The Last Leopard by Lauren St. John

Eagle and the Matobo National Park. Since the wildlife in the national park is protected, Ratcliffe focused his efforts on Black Eagle. He began to threaten me. He did it in ways so subtle that I could never prove he was behind it, but it was obvious. Tour operators started calling me to say they’d heard rats had been found in Black Eagle kitchens. Rumors circulated of thieving staff and dirty rooms. Within weeks, my business had all but dried up at the retreat. To add to our problems, five of our cattle died mysteriously, probably from poisoning, and one of our main water holes was contaminated. Plus the guards on the national park gate gave me trouble when I traveled to and from Bulawayo. I held out for as long as I could, but last month I was forced to lay off most of my staff. Then, of course, I broke my leg slipping on a greasy substance that had been left on my doorstep, and had to call you.”
    “Did you contact the police?” asked Gwyn Thomas.
    “What could I say? There’s absolutely no evidence to connect Ratcliffe or the Lazy J to what’s going on.”
    “What about the phone call?” Ben suggested. “There’ll be phone records. You could tell the police that he’s been threatening you.”
    Sadie gave a dry laugh. “Rex Ratcliffe’s much too smart for that. He uses an unlisted number, which means that no number appears on the telephone bill. And he’s very careful to be polite and not use threats. He always calls a couple of days after something bad has happened, such as the poisoning of the cattle, and offers me more and more money for Khan. He talks to me as if I’m senile and too simple to know what I’m turning down. He says things like, ‘Think about it. It’s not as if Black Eagle’s doing very well these days, is it now, Sadie?’
    “ ‘The Rat,’ as I call him, partly because he bears a remarkable resemblance to a rodent, believes everyone has a price. He doesn’t understand what it is to love a person or animal so much that you would lay down your life for them.”
    She looked around sheepishly. “You don’t think I’m senile as well, do you?”
    “I don’t,” Martine told her. “I can totally understand what it’s like to love an animal so much you’d do anything for them. That’s how I feel about Jemmy, my white giraffe. He’s—”
    “Let’s have no more talk of laying down lives,” interrupted her grandmother. “Let’s talk about solutions. However, I’m upset with you, Sadie, for not telling me this before we came. I’m responsible for Martine and Ben, and it was unfair of you not to inform me about what was going on so that I could use my judgment about whether or not it was safe to bring them.”
    “I’m sorry,” Sadie mumbled. “I know I did the wrong thing. But I was sure that if you knew the truth you wouldn’t come.”
    “Having said that,” Gwyn Thomas went on, “I can appreciate what an ordeal this must have been for you, and since we are here, I think I speak for Martine and Ben when I say that we’ll do everything we can to help you keep Black Eagle Lodge and protect Khan. We just have to figure out how.”
    Martine and Ben voiced their enthusiastic agreement, and Martine was very proud of her grandmother for caring so much about helping her friend and saving the leopard that she was willing to overlook Sadie’s deception. Still, she couldn’t help thinking back to Ngwenya’s words about the treasure seekers’ quest: “Before the treasure can be found, the leopard first has to be dead.”
    That meant they were up against two groups of potential leopard assassins: Ngwenya’s cousin and his gold-digging shamwaris , whom she and Ben had promised Ngwenya they wouldn’t speak about, and Rex Ratcliffe and goodness knows how many hunters from the Lazy J.
    “Thank you all for your kindness,” Sadie said, her eyes shiny in the firelight. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me. But I have to be honest with you. We have a fight on our hands