A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,116

Anthony already thinks Gideon is guilty. If you take him home with you, Anthony will shoot him on sight.”

“Not if—”

“Jude, leave it,” Tusker instructed firmly. “Ryder is correct. Anthony would either shoot him or turn him in for the reward.”

“What reward?” My voice was hollow and Ryder jumped to his feet swearing.

Helen wiped at her eyes again. “The news came out of Nairobi this morning. There’s a reward for Gideon’s capture. Every white and half the blacks in Kenya will be looking for him now.”

“But it should have been days yet,” I began. Tusker waved me away.

“Things can happen quite quickly out here when people have a mind to make them. It’s a frontier, child. With frontier justice. Just be glad they specified he was to be taken alive.”

Ryder swore again and I sat down. Even Dora put down the damned sandwiches and looked stricken. “There must be someone loyal enough to him to resist the money,” she said quietly.

“There is,” Ryder said. He exchanged a meaningful look with Tusker.

“Excellent plan, my boy. But you’ll have to go with him to make sure he’s protected.”

“Of course.”

“What are we talking about?” I demanded.

Ryder flicked a glance towards Halliwell. “Nothing I would care to get specific about.”

Halliwell flushed. “Now see here—”

Dora cut in sharply. “He’s right, Lawrence. It’s best if none of us know.” I raised a brow at her. Things must have gotten quite cozy at the Halliwell establishment if she was on a first-name basis with the master of the house.

He nodded. “As you say, Dora.” Of course he would agree, I thought bitterly. The less he knew, the faster he could wash his hands of the whole thing. He was staring at Dora intently and she blushed a little. I thought with a pleasurable little shiver of how much I would enjoy telling her about his antics at Helen’s last party.

“When will you go?” Tusker asked.

“Now. The sooner the better.”

“I’m coming with you,” Jude said. Her chin was set and Ryder nodded slowly.

“Jude,” Tusker began, but Jude took a step forward, her fists balled.

“It’s my decision, Tusker. If Ryder will have me, I’m going. I’m a better tracker than Ryder and a better shot than Gideon. They can use me.”

I went to the rack over the door and took down the Rigby and handed it to her. “Take this. It’s a better gun than yours.”

She gave me a long, level gaze, then put out her hand. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t shoot it any more than you have to. Those bullets are damned expensive.”

She gave me a faint smile and pocketed the ammunition. “One shot, one kill.”

I followed Ryder and Jude to the barn. Dora had collected food and Ryder took all the extra ammunition he could carry. I helped, my head buzzing. I itched to go and look in my jewel box to see if my bracelet was still there, but there was no chance. They say in a crisis everything slows down, like when you hold your breath and walk underwater. But that wasn’t true, not this time. Every moment was speeding by so fast, if I had stopped I would have fallen over from dizziness. So I kept on going, pushing through as things happened around me. My hands knew what to do even when my brain didn’t. When we reached the barn door, Ryder turned and kissed me hard.

“You will come back,” I told him. “That’s not a question.”

He kissed me a second time and unlocked the barn door. Gideon crept out of the shadows.

“Bibi?”

“I’m here, Gideon. You’re going to go with Jude and Ryder. Somewhere safe.”

He stood in front of me, tall and straight as a spear. “I understand.” He put out his hand. “I would like to shake hands with you, Bibi.”

I shook it, clasping that broad warm palm. I turned it over and looked at it. There was all of Africa in that palm. The line of the Mara River flowed across it, with the high plains where a man might be free and the deep ridge of the Rift where time stood still. I put the hand to my face and he held it there briefly before removing it.

“I cannot come back,” he said, putting into words what I already knew.

“I will not forget you,” I promised him. “As long as Africa endures, I will remember you, my friend.”

I could hardly see him then. The tears obscured his face, and my last view of him was watery and insubstantial as a ghost. Already