series is due for release on the 27th November 2012. These novels are classified as Adult Fiction Christian/Romance and are not suitable for young readers.
Australia 1975
Ten-year-old Sarah quietly cowered in her
bed. Her dad had just walked in the front door; drunk again from a night out
with his workmates. A heated argument had started between him and her mum
downstairs.
Echoing sharply up the stairwell, her
father’s shouting escalated with violent speed and her mum’s shrill voice mounted
with nervous anger. Covering her ears, Sarah tightly closed her eyes as tears
forced their way out.
Why does he keep doing this?
Something smashed, then more yelling.
Silence. She heard her mum crying. Sarah opened her eyes gingerly and glanced
across her room at her suitcase that was still open and half packed in the
corner. Quickly slipping out from her sheets, she kicked it under the bed, and
then dashed back to the warm safety of her blankets. If Dad discovered it,
she’d cop it really bad. He did this all the time. Last time was too far. Mum
had planned for them to leave. In fact they were going early in the morning.
Where they were going, Sarah didn’t know. All she knew was that she wished with
all her heart that they had left before now.
Her dad started yelling again, startling
Sarah from her thoughts. Her mum cried out with shrills, and then stopped. Her
dad kept yelling when Sarah heard another crash as something thumped loudly.
The sounds of her mum groaning made Sarah sit up in alarm. In sudden panic, she
flew out of bed and ran down the steps two at a time. Sarah had no idea what
she’d do when she got there. For now, she wasn’t thinking logically because something
was terribly wrong.
Sarah skidded to a stop as she rounded the
corner into the kitchen. Her dad was standing hunched, breathing heavily over
her mum’s lifeless form. Sarah could just see around his legs that her mum’s
face was covered in fresh bruises, and blood seeped slowly onto the kitchen
floor. Still in a drunken rage and annoyed that she had given up, he spat at
the limp form and then looked at Sarah with cold eyes.
“Git back ta bed!” he snapped.
Sarah stood frozen to the spot, staring
wide-eyed at her mum, perspiration pricking at the skin on the back of her neck.
Her mum wasn’t waking up. She clasped her hands to her mouth and shook her
head, eyes brimming with tears.
“I said, GET BACK TA BED!!!” roared her dad.
His voice boomed around the inside of her head, causing her to rock back on her
heels with uncertainty. Her hesitation was all he needed to push him over the
edge completely as he closed the distance between them, yanking and twisting
her wrist, roughly. A slight yelp escaped Sarah’s lips, as her father pulled
her ear to his mouth. “You saw nothing here,” he growled closely, the smell of
alcohol strong on his breath.
Sarah’s face burned as she mustered her
strength and ripped her arm from his grip. Like a bolt, she took off, bursting
from the back door and running for her life. Tears streamed down her face.
“SARAH! GIT BACK ‘ERE!”
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw his
dark figure silhouetted in the doorway of the house. Gritting her teeth and turning
back into the wind, Sarah sprinted hard, willing herself to fly.
After running for what felt like an
eternity, she slowed and stepped up the curb onto someone’s front lawn, her
cheeks flushed. Bending over, holding a stitch in her side, Sarah breathed
raggedly as she stepped up onto the patio. While catching her breath, she
banged on the door, crying out for help. An elderly man and woman appeared,
suspicious lines forming between their brows as they tightened their night robes about
them. Sarah spluttered out her situation between gulps of air, and the man
quickly stepped inside and dialed the police and ambulance. Sarah gratefully
allowed herself to be led inside. Her stiffened muscles relaxed ever so
slightly once the door clicked closed behind her.
Seating their unexpected guest in the
living room, the woman covered Sarah’s shoulders with a warm blanket and went
to prepare her a hot chocolate to drink. Sarah wasn’t very thirsty, but
snuggled nervously into the blanket, raising her brows anxiously to see what would come of the phone calls as
the people moved briskly about the house. Sarah sank timidly into the couch,
her spindly legs tucked up under her, trying to block out the sounds of her mum
screaming that still echoed in her head. Fatigue was overcoming her, but she
doggedly willed them to stay open, lest she see visions of her mum’s lifeless
form behind her eyelids. The woman moved back into the room and sat opposite
her, watching her with a drawn expression. Sitting up slightly, questions in
her eyes, Sarah frowned when the woman simply shook her head. She wasn’t told
anything. Beyond all other things, Sarah needed to get to the hospital, see if
her mum was ok. Why were the police taking so long?
