Michael Dun - 21. Chapter 21

Michael was dumbfounded when the Colonel gently placed Charlie’s body onto the red sand. He approached slowly, dropped to his knees beside the body, and cradled it in his arms. The Colonel turned away. He rocked Charlie gently, then turned to the Colonel and asked, “Who did this?”

He did not know.

Michael laid Charlie’s head on the ground, “Could it have been Peter Sheffield?”

"The man called Charlie by name, twice. This was a planned murderous act, and the man who did this must be found and hung, I did not see him, I am sorry, Michael.”

“I will seek him out, and then I shall shatter his life.” Michael said, standing up and dusting his trousers.

“Do not take the law into your own hands, young man. Be wise. I have sent a runner with a message for Commissioner Von Brandis.”

That was good news; having Colonel Ferreira on his side was a great advantage.

Charlie Manning was buried in the hills behind Ferreira’s Camp. A simple grave marked his resting-place with only his name scribbled over a wooden cross. Michael remained after the funeral and knelt beside the fresh mound of red sand. His thoughts were of adventures made incomplete, of so many happy years laid to waste, so many commitments brushed aside. So many promises…but Charlie never promised to stay. This was his destiny and he seemed to walk right into it. But revenge would be sweet, if not revenge then the law would abide. He had lost a best friend, a soul mate, and a lover. Three people were dead. How many more would have to die before this was over?

A day later, Field Coronet Jan Meyer was sent by Von Brandis to investigate the murder. It was clear, he stated in a report at the end of the enquiry that most of the liability pointed towards Peter Sheffield. He published a warrant for his arrest immediately. Michael offered to bring Peter in and, after some consideration by the Field Coronet, he was granted permission. When he arrived at Natal Camp, he found Peter’s shanty quite empty. A thin, dirty man in tattered clothes lay against the side of the shack. “Gone to Pretoria. He told me to watch his place. Gone to visit President Kruger himself.”

Michael headed north and rode into the neat little city where the Kruger Government sat.

Young Jacaranda trees grew amongst the small flat buildings on either side of the wide sand streets. Miners rode into Pretoria to sell their gold and diamonds at the jewelry shops or government offices. A city founded by trekkers who had crossed the Kei River in search of their Promised Land. A city run by Nationalist Boers who immersed their energies in stubbornness, xenophobia, and the new Afrikaans language.