The Sound of Thunder (21 page)

Now, at last, four year later they were to have their first child.

Saul grinned happily as he thought about it. Tomorrow he would begin his attempt to discourage the adoption of the name Storm. ” It would be a difficult case to win, one worthy of his talents. In the preceding four years Saul had learned that once Ruth set her small white teeth into something she had a bulldog grip. A great deal of finesse was needed to loosen that grip without invoking her wrath.

Saul had an awesome respect for his wife’s wrath.

“It’s four o’clock.” The little blonde nurse poked her head around the waiting-room door and smiled at him. “You may go in now.

You’ll find him out on the veranda. ” Saul’s eagerness returned in full flood and he had to restrain himself from bouncing too boisterously down the veranda.

He recognized Sean’s bulk, clad in uniform khaki, reclining elegantly in a cane-backed chair and chatting to the men in the row of beds in front of him. He came up behind the chair.

“Don’t stand up, Sergeant. Just toss me a salute from where YOU are. ” “Saul! ” Lugging himself out of the chair and pivoting easily on his game leg, Sean gripped both Saul’s shoulders in the old show of affection. The pleasure that fired Sean’s expression was genuine and that was enough for Saul.

“Good to see you, you old bastard.” He returned Sean’s grip, grinning happily. He did not notice how swiftly Sean’s pleasure faded, and was replaced by a shifty, nervous smile.

“Have a drink.” They were the first words that came into Sean’s mind. He must have time to feel his way. Had Ruth said anything to Saul, had he guessed?

“Water? ” Saul grimaced.

“Gin,” whispered Sean, guilt making him garrulous and he went on in a clumsy attempt at humour. “Water carafe is full Of gin. For God’s sake don’t tell Matron. I smuggle it in. Argue with the nurse whenever she tries to change it-she says

“Water stale, must change!” I say,

“Like stale water, raised on stale water, stale water stroongly indicated in all cases of leg injury!

“Give me stale water too,” laughed Saul.

While he poured Sean introduced Saul to the gentleman in the next bed, a Scotsman who agreed with them that stale water was a sovereign therapeutic for shrapnel wound in the chest-a complaint from which he was currently suffering. The three of them settled down to a course of intensive treatment.

At Sean’s prodding Saul embarked on a long account of the battle of Spion Kop. He made it seem very funny. Then he went on to describe the final break through at I-Dangwane, Buller’s eventual relief of Ladysmith, and his cautious pursuit of Leroux Is army which was now in full retreat into the Transvaal.

They discussed Lord Roberts’s offensive that had driven up from the Cape, relieved Kimberley, swept on to take Bloemfontein and was now poised for the final thrust up through the belly of the Transvaal to Pretoria which was the heart.

“It will all be over in three months. ” The Scotsman gave his opinion.

“You think so?” Sean sneered at him a little, and succeeded in provoking an argument whose flames were fed with gin.

As the level in the carafe fell the time for sober and serious discussion passed and they became sentimental. Tenderly Saul inquired after their injuries.

The Scotsman was being shipped home across the sea, and at the thought of parting they became sad.

Sean was returning the following day to Ladyburg for convalescent leave. At the end of which, if the doctors were satisfied that the pieces of shrapnel in his leg were satisfactorily encysted (two words which Sean had difficulty enunciating) he would be returned to duty.

The word “duty” aroused their patriotism and Sean and Saul with arms around each other’s shoulders swore a mighty oath that together, comrades in arms, brothers in blood, they would see this war out.

Never counting the cost in hardship and danger, together they would ride against the foe.

Suitable music was needed for their mood, and the Scotsman gave them

“The Wild Colonial Boy. ” His eyes were moist and his voice quavered with emotion.

Deeply touching, but not entirely appropriate to the occasion, Sean and Saul did

“Hearts of Oak” as a duet, then all three launched into a lively rendition of

“Are you awake, Johnny Cope?”

The Matron arrived in the middle of the third chorus, by which time Johnny Cope and anybody else within a hundred yards could not possibly have been sleeping.

“Gentlemen, visiting hour ended at five o’clock.” She was a fearsome woman with a voice like a cavalry charge, but Saul who had pleaded before hanging judges rose undaunted to the defence.