After what seemed like an eternity, a police officer arrived at the house and
Sarah rapidly repeated her story, a sick feeling growing in her gut as she
watched the officer taking notes. Several other policemen had been sent on to
her home and soon enough, the officer excused himself to take a call on the
two-way. Sarah’s hands fumbled nervously in her lap. Mum? Why won’t they hurry up and tell me what happened to my mum?
Later that evening, Sarah sat in a patrol
car, listening glumly as policemen radioed back and forth. The officer, who had
interviewed Sarah, glanced back at her from the driver’s seat as he received
word about an arrest. Sarah blinked through her puffy tired eyes, pulling
uneasily at the blanket that was gifted to her by the couple. She asked again
about her mum, but the policeman offered no information except to repeat that
they had no word from the hospital yet.
He drove on silently, keeping Sarah
prisoner to her thoughts and fears. She looked glumly out the window as a light
misty rain began to flick onto the tinted glass, enhancing the
colours
from passing shop windows and street lights. Tiredness washed over Sarah. She
had no idea what time it was and she didn’t even care. She resolved not to let
herself rest until she found out about her mum.
The patrol car swung into the hospital
loading bay. Sarah tugged herself upright, fatigue falling from her shoulders
like the discarded blanket. The officer opened the door and motioned for her to
follow.
In the early hours of that morning, as
Sarah sat next to her mother’s hospital bed, tangled with tubes and monitors,
her mother slipped peacefully away; never to be attacked by her husband again.
The nurses roused Sarah, who had been drifting in and out of restless sleep,
and informed her that they had done all they could, but her injuries were too
much. Feeling numb, Sarah allowed herself to be led to a spare bed, where she
cried herself again into a restless sleep.
South Africa 1990
It was October; beginning of the Summer
months where rains were anticipated by all, and the air was mingled with the stirrings
of change. The wind swept through her loose tendrils of black hair like cool
fingers of scented freshness.
Sarah White gasped with awe as she watched
the dawn opening like a stage curtain, rising in symphony as the warm, orange
glow began to kiss the tips of the ever plentiful African Mopane shrubs. A fine
pink-hued mist in the bushveldt below was weaving its way delicately up through
the boulders and shrubs surrounding Sarah as she sat atop the small rise. Small
parties of exotic birds began their morning chorus; Scarlet-Chested Sunbirds
seeking out the life-giving nectar from the various seasonal blossoms, grey
flycatchers darting to and fro, hunting insects and the occasional Woodland
Kingfisher as it descended towards the waterholes at the base of the hill
beyond. Sarah sighed softly as she raised her flawlessly delicate hand with
long slender fingers and tucked another stray piece of her thick black hair
behind her ear as the soft wind kept chasing the loose bits about. She was far
from annoyed though, as her green eyes scanned the horizon and she allowed her
skin to soak in the warmth. This place was magical. Similar to the dawns of her
homeland, Australia, just the colours
here seemed richer and more vibrant. She could see why many
called it God’s own country. Another rogue piece of hair flew across her vision
and Sarah casually blew it from her olive face. Perhaps it was just her
personal perception because of the hardships of home that made the place appear
better. This place reminded her of a spot back in Outback Queensland at home,
where she’d frequently sit astride her horse, gazing over a land filled with
woody Mulga bushes. Here the land was dotted with both the woody Mopane trees,
thicker heart-shaped leaves and no thorns that elephants would most often keep
in check, as well as its relative; the lower Mopane scrub bushes. Back in
Australia though, the only dangers were wild pigs, dogs or territorial emus.
Here it was a different kettle of fish.
Since her arrival in this new country on
her 22nd Birthday, this quiet spot just outside the protection of
the Brennan’s property had fast become her favourite place. Much to the alarm
of her co-workers, who constantly warned her it was against the rules and
dangerous, she would come here as often as she could and just drink up the
beauty of creation at dawn. It was where she could think, where she could clear
her head and try to sort out some of the clutter, or perhaps just forget for a
while. Sometimes her mind was a fog during all the whirl and chaos of normal
life.
