"Forty thousand head of cattle, Ballantyne! A most generous gesture by the Company! "Rhodes repeated portentously, and again he did not add that he had made this return in order to avert the famine which Robyn St. John had warned him would decimate the defeated Matabele nation, and which would have surely brought the intervention of the Imperial government in Whitehall, and possibly the revocation of the Royal Charter under which Rhodes" Company ruled both Mashonaland and Matabeleland. Not such an outstanding act of charity, after all, Ralph thought wryly.
"After giving back those cattle to the indunas, we were left with less than eighty-five thousand head, the Company barely recouped the cost of the war." "Still the indunas claim they were given back only inferior beasts, the old and barren cows and scrub bulls." "Damn it, Ballantyne, the volunteers earned the right to first pick from the herds. Quite naturally, they chose the prime stock." He shot out his right fist with the forefinger aimed like a pistol at Zouga's heart.
"They do say that our own herds, chosen from the captured cattle, are the finest in Matabeleland." "The indunas don't understand that" Zouga answered. "Well then, the least they should understand is that they are a conquered nation. Their welfare depends on the goodwill of the victors. They extended no such consideration to the tribes that they conquered when they lorded it across the continent. Mzilikazi slew a million defenceless souls when he devastated the land south of the Limpopo, and Lobengula, his son, called the lesser tribes his dogs, to kill or cast into slavery as the whim took him. They must not whine now at the bitter taste of defeat." Even gentle Jordan, at the end of the table, nodded at this. "To protect the Mashona tribes from Lobengula's depredations was one of the reasons why we marched on Bulawayo,"he murmured.
"I said that they had grievances," Zouga pointed out. "I did not say that they were justified." "Then what else do they have to complain about?" Rhodes demanded.
"The Company police. The young Matabele bucks whom General St. John has recruited and armed are strutting through the kraals, usurping the power of the indunas, taking their pick of the young girL---" Again Rhodes interrupted. "Better that than a resurrection of the fighting imp is under the indunas. Can you imagine twenty thousand warriors in impi under Babiaan and Gandang and Bozo? No, St. John was right to break the power of the indunas. As Native Commissioner, it is his duty to guard against resurgence of the Matabele fighting tradition."
"Especially in view of the events that are in train south of where we now sit." Dr. Leander Starr Jameson spoke for the first time since he had greeted Ralph, and Rhodes turned to him swiftly.
"I wonder if this is the time to speak of that, Doctor Jim." "Why not? Every man here is trustworthy and discreet. We are all committed to the same bright vision of Empire, and the Lord knows, we are in no danger of being overheard. Not in this wilderness. What better time than now to explain why the Company police must be made even stronger, must be better armed and trained to the highest degree of readiness?"Jameson demanded.
Instinctively Rhodes glanced at Ralph Ballantyne, and Ralph raised one eyebrow, a cynical and mildly challenging gesture that seemed to decide Rhodes.
"No, Doctor Jim," he spoke decisively. "There will be another time for that." And when Jameson shrugged and capitulated, Rhodes turned to Jordan. "The sun is setting," he said, and Jordan rose obediently to charge the glasses. The sundowner whisky was already a traditional ending to the day in this land north of the Limpopo.
The brilliant white gems of the Southern Cross hung over Ralph's camp, dimming the lesser stars, and sprinkling the bald domes of the granite kopjes with a pearly light as Ralph picked his way towards his tent. He had inherited his father's head for liquor, so that his step was even and steady. It was ideas, not whisky, which had inebriated him.
He stooped through the fly of the darkened tent and sat down on the edge of the cot. He touched Cathy's cheek.
"I am awake," she said softly. What time is it?" "After midnight." "What kept you so long?" she whispered, for Jonathan slept just beyond the canvas screen.
"The dreams and boasts of men drunk with power and success." He grinned in the dark and dragged off his boots. "And by God, I did my fair share of dreaming and boasting." He stood to strip off his breeches. "What do you think of Harry Mellow?"he asked, with an abrupt change of pace.
"The American? He is very- Cathy hesitated. "I mean, he seems to be manly and rather nice." "Attractive?" Ralph demanded. "Irresistible to a young woman?" "You know I don't think like that," Cathy protested primly.
"The hell you don't," Ralph chuckled, and as he kissed her, he covered one of her round breasts with his cupped hand. Through the thin cotton nightdress it felt taut as a ripening melon. She struggled genteelly to free her lips from his and to prise his fingers loose, but he held her fast and after a few seconds she struggled no more, and instead she slipped her arms around the back of his neck.
"You smell of sweat and cigars and whisky." "I'm sorry." "Don't be, it's lovely," she putted. "Let me take off my shirt." "No, I'll do it for you." Much later Ralph lay upon his back with Cathy snuggled down against his bare chest.
"How would you like to have your sisters come down from Khami?" he asked suddenly. "They enjoy camp life, but even more, they like to escape from your mother." "It was I who wanted to invite the twins," she reminded him sleepily. "You were the one who said they were too unsettling." "Actually, I said they were too rowdy and boisterous," he corrected her, and she raised her head and looked at him in the faint moonlight that filtered through the canvas.
"A change of heart-" She thought about it for a moment, aware that her husband always had good reason for even his most unreasonable suggestions.
"The American," she exclaimed, with such force that behind the canvas screen Jonathan stirred and whimpered. Instantly, Cathy dropped her voice to a fierce whisper. "Not even you would use my own sisters you wouldn't, would you?" He pulled her head down onto his chest again. "They are big girls now. How old are they?" "Eighteen." She wrinkled her nose as his damp, curly chest hairs tickled it. "But, " "Old maids, already." "My own sisters you wouldn't use them?"
"They never get to meet decent young men at Khami. Your mother frightens them all off." "You are awful, Ralph Ballantyne." "Would you like a demonstration of just how awful I can be?" She considered that for a moment, and then, "Yes, please, "she giggled softly. "one day I will be riding with you," Jonathan said. "Won't I, Papa?" "One day, soon," Ralph agreed, and ruffled the child's dark curling head. "Now I want you to take care of your mother while I am away, Jon-Jon." Jonathan nodded, his face pale and set, the tears grimly restrained.
"Promise?" Ralph squeezed the small warm body that he held on his lap, and then he stooped from the saddle and stood the child beside Cathy, and Jonathan took her hand protectively, though he did not reach to her hip.
"I promise, Papa," he said, and gulped, staring up at his father on the tall horse.
Ralph touched Cathy's cheek lightly with his fingertips. 41 love you," she said softly.
"My beautiful Katie." And it was true. The first yellow rays of sunlight in her hair turned it into a bright halo and she was serene as a madonna, in the deep fastness of their love.