“Madam.” He opened his address with a bow. “These men may, let me speak with truth-these heroes have made great sacrifice in the name of freedom. Their blood has flowed like gin in defence of that glorious ideal-Freedom! All I ask is that a little of that precious stuff be granted unto them. Madam. In the name of honour, of fairness, and of gratitude I appeal to you.” He ended with one fist clenched above his heart and his head tragically bowed.

“Hoots, mon!

“Oh good! Very good!

The two heroes burst into spontaneous and heartwarming applause, but over the Matron’s features descended a frosty veil of suspicion.

She elevated her nose a little and sniffed.

“You’re drunk!” she accused grimly.

“Oh, foul libel! Oh, monstrous untruth.” Saul backed hurriedly out of range.

“All right, Sergeant.” She turned grimly on Sean. “Where is it? “What Sean was all helpless innocence.

“The bottle! ” She lifted the bedclothes and began her search.

Saul picked up his helmet, saluted them behind her back and tiptoed down the veranda.

Sean’s leave in Ladyburg passed quickly, much too quickly.

MbeJane had disappeared on a mysterious errand into Zululand.

Sean guessed that it related to the two wives and their offspring that Mbejane had cheerfully sent to the kraals of their parents when Sean had left Ladyburg so many years before.

Dirk was incarcerated each morning in the schoolhouse, and so Sean was free to roam alone upon the hills and over the veld that surrounded the town. Most of his time he spent coveting the huge derelict ranch called Lion Kop which spread above the escarpment.

After it month he knew the course of every strcani and each fold and slope of the land. His leg strengthened with the exercise. It no longer pained him and the scar lost its purple shine and dulled down to a closer match with his skin colour.

But as his strength returned and flesh filled out his shoulders and padded the gaunt bones of his face, so restlessness came back to him. His daily pilgrimage to Lion Kop Ranch became an obsession. He wandered through the bare rooms of the old homestead and saw them as they could be with the thatched roof replaced to keep out the rain and the flaking plaster renewed and freshly painted. He stood before the empty, smoke-blackened fireplace and imagined the glow and the warmth it could give. Stamping across the dusty floors he judged the yellow-wood planking as sound as the massive beams that supported the roof. Then he wandered out across the land, stooping now and then to take up a handful of earth and feel its rich loamy texture.

In the May of 1900 he went to the Deeds Registry at the Magistrate’s office and surreptitiously inspected the title. He found that the fifteen thousand acres of Lion Kop Ranch had been purchased from the estate of the late Stephanus Johannes Erasmus by the Ladyburg Banking & Trust Co Ltd. Transfer had been signed by Ronald Pye, Esq in his capacity as Chairman of the Bank. Sean grinned. Ronny Pye was his most cherished childhood enemy. This could be very amusing.

Sean settled himself in the deep, soft nest of polished leather formed by the armchair and glanced curiously around the panelled office.

“A few changes since you were last here. Hey, Sean? ” Ronny Pye interpreted his thoughts accurately.

“A few. ” The Ladyburg Banking & Trust Co was doing very prettily,

judging by the furnishings. Some of its prosperity showed on the figure of its Chairman. Plenty of flesh under the solid gold watch-chain, dark but expensive jacket to offset the extravagant waistcoat, fifteen-guinea handmade boots. Very nice until you looked at the face; pale so that the freckles showed like irregular gold coins, greedy eyes, ears like the handles of a shaving-mug-that much hadn’t changed. But although Ronny was Just two years Sean’s senior, there was plenty of grey in his ginger sideburns and little wrinkles of worry around his eyes.

“Been out to Theuniskraal to visit your sister-in-law yet?”

There was a sly expression in Ronny’s face as he asked.

“No.

of course you wouldn’t,” Ronny nodded understandingly and managed to convey that the scandal, though old, was by no means dead.

Sean felt a repugnance that made him shift in his chair. The little ginger moustache heightened Ronny’s resemblance to a bush rat.

Now Sean wanted to end the business and get out into the fresh air again.

“Listen, Ronny. I’ve searched title on Lion Kop. You own it,” he began abruptly.

“Lion Kop? ” The previous morning the clerk from the Registry had hurried down to Mr. Pye with the news that earned him a sovereign.

There had been many others calling with the news that Sean had visited the ranch every day for a month. But now Ronny had to search his memory to place the name. “Lion Kop? Ah, yes! The old Erasmus place.

