Master of the Game

The expensive carriage rolled down the dusty main street of Klipdrift, drawn by two beautiful matched bays. At the reins was a slender, athletic-looking man with snow-white hair, a white beard and mustache. He was dressed in a fashionably tailored gray suit and ruffled shirt, and in his black cravat was a diamond stickpin. He wore a gray top hat, and on his little finger was a large, sparkling diamond ring. He appeared to be a stranger to the town, but he was not.

Klipdrift had changed considerably since Jamie McGregor had left it a year earlier. It was 1884, and it had grown from a camp to a township. The railway had been completed from Cape Town to Hopetown, with a branch running to Klipdrift, and this had created a whole new wave of immigrants. The town was even more crowded than Jamie remembered, but the people seemed different. There were still many prospectors, but there were also men in business suits and well-dressed matrons walking in and out of stores. Klipdrift had acquired a patina of respectability.

Jamie passed three new dance halls and half a dozen new saloons. He drove by a recently built church and barbershop, and a large hotel called the Grand. He stopped in front of a bank and alighted from the carriage, carelessly tossing the reins to a native boy.

“Water them.”

Jamie entered the bank and said to the manager in a loud voice, “I wish to deposit one hundred thousand pounds in your bank.”

The word spread quickly, as Jamie had known it would, and by the time he left the bank and entered the Sundowner Saloon, he was the center of interest. The interior of the saloon had not changed. It was crowded, and curious eyes followed Jamie as he walked up to the bar. Smit nodded deferentially. “What would you like, sir?” There was no recognition on the bartender’s face.

“Whiskey. The best you have.”

“Yes, sir.” He poured the drink. “You’re new in town?”

“Yes.”

“Just passin’ through, are you?”

“No. I’ve heard this is a good town for a man looking for investments.”

The bartender’s eyes lighted up. “You couldn’t find better! A man with a hundred—A man with money can do real well for hisself. Matter of fact, I might be of some service to you, sir.”

“Really? How is that?”

Smit leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. “I know the man who runs this town. He’s chairman of the Borough Council and head of the Citizen’s Committee. He’s the most important man in this part of the country. Name of Salomon van der Merwe.”

Jamie took a sip of his drink. “Never heard of him.”

“He owns that big general store across the street. He can put you on to some good deals. It’d be worth your while to meet him.”

Jamie McGregor took another sip of his drink. “Have him come over here.”

The bartender glanced at the large diamond ring on Jamie’s finger, and at his diamond stickpin. “Yes, sir. Can I tell him your name?”

“Travis. Ian Travis.”

“Right, Mr. Travis. I’m sure Mr. van der Merwe will want to meet you.” He poured out another drink. “Have this while you’re waitin’. It’s on the house.”

Jamie sat at the bar sipping the whiskey, aware that everyone in the saloon was watching him. Men had departed from Klipdrift wealthy, but no one of such obvious wealth had ever arrived there before. It was something new in their experience.

Fifteen minutes later, the bartender was back, accompanied by Salomon van der Merwe.

Van der Merwe walked up to the bearded, white-haired stranger, held out his hand and smiled. “Mr. Travis, I’m Salomon van der Merwe.”

“Ian Travis.”

Jamie waited for a flicker of recognition, a sign that Van der Merwe found something familiar about him. There was nothing. But then, why should there be? Jamie thought. There was nothing left of that naive, idealistic, eighteen-year-old boy he had been. Smit obsequiously led the two men to a corner table.

As soon as they were seated, Van der Merwe said, “I understand you’re looking for some investments in Klipdrift, Mr. Travis.”

“Possibly.”

“I might be able to be of some service. One has to be careful. There are many immoral people around.”

Jamie looked at him and said, “I’m sure there are.”

It was unreal, sitting there carrying on a polite conversation with the man who had cheated him out of a fortune and then tried to murder him. His hatred for Van der Merwe had consumed him for the last year, his thirst for vengeance was all that had sustained him, kept him alive. And now Van der Merwe was about to feel that vengeance.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Travis, how much money were you planning on investing?”

