“What was that noise?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down. “Did you hear it? And where’s Jack?”
“It was a rifle. And Jack is probably out already.” Goma belted a thick gown over her muumuu. She unlocked her wardrobe, parted the clothes, and reached for a shotgun tucked in the back. She loaded it calmly, propped it against her hip and racked the pump. “Never piss off an old bird. We’re cranky, constipated, and we need our beauty sleep.”
She signaled me to stay behind her as we made our way down the hallway. Had I caught sight of myself, creeping behind Goma’s frail form, I might have laughed. But she held the gun like she meant business, and my heart was still caught in my throat. I had no idea what was waiting for us downstairs. And neither did she.
The floorboards creaked as we checked out the ground floor. When we got to the kitchen, Goma pushed the sheer curtains aside with the tip of her shotgun.
“There.” She motioned to the glow of light in the fields. “Someone’s in the livestock pen.”
We stepped outside and made our way toward it, two dark figures against a violet dawn sky. Goma kicked the corral gate open, keeping the rifle pointed firmly ahead of her. Something was on the ground outside the barn, barely discernible in a weak pool of light.
My mind played out all kinds of scenarios. What if someone had come for Scholastica? What if Jack had gotten in the way? What if he’d been the target of the shot we’d heard?
Oh God. Please don’t let it be Jack.
“No!” I rushed toward the figure sprawled out by the barn. The ground was dark and wet around it.
Blood.
“Step away from there.” It was Jack’s voice. Gritty and raw. I turned towards it with the kind of relief that couldn’t be contained.
“You’re okay,” I said. Nothing else mattered, just that he was standing there.
I didn’t realize that I was running to him until I was a few feet away, when I caught a glimpse of Goma’s expression. She was watching me with a mix of curiosity and astuteness that made me stop short.
You care for him. She didn’t say it out loud, but she might as well have. You care for Jack.
Of course, I care for him. I stumbled and came to a halt. If anything happened to him because of me, I’d feel awful about it.
Right. Goma lowered her shotgun. And that’s all there is to it.
But her sharp eyes stayed on me, making me feel like she could see clear to my soul.
“We . . . we heard a shot,” I said to Jack.
“A pack of hyenas on the prowl. They were after one of the calves. I shot one.” He motioned to the prone figure. “The rest took off.”
“And the calf?” asked Goma.
“A few cuts and scrapes, but she’ll recover.”
Goma nodded. “I’ll go find her a blanket.”
She disappeared into the barn, leaving Jack and me standing by the dead hyena.
“Does this happen often?” I asked.
Jack had shot the hyena dead center, in the middle of its forehead. How he’d managed that in the bleak light of dawn, was beyond me.
“Mostly when the rains fail. That’s when the animals tend to stray from their turf. Luckily, the horses got nervous and alerted me.”
“You have horses too?”
“And cows and hens. We try to be as self-sufficient as we can. Eggs, milk, fruit trees, a vegetable patch. Even our alarm clock is organic.”
I smiled as the rooster crowed again. “You like to keep it au naturel?”
“One hundred percent.”
I knew the nuances in his voice now. And from the way he was looking at me, he wasn’t talking about the farm. My throat went dry as I realized I was completely back-lit from the light, that my every curve was exposed to him. My nipples were puckered from the morning chill, but a rushing warmth flooded through my every pore. My heart fluttered wildly, like a kite in a whirlwind. There was a magnetism and self-confidence about Jack that made me want to hand him all my strings. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have his hands wrapped around my hair—pulling, tugging—
“You two should get a barn.”
We both jumped at the sound of Goma’s voice.
“Seriously, with a carcass at your feet?” She looked from me to Jack. “No. I don’t want to hear it.” She held her palm up as Jack started to say something. “You can deny it all you want. Both of you. But you’re not fooling this old crone. There’s some major ogling going on here. Sparks and all.”
We stared at her in awkward silence. What do you say to something like that?
“Get back in the house, Goma,” said Jack.
“With pleasure,” she replied, giving us a sly, haughty look.
Oh God. Could the ground just part now and swallow me whole?
We stared at our feet when she was gone.
“I’m sorry she—”
“It’s okay.” I cut him off. “I should head to town today and pick up my things from the hostel.” So I’m not wandering around in your grandmother’s muumuu, which is the furthest thing from sexy, so it’s kind of insane that we even had that moment, and maybe if I just keep talking to myself long enough, I’ll be able to heckle this embarrassing incident right out of my head, and then we can just go back to—
“You hear that?” Jack swiveled around, shielding me with his large frame. “Something’s out there,” he said.
“It’s just me.” Bahati emerged from the shadows. “I heard a gunshot.”