I looked at Gerry to back me up, but he only sat pinched in his chair, his neck flaring pink under the line of his trimmed beard. “Perhaps you could offer to pay half, Beryl,” he finally offered.
“With what? I live like a pauper, Gerry. You know that. And besides, why should I pay for her care? That’s an owner’s place. I certainly won’t get a penny when she wins.”
“She’s won nothing,” Viola said flatly.
“You haven’t given me time.”
“I can’t see how we can take the risk now,” George pronounced, folding his arms over his tight-fitting vest.
And so the matter was settled, and not in my favour. I would have to pay the fees, somehow, and the Carsdale-Lucks were letting me go. They would give me a week to find another place to live and clear off their property. I went back to my cold hut that night feeling kicked and maligned. Gerry had assured me he wasn’t going to pull the Baron away from me, but I would have to find more horses, and somewhere to live while I trained them. I sat up late, poring over my account books, wondering how I would come up with the money for Melton Pie, when I heard footsteps outside my hut. There was no bar on my door, and for a long moment, I froze. Was it George Carsdale-Luck coming to ask for the cash on hand? Was it Jock, ready to announce that he’d changed his mind about the divorce? My heart clutched and thundered in my chest.
“Hodi,” a man’s voice called from just outside.
“Karibu,” I said as I moved towards the door, still not recognizing the voice.
I pushed open the thatch door and saw a tall, well-muscled warrior with his shuka gathered over one shoulder. A curved sword rested in a leather scabbard swung low on narrow hips. His hair was shorn close but for one heavy plait that began at his forehead and cut over his clean scalp. His eyes were black and bottomless and when I saw them I wanted to cry. Arap Ruta had found me. He’d found me, even here.
I looked at his bare feet, the plaited thongs tied around dusty ankles. He’d walked from Njoro—pointing himself at me the way you might throw a single arrow at several hundred square miles. For all of Kenya’s vastness, it was incredibly difficult to disappear into, even if you wanted to. There were so few of us that we left trails as clear as smoke signals. That Ruta had managed to find me wasn’t a surprise, but that he had wanted to. I thought he had forgotten me.
“I’m so happy to see you, Ruta. You look well. How is your family?”
“There has been cattle sickness at home.” He stepped into the patchy glow of my lantern. “It’s difficult to feed many on little or nothing.”
“How awful,” I told him. “Is there something I can do?”
“Everything has changed. There is no work. I thought you might have a job for me to do.”
He’d been proud even as a boy; as a man I guessed he was even more so, and that it hadn’t been easy for him to come to me asking for a favour. “You’re my oldest friend, Ruta. I would do anything I could to help, but I don’t know if there is work just now.”
He looked at me, trying to read my expression. “Your father was happy to have me in his stables. I haven’t forgotten what I know about horses, and I still ride well. I could sit anything once.”
“Yes, I remember. Will you come in?”
He nodded and brushed the dust from his feet, and then sat on a folding stool as I tried to explain. “Things have been difficult. One day there might be many horses to train, and plenty of money for everyone, but for now…” I let my words trail away.
“I am patient.” His eyes were clear and black and steady. “When we win, you can pay me.”
“But I don’t know when that will be. The best chance I have is the Baron, at the Produce Stakes, four months away. I haven’t begun to prove myself here yet.”
“I believe we can win, memsahib.”
“You do?” I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve been doing it all alone, but the truth is I don’t know how much real faith I have any more.”
“I’ve never seen you show fear. I am not afraid, either. I will send for someone to bring my wife. She will cook for us.”
“It’s a good plan, Ruta, but where will we put everyone?”
“We are serious and mean to win derbies. Surely room can be found.”
I sat blinking, astonished by Ruta’s optimism and by how simple it all sounded coming from him. Nothing was simple, of course—but there was a striking symmetry in Ruta’s turning up here. We both needed the other very badly. That alone felt right. Perhaps we could win one day.
“Have some coffee. It’s not very good, I’m afraid.”
“You never had a gift for cooking,” he said with a small smile.
“No, I never did.”
At the tiny cedar-wood table, I poured for us. He told me of his wife, Kimaru, and his two-year-old son, Asis. I explained that my marriage had ended, knowing he wouldn’t understand or approve in the least. For the Kips, wives were treated as property, and the power balance was inimitably clear. Men were the heads of households, and their women respected this, and them, as law.