his right hand hidden behind his back.
------ . ..... .
From the corner Storm darted across the room and bailed her face in
Ruth's skirts, weeping piteously. Ruth picked her up and held her
tight against her shoulder, but she never took her eyes off Dirk's
face.
'It's only a rooi-slang. ' Dirk laughed again, but nervously.
'They're harmless-I was only having a joke.' He brought the snake out
from. behind his back, dropped it on to the stone flagged floor and
crushed its head under the heel of his riding boot He kicked it away
against the wall, then with an impatient gesture he brushed the black
curls from his forehead and made to leave the room. Ruth stepped
across to block his path.
'Nannie, take Miss Storm back to the house.' Gently Ruth handed the
child to the Zulu nursemaid and closed the door after them and slid the
bolt across.
Now it was darker in the room, two square shafts of sunlight filled
with moving dust motes fell from the high windows, and the quiet was
spoiled only by the sound of Ruth's laboured breathing.
'I was only having a joke,' Dirk repeated, and grinned defiance at her.
'I suppose you'll run and tell my father?'
The walls of the room were studded with wooden pegs from which were
suspended the harness and saddlery. Beside the door hung Sean's
raw-hide stock whips eight foot of braided leather tapering from the
butt handle into nothingness. Ruth lifted one down from the rack and
flicked the lash out to lie upon the floor between them.
'No, Dirk, I'm not going to tell your father. This thing is between
you and me alone.
'What are you going to do?'
'I'm going to settle it.'
'How?' Still grinning, he placed his hands on his hips. Beneath
rolled sleeves his upper arms bulged smooth and brown as though they
had been freshly oiled.
'Like this,' Ruth flicked her skirt aside and stepped forward, using
the whip underhand she sent the lash snaking out to coil around Dirk's
ankle and immediately she jerked back on it.
Taken completely off balance, Dirk went over backwards. His head hit
the wall as he fel and he lay stunned.
To give herself space in which to wield the whip, Ruth moved into the
centre of the room. Her anger was cold as dry ice, it gave strength to
arms already finely muscled from riding, and it seared away all mercy.
Now she was a female animal fighting for the survival of herself and
her child.
She had learned to use a stock whip in the process of becoming an
expert horsewoman, and her first blow split Dirk's shirt from the
shoulder to the waist. He shouted with anger and rolled on to his
knees. The next blow cut down from the base of his neck along his
spine, paralysing him in the act of rising. The next, across the back
of both knees, knocked his legs out from under him.
