A Touch of Betrayal (14 page)

“It’s an appropriate address for somebody who puts his nose into other people’s business. You and Sentero have cooked up quite a scheme this time, haven’t you?”

“I am sure I do not know what ‘scheme’ you are talking about. Now, will you listen to the wisdom of your elders, as a young man should? Or will you continue in the foolish pattern that has brought you no wealth, no security, and no future?”

Grant folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Wisdom is not always white headed, Sambeke.”

“You address me disrespectfully, yet you throw a good Maasai proverb at me? Then I shall retort: It is unlikely that you will find a gray head who is unwise.”

“You and Sentero have great wisdom,” Grant said, his voice more gentle. “I have sought your counsel in many matters, my teacher.”

“But this you choose to ignore?”

“May I cut in here, gentlemen?” Alexandra spoke up. She was beginning to feel like a heifer being bartered at a county fair—and not a very prized heifer at that. “I’ll make my own decisions about my future, thank you. Right now, I’m tired, and we’ve been away from Mama Hannah for hours. I’d like to get going, please.”

“Of course, my dear,” Sambeke said. “In a moment.” He turned back to Grant. “Now, Dr. Thornton—Sentero, the other elders, and I shall not let this matter rest until it has been resolved. You have lived near our people many years, and we consider you almost as one of our young warriors. I’m afraid that none of the elders is willing to assume the role of adoptive father for you. You are simply too unorthodox. And the young lady cannot expect to find a good Maasai father quickly either. This unfortunate fact, however, allows you to dispense with the giving of gifts and all other matters related to the marriage dowry. It leaves merely the giving of the silver chain and the performance of the ceremony. You
do
have a chain?”

“I do not have a chain, and I—”

“I might have known!” He parted his blanket and slipped a waist-length silver chain over his head. “Here you are, then. You owe me a young goat for this, my dear man. Give the chain to Miss Prescott when the two of you have worked out the details of your future union. When the
Eunoto
ceremony has ended, we shall be more than happy to perform a wedding. Good night to you both!”

“May you lie down with honey and milk,” Grant said as the old man strolled away with young Mayani at his side. “Clueless,” he muttered as he slipped the chain into his pocket. “Completely clueless. Sambeke lived in England for years, and he still looks at things only from the Maasai point of view. I’m sorry he cornered you, Alexandra. He’s just trying to be helpful.”

“I understand the elders’ concern,” she said. “But what I do with my future is none of their business.”

“Bunch of busybodies, if you ask me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Look at them over there discussing the two of us. I’ll bet you never thought you’d wind up with a marriage proposal on this trip.”

“I never thought I’d wind up with any of the things that have happened to me.”

“Your basic disaster, huh?”

“More or less.” She started toward the
kraal
gate with him. “So, are you still determined to stay here through the entire ceremony? The venerable elders are going to expect an answer about your future state of matrimony.”

“Could be worse. I’ll deal with it one way or another.”

“Why
don’t
you marry, Grant?” she asked as they walked toward the faint lights of the camp. “Mama Hannah seems to think it’s a good idea. Surely there’s some woman who wouldn’t mind living out in the bush. Maybe you could find another researcher or something. Even
I
used to love camping with my father.”

“Even you—the big-city lady?”

“I spent a good part of my childhood on a Texas ranch, buster. I love camping, okay? The tents, the fresh air, the sunshine. Because of my business, I work in New York. But I like being out in the wild. There’s bound to be a woman somewhere who could tolerate you and your lifestyle enough to marry you.”

He laughed. “I’m flattered. But no thanks. I’m a happy camper just as I am. What about you? You’ve got money, looks, education, and talent. Surely those New York junior executives are champing at the bit to slip a diamond on your finger. Besides that, Sentero assures me you’re in your prime childbearing years.”