Her horse, Honour yawned and licked her
lips, half shutting her eyes against the warm glare of the rising sun. Sarah
leaned forward over the animal’s neck and scratched behind her ears. The
palomino mare turned her head into Sarah’s hand, enjoying every bit. Sighing, Sarah
closed her eyes, and tried to savour the stillness and beauty of the morning before
time began to close in on her. She’d moved here from Australia four years ago
as a volunteer to work for Johnno Brennan at his safari Trail-riding
establishment. Her skills as a trainer/breaker combined with her Bachelor of
Applied Science in Equine Management made her a catch that Johnno was reluctant
to lose. Despite her slight figure and less than average height, Sarah had
proven to all that her strength as good as any and that she was irreplaceable. After
finding her feet, she’d fallen in love with the place and had sorted out her working
Visa to stay on indefinitely. At several points over the last few years, she
even contemplated becoming a permanent citizen of the country, but had failed
to check into what would be required of her to do so. The majesty, the beauty,
and the dangers of this land enthralled her to no end. In Africa, she felt more
alive than she’d ever felt before. Despite constant nagging from her family and
friends to return back home to Australia, and with the current political
climate in South Africa, Sarah insisted on staying; justifying it with the fact
that she was out of harms’ way, most of the time. Occasionally word of rallies
and new bombings of the railway would make her doubt her decision, but it was
something she was loathe to discuss with her adopted family back in Australia.
She glanced over her shoulder nervously. She might soon wear out her welcome
though. If she got busted out here again this morning, there’d be hell to pay.
She wondered how many more times she would get away with riding out before work
into dangerous territory before she’d be asked to leave and go back to
Australia. While not as dangerous as the Kruger, this place was still known
lion country; extremely dangerous to venture out alone without protection.
Brennan Safari Trails was situated snugly
along the western side of Kruger National Park (or the Kruger as locals liked
to call it) in the Eastern Transvaal region of South Africa. North of Brennan
was the Letaba Ranch Game Reserve, where Sarah now sat perched; which boasted a
large variety of game. Mainly using Letaba Reserve to take horse rides, John
Brennan had just recently established tentative ties with the government to
take some rides into the Kruger for overnight treks; something he seemed to be
pushing more and more lately. They catered for riders from mainly South Africa
and surrounds, but had more recently attracted the attention from some overseas
tourism agencies. Life was always busy in this part of Africa, but in a laid
back, relaxing kind of way. It was part and parcel of the tourism industry,
which grew strong along the border towns of the Kruger. Sarah often overheard
her co-worker Mark arguing with Johnno about the safety risks that were being
imposed on them, but their boss always pushed for his own way. She wondered how
long the horse business here would last with more local horses getting taken
down by lion recently, and disease starting to creep in and threaten their
stock. She’d heard rumour that soon enough, the Kruger would be open to
safari’s via game viewing vehicles only.
In many ways, Sarah felt like she still
didn’t fit in to this lifestyle and culture. She was constantly struggling to
pick up the various phrases of the people that often mingled English with their
Afrikaans. Even harder to grasp was the Zulu and Sotho languages. People kept
assuring her, that with time, she would pick it up, or at least enough to get
by. It was as if she were sitting back and watching herself through a window.
It was happening, but she still didn’t feel totally present. It seemed too good
to be true at times. Sure, the work was similar to what she did back home with
her adopted parents, but there she mustered cattle and trained horses. Here, it
was so much more. She was employed for her degree in stable management and was
expected to run the herd with the limited funds that were available. She helped
take the trail rides and took on some horse training and breaking, much to the
disgust of her co-worker who maintained that they needed to get in old reliable
stock and stop wasting time on training. This part of the day, though, the
glory of the mornings was the only thing that seemed to give her a glimpse of
what she’d hoped she would feel in her heart while trying to live her dream of
creating hope, meaning and purpose in Africa. Reality was much harder.
A twig snapped behind them, followed by a
dull thudding, jolting Sarah from her thoughts. She turned and saw Brandi
trotting up the track on her little, black pony, looking flustered and out of
breath. She was wearing new jeans and the Brennan’s uniform shirt. A khaki work-shirt,
with the Brennan’s Safari Trails emblem embroidered on front pocket. The girls
often wore tight fitting singlets underneath, so that when the afternoon wore
hot, after hours, they could strip off a layer. Summers were hot and humid out
here, and you did what you could. Sarah noted that Brandi already had the top
button undone in the rapidly rising temperature, her hot pink singlet peeping
from underneath. Sarah was no better in her attire, wearing her work jeans and
white singlet. Her uniform shirt was still hanging over the rail back at the
horse yards.
“What are you doing
out here?” Sarah chided her, noting how she too had ventured into Letaba alone
on horseback. Brandi ignored the biting comment and catching her breath,
addressed Sarah urgently. “Johnno says that you’ve got to get back now!”
Sarah grimaced, “I’m
not late am I?”
Brandi paused and looked her up and down
with exasperation, “No...You’re not late...yet! But he said that if you don’t
come and do your job now, you won’t have one! What are you even doing out here?
Are you crazy?”
