’t touch them—just leave these people. We shouldn’t even be here, talking to them. We’re putting them in danger by being here!”
She swallowed and stood up, a strange expression crossing her face.
He turned back to B.K. “Look, I know it’s not enough,” he said in Setswana. “But I have cattle. I have a farm. I will return with a new jeep for you. A much better one, and more money.”
B.K. turned to Wusani’s grandfather, and they moved off to the side where they were joined by three other men including Wusani’s father. They argued in low tones.
“What is it?” Dalilah asked.
“It’s not enough cash for the jeep, and they don’t trust that I will return with more.” Sweat beaded on Brandt’s brow—he felt as if he was going to implode. He spun round, paced. “We should have just walked.”
“We’ve waited this long already.”
“We’re not getting that jeep now. And they’ve seen us and know we’re desperate for a vehicle. Do you think they’re going to let us creep back in here to steal it as soon as it gets dark? They’ll try to stop us, and I’m not hurting these people. Not taking it by force.”
Dalilah stared at him, that odd look still on her face.
“Do they speak English?” she said suddenly.
“Hell knows. Some of them, probably. The teacher for one.”
She spun around, pointedly taking it all in, her gaze touching on the school building, the water tower, the creaking windmill, the goats, the straggling vegetable garden, the colorful houses with their tin roofs, then alighting on the toddler.
“This is what I wanted,” she whispered.
“What?”
“This. My goal. My work. The mission in Zimbabwe.” Her eyes shimmered with sudden, fierce emotion. Her mouth went tight, her hand fisting. She turned suddenly and marched toward the group of men arguing quietly under the thorn tree near the chief’s house.
“Dalilah!”
She didn’t heed him.
“Dalilah!” He ran after her, took her arm, whirled her around to face him. “What are you doing?”
She shook him off and went up to the men. “I can pay for the jeep,” she said to them.
They all looked at her.
“Do you speak English? Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” said Wusani’s father.
“I can buy the jeep.” She was wiggling the ring on her hand, desperately tugging it off her swollen finger as she spoke, and it struck Brandt suddenly what she was doing.
“Dalilah—no!”
“And gas. I want spare gas—petrol, for the jeep?”
She yanked the ring off and held it up to them. Sunlight caught sparks of grapefruit pink. The platinum setting gleamed white.
“I will pay with this.”
The men stared.
Brandt took her arm. “Dalilah,” he said into her ear, “they have no idea what that’s wor—”
She angrily shrugged him off again.
“Does anyone here know anything about diamonds? Do you know what you can buy if you sell this stone?”