“Oh, he does?” Alexandra lifted her chin and soaked in the vision of the starry night sky as they walked along side by side. “The truth is, I’ve always felt different from most people. I haven’t ever really fit. In school, I was too rich for the regular kids, and I was too artsy for the highbrow bunch. I chose a career in design, but my coworkers are intimidated by the money thing. Everyone who isn’t intimidated is trying to manipulate it away from me. I really can’t trust anyone. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand what that’s like.”

“I trust people. But I know what it’s like to feel different. Try growing up as a white kid in Africa with Mama Hannah for a mother. When I got to college, I could speak five languages, and I’d been to the Nile, the Sahara, and the top of Mount Kilimanjaro. But I didn’t know how to work a Coke machine.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Go ahead. Laugh at my pain.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You’re laughing.” He reached over and poked her in the ribs. When she let out a giggle, he did it again. “There you go again.”

“You rat!” She gave him a gentle shove, and he caught her fingers.

“Oops—I forgot. No touching.” He dropped her hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m better, I guess. At least I think I am.”

“You mean you semi-trust me—another human being? You don’t think I’m after your money?”

“You’d be smart to go after my money. If you want permanent funding for all your anthropological research projects, you ought to reconsider Sambeke’s idea.”

“Last I heard, your finances were in chaos. Maybe you ought to listen to Sambeke and make a play for me.”

“The Man with Seven Socks.”

“Don’t forget I now own a valuable silver chain.” He pulled it out of his pocket and dangled it in front of her. “You are getting very sleepy, Alexandra. Very sleepy. You are in a trance. When you awaken, you will have a strong affinity for blood milkshakes and canvas tents and anthropologists.”

“Get that chain out of my face, Houdini. I can’t see where I’m—” She stopped and peered at the campsite. One of the lanterns was swaying in a widening arc as the tent pole that held it snapped back and forth. “Look at that, Grant. What’s going on?”

He swung around. “Mama Hannah,” he breathed. “Someone’s in her tent. Stay here!”

Grant broke into a run, the flashlight beam swinging across the grass as he dashed toward the tent. Suddenly terrified, Alexandra glanced behind her. Images of shadowy creatures reared up from the brush. Wild dogs. Wild men. She couldn’t stay alone in the bush—there was no place to hide, no safety. She clenched her fists and sprinted after Grant.

“Loomali!” he was shouting to the Maasai guard. “Loomali—
kaji negol?
What’s going on? Who’s there?”

Alexandra saw a shadow emerge from the tent a second before it collapsed in a puff of canvas. Grant let out a bellow of rage. “Hey—who are you? What have you done to my mother? Stop!”

Dear God, is it him? Is it Nick Jones? What’s happened to Mama Hannah?
Her palms clammy, Alexandra threw herself down in the deep grass.
Oh, God, save us! Save us!

She covered her head with her arms as she listened to the shouts—Grant, another man, and then another. English words mingled with Maasai. The sounds of scuffling echoed across the darkness. A heavy weight slammed into something metal. More shouts, more cries.

Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut. She had brought this. She had brought the killer to Grant’s campsite.
Oh, God, what shall I do?
The
kraal
! She should run back to the
kraal
and call the warriors. How could she make them understand what was happening?

Sambeke would know.

She forced herself to her feet. But which direction was the
kraal
? She searched the darkness for familiar markers. In the campsite clearing, the men thrashed around the fallen tent. Was Mama Hannah still inside it? What if she needed help? Someone should go to her. Alexandra bit her lip. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the clearing. Nick Jones would see her and attack again.

But Mama Hannah might be hurt. At the very least, she would be terrified. Alexandra swallowed at the knot of fear in her throat.
Lord, I’m so scared! Help me!

She gritted her teeth and started toward the clearing. Grant’s tent was still standing, its lantern swinging as the silhouetted men brawled around it. The other lantern lay on the ground. A patch of burning kerosene spread across the grass toward the crumpled tent.

Fire!

Where did Grant keep his water? Alexandra raced to the edge of the camp and located the heavy plastic tank. Hurling her shoulder against it, she managed to topple it to the ground. Then she rolled it toward the fire. As she neared the tent, she could see a huddled shape moving beneath the canvas.

