done a marvelous job of settling me into the master suite. I gave her Mossy’s old room even though it boasted a prettier bed and a frilly little dressing table that she wouldn’t even look at twice, much less actually use. But Nigel’s suite had bookcases and a view of the lake, and it suited me just fine, particularly when Dora hung the fresh mosquito netting and checked under the bed for scorpions.
“All clear,” she informed me as she scooted out from under the bed. She was brandishing a Chinese slipper, prepared to do battle with any creepy-crawlies. She rose and tightened the belt on her robe. “I’m just across the hall if you need me in the night.”
Dora always slept within calling distance. It was more for peace of mind than anything else. I seldom needed her, but it made me feel better to know she was around if I did. Sometimes when the nightmares got too bad and I couldn’t sleep I would give her a shout and we played gin rummy. It was an ongoing game, and she was ahead of me in the tally by five thousand points, but I hoped to make it up eventually. I suspected she was cheating, but I never could figure out how.
“Good night, Do.”
She left and I turned over, watching the stars shimmer to life over the lake. I wondered if the lions would be out, and that led me to think about Ryder White. And before I knew it, I slid into sleep.
* * *
I woke up to a painfully bright morning and Dora carrying in my breakfast tray.
“Good morning, Delilah.”
“Dodo,” I croaked. I waved at the window. “Pull those curtains, will you? No sun should be that bright at this hour.”
“It’s nearly eleven,” she said. She busied herself putting out towels and running the bath, every brisk move a reproof for my slothfulness.
“I suppose I overslept,” I said contritely. “But there’s nothing much to get up for, is there?”
“There are callers, actually. They have been here since daybreak.”
“Callers? What sort of callers?”
She gave me a pinched look. “Local folk.”
“Local folk? You mean Africans?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Well, good grief, what do they want with me?”
Dora bit back a smile and adopted a lofty tone. “They seem to be suffering from various ailments. If I understand Pierre correctly, it is their belief that the lady of the house can provide them with succour.”
“Succour? Do, it’s too early for practical jokes.”
“See for yourself.”
“Are you serious? There are really natives here who expect me to play Florence-bloody-Nightingale?”
“Language, Delilah.” She poured out the tea, but I bounded out of bed. I washed and dressed in record time, and was out the door before the tea even had a chance to cool. And there they were. Twenty, maybe thirty of them. Dressed in lengths of fabric wound up in various ways with necklaces and bracelets of beads strung onto copper wires. Some of them had bandages, others had crutches. Some clutched sick babies and others their own stomachs.
I was aware of Dora at my elbow and I muttered out of the side of my mouth at her, “It looks like Saturday night at Bellevue.”
Seeing them up close had sobered her. “I suppose we could do something,” she said doubtfully. “We don’t have much in the way of medicines, really. Do you think they’d like some bromide salts?”
They were staring at me, but not expectantly. Their expressions were blank, the faces of people who had spent their hopes too many times in all the wrong places.
I turned to Dora. “Fetch whatever medical supplies we have, and bring a few extra sheets we can tear up for bandages.”
Just as she dashed off, Ryder appeared, sauntering in without a care in the world, whistling a tune with his rifle slung over his shoulder. I held up a hand. “Don’t even think of staying unless you mean to help.”
He surveyed the scene. “Playing at being the Lady with the Lamp, are we? I wouldn’t have thought the role suited you. Mind you don’t accidentally amputate something you shouldn’t.”
Something had riled him, but I couldn’t imagine what and I didn’t care to try.
“You can either help me or you can get lost. I don’t particularly care which.”
He thought about it, but after a moment he turned and signalled to a young man who had followed him up the path. The fellow was a native African, tall and slender like the people who sat in my garden, but the