“Oh, around a hundred thousand pounds to begin with,” Jamie said carelessly. He watched Van der Merwe wet his lips. “Then perhaps three or four hundred thousand more.”

“Er—you should be able to do very well with that, very well, indeed. With the right guidance, of course,” he added quickly. “Do you have any idea what you might want to invest in?”

“I thought I’d look around and see what opportunities there were.”

“That’s very wise of you.” Van der Merwe nodded sagely. “Perhaps you would like to come to dinner tonight and we can discuss it? My daughter’s an excellent cook. It would be an honor to have you.”

Jamie smiled. “I’d enjoy that, Mr. van der Merwe.” You have no idea how much I’d enjoy that, he thought.

It had started.

The journey from the diamond fields of Namib to Cape Town had been uneventful. Jamie and Banda had hiked inland to a small village where a doctor treated Jamie’s arm, and they had gotten a lift on a wagon bound for Cape Town. It was a long, difficult ride, but they were oblivious to the discomfort. At Cape Town, Jamie checked into the ornate Royal Hotel on Plein Street—“Patronized by HRH, the Duke of Edinburgh”—and was escorted to the Royal Suite.

“I want you to send up the best barber in town,” Jamie told the manager. “Then I want a tailor and a bootmaker up here.”

“At once, sir,” the manager said.

It’s wonderful what money can do, Jamie thought.

The bath in the Royal Suite was heaven. Jamie lay back in the hot water, soaking the tiredness out of his body, thinking back over the past incredible weeks. Had it been only weeks since he and Banda had built that raft? It seemed like years. Jamie thought about the raft sailing them to the Sperrgebiet, and the sharks, and the demon waves and the reefs tearing the raft to pieces. The sea mis and the crawling over the land mines, and the huge dog on top of him…The eerie, muffled cries that would ring in his ears forever: Kruger…Brent…Kruger…Brent…

But most of all, he thought of Banda. His friend.

When they had reached Cape Town, Jamie had urged, “Stay with me.”

Banda smiled, showing his beautiful white teeth. “Life’s too dull with you, Jamie. I have to go somewhere and find a little excitement.”

“What will you do now?”

“Well, thanks to you and your wonderful plan about how easy it is to float a raft over the reef, I’m going to buy a farm, find a wife and have a lot of children.”

“All right. Let’s go to the diamant kooper so I can give you your share of the diamonds.”

“No,” Banda said. “I don’t want it.”

Jamie frowned. “What are you talking about? Half the diamonds are yours. You’re a millionaire.”

“No. Look at my skin, Jamie. If I became a millionaire, my life would not be worth a tickey.”

“You can hide some of the diamonds away. You can—”

“All I need is enough to buy a morgen of farmland and two oxen to trade for a wife. Two or three little diamonds will get me everything I’ll ever want. The rest are yours.”

“That’s impossible. You can’t give me your share.”

“Yes, I can, Jamie. Because you’re going to give me Salomon van der Merwe.”

Jamie looked at Banda for a long moment. “I promise.”

“Then I’ll say good-bye, my friend.”

The two men clasped hands.

“We’ll meet again,” Banda said. “Next time think of something really exciting for us to do.”

Banda walked away with three small diamonds carefully tucked in his pocket.

Jamie sent off a bank draft amounting to twenty thousand pounds to his parents, bought the finest carriage and team he could find and headed back to Klipdrift.

The time had come for revenge.

That evening when Jamie McGregor entered Van der Merwe’s store, he was gripped by a sensation so unpleasant and so violent that he had to pause to regain control of himself.

Van der Merwe hurried out of the back of the shop, and when he saw who it was, his face lighted up in a big smile. “Mr. Travis!” he said. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, mister—er—sorry, I don’t remember your name…”

“Van der Merwe. Salomon van der Merwe. Don’t apologize. Dutch names are difficult to remember. Dinner is ready. Margaret!” he called as he led Jamie into the back room. Nothing had changed. Margaret was standing at the stove over a frying pan, her back to them.

“Margaret, this is our guest I spoke of—Mr. Travis.”

Margaret turned. “How do you do?”