“Are you?” Sarah
shot back with a challenging expression twisting her lips. Red frustration
crept up Brandi’s neck and when she went to speak, Sarah cut her off.
“It’s not like I’m in the Kruger!” Sarah
retorted swiftly. Brandi shook her head dismally.
“Still
lion country.” She grumbled, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning through
the thick foliage. Swallowing hard,
Sarah took up her reins, and turned towards camp, Brandi trailing awkwardly
behind her, glancing around nervously as if they were being stalked. Sarah
didn’t want to lose this job. This was what she had always wanted to do. So why aren’t I happy? she pondered.
They picked their way down the small rise
before breaking into a canter. Sarah sped ahead deliberately, for she didn’t
want to spend any longer than necessary talking to Brandi. Brandi Coetzee
irritated her to no end. She was one of those happy people, who was always chipper,
even when you rationalised that she should be having a bad day. When everyone
else was normal, there she was - chirpy and praying. Brandi was known as the
person on staff who was always praying about everything. She went to some
church in town, and Christianity was something that she took more seriously
than most people that Sarah knew who called themselves Christians. Mark van der
Merwe, her other work colleague, liked to call Brandi the “God-Botherer”. He
felt that if there were a God, he’d be sick and tired of hearing from Brandi
all the time. Sarah knew that she was
supposed to take the younger staff under wing, but something in Brandi just grated
on Sarah’s nerves. Sure, Johnno found a good catch when he employed Brandi. Her
father owned the saddlery in town, and she had learnt all kinds of leatherwork,
including mending saddles and other gear. While she was the most junior staff
member on the team, she was still a valuable asset.
As they trotted into the campsite, Brandi
sidled up to Sarah. “You scared me half to death doing that! Is Mark right?
That you do that all the time, even though you are told not to? It’s lion
country Sarah! And what’s more, elephant territory! My Uncle nearly got
trampled by one. I’ve seen a cow take out a bakkie that got too close when she
was protecting a calf! I know you have been at Brennan’s longer than me, but
you are not in Australia anymore.” She stopped taking suddenly and Sarah
wondered if she was about to change tact. She was right.
“Are you ok?” Brandi
queried, her voice still shaking.
“Are we done?” The cutting words issued
from the Aussie’s mouth wounded Brandi’s quiet nature for the third time that
morning and she cringed visibly. Impatiently, Sarah rolled her eyes and vaulted
off Honour, leading her away. As she turned her back on Brandi, Sarah felt a strange
jolt in her chest, like a slight pang of guilt that she had been so abrupt
again. Disturbed by the weakness, she brushed it aside nonchalantly. Glancing
back, she noticed with dismay that Brandi was still watching her, the younger
woman’s brows creased anxiously as she led her own horse away. Their eyes met
briefly and Brandi, shedding her disquiet like a discarded coat, kicked up her
chin with a brave smile. Sarah shrugged and shook her head. Happy people. Turning her thoughts away
from the blonde Afrikaner woman, she tied Honour in her stall, leaving her
saddled up, grabbed her work-shirt and strode purposefully to the tack-up area.
Mark was already there, saddling up horses. His face was set with aggravation,
causing a nerve to twitch in his distinct jaw-line as he glanced her way. She
was casually finishing buttoning up her shirt as she approached.
“Sarah!”
She rocked to a stop
in front of him, defiantly ready to receive the verbal hiding. She didn’t give
him the satisfaction. “I know! I know! Lions, tigers and bears, Oh my!” Sarah
clasped her hands mockingly to her cheeks as she quoted from The Wizard of Oz.
Glaring at her
intensely for a moment, he shook his head of thick light brown hair. Sarah
lifted her chin triumphantly. She knew was he was thinking - Sarah was Sarah; stubborn and full of
disregard for any of the warnings that he constantly gave. He wasn’t
winning anymore and he knew it. Moving along and bending to straighten her
chapette, Sarah heard him wind up to speak with her and she peeped under her
armpit at him. “Get Pete, Mac, and Zander ready. The people are already here
and they brought two extra.”
He sounded agitated and Sarah knew better
than to ask questions. Worrying her lip, she straightened up and began to brush
and tack up the last three horses that were tied, quietly waiting. The other nine horses were ready, as well as
Mark’s bay gelding, Sniper, who was just getting bridled. Mark snapped the
bridle strap into place and stalked off, leaving Sarah wondering. Extra
tourists on a ride meant another guide - namely Brandi. This many people riding
in lion country upped the risks to the point that Mark’s nerves wouldn’t cope.
