Forever Dust
Chapter One
Cape Colony, February 1880
Catherine rode into Griqua Town leading a pale horse. It was a youngster still, rebelling against the restraint and every now and then kicking out its resentment with both hind legs. Dirk would have his work cut out breaking in this one, Catherine thought as she felt the rope tug sharply in her hand.
She had convinced Claes that it would be best if she went alone to face their son and he had stayed behind at the camp just outside the sprawling little settlement. Since his and Dirk’s dismal last meeting at the military base of Kenhardt nearly ten months before, Claes had anyway given up hope of a reconciliation and had only come along to escort Catherine.
She hadn’t seen her son in more than two years, Catherine mused, ever since he fled the farm after what now seemed such a senseless incident when Claes had in a fit of temper gelded Dirk’s horse. The boy had first gone to Kimberley, then to Griqua Town until he joined the Army to fight the Korana Hottentot. The Bushman !Xam had followed him everywhere and through him they learned that after the war Dirk had once again gone to Griqua Town to live with the Offstedts, a German couple who owned the general store. It was there that Catherine was now headed.
At the store she tied up the two horses at the hitching post and went inside. It was dark and cool after the glaring white heat of summer she had come through and for a moment she closed her eyes to adjust. When she opened them, she saw an elderly man staring at her.
“Mr Offstedt?” she asked and he nodded, his eyes wide. No doubt he had never seen a woman wearing breeches before, but Catherine was in no mood to explain that she found them more serviceable than a voluminous riding habit.
“I’m looking for my son, Dirk,” she said instead. “I was told that he is here.”
The man shook his head and found his voice.
“I know no-one of that name.”
“Are you sure?” asked Catherine. Surely !Xam couldn’t have been mistaken! “He’s just about seventeen, with light curly hair and blue eyes. Dirk de Jonghe.”
Again Offstedt shook his head, a puzzled look on his face.
“That sounds like the boy we have staying with us,” he said, “but his name is David Bosman.”
“Where is he?” Catherine asked and Offstedt pointed to a door open to the back yard.
“He’s in the shed, sorting goods, but I assure you it can’t be the son you are looking for. He is an orphan.”
Catherine stepped behind the counter.
“I’d like to see for myself if I may,” she said and walked through the doorway, followed by the merchant. Crossing the backyard, they entered a large shed where Catherine saw a mop of sun-bleached hair and a broad back bent over a pile of stiff dry hides.
“Dirk!” she called.
Startled, the boy looked up, then rushed towards her.
“Ma!”
He seemed set to hug her, but held back and took her outstretched hands, beaming wordlessly. Offstedt looked from one to the other.
“Is this your mother?” he asked and when Dirk didn’t reply, accused plaintively, “But the name is all wrong!”
“I’m sorry,” said Catherine, “this must seem very confusing to you, but may I be alone with my son now?”
“Of course, of course,” Offstedt hastened to assure her and, shaking his head, left the shed.
“So,” Catherine said when he was out of earshot, “how have you been?”
“Well enough,” Dirk replied, the wonder in his eyes telling her of his joy at having her find him at last. Catherine studied him critically and smiled - it was like seeing Claes twenty years ago!
Catherine in front of the Church in Upington.
“You’ve grown up,” she said. “You’re not a little boy any more. Will you come home now?”
Dirk’s face clouded over and he shook his head.
“I’m sorry Ma, I can’t.”
“Whyever not? Surely all that happened is behind us now - come look, I brought Lady’s foal to show you, it looks just like Noble.”
Dirk withdrew his hands from hers and the stubbornness she had seen so often in those other blue eyes made her heart sink.
“Moses raised it for you, he always said you’d be back to school it,” she said.
“Let him have it, I don’t want it.”
Catherine looked at her son and she felt pity for him for what she had to say. He had always been so close to Moses.
“Moses is dead, Dirk,” she said softly. “The Hottentots attacked the place and they shot him.”
Dirk’s eyes widened, then shied away, his youth not prepared to come to terms with the spectre of death. When he said nothing, Catherine added, “Little Anna was also murdered. And Kora, but you didn’t know him, did you? He came to warn us and they killed him.”