There was not a flicker of recognition.

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Jamie nodded.

The customer bell rang and Van der Merwe said, “Excuse me, I’ll be right back. Please make yourself at home, Mr. Travis.” He hurried out.

Margaret carried a steaming bowl of vegetables and meat over to the table, and as she hurried to take the bread from the oven Jamie stood there, silently looking at her. She had blossomed in the year since he had seen her. She had become a woman, with a smoldering sexuality that had been lacking before.

“Your father tells me you’re an excellent cook.”

Margaret blushed. “I—I hope so, sir.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted home cooking. I’m looking forward to this.” Jamie took a large butter dish from Margaret and placed it on the table for her. Margaret was so surprised she almost dropped the plate in her hands. She had never heard of a man who helped in woman’s work. She lifted her startled eyes to his face. A broken nose and a scar spoiled what would otherwise have been a too-handsome face. His eyes were light gray and shone with intelligence and a burning intensity. His white hair told her that he was not a young man, and yet there was something very youthful about him. He was tall and strong and—Margaret turned away, embarrassed by his gaze.

Van der Merwe hurried back into the room, rubbing his hands. “I’ve closed the shop,” he said. “Let’s sit down and have a fine dinner.”

Jamie was given the place of honor at the table. “We’ll say grace,” Van der Merwe said.

They closed their eyes. Margaret slyly opened hers again, so that she could continue her scrutiny of the elegant stranger while her father’s voice droned on. “We are all sinners in your eyes, O Lord, and must be punished. Give us the strength to bear our hardships on this earth, so that we may enjoy the fruits of heaven when we are called. Thank you, Lord, for helping those of us who deserve to prosper. Amen.”

Salomon van der Merwe began serving. This time the portions he served Jamie were more than generous. They talked as they ate. “Is this your first time out this way, Mr. Travis?”

“Yes,” Jamie said. “First time.”

“You didn’t bring Mrs. Travis along, I understand.”

“There is no Mrs. Travis. I haven’t found anyone who’d have me.” Jamie smiled.

What fool of a woman would refuse him? Margaret wondered. She lowered her eyes, afraid the stranger might read her wicked thoughts.

“Klipdrift is a town of great opportunity, Mr. Travis. Great opportunity.”

“I’m willing to be shown.” He looked at Margaret, and she blushed.

“If it isn’t too personal, Mr. Travis, may I ask how you acquired your fortune?”

Margaret was embarrassed by her father’s blunt questions, but the stranger did not seem to mind.

“I inherited it from my father,” Jamie said easily.

“Ah, but I’m sure you’ve had a lot of business experience.”

“Very little, I’m afraid. I need a lot of guidance.”

Van der Merwe brightened. “It’s fate that we met, Mr. Travis. I have some very profitable connections. Very profitable, indeed. I can almost guarantee that I can double your money for you in just a few months.” He leaned over and patted Jamie’s arm. “I have a feeling this is a big day for both of us.”

Jamie just smiled.

“I suppose you’re staying at the Grand Hotel?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s criminally expensive. But I suppose to a man of your means…” He beamed at Jamie.

Jamie said, “I’m told the countryside around here is interesting. Would it be an imposition to ask you to let your daughter show me around a bit tomorrow?”

Margaret felt her heart stop for a second.

Van der Merwe frowned. “I don’t know. She—”

It was an iron-clad rule of Salomon van der Merwe’s never to permit any man to be alone with his daughter. In the case of Mr. Travis, however, he decided there would be no harm in making an exception. With so much at stake, he did not want to appear inhospitable. “I can spare Margaret from the store for a short time. You will show our guest around, Margaret?”

“If you wish, Father,” she said quietly.

“That’s settled then.” Jamie smiled. “Shall we say ten o’clock in the morning?”

