Page 54 of In the Heat of the Jungle

“And I feel twenty years older, my love.”

Chad laughed and said, “It wouldn’t be the first time Jace saved my life, would it? You remember in ‘89 when I riled that native in the Samoan Islands by chasing his girl? I thought she was inviting me into her hut for the night. Her man and his friends started beating me senseless. They dragged me down the beach and tried to drown me in the ocean. I came up spitting dirt and water to find Jace all over them. He had to whip three men to rescue me. Broke his nose. What a fight. Those were some good old days, weren’t they, Jace?”

“Yep, and you’re still a reckless bastard,” he quipped, grinning at that amusing memory and rubbing the small bump on his nose.

“But we always won every battle, old chap, and they were fun.”

“What will we do with him?” Reid asked, motioning to the dead rhino and ceasing the merriment.

“One of the extra men will take his head downriver to be prepared,” Jace revealed. He called the bearers forward to remove the head, load it on a carrying board, and transport it back to camp.

A successful hunt completed, they headed back to camp. They reached the area by five o’clock, with plenty of daylight left. As the white men celebrated with wine, the natives sang and danced as they carried the board with rhino head around the campfire in a victorious ritual. Everyone watched and enjoyed the ceremony.

Passing Leigh to fetch a map from his tent, Jace murmured, “You broke rule one today, woman; you screamed. That puts me a point ahead, and you owe me a kiss. I’ll collect when it’s safe.”

Leigh had strolled around the day after Cynthia’s surprise arrival at her tent, to find no other shelter with a secret escape route. She wanted to know if Jace had used that special tent with other women in the past, or if it had been made just for her. If so, it had been mighty cocky of him.

Jace spread a map over one table. “We’ll head for the Ambroseli Plains next, then Kajiado, and on to Nairobi and the Aberdare Range. We’ll take the Tana River to the coast, then back to Mombasa. Every visitor should see the Great Rift Valley. After we reach Nairobi, it’ll mostly be sightseeing until we reach the river. There’s plenty of game along its banks. The trek should take about two months.”

“Sounds great, Jace. This is about the only place in the world we haven’t seen together. You ever thought of going back to Australia?”

“Nope.” Jace noted Chad’s mellow mood.

“I remember all those opals our ships picked up there and took to London. We should have invested in one of those mines. It would be worth a fortune today.”

“You and Jace were in Australia together?”

“Many times, Louisa. When we were in the Royal Navy, our ship transported convicts to the colonies there, then goods back to England. The scum of mankind, right, Jace?”

“That’s right. Tasmania was said to be the ideal dumping ground for incorrigible prisoners. Port Arthur was a penal colony, one of the most notorious prisons in the world. I hated taking even convicts there. They were used like slave labor—if they survived the harsh conditions and brutal treatment. The guards used vicious dogs to hunt down escapees. They had this lookout on a place called Eagle Hawk Neck.”

“You remember Paddington?” After Jace nodded, Chad revealed, “It was a legendary slum district in the eighties. The balconies were made from the iron ballasts in ships. You didn’t walk through there alone at night, did you, Jace?” The two men exchanged looks, grinned at a shared reflection, and shook their heads.

“What are the plans for tomorrow?” Reid asked as he poured everyone more wine.

“We hunt zebra. The following day, if you’d all like, we can visit a Masai village. It’s quite interesting.”

“That sounds wonderful, Jace,” Leigh said with anticipation.

“If you don’t mind us skipping the hunt,” Cynthia said, “Louisa and I would like to rest tomorrow. We aren’t accustomed to so much walking. Then, we’ll be eager and ready to head for that native village.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Chad said in a casual tone. “What about you, Leigh? You coming or resting?”

Leigh wanted to be with Jace. She wanted to study both men. She didn’t want to be stuck in camp all day with those women harassing her with questions. “I want to see everything, so I’m going with you men.”

She felt Louisa’s cold stare on her, but she didn’t care. Jace and Chad smiled at her. “Tell us about native superstitions. Do tribes really eat blondes for good luck?” she asked, laughing merrily.

“Some do, I’m sure,” Jace replied after chuckling. “These people believe in witches, too. They’re associated with the night, with hyenas, snakes, and other detested creatures. They’re said to inherit or learn their skills to harm or slay people. Some of the tribes believe the soul—calledKra—of a departed leader lives in a sacred stool, and each successor joins it there at death. No crime is worse than for another tribe to steal one or destroy it, because the souls of past rulers are then lost forever. There’s even a secret society that forces warriors to commit suicide if they abuse their tribal positions. The Kikuyu believe that to spit on a person is a friendly gesture, the highest honor you can receive, a gift of himself. So, if a Kikuyu spits on you, don’t insult him by striking him or wiping it off.”

“You must be joking,” Louisa scoffed, frowning.

“Nope, it’s the absolute truth; I swear it. Ask Johi. He’s Kikuyu. Johi is my right arm. He knows this land and these animals better than anyone. A guide would be lost without an assistant like him. He’s one with nature and he has this big map inside his head. He knows what the natives and animals feel and think.”

Leigh noticed the affection and admiration Jace felt for Wanjohi. She saw the dark-skinned man grin broadly, exposing snow-white teeth and twinkling eyes. Each man was different, yet they were alike in many ways. Each had his own customs and personality, but each respected the other’s. It was apparent they worked well together, and complemented each other. Perhaps Johi would talk more later.

Leigh also realized how special Jace really was. Clearly being a safari guide took a unique man, one who loved outdoor work, who craved excitement, who loved challenging danger. He was a man who stayed calm in perilous situations. He could endure the worst conditions. He was a skilled tracker and gunman, and he knew how to be a leader. He was smart enough to know how to handle people on hunts. He was well prepared with supplies and with entertaining stories and enlightening facts. He knew how to make people relax, to be careful, to leave his land victorious.

“Tell us more, Jace,” she encouraged as they dined. “We want to be prepared when we visit that village.”

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