Why did Johnno keep doing this to them? Did he want to go out of business? Groaning,
Sarah finished up with the horses and went to check in with Johnno in the
office and get her two-way radio and rifle. Why were they getting ready this
early anyway? She thought it was a late ride today.
Johnno wasn’t in the office, but out in the
foyer where twelve riders were being welcomed and directed to fill out their waiver
forms. Johnno looked up briefly; his white bushy eyebrows rising as Sarah
walked in. Ignoring her, he continued his conversation with the young gentleman
before him. Sarah quirked her mouth-he obviously wasn’t too grumpy this
morning, otherwise he would of excused himself and spoken to her immediately
about riding again. Maybe like Mark, he was so used to her defiance that he’d
given up. She walked past the foyer, silently taking stock of the tourists who would
be riding, before making her way back into the offices to retrieve her other
gear.
“You going to have a go at me this morning?”
Challenged Sarah as she breezed past Mark nonchalantly.
He grunted in reply before looking up at
her sharply. “Nice of you to be around this morning to help, by the way.” Mark
tossed a radio to her, a sarcastic twist to his mouth.
She flinched slightly. “I’m not late, in
fact. I’m still early.”
“But they
weren’t.” Mark jerked his head towards the foyer.
“That’s not our problem, Mark. Let them
wait outside. Who let them in early anyway?...oh...” Sarah suddenly remembered
the day with horror, but Mark cut across her thoughts briskly, speaking as if
to a child.
“The boss said that we had to get on the
trail early today. The Park’s board notified us yesterday that they need to
cull again. They said the team would be in to start at noon. Or didn’t you get
that message?”
Sarah bit her lip. She’d forgotten.
“Well?” Mark pressed, stopping and staring at her intensely.
“I’m sorry...” Dropping the radio onto the
side bench, she closed her eyes and kneaded her forehead, suddenly weary of the
conversation. “I forgot!”
Mark stormed off into the next room. Eyes
widening as his dark mood, Sarah followed him through to the rifle safe and
waited as he unlatched the locks.
“Forgot? You of all people should have
remembered. After all, it is your beloved elephants that are getting shot this
afternoon.”
“If we need to get
in and out before the culling, why are we even going into the Kruger? Why not
stay in Letaba?” She cocked her hands on her hips waiting for a reply. Eyes
smoldering, Mark swiftly closed the gap between them, growling low through
gritted teeth. “Because what Johnno wants, Johnno gets!”
Stepping backwards, Sarah shook her head,
not following. Mark glanced over his shoulder towards the foyer where Johnno
was meeting the guests. “Those people are paying extra to see those elephants.
Since the fences were taken down last month, D10 herd has moved into the Kruger.
It doesn’t even matter where we go, the fence is down; the elephants some and
go as they please. The riders, they want elephants, we show them elephants. Got
it?”
“But it’s dangerous
–,”
“I know it’s bloody
dangerous, but it’s our job, ok!?”
“But Johnno -,”
“I don’t care about
what he says! Johnno is a money hungry idiot!” He stopped suddenly, as if he’d
said too much. Sarah arched an elegant brow as he quickly moved and closed the
door leading down towards the foyer. Turning back to her with suspicion, he
tilted his head ironically. “I thought you liked it dangerous!”
Heat rose into Sarah’s features as she
struggled not to retort at him. Mark shrugged and turned back to the gun safe. His
temper cooling, he handed her a Winchester rifle and ammunition. “What Johnno
wants, Johnno gets, and today…he wants us to take the people to see D10 before
they’re culled.”
Ignoring his words, Sarah turned to her own
thoughts. She hated his persistent sarcasm and bad moods, but then again, hers
weren’t much better this morning. Sarah cocked her head to one side, cradling
the weapon. “Aren’t the elephants important to you too?” She queried sincerely,
feeling her own emotions coming back under control. Mark shrugged again as he
loaded shells into his utility belt. His indifference caused a fresh surge of
anger to rise in her. “Why do you even work here, anyway, if you don’t feel
connected to the wildlife?” She spat the words with more venom than she
intended.
Mark started to pull an angry expression,
but smirked instead, “The attractive tourists.” Sarah stood rigid, her clenched
fists causing the biceps on her delicate bare upper arms to bulge in response.
She noticed him watching her and it filled her with even more angst towards the
man. He held her gaze for a moment before exhaling loudly, his shoulders
relaxing slightly. “What’s going on Sarah? Do you not like it here? If you want
to go home, all you have to do is ask.” Narrowing his eyes, he continued to
watch her. Sarah turned away from his gaze. She knew it was his job to look out
for her, keep her welfare in his priorities, but the way he sometimes went
about it infuriated her. He was trying though, she owed him that much.