After the tall, elegantly dressed guest left, Margaret cleared away the table and washed the dishes, in a complete daze. He must think I’m an idiot. She went over and over in her mind everything she had contributed to the conversation. Nothing. She had been completely tongue-tied. Why was that? Hadn’t she waited on hundreds of men in the store without becoming a stupid fool? Of course they had not looked at her the way Ian Travis had. Men all have the devil in them, Margaret. I’ll not let them corrupt your innocence. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. Could that be it? The weakness and trembling she had felt when the stranger had looked at her? Was he corrupting her innocence? The thought of it sent a delicious thrill through her body. She looked down at the plate she had dried three times and sat down at the table. She wished her mother were still alive.

Her mother would have understood. Margaret loved her father, but sometimes she had the oppressive feeling that she was his prisoner. It worried her that he never allowed a man to come near her. I’ll never get married, Margaret thought. Not until he dies. Her rebellious thoughts filled her with guilt, and she hurriedly left the room and went into the store, where her father sat behind a desk, working on his accounts.

“Good night, Father.”

Van der Merwe took off his gold-framed spectacles and rubbed his eyes before he raised his arms to embrace his daughter good-night. Margaret did not know why she pulled away.

Alone in the curtained-off alcove that served as her bedroom, Margaret studied her face in the small, round mirror that hung on the wall. She had no illusions about her looks. She was not pretty. She was interesting-looking. Nice eyes. High cheekbones. A good figure. She drew nearer to the mirror. What had Ian Travis seen when he looked at her? She began getting undressed. And Ian Travis was in the room with her, watching her, his eyes burning into her. She stepped out of her muslin drawers and camisole and stood naked before him. Her hands slowly caressed the swell of her breasts and felt her hardening nipples. Her fingers slid down across her flat belly and his hands became entwined with hers, moving slowly downward. They were between her legs now, gently touching, stroking, rubbing, harder now, faster and faster until she was caught up in a frantic whirlpool of sensation that finally exploded inside her and she gasped his name and fell to the bed.

They rode out in Jamie’s carriage, and he was amazed once more at the changes that had taken place. Where before there had been only a sea of tents, now there were substantial-looking houses, constructed of timber with roofs of corrugated iron or thatch.

“Klipdrift seems very prosperous,” Jamie said as they rode along the main street.

“I suppose it would be interesting for a newcomer,” Margaret said. And she thought, I’ve hated it until now.

They left the town and drove out toward the mining camps along the Vaal River. The seasonal rains had turned the countryside into an enormous, colorful garden, filled with the luxuriant bush Karroo, and the spreading Rhenoster bush and heaths and diosmas plants that could be found nowhere else in the world. As they drove past a group of prospectors, Jamie asked, “Have there been any big diamond finds lately?”

“Oh, yes, a few. Every time the news gets out, hundreds of new diggers come pouring in. Most of them leave poor and heartbroken.” Margaret felt she had to warn him of the danger here. “Father would not like to hear me say this, but I think it’s a terrible business, Mr. Travis.”

“For some, probably,” Jamie agreed. “For some.”

“Do you plan to stay on a while?”

“Yes.”

Margaret felt her heart singing. “Good.” Then added quickly, “Father will be pleased.”

They drove around all morning, and from time to time they stopped and Jamie chatted with prospectors. Many of them recognized Margaret and spoke respectfully. There was a warmth to her and an easy friendliness that she did not reveal when she was around her father.

As they drove on, Jamie said, “Everyone seems to know you.”

She blushed. “That’s because they do business with Father. He supplies most of the diggers.”

Jamie made no comment. He was keenly interested in what he was seeing. The railroad had made an enormous difference. A new combine called De Beers, named after the farmer in whose field the first diamond discovery was made, had bought out its chief rival, a colorful entrepreneur named Barney Barnato, and De Beers was busily consolidating the hundreds of small claims into one organization. Gold had been discovered recently, not far from Kimberley, along with manganese and zinc. Jamie was convinced this was only the beginning, that South Africa was a treasure-house of minerals. There were incredible opportunities here for a man with foresight.

When Jamie and Margaret returned, it was late afternoon. Jamie stopped the carriage in front of Van der Merwe’s store and said, “I would be honored if you and your father would be my guests at dinner tonight.”

Margaret glowed. “I’ll ask Father. I do so hope he’ll say yes. Thank you for a lovely day, Mr. Travis.”