“Grant?” Mama Hannah’s voice called weakly. “
Toto
?”

Terrified to respond for fear that the attacker might hear her, Alexandra uncapped the tank and allowed the sloshing water to gurgle out onto the licking flames. Then she plunged toward the tent.

“Mama Hannah!” she whispered. “I’m coming for you!”

She found the tent opening just as a car started up at the edge of the clearing. Was Grant running away? Or was Nick escaping? Determined to help the only person she could truly trust in this wilderness, she tunneled under the folds of canvas. In the utter darkness, she bumped into the edge of an overturned cot, then crawled over it. She banged her forehead on the corner of a metal trunk.

“Ouch! Mama Hannah?”

“Alexandra, I am here!”

“I’m coming for you. Hold out your hand.” She reached into the void and felt the touch of warm fingers. “Are you all right, Mama Hannah?”

“Oh, Alexandra, my
toto
!” Mama Hannah’s arms slipped around the younger woman. “I have been praying for you! But now I see you are well.”

“Praying for
me
? What about you?”

“God is with me,” Mama Hannah whispered. “‘The Lord is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid?’ It is for you I fear, and for my Grant.”

Alexandra huddled under the tent, her head on Mama Hannah’s shoulder. “Nick Jones is out there,” she said, listening to the frightening silence outside. “He came for me. He’s going to hurt us.”

“Pray, child. Pray. ‘You are my God! Listen, O Lord, to my cries for mercy! O Sovereign Lord, my strong savior—’”

“Mama Hannah?” Grant’s voice broke through the murmured prayer. “Where are you, Mama Hannah?”

“Here,
toto
! We are in the tent.”

“Who’s with you?”

“Alexandra. She is protecting me.”

The tent began to lift overhead, and Alexandra struggled to push away the sagging fabric. Mama Hannah was the protector, she sensed—and not the other way around. Alexandra had been so frightened. She was frightened even now. But the old woman’s calm voice and gentle words of hope and comfort gave her strength.

“Come with me, Mama Hannah,” she said, rising to a crouch. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Oh,
toto,
allow me to sit until the tent has risen. The man caused me a small injury.”

“What did he do? Did he hit you?” Alexandra fell to her knees again as Grant emerged through the tent opening with the flashlight. He wedged the central tent pole into the canvas peak and propped it up; then he swung the flashlight beam toward the two women.

“Mama Hannah, your head! You’re bleeding.” Grant sank to the ground and gathered the old woman in his arms. “I’m here now, Mama. How bad does it hurt?”

“It is nothing,
toto
. The man had a knife, and he believed his weapon would make me speak to him.”

Grant stripped off his shirt and began dabbing it against Mama Hannah’s temple. “He cut you to make you talk?”

“Ehh. He said he would like to slit my throat. But I asked him, ‘Sir, how then will I speak to you?’ I think he is not a very clever man.”

“It must have been Nick Jones,” Alexandra whispered, feeling faint. “Oh, Grant, she’s bleeding so much!”

He pressed on the wound where the knife had sliced through skin and muscle. “The guy’s a demon. He tied Loomali up and strung him from a tree by his arms and legs. Humiliating. The poor man’s gone back to the
kraal
to get help.”

“Grant, I’m so sorry,” Alexandra said. “This is all my fault. I never should have come here.”

“Forget it. The main thing now is to take care of Mama Hannah. We’ve got to get her to a doctor.”

“
Toto
, the wound is not so bad.”

“Alexandra, press this against her head,” Grant said, ignoring Mama Hannah’s protest. “I’m going to my tent for my first-aid kit.”

“What about Jones?”

“He’s gone. He didn’t get what he came for.”

Me,
Alexandra thought as Grant disappeared through the tent opening.
He came for me. He tracked me out here to the middle of nowhere. He tried to force Mama Hannah to tell him where I was. And soon he’s going to kill me!