“It’s not that Mark.”
She turned back towards him as he handed her the ammunition she was required to
also carry on her belt. They wouldn’t load the firearms, unless Mark felt it
necessary. “I’m stressed.” She admitted, sighing. Mark’s lip twisted into
another smirk and she knew he’d just figured he’d won by drawing her out. “I
can tell.” He picked up her radio from the bench and tossed it back to her. Holding
the rifle, she lurched out and juggled it momentarily before securing it in the
crook of her free arm. Mark’s eyes danced sardonically. “Maybe you should flirt
with some attractive riders yourself…might take away the stress.” Sensing the
brief moment of professional sympathy swiftly pass, Sarah’s brow furrowed as
she grabbed up her first aid kit from the bench. She noted it felt rather light
and glaring at him for not restocking last week, she put the other items down
and set about restock it from the shelving above. She pointedly ignored Mark,
giving him a silent treatment he didn’t seem the least bit perturbed about.
Mark laughed pleasantly at her pouting, .
“Another point to me!” He flicked his index finger over his tongue and touched
it to the air, making a hissing sound. Sarah screwed up her face. “You’re still
in my bad books for real though, leaving me to do all the work again. Meet you
at the perde?”
Nodding slightly, she huffed away to the next
room, applied her sunscreen, took up the radio, first aid and rifle in her
arms. Checking that everything else was locked and stowed away properly, she
made her way out to make sure all the horses were ready for the ride, without
another glance at her superior. Mark might have been trail boss, but he acted
like such a child! Brandi was already in the greeting area with Jet, her black
pony. She grinned at Sarah, the excitement of the job still fresh in her young
heart. Brandi had only been with them for a few months. Sarah wondered why
Brandi was so different, not holding the same stress levels as herself and Mark
before a ride of this nature. Surely she knew the dangers; she was always
sprouting them off to Sarah. She had the
blasé of a naïve tourist, despite sitting through all the safety briefs. A
surge of jealously was roused in Sarah to be blessed with the same lack of
apparent fear and nerves.
Sarah’s mouth tilted back weakly, dismayed
that only after a few years on this job, her heart had already waned with the
monotony and stress of it. She thought this was her heart’s desire, to be part
of a trail-riding safari in South Africa. To be training, managing and riding
horses, and be surrounded by the beauty of Africa’s finest. Brennan’s Safari
Trails was a good place to work. The boss was passable, though constantly putting
money over safety, buying in unsuitable horses and expecting her to deal with
it; the staff were bearable, and she was doing what she always wanted. But,
something was still missing. Sarah shook her thoughts away. It was time to work
and she needed to be on her toes.
Laughter and chatter filled the air as Mark
led the twelve riders into the tack-up/horse greeting area. Sarah sat on a log,
propping her elbow on her knee and resting her chin on her hand. She watched
with boredom as Mark settled the tourists and began the tiresome safety brief
that would precede the ride. Sarah watched Mark as he spoke. His earlier mood
swing from temper to mischief had been replaced yet again. His face now
carrying a serious and drawn appearance as he went through the spiel, his eyes
scanning the too large group. There was a young girl in the mix, Sarah judged
her to be possibly ten years old. Too young! Mark noticed it too, because his
eyes flicked to the girl frequently; a clouded look of concern briefly crossing
his features. No one else would have noticed but Sarah. She knew how to read
him most of the time. He often signaled her with his eyes when he found a rider
he thought might need her extra set of eyes trained upon. This was one of those
times. When his eyes passed her way, she nodded her head ever so slightly and
saw him respond. Sarah knew that even though they often couldn’t stand each
other, they worked well together and relied on each other to watch the others
back. Sarah tore her thoughts away from the young girl and examined the rest of
the group.
Most of them were
overseas tourists, a rarity. No wonder Johnno was giving them what they wanted.
Sarah wondered if Johnno had charged extra. The staff wouldn’t see any of it,
even though they did the work. Why Johnno kept taking unnecessary risks by
booking too many inexperienced people and demanding that Mark and Sarah just
deal with it, was getting beyond a joke. All in the name of money. It was a
miracle they hadn’t been closed down already.
Safety talk over, Mark nodded nervously to
Sarah as he exhaled deeply. Sarah stood to help mount the riders. Rubbing his
hands together, Mark suddenly was accosted by a tall, red-haired woman with an English
accent, who seemed to regard the tall, tanned, ruggedly handsome Afrikaner with
the girlishness of a teenager with a crush. His eyes flickered Sarah’s way in a
plea for assistance. Ha! This was her chance for some friendly pay-back. Approaching
Honour, Sarah simply rolled her eyes and smiled to herself; she was not going
to rescue him.
