Michael Dun - 12. Chapter 12

John, on horseback, took the rear flank and Gordon was made to lead the horses on foot. Peter rotated the horses daily to preserve their strength and energy. But riding on the wagon was a luxury compared to John’s numb bum, exhausted thighs and strain in the neck and shoulders. And compared with Gordon’s blisters, riding on the wagon was a holiday. Their complaints fell on deaf ears. And at night Peter insisted that John join him in the wagon, while Gordon fell asleep under the stars, listening to his friend crying in the darkness.

But tonight, things did not pan out that way. Gordon Atkinson watched the lager fire as John and Peter retired to the wagon for the night.

Inside the wagon, Peter suddenly lashed out at John and he stumbled back, falling onto the bunk. Peter unbuttoned his trousers and stepped toward him, but John suddenly swiped at him with his fist and missed, then rushed forward and catapulted into him. Peter fell out of the wagon, regained his composure, and tightened his fists. John jumped off the wagon. Peter threw sand in his eyes then reached for the rifle against the wheel of the wagon. He beat John’s temple, cheeks and forehead. Fragile bones splintered under the force of the attack. For the final grace he pounded John’s forehead with a killing force and the man’s face turned red with the run of blood. He was swimming…drowning. Then a light appeared as his head snapped back and he fell limply to the ground. Peter inspected his pulse.

“Well, you witnessed it, chapsy? Self-defense I would say? He is dead. Quite dead.”

Gordon shivered at the fire.

“Bury him.” Peter instructed, from behind. “Get up! Bury him!” Gordon stood up and stared into the barrel of Peter Sheffield’s gun.

Gordon dug all night. His arms and back worked like a machine, digging the soil, throwing it over the side, again and again. It did not matter that his friend had changed sides, it did not matter then. Now it did, but it was too late. He placed John’s body into the grave and covered him quickly just before dawn.

“We must move out at once chapsy.” Peter said nervously, swinging his gun in the air. Gordon remained rooted to the spot staring at him from behind eyes filled with hurt and rage. Suddenly he dashed forward head first like a raging bull, and rammed Peter’s chest. The rifle dropped as he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Gordon stumbled too, but quickly got to his feet and grabbed the gun. With shaking hands he aimed at Peter where he lay.

"I could quite easily kill you, Mr. Sheffield. But I shan’t. I am going to walk away, take a horse and ride out of here, out of your life. You will remain where you are and when I am gone, you may continue your journey.”

Gordon fled on one of the wagon horses, without direction, and filled with fear of the unknown.

In the evening, Michael, Charlie and Thokoza traveled along the ridge that would bring them to Potchefstroom, former capital of the Republic.

A man stood in the middle of the road waving them down ten miles from town, a day’s journey away.

Michael asked Charlie whether or not it could be a trap. Charlie realised the man was in distress and said so. Thokoza ran ahead and came back with an urgent reply. The man’s wagon wheel was broken.

The man ran to meet them and Thokoza stopped the wagon

At first he greeted them in high Dutch, with a smidgen of local Afrikaans. A small man with large eyes and an appealing, raw face. His voice was full and his eyes darted about. “I am Danie Vogel. My wife is with child and our wagon is damaged. We have traveled from the Cape.”

Thokoza inspected the damage.

Michael smiled and extended his hand. “Michael Dun and Charlie Manning.”

“This is a hard land, sir. Sometimes the land gives back. Other times it leaves destruction and chaos…”

Thokoza returned and explained they needed a spare. The woman was fine, she was in the shade, but she was with child.

“We have no money for a wagon wheel.” The young Boer told them.

"Take ours. We shall purchase another in Potchefstroom.” Michael suggested. Thokoza volunteered to fetch the wheel and Danie Vogel showed Michael and Charlie how the wheel of the wagon should be replaced. The men lifted the wagon and Thokoza slipped the wheel onto the hub of the axle, then slid the safety-pin through a hole on the hub to keep the wheel from falling off a second time.

Vogel rubbed his hands together, thanking them for coming to their assistance. “We are about to prepare supper, I am sure Marie will not mind if you stay. Come eat with us.”

Michael and Charlie agreed in unison and Thokoza volunteered to keep guard.

“Keep guard?” Michael remarked. “Why on earth would you do that? We are miles away from nowhere and I am sure we are in no danger.”

“It is the wild animal. Perhaps the lion, a wild dog.”

“Perhaps vagabond miners…” Danie Vogel answered. Michael was astounded by the thought of miners harming other miners. Danie explained, “They come with money, but instead of looking out for the best land, or the best employment, they spend it on alcohol and women and watch helplessly as their fortunes dwindle. They wake up with a terrible headache, suddenly realising they have no more money to spend on luxuries. They turn to thievery and murder and some are so conniving that they actually get away with it.”

Thokoza took his position.

Danie Vogel had the view that black people were savages who needed to come to terms with the invasion of the white man. After all, the white man was the superior being…the more advanced being, the deity. The white man in this part of the world called these people Kaffirs, or non-believers, and suppressed them with every opportunity to ensure they would always be of a lesser class.

Charlie shifted uneasily, “The Queen’s government has deserted them. That is why they suffer under the rule of the Boer.”

Michael changed the subject, quite out of turn, “I believe this Potchefstroom was once the capital of the Transvaal…”

Danie Vogel told him that was so. “Now a row is going on between the diggers on the Rand and those of Potchefstroom as to which area is most famous. Some feel the Rand was known before Potchefstroom as the official area of discovery, others say that the Rand will yield very little in the way of payable gold.”

Michael scratched his nose; “You seem to know a lot about mining, have you done this before?”

Danie explained that their business in Houd Bay collapsed because of a death in the family. He and his wife had made a decision to seek the chance to become rich by exploiting the goldfields. Danie had read up on all that had been written about the gold-fields in the Cape Town Newspapers.

Michael was visibly impressed; he patted Danie on the back. “You could be of service to us. You are welcome to journey with us.”

“I thank you for the offer, but we shall make it on our own.”

“The offer stands open then.” Michael replied.

*

Charlie woke up as the sun came out from the morning clouds and was surprised to find that Thokoza had not started coffee as he did every morning. He shook Michael awake and Danie and Marie stirred inside their wagon.

“Thokoza is not here!”

Michael ran in the direction he had last seen Thokoza the previous night when he stood guard, and called his name over and over, but there was no reply. Charlie ran in a different direction and Danie ran after Michael, all of them shouting out his name, hoping for a response. Then Michael tripped over a rock, or so he thought, when he looked, he found Thokoza’s leg protruding from behind a large bush. He bent down and inspected the body closely. Danie uttered an exclamation and Michael told him to be quiet. “He is dead.” He lifted his head. “His head has been crushed, perhaps with a rock or the butt of a rifle or a gun.”

He was just a boy Michael thought. Just a boy! Who would commit this crime and why? Danie Vogel? His wife, Marie? Michael scoured the surrounding ground for clues. A blunt object, perhaps a rock that should not be there, or footprints. He noticed a rock behind a bush, quite unlike the others, which were smaller. He picked it up and examined it carefully. It was heavy, far too heavy for a woman with child to carry, and there was blood on it. It was a kimberlite rock, from or near Kimberley.

They buried the body, placed the rock on the dirty brown mound, and turned away. Someone had killed Thokoza, and there was little they could do about the situation.

Fortunately for all, the Potchefstroom – Pretoria run had recently opened and the road was smooth and comforting.