And she fled.

The three of them had dinner in the large, square dining room of the new Grand Hotel.

The room was crowded, and Van der Merwe grumbled, “I don’t see how these people can afford to eat here.”

Jamie picked up a menu and glanced at it. A steak cost one pound four shillings, a potato was four shillings and a piece of apple pie ten shillings.

“They’re robbers!” Van der Merwe complained. “A few meals here and a man could eat himself into the poorhouse.”

Jamie wondered what it would take to put Salomon van der Merwe in the poorhouse. He intended to find out. They ordered, and Jamie noticed that Van der Merwe ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Margaret ordered a clear soup. She was too excited to eat. She looked at her hands, remembered what they had done the night before and felt guilty.

“I can afford dinner,” Jamie teased her. “Order anything you like.”

She blushed. “Thank you, but I’m—I’m not really very hungry.”

Van der Merwe noticed the blush and looked sharply from Margaret to Jamie. “My daughter is a rare girl, a rare girl, Mr. Travis.”

Jamie nodded. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Mr. van der Merwe.”

His words made Margaret so happy that when their dinner was served, she could not even eat the soup. The effect Ian Travis had on her was incredible. She read hidden meanings into his every word and gesture. If he smiled at her, it meant he liked her a lot; if he frowned, it meant he hated her. Margaret’s feelings were an emotional thermometer that kept going up and down.

“Did you see anything of interest today?” Van der Merwe asked Jamie.

“No, nothing special,” Jamie said casually.

Van der Merwe leaned forward. “Mark my words, sir, this is going to be the fastest-growing area in the world. A man would be smart to invest here now. The new railway’s going to turn this place into a second Cape Town.”

“I don’t know,” Jamie said dubiously. “I’ve heard of too many boomtowns like this going bust. I’m not interested in putting my money into a ghost town.”

“Not Klipdrift,” Van der Merwe assured him. “They’re finding more diamonds all the time. And gold.”

Jamie shrugged. “How long will that last?”

“Well, nobody can be sure of that, of course, but—”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t make any hasty decisions,” Van der Merwe urged. “I wouldn’t like to see you lose out on a great opportunity.”

Jamie thought that over. “Perhaps I am being hasty. Margaret, could you show me around again tomorrow?”

Van der Merwe opened his mouth to object, then closed it. He remembered the words of Mr. Thorenson, the banker: He walked in here and deposited a hundred thousand pounds, cool as you please, Salomon, and he said there’d be a lot more comin’.

Greed got the better of Van der Merwe. “Of course she could.”

The following morning, Margaret put on her Sunday dress, ready to meet Jamie. When her father walked in and saw her, his face turned red. “Do you want the man to think you’re some kind of fallen woman—dressin’ up to attract him? This is business, girl. Take that off and put on your workin’ clothes.”

“But, Papa—”

“Do as I say!”

She did not argue with him. “Yes, Papa.”

Van der Merwe watched Margaret and Jamie drive away twenty minutes later. He wondered if he could be making a mistake.

This time Jamie headed the carriage in the opposite direction. There were exciting signs of new developments and building everywhere. If the mineral discoveries keep up, Jamie thought—and there was every reason to believe they would—there is more money to be made here in real estate than in diamonds or gold. Klipdrift will need more banks, hotels, saloons, shops, brothels… The list was endless. So were the opportunities.

Jamie was conscious of Margaret staring at him. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” she said, and quickly looked away.

Jamie studied her now, and noticed the radiance about her. Margaret was aware of his closeness, his maleness. He sensed her feelings. She was a woman without a man.

At noon Jamie drove off the main road down to a wooded area near a stream and stopped under a large baobab tree. He had had the hotel pack a picnic lunch. Margaret put down a tablecloth, unpacked the basket and spread out the food. There was cold roast lamb, fried chicken, yellow saffron rice, quince jam and tangerines and peaches and soetekoekjes, almond-topped spice cookies.

“This is a banquet!” Margaret exclaimed. “I’m afraid I don’t deserve all this, Mr. Travis.”