If he joked that he was attracted to the
tourists, then he could get himself out of it. One point to Sarah! As the
riders bustled into action, Sarah moved into Mark’s view only. Swiftly, she
flicked her index finger over her own tongue and touched it to the air,
grinning a toothy grin that he would understand as the hiss that went with the
action. A slight nod of his head showed his acceptance of defeat. The red-head
suddenly looked over her shoulder towards Sarah in confusion. Ducking her face
with amusement, Sarah walked away. Time to focus! She started to think about
the trails that they would take in order to find the wayward elephants. This
was going to be a long and slow ride with so many people. Hopefully, they would
spot some interesting game today, or it would be a complete loss, and hopefully
they all knew how to canter if they needed to ride out of harm’s way; Sarah
thought hopelessly Setting her face
bleakly, she launched herself towards the group and began a conversation with a
middle-aged balding man who was led her way to be mounted on his horse.
As they headed out, Sarah rode flank and
observed them all snaking their way along the dry grasslands that weaved in and
around the prolific Mopane shrubs. Sarah liked this time of year. Soon, the
rains would bring back life and colour to the scrubby dry landscape. Brandi was
up the back relaying excitedly some tale from her adventures on the trail. Mark
was, as usual, leading the group and telling them the history of the area and
what game they should expect to see. They were still working their way through
the large Letaba Game reserve. Eventually, they would cross the border into the
Kruger, where the veldt would flatten out even more and the Mopane was thicker
and harder to spot game in. Sarah saw a young lady in the middle struggling to
work out how to hold her reins. Her father rode behind her exasperatedly trying
to help. “Amy, just...I can’t see...Just try to kick him on and he might stop
doing it.”
“Daaad!
I AM doing that and he keeps throwing his head.”
Sarah struggled against the anger towards Johnno
that rose up and forced a warm smile as she sidled up to help the girl. “Hi
there. Need a hand?”
“Um....Hello,” stuttered the girl, as she
pulled on the reins to get the horse to stop throwing its head. She struggled
to even answer.
Sarah cut in, “Ok,...first...relax. That’s
it. Take a big breath and make yourself flop like jelly. Good job! Now you’re
relaxed. Ok, so sit up a bit now, keep loose though. Don’t let yourself go
stiff. Now, loosen your reins right up.”
“But he’ll run away with me,” protested the
girl.
“Trust me, he won’t. That’s it. Loosen them
right up. Good! Now, take another deep breath.”
The girl sighed and flopped into the
saddle.
Sarah chuckled. “Now, he’s just going to
follow the other horses. Don’t pull on his head, or he’ll get upset, like he
did before.”
Amy giggled in delight at being able to
relax into the ride.
“What do you say Amy?” prompted her father.
“Thank you,” responded the girl. “You’re
right! He is following the leader.”
“Most of our horses here do that. They’re
good like that. Look!” Sarah pointed towards a small herd of zebra that they
were nearing. Amy gasped. Somewhat satisfied,
Sarah’s mouth tightened as she moved on
to help another rider. This was Sarah’s life. Aiding people with the simple
aspects of riding on the trail was starting to become an onerous chore. She was
disgusted at Johnno for not following Mark and her advice on limiting rides to
experienced riders only. A rider as green as Amy was sure lion fodder if
anything went wrong. At the very least they should test them, give them a short
arena lesson. It annoyed Sarah that Johnno didn’t believe in testing and
teaching some basics in the arena first. Some of the basics could be shown in
minutes in an arena, and then fine tuning could happen on the trail. But no, it
wasn’t like that. He just expected Sarah to fix it on the ride. If Sarah had
her way, that would be the first thing to change. Alas, she could not hope for
such fortune. It would forever be as it was now. If Johnno moved on, Mark would
take over and at least things would change for the better, but she doubted he
would keep her on staff.
Sarah sighed, this isn’t what her dream was
supposed to end up like. They moved on for quite some time, stopping
occasionally to do some birding, as Mark spotted the more allusive species.
Many a bird watcher had ventured to Africa, hoping to add some of these native
tit-bids to their proud life-list’s of spotted birds. This crowd was not
interested though.
“When are we going to see some Elephants?”
The tall red-haired English woman asked after a while. Mark didn’t bother to
turn as he kept the group moving. “Hopefully soon. We’re about to go through
into Kruger.”
