A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,79

attached to the old ways, come Hell or high water. My grandfather L’Hommedieu was the youngest colonel in his cavalry regiment.”

“A military man, eh? Nothing wrong with that.”

“He was a Confederate.”

“Ha! Backed a losing side. Shame. Ah, well. It happens to all of us now and then. I presume your people are Creoles. You’ve a look of them with that black hair.”

“Yes, dark as the devil and twice as wild, my grandmother always says.”

“Blood will out,” Tusker agreed. “The first thing you learn in breeding horses and it holds true for people as well. That’s why you’ve got to bring in fresh blood.”

“So my mother preaches. But there are a dozen other stables in her part of the county. It must be more difficult for you to get fresh stock.”

She fixed Ryder with a pointed stare as he came near. “Tell him that. My racehorses are pedigreed, but I breed others, too, also fast as the wind. They’re tidy little earners, but someone refuses to go and get me new stallions.”

Ryder snorted. “That’s because the last time I went, it nearly cost me my manhood.”

Tusker let out a peal of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh, it’s true, my dear,” she said in response to my skeptical look. “The best horses in the world are bred in Abyssinia, but it’s impossible to trade for them. I bet Ryder he couldn’t bring me back an Abyssinian stallion and pair of mares without getting himself caught and castrated.”

“Castrated?” I stared at Ryder.

“The penalties for horse thieving in Abyssinia are a bit extreme,” he admitted.

“You rode all the way to Abyssinia to risk castration?”

“Of course not,” he said, giving me a slow smile. “I walked.”

I shook my head as Tusker went off in gales of laughter again. She wiped her eyes on the hem of her shirt. “I thought for certain the boy was dead. He was gone weeks, weeks. He finally came limping back leading a string of the most beautiful horses you’ve ever clapped eyes on, Delilah. Each one of them was worthy of an emperor. That trip was so dangerous, it was written up in the book at the club.”

“And greatly exaggerated,” Ryder put in. “I didn’t kill three lions. Just one.” He rubbed a finger over the braided bracelet at his wrist. I leaned closer.

“A souvenir?”

He held up his wrist. “He was after the horses. Killed one before I could get him, but I thought a bit of his mane might make a nice memento.” The hair was black as a starless night.

“I didn’t realise they came with black manes.” I touched the hair. It was springy and thick. My fingertip brushed the pulse at his wrist, and for a moment we locked eyes.

“Anything with black hair is trouble for me,” he said. His tone was light, but his expression was serious. A nicer woman would have felt sorry for him. A kinder woman would have put him out of his misery and taken his hand and walked him back to her tent. A sweeter woman would have let him spend the night.

But I’m none of those things. So I rose and said good-night and went to bed alone.

The next morning we woke before sunrise. The lions were still mating. The sounds of their copulating rolled over the plains, and the porters scurried about with a new urgency. Today was the day they’d been waiting for. A kill, a good meal, and the start of the journey home with their families and a hefty tip waiting at the end.

Ryder checked the weapons and he and Gideon and I set out after breakfast. I hadn’t eaten, but Ryder shoved a packet of sandwiches at me and told me to carry them. I took my rifle and ammunition and followed him across the grass and down to the lugga where death waited.

The lion had paid for his pleasure. She’d given him a beating; open cuts laced his nose where she had lashed him. Her own back was marked with foamy pink froth from his mouth where he’d held her, sometimes ungently. Ryder had gone over the procedure while he ate. When they separated, we were to take the male and leave the female if possible. He explained that she might charge, but it was a chance we were going to have to take.

We settled into the bushes and began to wait. We waited all that morning and into the afternoon, sitting so still that it felt as if we had never known