to meet David. He was a big man, broad and tall and beefy, with thick
heavily muscled arms still scarred from the lion attack, and a red
sunburned face.
He wore the suntans and slouch hat of the Park's service, with the green
cloth badges on his epaulets.
Behind him was parked his brown Chevy truck with the Park Board's emblem
on the door, and two of his black game rangers seated in the back. One
of them was holding a heavy rifle.
Berg stood with his clenched fists on his hips, his hat pushed back and
a forbidding expression on his face. He so epitomized the truculent
male animal guarding his territory that David muttered to Debra, Here
comes trouble. He parked close beside the fence and he and Debra
climbed down and went to the wire.
Mr. Berg. I am David Morgan. I remember you from when my father owned
Jabulani. I'd like you to meet my wife. Berg's expression wavered.
Naturally he had heard all the rumours about the new owner of Jabulani;
it was a lonely isolated area and it was his job to know about these
things. Yet he was unprepared for this dreadfully mutilated young man,
and his blind but beautiful wife.
With an awkward gallantry Berg doffed his hat, then realized she would
not see the gesture. He murmured a greeting and when David thrust his
hand through the fence he shook it cautiously.
Debra and David were working as a team and they turned their combined
charm upon Berg, who was a simple and direct min. Slowly his defences
softened as they chatted. He admired Zulu, he also kept labradors and
it served as a talking-point while Debra unpacked a Thermos of coffee
and David filled mugs for all of them.
Isn't that Sam? David pointed to the game ranger in the truck who held
Berg's rifle. ja. Berg was guarded. He used to work on Tabulani. He
came to me of his own accord, Berg explained, turning aside any implied
rebuke.
He wouldn't remember me, of course, not the way I look now. But he was
a fine ranger, and the place certainly went to the bad without him to
look after it, David admitted before he went into a frontal assault. The
other thing which has ruined us is this fence of yours. David kicked
one of the uprights.
You don't say? I Berg swished the grounds of his coffee around the mug
and flicked it out.
Why did you do it? For good reason. , MY father had a gentleman's
agreement with the Board, the boundary was open at all times. We have
got water and grazing that you need. With all respects to the late Mr.
Morgan, Conrad Berg spoke heavily, I was never in favour of the open
boundary. Why not? Your daddy was a sportsman. He spat the word out,
as though it were a mouthful of rotten meat. When my lions got to know
him and learned to stay this side of the line, then he used to bring
down a couple of donkeys and parade them along the boundary, to tempt
them out. David opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it slowly.
He felt the seamed scars of his face mottling and staining with a flush
of shame. It was true, he remembered the donkeys and the soft wet lion
skins being pegged out to dry behind the homestead.
He never poached, David defended him. He had an owner's licence and
they were all shot on our land. 'No, he never poached, Berg admitted.
He was too damned clever for that. He knew I would have put a rocket up
him that would have made him the first man on the moon. 'So that's why
you put up the fence. 'No. Why then? Because for fourteen years
Jabulani has been under the care of an absentee landlord who didn't give
a good damn what happened to it. Old Sam here, he motioned at the game
ranger in the truck - did his best, but still it became a poachers
paradise. As fast as the grazing and water you boast of pulled my game
out of the Park, so they were cut down by every sportsman with an itchy
trigger finger. When Sam tried to do something about it, he got badly
beaten up, and when that didn't stop him somebody put fire into his hut
at night.
They burned two of his kids to death. David felt his very soul quail at
the thought of the flames on flesh, his cheeks itched at the memory. I
didn't know, he said gruffly.
No, you were too busy making money or who tever is your particular form
of pleasure, Berg was angry. -all at last Sam came to me and I gave him
a job. Then I strung this fence. There is nothing left on Jabulani, a
few kudu and a duiker or two, but otherwise it's all gone. You are so
right. it didn't take them long to clean it out. 'I want it back. Why?
Berg scoffed. So you can be a sportsman like your daddy? So you can
fly your pals down from Jo'burg for the weekend to shoot the shit out of
my lions? Berg glanced at Debra, and immediately his red face flushed a
deep port-wine colour. I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan, I did not mean to say
that. That's perfectly all right, Mr. Berg. I think it was very
expressive. Thank you, ma'am. Then he turned furiously back to David.
Morgan's Private Safari Service, is that what you are after? I would
not allow a shot fired on Jabulani, 'said David.
I bet, except for the pot. That's the usual story.
Except for the pot, and you've got the battle of Waterloo being fought
all over again. No, said David. Not even for the pot.
You'd eat butcher's beef? Berg asked incredulously.
Look here, Mr. Berg. if you pull your fence out, I'll have Jabulani
declared a private nature reserve Berg had been about to say something,
but David's declaration dried the words, and his mouth remained hanging
open. He closed it slowly.
You know what that means? he asked at last. You place yourself under
our jurisdiction, completely. We'd tie you up properly with a lawyer's
paper and all that stuff: no owner's licence, no shooting lions because
they are in a cattle area. Yes. I know. I've studied the act. But
there is something more. I'd undertake to fence the other three
boundaries to your satisfaction, and maintain a force of private game
rangers that you considered adequate, all at my own expense. Conrad
Berg lifted his hat and scratched pensively at the long sparse grey
hairs that covered his pate. Man, he said mournfully, how can I say no
to that?
Then he began to smile, the first smile of the meeting. It looks like
you are really serious about this then. 'My wife and I are going to be
living here permanently.
We don't want to live in a desert. Ja, he nodded, understanding
completely that a man should feel that way. The strong revulsion that
he had onginally felt for the fantastic face before him was fading.
I think the first thing we should work on is these poachers you tell me
about. Let's snatch a couple of those and make a few examples, David
went on.
Berg's big red face split into a happy grin.
I think I'm going to enjoy having you as a neighbour, he said, and again
he thrust his hand through the fence.
David winced as he felt his knuckles cracking in the huge fist.
Won't you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?
You and your wife? Debra asked with relief. It will be a mighty great
pleasure, ma'mI'll get out the whisky bottle, said David. That's kind
of you, said Conrad Berg seriously, but the missus and I only drink Old
Buck dry gin, with a little water. 'I'll see to it, said David just as
seriously.
Jane Berg was a slim woman of about Conrad's age. She had a dried-out
face, lined and browned by the sun. Her hair was suribleached and