“You deserve much more,” Jamie assured her.

Margaret turned away, busying herself with the food.

Jamie took her face between his hands. “Margaret…look at me.”

“Oh! Please. I—” She was trembling.

“Look at me.”

Slowly she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. He pulled her into his arms, and his lips found hers and he held her close, pressing his body against hers.

After a few moments she struggled free, shook her head and said, “Oh, my God. We mustn’t. Oh, we mustn’t. We’ll go to hell.”

“Heaven.”

“I’m afraid.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. Do you see my eyes? They can look right inside you. And you know what I see, don’t you? You want me to make love to you. And I’m going to. And there’s nothing to fear, because you belong to me. You know that, don’t you? You belong to me, Margaret. You say it. I belong to Ian. Go on. I—belong—to—Ian.”

“I belong—to Ian.”

His lips were on hers again, and he began to undo the hooks on the back of her bodice. In a moment she stood naked in the soft breeze, and he lowered her gently down to the ground. And the tremulous passage from girlhood to womanhood became an exciting, soaring experience that made Margaret feel more alive than she had ever felt in her life. I’ll remember this moment forever, she thought. The bed of leaves and the warm caressing breeze on her naked skin, the shadow of the baobab tree that dappled their bodies. They made love again, and it was even more wonderful. She thought, No woman could ever love anyone as much as I love this man.

When they were spent, Jamie held her in his strong arms, and she wished she could be there forever. She looked up at him and whispered, “What are you thinking?”

He grinned and whispered back, “That I’m bloody starving.”

She laughed, and they rose and had their lunch under the shelter of the trees. Afterward they swam and lay down to let the hot sun dry them. Jamie took Margaret again, and she thought, I want this day to go on forever.

That evening, Jamie and Van der Merwe were seated at a corner table at the Sundowner. “You were right,” Jamie announced. “The possibilities here may be greater than I thought.”

Van der Merwe beamed. “I knew you were too clever a man not to see that, Mr. Travis.”

“What exactly would you advise me to do?” Jamie asked.

Van der Merwe glanced around and lowered his voice. “Just today I got some information on a big new diamond strike north of Pniel. There are ten claims still available. We can divide them up between us. I’ll put up fifty thousand pounds for five claims, and you put up fifty thousand pounds for the other five. There are diamonds there by the bushel. We can make millions overnight. What do you think?”

Jamie knew exactly what he thought. Van der Merwe would keep the claims that were profitable and Jamie would end up with the others. In addition, Jamie would have been willing to bet his life that Van der Merwe was not putting up one shilling.

“It sounds interesting,” Jamie said. “How many prospectors are involved?”

“Only two.”

“Why does it take so much money?” he asked innocently.

“Ah, that’s an intelligent question.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You see, they know the value of their claim, but they don’t have the money to operate it. That’s where you and I come in. We give them one hundred thousand pounds and let them keep twenty percent of their fields.”

He slipped the twenty percent in so smoothly that it almost went by unnoticed. Jamie was certain the prospectors would be cheated of their diamonds and their money. It would all flow to Van der Merwe.

“We’ll have to move fast,” Van der Merwe warned. “As soon as word of this leaks out—”

“Let’s not lose it,” Jamie urged.

Van der Merwe smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll have the contracts drawn up right away.”

In Afrikaans, Jamie thought.

“Now, there are a few other deals I find very interesting, Ian.”

Because it was important to keep his new partner happy, Van der Merwe no longer objected when Jamie asked that Margaret show him around the countryside. Margaret was more in love with Jamie every day. He was the last thing she thought of when she went to bed at night, and the first thing she thought of when she opened her eyes in the morning. Jamie had loosed a sensuality in her that she had not even known existed. It was as though she had suddenly discovered what her body was for, and all the things she had been taught to be ashamed of became glorious gifts to bring pleasure to Jamie. And to herself. Love was a wonderful new country to be explored. A sensual land of hidden valleys and exciting dales and glens and rivers of honey. She could not get enough of it.

In the vast sweep of the countryside, it was easy to find isolated places where they could make love, and each time for Margaret was as exciting as the first time.

