enough to get us to New York.'
'That's a long way to go.'
'It will be worth it. They call America the land of opportunity, don't they? That's all we need.'
Jamie had always prided himself on being a man who remained calm under pressure. Now he went around yelling at everyone in sight. His office was in a constant uproar. Nothing anyone did pleased him. He roared and complained about everything, unable to control himself. He had not slept in three nights. He kept thinking about the conversation with Margaret. Damn her! He should have known she would try to push him into marriage. Tricky, just like her father. He had mishandled the negotiations. He had told her he would take care of her, but he had not been specific. Of course. Money! He should have offered her money. A thousand pounds—ten thousand pounds— more.
'I have a delicate task for you,' he told David Blackwell.
'Yes, sir.'
'I want you to talk to Miss van der Merwe. Tell her I'm offering her twenty thousand pounds. She'll know what I want in exchange.' Jamie wrote out a check. He had long ago learned the lure of money in hand. 'Give this to her.'
'Right, sir.' And David Blackwell was gone.
He returned fifteen minutes later and handed the check back to his employer. It had been torn in half. Jamie could feel his face getting red. 'Thank you, David. That will be all'
So Margaret was holding out for more money. Very well. He would give it to her. But this time he would handle it himself.
Late that afternoon, Jamie McGregor went to Mrs. Owens's boardinghouse. 'I want to see Miss van der Merwe,' Jamie said.
'I'm afraid that's not possible,' Mrs. Owens informed him. 'She's on her way to America.'
Jamie felt as though he had been hit in the stomach. 'She can't be! When did she leave?'
'She and her son took the noon coach to Worcester.'
The train sitting at the station in Worcester was filled to capacity, the seats and aisles crowded with noisy travelers on their way to Cape Town. There were merchants and their wives, salesmen, prospectors, kaffirs and soldiers and sailors reporting back for duty. Most of them were riding a train for the first time and there was a festive atmosphere among the passengers. Margaret had been able to get a seat near a window, where Jamie would not be crushed by the crowd. She sat there holding her baby close to her, oblivious to those around her, thinking about the new life that lay ahead of them. It would not be easy. Wherever she went, she would be an unmarried woman with a child, an offense to society. But she would find a way to make sure her son had his chance at a decent life. She heard the conductor call, 'All aboard!'
She looked up, and Jamie was standing there. 'Collect your things,' he ordered. 'You're getting off the train.'
He still thinks he can buy me, Margaret thought. 'How much are you offering this time?'
Jamie looked down at his son, peacefully asleep in Margaret's arms. 'I'm offering you marriage.'
They were married three days later in a brief, private ceremony. The only witness was David Blackwell.
During the wedding ceremony, Jamie McGregor was filled with mixed emotions. He was a man who had grown used to controlling and manipulating others, and this time it was he who had been manipulated. He glanced at Margaret. Standing next to him, she looked almost beautiful. He remembered her passion and abandon, but it was only a memory, nothing more, without heat or emotion. He had used Margaret as an instrument of vengeance, and she had produced his heir.
The minister was saying, 'I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.'
Jamie leaned forward and briefly touched his lips to Margaret's cheek.
'Let's go home,' Jamie said. His son was waiting for him.
When they returned to the house, Jamie showed Margaret to a bedroom in one of the wings.
'This is your bedroom,' Jamie informed her.
'I see.'
'I'll hire another housekeeper and put Mrs. Talley in charge
of Jamie. If there's anything you require, tell David Blackwell.' Margaret felt as though he had struck her. He was treating her like a servant. But that was not important. My son has a name. That is enough for me.
Jamie did not return home for dinner. Margaret waited for him, then finally dined alone. That night she lay awake in her bed, aware of every sound in the house. At four o'clock in the morning, she finally fell asleep. Her last thought was to wonder which of the women at Madam Agnes's he had chosen.
If Margaret's relationship with Jamie was unchanged since their marriage, her relationship with the townspeople of Klip-drift underwent a miraculous transformation. Overnight, Margaret went from being an outcast to becoming Klipdrift's social arbiter. Most of the people in town depended for their living in one way or another on Jamie McGregor and Kruger-Brent, Ltd. They decided that if Margaret van der Merwe was good enough for Jamie McGregor, she was good enough for them. Now when Margaret took little Jamie for an outing, she was met with smiles and cheery greetings. Invitations poured in. She was invited to teas, charity luncheons and dinners and urged to head civic committees. When she dressed her hair in a different way, dozens of women in town instantly followed suit. She bought a new yellow dress, and yellow dresses were suddenly popular. Margaret handled their fawning in the same manner she had handled their hostility—with quiet dignity.
Jamie came home only to spend time with his son. His attitude toward Margaret remained distant and polite. Each morning at breakfast she played the role of happy wife for the servants' benefit, despite the cool indifference of the man sitting across the table from her. But when Jamie had gone and she could escape to her room, she would be drenched in perspiration. She hated herself. Where was her pride? Because Margaret knew she still loved Jamie. I'll always love him, she thought. God help me.
Jamie was in Cape Town on a three-day business trip. As he came out of the Royal Hotel, a liveried black driver said, 'Carriage, sir?'
'No,' Jamie said. 'I'll walk.'
'Banda thought you might like to ride.'
Jamie stopped and looked sharply at the man. 'Banda?'
'Yes, Mr. McGregor.'
Jamie got into the carriage. The driver flicked his whip and they started off. Jamie sat back in his seat, thinking of Banda, his courage, his friendship. He had tried many times to find him in the last two years, with no success. Now he was on his way to meet his friend.
The driver turned the carriage toward the waterfront, and Jamie knew instantly where they were going. Fifteen minutes later the carriage stopped in front of the deserted warehouse where Jamie and Banda had once planned their adventure into the Namib. What reckless young fools we were, Jamie thought. He stepped out of the carriage and approached the warehouse. Banda was waiting for him. He looked exactly the same, except that now he was neatly dressed in a suit and shirt and tie.
They stood there, silently grinning at each other, then they embraced.
'You look prosperous,' Jamie smiled.
Banda nodded. 'I've not done badly. I bought that farm we talked about. I have a wife and two sons, and I raise wheat and ostriches.'
'Ostriches?'
'Their feathers bring in lots of money.'
'Ah. I want to meet your family, Banda.'
Jamie thought of his own family in Scotland, and of how much he missed them. He had been away from home for four years.
'I've been trying to find you.'
'I've been busy, Jamie.' Banda moved closer. 'I had to see you to give you a warning. There's going to be trouble for you.'
Jamie studied him. 'What kind of trouble?'
'The man in charge of the Namib field—Hans Zimmerman—he's bad. The workers hate him. They're talking about walking out. If they do, your guards will try to stop them and there will be a riot.'
Jamie never took his eyes from Banda's face.
