The Sound of Thunder by Wilbur Smith Read Free Book Online

his mind’s eye and gloating over every detail of it-Sean burned her memory so deeply into himself that it was there for all time. Although he did not even know her surname, he would never forget her.
    By the time he was released with apologies and given back his horses, rifle, moneybag and packs-Sean had driven himself into a mood of such overpowering depression that it could only be alleviated by liquor or physical violence.
    The village of Frere, which was the first station south on the line to the coast, promised both of these.
    -nkeep Dirk with you,” instructed Sean, “beyond the town find a camp beside the road and make a big fire, so I can find you in the dark.
    “What will you do, Nkosi?
    Sean started towards the dingy little canteen that catered for the thirsty of Frere.
    “I’m going there,” he answered.
    “Come, Nkosizana. ” As he and Dirk continued on down the street MbeJane was deciding how long he should give Sean before coming to fetch him. It was many years since the Nkosi had headed for a bar in such a determined fashion, but then there had been much to distress him these last few days. He will need until midnight, Mbejane decided, then he will be in a condition conducive to sleep.
    From the door Sean surveyed the interior of the canteen. A single large room with a trestle bar counter along the back wall, and the room was comfortably MI of warmth and men and the smell of liquor and cigars. Still standing in the entrance, Sean slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and surreptitiously counted his money, ten sovereigns he had allowed himself, more than sufficient for the purchase of the liquor he intended to consume.
    As he worked his way through the crowd towards the bar, he looked at the men about him. Soldiers mostly, from a dozen different regiments. Colonials and Imperial troops, other ranks predominating, although a party of junior officers sat at a table against the far wall. Then there were a few civilians whom he judged to be transport drivers, contractors and business men, two women with the officers whose profession was never in doubt, and a dozen black waiters.
    “What will it be, ducks?” the large woman behind the counter asked as he reached it and Sean regarded her moustache and her term of address with disfavour.
    “Brandy.” He was in no mood for the niceties.
    “You want the bottle, ducks?” She had recognized his need.
    “That will do for a start,” he agreed.
    He drank large brandies, and with a fianit dismay know that they were having no effect-apart from sharpening his imagination to the point where he could clearly see Ruth’s face before his eyes, complete in every detail down to the little black beauty spot high on her cheek and the way the corners of her eyes slanted upwards as she smiled. He would have to make a more active approach to forgetfulness.
    Leaning back with both elbows on the counter and the glass clutched in his right hand, he studied the men about him once more.
    Evaluating each of them as a source of distraction and then discarding and moving his attention on, he was finally left with the small group around the gaming-table.
    Seven players, the game draw poker, and from what he could see the stakes were modest. He picked up his bottle, crossed the room to join the circle of spectators and took up his position behind a sergeant of yeomanry who was receiving a battering from the cards. A few hands later the sergeant drew one to fill his flush, missed and pushed the bluff-raising twice until he was called by two pairs across the table.
    He threw his hand “in and blew through his lips in disgust.
    “That cleans me out. ” He gathered the few coins left on the table in front of him and stood up.
    “Rough luck, Jack. Anyone care to take his place?” The winner looked around the circle of spectators. “Nice friendly little game, table stakes. ” “Deal me in.” Sean sat down, placed his glass and bottle strategically at his right hand