ransom. I think you specified gold?”
The tall African almost grinned. At least it might be called a smile, hastily hidden.
“We will have to come to an understanding. One half now and the other half when we deliver your friend.”
Jason could see no way out of this. If he paid over half and they didn’t bring Rafe to him he’d be out a great deal of Damien’s gold. But this stalwart opponent would never be satisfied with promises from a white man. Too many had proven empty as a puff of wind.
Jason put out his hand. “Shall we shake on this agreement, sir?”
He thought the African looked startled and then pleased.
“Yes, we will. Sir.”
Jason recognized the “sir” for the concession it was and grasped the other’s hand.
“Here is half of what I brought. Your chief never specified an amount, so we went by what we could find about past negotiations with your people. We brought what we thought you’d want in gold.”
He held out one of the bags of coins, conscious that at any time the Africans could easily overwhelm his small group and take all the money. Somehow the thought didn’t worry him.
Captain Reeves looked startled and uneasy but Jason motioned him to silence.
The African took the bag and hefted it but didn’t try to check the amount. Then he turned to one of his men.
“Bring the prisoner to his friends.”
Two of them immediately trotted off, as everyone waited.
Now Lobengula’s man seemed to look uneasy but they all remained in silence until the two who’d left returned with a litter made of poles and barkcloth.
And a Rafe Jason almost didn’t recognize.
Thin to the point of emaciation, slivers of gray wove through his draggled dark hair and lines of suffering were etched plainly on his face. A heavily bearded face, the silver-gray streaking showing even more plainly there than in his hair. His right arm lay crookedly at his side, burn marks crossed his forehead and his shirtless body showed many more burns and what looked to Jason to be the end of welts caused by a whip.
Rafe still managed a grin and held out his gaunt left hand.
Jason grasped it, hoping he didn’t show his distress. His friend needed no negative emotions at a time like this.
“I knew you or Damien would come,” Rafe said simply.
“Of course,” Jason said, hoping he hadn’t hurt Rafe when he shook his bony hand. “Let’s start back.”
Jason turned, handing the second bag of gold to Lobengula’s representative.
“Here is the remainder of the gold,” Jason said simply.
No “sir” this time. After seeing Rafe’s pitiful state he found himself incapable of thanking the man for fulfilling his end of the bargain. The large African looked just a little shamed as he took the gold.
“I’m glad you claimed your friend,” he said simply in his impeccable English. He turned away, motioning for his men to follow.
Jason waited and watched until they’d disappeared, although he and the others immediately backed well away from the boundary line and into safer territory. Then he drew a jar of ointment from his saddlebag and came back to Rafe.
“Damien sent this with me. I’m sure it will make you easier.”
Rafe’s eyes sparked with a little more life than before.
“I should have remembered how prescient he is.”
“And a fantastic healer,” Jason said simply. He began to spread the ointment over all the scarred tissue. Rafe sighed in relief, so evidently it was another of Damien’s miracle concoctions.
The other men stood by in horrified silence.
After giving Rafe a minute Jason asked gently, “I’d like to do your back. Do you need help turning on your stomach, Rafe?”
“No, if I use my left arm I can do it.”
Jason could hardly resist helping, as Rafe laboriously turned himself on his stomach and one of the men in the escort gasped aloud. Rafe had been repeatedly flogged and ugly whip marks crisscrossed over his once powerful body.
Jason found tears blurring his eyes as he applied
The tall African almost grinned. At least it might be called a smile, hastily hidden.
“We will have to come to an understanding. One half now and the other half when we deliver your friend.”
Jason could see no way out of this. If he paid over half and they didn’t bring Rafe to him he’d be out a great deal of Damien’s gold. But this stalwart opponent would never be satisfied with promises from a white man. Too many had proven empty as a puff of wind.
Jason put out his hand. “Shall we shake on this agreement, sir?”
He thought the African looked startled and then pleased.
“Yes, we will. Sir.”
Jason recognized the “sir” for the concession it was and grasped the other’s hand.
“Here is half of what I brought. Your chief never specified an amount, so we went by what we could find about past negotiations with your people. We brought what we thought you’d want in gold.”
He held out one of the bags of coins, conscious that at any time the Africans could easily overwhelm his small group and take all the money. Somehow the thought didn’t worry him.
Captain Reeves looked startled and uneasy but Jason motioned him to silence.
The African took the bag and hefted it but didn’t try to check the amount. Then he turned to one of his men.
“Bring the prisoner to his friends.”
Two of them immediately trotted off, as everyone waited.
Now Lobengula’s man seemed to look uneasy but they all remained in silence until the two who’d left returned with a litter made of poles and barkcloth.
And a Rafe Jason almost didn’t recognize.
Thin to the point of emaciation, slivers of gray wove through his draggled dark hair and lines of suffering were etched plainly on his face. A heavily bearded face, the silver-gray streaking showing even more plainly there than in his hair. His right arm lay crookedly at his side, burn marks crossed his forehead and his shirtless body showed many more burns and what looked to Jason to be the end of welts caused by a whip.
Rafe still managed a grin and held out his gaunt left hand.
Jason grasped it, hoping he didn’t show his distress. His friend needed no negative emotions at a time like this.
“I knew you or Damien would come,” Rafe said simply.
“Of course,” Jason said, hoping he hadn’t hurt Rafe when he shook his bony hand. “Let’s start back.”
Jason turned, handing the second bag of gold to Lobengula’s representative.
“Here is the remainder of the gold,” Jason said simply.
No “sir” this time. After seeing Rafe’s pitiful state he found himself incapable of thanking the man for fulfilling his end of the bargain. The large African looked just a little shamed as he took the gold.
“I’m glad you claimed your friend,” he said simply in his impeccable English. He turned away, motioning for his men to follow.
Jason waited and watched until they’d disappeared, although he and the others immediately backed well away from the boundary line and into safer territory. Then he drew a jar of ointment from his saddlebag and came back to Rafe.
“Damien sent this with me. I’m sure it will make you easier.”
Rafe’s eyes sparked with a little more life than before.
“I should have remembered how prescient he is.”
“And a fantastic healer,” Jason said simply. He began to spread the ointment over all the scarred tissue. Rafe sighed in relief, so evidently it was another of Damien’s miracle concoctions.
The other men stood by in horrified silence.
After giving Rafe a minute Jason asked gently, “I’d like to do your back. Do you need help turning on your stomach, Rafe?”
“No, if I use my left arm I can do it.”
Jason could hardly resist helping, as Rafe laboriously turned himself on his stomach and one of the men in the escort gasped aloud. Rafe had been repeatedly flogged and ugly whip marks crisscrossed over his once powerful body.
Jason found tears blurring his eyes as he applied
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