Sarah watched with idle interest as they
stepped through the unmarked boundary, and the landscape gradually became
denser and more scrubby as they moved into the Kruger.
“LOOK! Over there!”
Several people pointed out towards an
acacia where a couple of willowy giraffe
were stretching into the leaves, chomping away the tree to shape the canopies
into perfect umbrellas, while solid little Oxpeckers jumped about their hides,
cleaning away the insects in a beautiful display of mutualism. . Mark halted
the horses so everyone could watch, then settled back into Sniper’s saddle,
cocking a leg up on the pommel. Several cameras slipped out from hidden pockets
and began to flash and click away towards the unconcerned haughty animals.
Sarah gazed around the heavy foliage to
their left, littered with thick Mopane shrub and Red Bushwillow trees. Prime
hiding for feline hunters. Shuddering, she looked towards Mark, ready to move
on.
A gunshot suddenly rang out, making several
of the horses jump. The giraffes’ heads both snapped in the same direction,
looking for the intrusion to their peaceful grazing. Swiveling their ears back
and forth in agitation, they began to lankily move off.
Mark spun his horse to look for Sarah.
“Sarah!”
She trotted up to him anxiously. “I thought
you said that they were starting at noon? It’s only eight a.m!”
“I know Sarah!” he snapped. “I’ll start
over that way with the group.” He pointed towards a grassy slope. “Can you go
up that rise where there’s a clearing and have a look?” He kept his voice low
so only Sarah could hear. “This will stuff up the ride if they start now. These
people want to see D10 alive; not blood and guts.”
Sarah nodded, relieved for a break in the
routine, but concerned about the cull. Throwing all caution to the wind, she
cantered ahead as Mark radioed back to base.
Mark tried several times to contact Johnno
while he was leading the group down the track. “Mark to base, Mark to base. Do
you copy?” Nothing. Mark cursed under his breath in Afrikaans and glanced over
his shoulder at the group. Nobody looked worried about the gunshot, but
everybody was talking and looking around excitedly.
“Do you think it’s hunters?”
“I didn’t think that was allowed?”
“Surely not in Kruger.”
“I wonder if someone got attacked!”
“Mum, I want to go home. I don’t want my
horse to go crazy.”
Mark knew that this part of The Kruger was
off limits to hunting, but with the current unstable climate of the country, who
knew what a gun-shot would mean. Since the man Mandela had been released from
jail at the beginning of the year, all chaos seemed to be breaking loose as
Apartheid was losing its hold over South Africa. Right-wing factions were
unhappy with change as President Frederik de Klerk wrestled to bring peace to
the nation. Mark felt a pang of insecurity and guilt about his personal
heritage.
Where
are you, Johnno?
He pressed the two-way up to his lips again
and pressed the relay button. “Mark to Sarah. Do you copy?”
“Sarah to Mark. I copy you. Over.”
“Can you see anything? Over.”
“Nothing. Not even plains game. The
wildebeest, zebra – well, everything is gone. The veldt is empty. It’s eerie. Over.”
Mark furrowed his brows. He couldn’t hear
the sounds of any vehicles from another safari. Still, someone must be out
there. He subconsciously reached down, touching his hand to his rifle. Should
he go on with the group, take them back and refund their money, or go another
way? Taking them back wasn’t an option. He was reluctant to keep looking for
elephant now. Mark rubbed his chin, trying to make a decision, and then turned
to the group, preparing to make some kind of announcement.
“Well, they must have got it.” He chuckled,
trying to disperse rumors of danger.
A murmur of laughter rippled through the
group.
“But to play it safe, we’ll go the other
way through Scrubby Trail, back towards Letaba. It’s a good trail to spot
birds, and occasionally we get some big game there too...”
A murmur of grumbles resonated through the
group, but Mark didn’t care. He didn’t care if Johnno had promised elephant;
their safety was in his hands and that came first.. Mark set his face and
turned to continue, putting his radio to his lips again. “Mark to Sarah. Do you
copy?”
“Yes Mark?”
“Are you coming? We’ll go to Scrubby, just
in case. Over.”
“Ok. I just want to check something out
over the crest first. Over and out.”
“No Sarah, it’s too dangerous. Just leave
it. I need you back with the group now! Over.”
Mark frowned again. “Sarah? Sarah? Blast
it!” Mark shook his head angrily. Why must she go off and do her own thing all
the time? Doesn’t she realise how dangerous it is, or that she is part of a
team? Mark clipped his two-way back onto his belt and started off again, trying
not to imagine Sarah as lion’s bait. He would try Johnno again later, but for
now, he had a group to look after.