Yes, I do believe we picked it up from the estate. Paid too much for it, I’m afraid. ” Here he sighed with resignation. “But we can hold on to it for another ten years or so and get our money back. No hurry to sell.

“I want it. ” Sean cut short the preliminaries and Ronny laughed easily.

“You’re in good company. Half the farmers in Natal want it but not enough to meet our price.

“How much?

The established price of grazing land in the Ladyburg area was one shilling and sixpence an acre. minutes before Ronny had set himself to ask two shillings. But now he was looking into Sean’s eyes and remembering a fist crushing his nose and the taste of his own blood.

He heard again Sean’s arrogant laughter rejecting his overtures of friendship. No, he thought with hatred. No, you big cocky bastard, now you pay for those.

“Three shillings,” he said.

Sean nodded thoughtfully. He understood. Then suddenly he grinned. “My God, Ronny, I heard you were a pretty sharp business man.

But I must have heard wrong. If you paid three shillings for Lion Kop they really caught you with your skirts up. ” And Ronny flushed.

Sean had probed deep into his pride.

“I paid nine-pence, ” he snapped. “I’m selling for three shillings.

“Make out the deed of sale for 2,250. pounds. I’ll take it.

Damn it! Damn it to hell! Ronny swore silently. He would have paid five.

“That’s for the land only. An extra 1,000 pounds for the improvements.

“Anything else?” Sean enquired.

“No. ” Sean calculated quickly, with transfer tax he could meet the price with a few hundred spare.

“I’ll still take it. ” Ronny stared at him while his brain wriggled like a snake. I didn’t realize he wanted it that badly-I could have had his soul.

“Of course, my Board will have to approve the sale. It depends on them really. ” Ronny’s Board of Directors consisted of himself, his little sister Audrey, and her husband Dennis Petersen. Ronny held eighty per cent of the shares, and Sean knew this. He had examined the Company’s Articles that were lodged with the Registrar.

“Listen to me, dear friend of my youth. ” Sean leaned forward across the stinkwood desk and picked up a heavy silver cigar-box. “You made an offer. I accepted it. I’ll be here at four o’clock this afternoon with the money. Please have the documents ready. ” Sean lifted the cigar-box in one fist and started to squeeze. The muscles in his forearm writhed like mating pythons and the box crumpled and burst open at the seams. Sean placed the distorted lump of metal on the blotter in front of Ronny.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Sean. ” Ronny grinned nervously and dragged his eyes away from the box. “I’m certain I’ll be able to convince my Board.

The following day was a Saturday. No school for Dirk. and Sean took him along on the daily ride out to the ranch. Almost beside himself with joy at being alone with his god, Dirkie raced his pony ahead and then circled at full gallop to fall in beside Sean once more.

Laughing with excitement, chattering ecstatically for a while, then he could no longer contain his high spirits and he galloped ahead.

Before Sean reached the cross-roads below the escarpment he met a small caravan of travellers coming in the opposite direction.

Sean greeted the leader solemnly. “I see you, Mbejane.”

Mbejane had the jaded and slightly sheepish look of a tomcat returning from a busy night out. “I see you also, Nkosi.There was a long, embarrassed silence while Mbejane took a pinch of snuff and stared fixedly at the sky above Sean’s head.

Sean was studying MbeJane’s travelling companions. There were two in their middle age, which is about thirty-five years old for a Zulu woman. Both of them wore the tall headdress of clay which denotes matron hood Though they retained the proud, erect carriage, their breasts were pendulous and empty and the skin of their bellies above the brief aprons was wrinkled with the marks of child-bearing. There were also two girls just beyond puberty, moon-faced skins glowing with youth, straight and well-muscled, buttocks like ripe melons and firm, round breasts. They hung their heads and giggled shyly.

“Perhaps it will rain tonight,” MbeJane remarked.

“Perhaps. ” “It will be good for the grazing,” Mbejane ploughed on doggedly.

“Who the hell are these women?” Sean could contain his curiosity no longer and Mbejane frowned at his breach of etiquette. Observations on the weather and the grazing should have continued another five minutes.

“Nkosi, these two are my wives.” He gestured at the matrons.

“The other two your daughters?”

“No.” Mbejane paused, then went on gravely: “It is not fitting that a man of my years should have but two women who are old for work and the bearing of children. I have purchased two younger wives.”