The Sound of Thunder by Wilbur Smith

in a wagon bed was a very poor substitute.
    He began to hum the tune that Ruth had sung on the night of the storm.
    Lieutenant-Colonel Garrick Courtney removed his uniform jacket and hung it carefully on the dumb-valet beside his desk.
    The way a house proud wife straightens a picture, on her wall, he touched the purple watered silk on which was suspended the heavy, bronze cross, until it hung to his satisfaction. His lips moving, he read the inscription again, For valour”, and smiled.
    The champagne he had drunk during lunch made his brain feel like a great brilliant diamond set in his skull, sharp and hard and clear.
    He sat down, swivelled the chair sideways to the desk, and stretched his legs out in front of him.
    “Send him in, Orderly!” he shouted, and dropped his eyes to his boots. You couldn’t tell the difference, he decided. No one could tell by looking at them which one was flesh and bone beneath the polished leather-or which leg was carved wood with a cunningly articulated ankle.
    “Sir.” The voice startled him and he pulled his legs in guiltily, hiding them beneath his chair.
    “Curtis!” He looked up at the man who stood before his desk. Tim stood rigidly to attention, staring stolidly over Garry’s head, and Garry let him stand. He felt satisfaction that this hulking bastard must use those two powerful legs to pay respect to Garrick Courtney.
    Let him stand. He waited, watching him, and at last Tim fidgeted slightly and cleared his throat.
    “At ease! ” There was no doubt now as to who held the power.
    Garry picked up the paperknife from Ins desk and turned it in his hands as he spoke.
    “You’re wondering why I sent for you.” He smiled expansively.
    “Well, the reason is that I have a job for you at last. I lunched with General Buller today.” He paused to let that absorb. “We discussed the Offensive. He wanted my views on certain plans he has in mind. ” Garry caught himself. “Anyway, that is beside the point. I want you and your men to reconnoitre the river on both sides of Colenso. See here. ” Garry spread a map on the desk in front of him.
    “There are fords marked here and here.” He jabbed at the map with the paperknife. “Find them and mark them well. Check the bridges-both the railway and the road bridge, make certain they are intact. Do it tonight.
    I want your full report in the morning. You can go.
    “Yes, Sir.
    “Oh, Curtis-” Garry stopped him as he stooped in the entrance of the tent. “Find those fords.” The canvas flap dropped closed behind the American, and Garry opened the drawer of his desk and took out a silver flask set with camelians. He unscrewed it and sniffed the contents before he drank.
    With the dawn, in bedraggled pairs the Guides dribbled into camp.
    Sean and Saul were the last to return. They dismounted, turned their horses over to the servants and joined the group around the fire.
    “Yes?” Tim looked up from where he squatted with a mug of coffee cupped in his hands. His clothing was soaked and steam lifted off it as it dried in the heat of the flames. “They’ve blown the rail bridge-but the road bridge is still intact.
    “You’re sure?”
    “We walked across.”
    “That’s something anyway,” grunted Tim, and Sean raised a sceptical eyebrow.
    “You think so. Hasn’t it occurred to you that they’ve left the bridge because that is where they want us to cross?
    No one replied and Sean went on wearily: “When we checked the bridges, Saul and I did a bit of exploring on the far side. Just beyond the railway bridge there is a series of little kopJes. We crawled around the bottom of them.
    “And?”
    “There are more Boers sitting on those kopJes than there are quills on a porcupine’s back. Whoever tries to cross those bridges in daylight is going to get the Bejesus shot out of him.”
    “Lovely thought!” growled Tim.
    “Charming, isn’t it? Further contemplation of it will make me puke. What did you find?”
    “We found