A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,92
than under. When I rejoined Dodo, she was looking around furtively. In the distance some of the farmworkers were moving listlessly through the pyrethrum, picking off bugs and nipping the worst of the damaged leaves.
“Be discreet,” she murmured. I rolled my eyes, but I followed her as she slid through the tall grass. I kept an alert eye on the grasses, looking for any telltale disturbances that would indicate the presence of a big cat. The wind was circling then, and I reached down for a handful of dry red earth and tossed it up lightly. It carried away from the lugga, which made me feel marginally better. If anything were hunkered down there, it wouldn’t smell us on the wind. It wasn’t an ash bag, but it would do, and Dora seemed highly impressed with the trick.
I hefted the rifle as we approached the lugga, but nothing stirred. There was no acrid scent of lion or leopard. I had learned that the bigger cats smelled strongly of urine and blood, particularly if they’d recently marked or fed. It was possible to track them by scent alone although it took a gifted tracker to do it.
We moved swiftly across the lugga and emerged into the opening in a field. It was another of the sad pyrethrum fields and I turned to Dodo with a shrug.
“So? It’s another few acres of a poor crop that ought to be plowed under.”
“Look again.”
I moved into the field, pushing past the first several rows of pyrethrum, and straight into something quite different.
I turned back to Dodo. “You must be joking.”
“No. Cannabis sativa. Hundreds of plants. The pyrethrum is only the border, no doubt for camouflage.”
I walked farther into the field, pushing the plants apart with my hands. They were springy and green, and I wasn’t surprised to find extremely good irrigation equipment functioning perfectly.
“That bastard.” I turned and strode back to the main part of the farm. I think Dodo followed, but I never turned to look. A lion could have carried her off for all I cared. All I could think of was Gates.
I found him outside the barn, harassing Moses. He raised his hand and slapped the boy just as I rounded the corner.
I didn’t bother to call his name. I merely lifted the heavy rifle and shot the ground at his feet, blasting a hole into the dirt. Clots of red earth sprayed upwards. He jumped straight into the air and spun around.
“Are you out of your mind, you stupid bitch?” he demanded, his face flushing red. Spittle flew from his mouth when he spoke, and Moses stared from him to me with undisguised horror.
My shoulder was aching from the recoil, but I seated the butt of the gun again and sighted him. “Pack up. Take your ugly wife and your nasty children and get off this property.”
He took a single step in my direction and I fired again, this time just nicking his boot. “You’re barking mad!” Gates howled.
“Shut up. I didn’t even hit you. But I will the next time.” I reloaded and cocked the rifle yet again, but this time I aimed directly for his heart.
He curled his lip. “You think you can get away with killing me?”
“I don’t plan to kill you,” I said, dropping the barrel to his crotch.
He moved then, scurrying in the direction of his house. I glanced at Moses who was breathing hard.
I cocked my head. “Moses, get back to the cows. I will have a look at your head as soon as Mr. Gates is gone.”
He nodded and trotted back to his cows. Dodo rounded the corner then, holding a hand to her side. “Heavens, I’ve the most awful stitch. What is it? What’s happened?”
“I have given Mr. Gates his notice,” I informed her. “I just have to finish evicting him.”
I walked slowly toward his house and by the time I arrived, he was emerging with his wife and children and a pair of hastily packed cases. “I trust we can return for the rest of our things,” Gates said, his eyes icy as he faced me.
“You trust wrong.”
He moved toward me and I lifted the rifle meaningfully. He grabbed his wife hard by the arm and threw her into the car, shoving the children after. He left in a cloud of dust, his arm extended out the window in an obscene gesture. His son was offering me the same gesture in the rear window and I obliged by returning it.