We saw them then coming across the new bright green grass of the meadow; the same size, Charo as black as a man could be, wearing his old soiled turban and a blue coat, Mary bright blond in the sun, her green shooting clothes dark against the bright green of the grass. They were talking happily and Charo was carrying Mary’s rifle and her big bird book. Together they always looked like a numero from the old Cirque Médrano.
G.C. came out from washing up without a shirt on. His whiteness contrasted with the rose brown of his face and neck.
“Look at them,” he said. “What a lovely pair.”
“Imagine running into them if you’d never seen them before.”
“The grass will be over their heads in a week’s time. It’s nearly to their knees now.”
“Don’t criticize the grass. It’s only three days old.”
“Hi, Miss Mary,” G.C. called. “What have you two been up to?”
Mary drew herself up very proudly.
“I killed a wildebeest.”
“And who gave you permission to do that?”
“Charo. Charo said to kill him. He had a broken leg. Really badly broken.”
Charo shifted the big book to his other hand and flopped his arm to show how the leg had been.
“We thought you would want a bait,” Mary said. “You did, didn’t you? He’s close to the road. We heard you come by afterwards, G.C. But we couldn’t see you.”
“You did quite right to kill him and we did need a bait. But what were you doing hunting alone?”
“I wasn’t. I was identifying birds and I have my list. Charo wouldn’t take me where there were any bad beasts. Then I saw the wildebeest and he was standing looking so sad and his leg looked awful with the bone sticking out. Charo said to kill him and I did.”
“Memsahib piga. Kufa!”
“Shot him right behind the ear.”
“Piga! Kufa!” Charo said and he and Miss Mary looked at each other proudly.
“It’s the first time I ever had the responsibility of killing without you or Papa or Pop along.”
“May I kiss you, Miss Mary?” G.C. asked.
“You certainly may. But I’m awfully sweaty.”
They kissed and then we kissed and Mary said, “I’d like to kiss Charo too but I know I shouldn’t. Do you know the impala barked at me just as though they were dogs. Nothing is afraid of Charo and me.”
She shook hands with Charo and he took her book and her rifle over to our tent. “I’d better go and wash too. Thank you for being so nice about my shooting the beast.”
“We’ll send the truck for him and then put him out where he should be.”
I went over to our tent and G.C. went to his tent to dress. Mary was washing with the safari soap and changing her shirt and smelling her fresh shirt that had been washed with a different soap and dried in the sun. We each liked to watch the other bathe but I never watched her when G.C. was around because it could be sort of hard on him. I was sitting on a chair in front of the tent reading and she came over and put her arms around my neck.
“Are you all right, honey?”
“No,” she said. “I was so proud and Charo was so proud and it was one shot whack like the pelota ball hitting the wall of the fronton. He couldn’t have heard the shot even and Charo and I were shaking hands. You know what it’s like to do something yourself for the first time with all the responsibility. You and G.C. know and that’s why he kissed me.”
“Anybody’d kiss you anytime.”
“Maybe if I wanted them to. Or made them. But this wasn’t like that.”
“Why do you feel bad, honey?”
“You know. Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“No, I don’t,” I lied.
“I held straight on the center of his shoulder. It was big and black and shiny and I was about twenty yards from him. He was half toward me and looking toward us. I could see his eyes and they looked so sad. He looked as though he would cry. He looked sadder than anything I’ve ever seen and his leg looked awful. Honey, he had such a long sad face. I don’t have to tell G.C. do I?”
“No.”
“I didn’t have to tell you. But we’re going after the lion together and now my god-damn confidence is gone again.”
“You’ll shoot beautifully. I’m proud to be with you with the lion.”
“The awful thing is that I can shoot properly too. You know it.”
“I remember all the beauty shots you made. And all the wonderful times you shot better than anyone at Escondido.”
“You just help me get back my confidence. But there’s such a short time.”
“You’ll get it back and we won’t tell G.C.”
We sent the lorry for the wildebeest. When they came back with him G.C. and I climbed up to have a look at him. They are never a handsome animal when dead. He lay big paunched and dusty, all his bluff gone and his horns gray and undistinguished. “Mary took an awfully fancy shot at him,” G.C. said. The wildebeest’s eyes were glazed and his tongue out. His tongue was dusty too and he had been drilled behind the ear just at the base of the skull.
“Now where do you suppose she actually held?”
“She shot him from only twenty yards. She had a right to hold up there if she wanted to.”
“I’d have thought she’d have taken him through the shoulder,” G.C. said.