The old guilt about her father haunted her. Salomon van der Merwe was an elder of the Dutch Reformed Church, and Margaret knew if he ever found out what she was doing, there would be no forgiveness. Even in the rough frontier community where they lived, where men took their pleasures where they found them, there would be no understanding. There were only two kinds of women in the world—nice girls and whores—and a nice girl did not let a man touch her unless she was married to him. So she would be labeled a whore. It’s so unfair, she thought. The giving and taking of love is too beautiful to be evil. But her growing concern finally made Margaret bring up the subject of marriage.

They were driving along the Vaal River when Margaret spoke. “Ian, you know how much I—” She did not know how to go on. “That is, you and I—” In desperation she blurted out, “How do you feel about marriage?”

Jamie laughed. “I’m all for it, Margaret. I’m all for it.”

She joined him in his laughter. It was the happiest moment of her life.

On Sunday morning, Salomon van der Merwe invited Jamie to accompany him and Margaret to church. The Nederduits Hervormde Kerk was a large, impressive building done in bastard Gothic, with the pulpit at one end and a huge organ at the other. When they walked in the door, Van der Merwe was greeted with great respect.

“I helped build this church,” he told Jamie proudly. “I’m a deacon here.”

The service was brimstone and hellfire, and Van der Merwe sat there, rapt, nodding eagerly, accepting the minister’s every word.

He’s God’s man on Sunday, Jamie thought, and the rest of the week he belongs to the devil.

Van der Merwe had placed himself between the two young people, but Margaret was conscious of Jamie’s nearness all through the service. It’s a good thing—she smiled nervously to herself—that the minister doesn’t know what I’m thinking about.

That evening, Jamie went to visit the Sundowner Saloon. Smit was behind the bar serving drinks. His face brightened when he saw Jamie.

“Good evenin’, Mr. Travis. What will you have, sir? The usual?”

“Not tonight, Smit. I want to talk to you. In the back room.”

“Certainly, sir.” Smit scented money to be made. He turned to his assistant. “Mind the bar.”

The back room of the Sundowner was no more than a closet, but it afforded privacy. It contained a round table with four chairs, and in the center of the table was a lantern. Smit lit it.

“Sit down,” Jamie said.

Smit took a chair. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

“It’s you I’ve come to help, Smit.”

Smit beamed. “Really, sir?”

“Yes.” Jamie took out a long, thin cigar and lighted it. “I’ve decided to let you live.”

An uncertain look flickered over Smit’s face. “I—I don’t understand, Mr. Travis.”

“Not Travis. The name is McGregor. Jamie McGregor. Remember? A year ago you set me up to be killed. At the barn. For Van der Merwe.”

Smit was frowning now, suddenly wary. “I don’t know what—”

“Shut up and listen to me.” Jamie’s voice was like a whiplash.

Jamie could see the wheels turning in Smit’s mind. He was trying to reconcile the face of the white-haired man in front of him with the eager youth of a year before.

“I’m still alive, and I’m rich—rich enough to hire men to burn this place down and you with it. Are you with me so far, Smit?”

Smit started to protest his ignorance, but he looked into Jamie McGregor’s eyes and saw the danger there. Smit said cautiously, “Yes, sir…”

“Van der Merwe pays you to send prospectors to him so he can cheat them out of what they find. That’s an interesting little partnership. How much does he pay you?”

There was a silence. Smit was caught between two powerful forces. He did not know which way to jump.

“How much?”

“Two percent,” he said reluctantly.

“I’ll give you five. From now on when a likely prospect comes in, you’ll send him to me. I’ll finance him. The difference is that he’ll get his fair share and you’ll get yours. Did you really think Van der Merwe was paying you two percent of what he made? You’re a fool.”

Smit nodded. “Right, Mr. Trav—Mr. McGregor. I understand.”

Jamie rose to his feet. “Not completely.” He leaned over the table. “You’re thinking of going to Van der Merwe and telling him about our little conversation. That way, you can collect from both of us. There’s only one problem with that, Smit.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you do, you’re a dead man.”