Power of the Sword - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн регистрации .TXT) 📗
We will walk down, cheri, she called to the young man who stepped out of the opposite side of the Daimler, to see if the crossing is safe. Shasa seemed to have grown inches in the short time since Lothar had last seen him. They left the vehicle and went side by side down the track below where Lothar lay.
Manfred was in his trench at the bottom end of the cutting. He also watched the pair come down the track. The woman meant nothing to him. She was his mother but he did not know that and there was no instinctive response within him. She had never given him suck or even held him in her arms. She was a stranger, and he glanced at her without any emotion, then turned all his attention to the youth at her side.
Shasa's good looks offended him. He's pretty as a girl, he thought, trying to scorn him, but he saw the new breadth to his rival's shoulders and fine muscle in his brown arms where he had rolled his sleeves high.
I would like another bout with you, my friend. The almost forgotten sting and humiliation of Shasa's left fist hurt again like a fresh wound, and he touched his own face with his fingertips, scowling at the memory. Next time I won't let you do your little dance. And he thought about how hard it had been to touch that pretty face, the way it had swayed and dipped just beyond his reach and he felt the frustration anew.
The couple reached the foot of the cutting below where Manfred lay and stood talking quietly for a while, then Shasa trudged out into the wide river-bed. The roadway through the sand had been corduroyed with branches of acacia, but the wheels of heavy trucks had broken them up. Shasa rearranged them, stamping the jagged ends into the sand.
While he worked Centaine turned back to the Daimler.
There was a canvas water bag hanging on the bracket of the spare wheel and she unhooked it, raised it to her lips and took a mouthful. She gargled softly and then spat it into the dust. Then she slipped off the long white dust-jacket that protected her clothing and unbuttoned her blouse. She soaked the yellow scarf and wiped the damp cloth down her throat and over her bosom, gasping with pleasure at the coolness on her skin.
Lothar wanted to turn his head away, but he could not; instead he stared at her. She wore nothing under the pale blue cotton blouse. The skin of her bosom was untouched by the sun, pale smooth and pearly as fine bone china. Her breasts were small, without any puckering and sagging, the tips pointed and still clear rose-coloured as those of a girl, not of a woman who had borne two sons. They bounced elastically as she drew the wet scarf over them and she looked down at them as she bathed the gleam of perspiration from them. Lothar moaned softly in his throat at the need of her that rose freshly and strongly from deep within him.
All set, Mater, Shasa called as he started back up the track, and quickly Centaine rebuttoned the front of her blouse.
We've wasted enough time, she agreed and slipped back behind the wheel of the Daimler. As Shasa slammed his door she gunned the big motor down the track, kicking up sand and splinters of acacia in a spray from the back wheels as she crossed the river-bed and flew up the far bank. The rumble of the engine dwindled into the desert silence and Lothar found he was trembling.
None of them moved for many minutes. It was Swart Hendrick who rose to his feet first. He opened his mouth to speak and then saw the expression on Lothar's face and remained silent. He scrambled down the bank and set off back towards the camp.
Lothar climbed down to the spot where the Daimler had stopped. He stood looking down at the damp earth where she had spat that mouthful of water. Her footprints were narrow and neat in the dust, and he felt a strong urge to stoop and touch them but suddenly Manfred spoke close behind him.
He is a boxer, he said, and it took Lothar a moment to realize that he was talking about Shasa. He looks a real sissy, but he can fight. You can't hit him. He put up his fists and shadow-boxed, shuffling and dancing in the dust, imitating Shasa.
Let's get back to the camp, out of sight, Lothar said, and Manfred dropped his guard and thrust his hands into his pockets. Neither of them spoke again until they reached the dugout.
Can you box, Pa? Manfred asked. Can you teach me to box? Lothar smiled and shook his head. I always found it easier to kick a man between his legs, he said. And then hit him with a bottle or a gun butt. I would like to learn to box, Manfred said. Someday I will learn. Perhaps the idea had been germinating there all along but suddenly it was a firm declaration. His father smiled indulgently and clapped him on the shoulder.
Get out the flour bag, he said. And I will teach you to bake soda bread instead.
Oh, Abe, you know how much I detest these soirees! Centaine exclaimed irritably. Crowded rooms filled with tobacco smoke, exchanging inanities with strangers. This man could be very valuable to know, Centaine. I will go further than that, he could be the most valuable friend you'll ever make in this territory. Centaine pulled a face. Abe was right, of course. The administrator was in fact the governor of the territory with wide executive powers. He was appointed by the Government of the Union of South Africa under the powers of mandate conferred on it by the Treaty of Versailles.
I expect he is another pompous old bore, just like his predecessor was. I haven't met him, Abe admitted. He only arrived in Windhoek to take up his appointment within the last few days and will not be sworn in until the first of next month, but our new concessions in the Tsumeb area are on his desk at this moment, awaiting his signature. He saw her eyes shift and he pressed the advantage. 'Two thousand square miles of exclusive prospecting rights worth a few hours of boredom? But she wouldn't give in that easily, and she counterattacked. We are due to hook onto the express that leaves this evening. Shasa must be back at Bishops on Wednesday morning. Centaine stood up and paced the saloon of her coach, stopping to rearrange the roses in the vase above her desk so she did not have to look at him as he deflected her thrust.
The next express leaves Tuesday evening. I have made arrangements for your coach to hook on. Master Shasa can leave on this evening's express, I have booked a coupe for him. Sir Garry and his wife are still at Weltevreden, they would meet him at Cape Town station. It needs only a telegraph to arrange it. Abraham smiled across the saloon at Shasa. I'm sure, young man, you can make the journey without anyone to hold your hand? Abe was a cunning little devil, Centaine conceded, as Shasa rushed indignantly to take up the challenge.
Of course I can, Mater. You stay here. it's important to meet the new administrator. I can get home on my own.
Anna will help me pack for school. Centaine threw up her hands. 'if I die of boredom, Abe, let it be on your conscience for as long as you live! She had at first planned to wear her full suite of diamonds, but decided against it at the last moment. After all, it's only a little provincial reception, with fat farmers wives and petty civil servants. Besides, I don't want to blind the poor old dear. So she settled for a yellow silk evening dress by Coco Chanel. She had worn it before, but in Cape Town, so it was unlikely anybody here had seen it.
It was expensive enough to bear two wairings, she consoled herself. Too good for them, anyway. She settled on a pair of solitaire diamond ear studs, not too large to be ostentatious, but around her neck she wore the huge yellow diamond the colour of champagne on a platinum chain. It drew attention to her small pointed breasts; she liked the effect.
Her hair was a worry, as always. It was full of electricity from the dry desert air. She wished Anna was here, for she was the only one who could manage that lustrous unruly bush. In despair she tried to make a virtue of its disorder, deliberately fluffing it out into a halo and holding it up with a velvet band around her forehead.
