Karen would be coming home soon. When Denys began to talk of a scouting trip he was going to take near Meru, I knew he was really saying this might be our last chance to be together. “You could ride over and join me.”
There were logistics to sort out. I would ride to Solio, Berkeley’s old farm. I could leave Pegasus there, and we would go on together in Denys’s Hudson. When we returned, we’d be heading our separate ways.
We were set to meet in February. In the meantime, he was going off on a long safari with a wealthy client from Australia, and I was working on getting Wrack ready for the St. Leger, Kenya’s premier race. With his recent successes, Wrack was the favourite, and I planned to put everything I had into making sure he would do all he was expected to and more.
—
On the afternoon I meant to head out to meet Denys, the sky opened with a crack and it began to rain as if it never planned to stop.
Ruta looked out of the stable door at the sheets of grey water. “You’ll stay then, msabu?” He knew my plans; I kept no secrets from him and never had.
“No, I can’t do that, but I’ll delay. You don’t approve of my being with Denys. I know that.”
He shrugged and then sighed out a well-known native proverb. “Who can understand women and the sky?”
“I love him, Ruta.” After everything, I hadn’t admitted this yet, even to myself somehow.
His inky eyes cut through the dense pooling air and the drizzle. “Does it matter whether I approve or not? You will go to him anyway.”
“You’re right. I will.”
All day I watched the rain and the rivulets of red-running mud. Finally, when there was a small break on the horizon, and I was able to see paler clouds and a sheer hint of sunlight, I tacked Pegasus and made off. Solio was on the far side of the Aberdares, thirty-five miles straight east. Under perfect conditions, I would have spared Pegasus and ridden around the mountain to the north. As it was, I was making such a late start that I thought to shear off hours by heading over the top on a small snaking trail.
That I was on horseback alone in the middle of the night didn’t frighten me. I’d ridden in the dark before, without half so much provocation. Pegasus could get me there. He had always had wonderful instincts in the hills, as sure on his hoofs as a mountain goat.
At first we made good time. The weather had cleared, and the night air felt good on my skin. As the narrow route doglegged upwards, climbing steadily, town lights were sprinkled here and there beneath us. Merchants slept in cramped beds, and children bundled on the floor on cane mats, snug and sound. I could scarcely begin to imagine that kind of quiet life with Denys. Neither one of us was cut out for sameness or routine, the pinchings of domesticity—but there was this night and the next one. Pirated kisses. Sweet and terrifying happiness. To have even one more hour in his arms, I knew I would do almost anything.
We were perhaps halfway to Solio when I began to smell water. Soon I could hear the river, too, just ahead. Pegasus and I approached it slowly, having only a little moonlight to steer by. As we came nearer, I could see the swirling movement of the current, ghost shadows twisting and eddying. The banks were steep and sheer. There was no way even Pegasus would make it down safely, and then how deep would the river be? Could we swim or wade through? I couldn’t even guess in the dark. We picked our way north instead, scouting the bank for a way across, and then doubled back to the south.
Finally I made out the faintest sketching of a bridge. As we came closer, I saw it was fashioned of bamboo and thick twisted rope, only a few feet across, the kind local tribes built and tended for their own use. I didn’t know how strong it was, but these things usually held small carts and oxen. It would probably do.
I dismounted and took his reins, and we began our descent, Pegasus sliding a little in the pebbled gravel. He whinnied, then startled. The bridge felt solid but loose on its ropes, so that it swung under our movement. I had a swaying, seasick feeling and knew Pegasus wasn’t any happier.
Yard by yard, we crossed it. I could hear the water roaring maybe twenty feet below. White foam shifted in the moonlight, looking alive, and darker water jumped, silvered on its edges. When I spotted the pale bank I felt pure relief. I’d begun to have the feeling that we’d come too far and were risking too much, but we were nearly there. Nearly on solid ground.