She had told it so often that she almost believed the lie. Only Lena knew it was she, Catherine, who had shot the Hottentot chief that fateful day.
“I’m sorry, Ma, but I’m still not going back,” said Dirk. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.” He didn’t ask where his father was.
Catherine put her hand to his face and lightly brushed his downy cheek. It was the nearest she could go towards caressing her son.
“What about the horse?” she asked.
She saw him waver. The colt’s sire, Nobleheart, had once meant the world to him - would the foal bring him back? Then he shook his head.
“I don’t want it, do with it what you think best.”
She knew further argument would be useless, so she nodded and turned to leave. Just before she walked out into the sun, he said, “Won’t you at least stay for coffee? I’m sure Mutti would like to meet you.”
“Mutti?” How easily the pet name had come off his lips! When had she been anything but Ma?
“Frau Offstedt,” he corrected himself.
And because she didn’t want to part from him, not just yet, she went with him to the house behind the store to meet Mutti.
Frau Offstedt sat in her chair in the proper lounge, darkened against the heat. She was trembling and her hand had sought that of her husband who was standing behind her. He had told her about the woman who had claimed to be David’s mother and that David’s greeting had confirmed it. Would she lose the boy who was as dear to her as her own son?
With difficulty she rose from her chair when David entered, followed by the unwelcome visitor. Frau Offstedt had the advantage, her eyes being accustomed to the gloom and she took a moment to study her guest as she stood in the light of the doorway.
She was small, not taller than she herself was. Her blonde hair was streaked by the sun and put up in a careless jumble which might at one stage have been a bun. Tendrils of hair had escaped and now framed a face with the eyes slightly screwed up to peer into the room. Her body was slight, silhouetted against the bright light of day. She was standing with her legs somewhat apart, legs encased in narrow trousers - such lewdness as one had never seen. A trollop, claiming to be David’s mother!
Frau Offstedt pursed her thin lips. David had never spoken of this mother, therefore something must be badly wrong here. What, she would still find out, but for the moment the important thing was not to let on how upset she was. Inbred hospitality came to her rescue and she was able to say in a calm voice, “Welcome, Mistress de Jonghe, I am honoured to meet you. I am Frau Offstedt.”
She held out a steady hand which the woman took in both of hers.
“Thank you for looking after my son,” she said. “I can see he is very well.”
Frau Offstedt nodded, disengaging her hand.
“Come and sit down. You must have come a long way.”
Catherine nodded and without a word sank into a comfortable fauteuil.
“Will you take some coffee?” Frau Offstedt offered. “Or something cooler perhaps, I have cold tea if you’d prefer.”
“Just some water, please.”
“I’ll get it,” Dirk said quickly. Frau Offstedt sat down heavily in a chair opposite her guest.
“Ach so,” she said, “Dirk is your son.”
“Yes.”
Frau Offstedt hesitated, then asked, “Will you be taking him away?
Before Catherine could reply, Dirk’s voice came from the doorway.
“No.”
He handed his mother a glass of water, then stood awkwardly but with a determined cast to his face in front of her.
“I’m not coming back, Ma,” he said.
Catherine drank the water, with elaborate care put the glass down on a side table and stood up.
“I’ll be going then,” she said and walked out of the room without a second glance at her son. She passed Offstedt, nodded a dry-eyed greeting and, once outside, mounted her horse. Leaving the yearling tethered to a post, she rode off.
In the darkened room Dirk sat stooped in a chair, his head bowed, contemplating the pattern of the carpet under his feet. For a while it was quiet, then Frau Offstedt said, “David...”
Dirk’s head whipped up.
“Dirk,” he said vehemently, “my name’s Dirk de Jonghe, I’m Claes de Jonghe’s whelp. I’ll never be anything but, though he probably wished it weren’t so. He’d much rather have Frans!”
“Frans?”
“My brother, at least that’s what I always thought. Turned out he wasn’t, but Pa still prefers him to me.”
“Do you hate him, this Frans?”
Dirk shook his head.
“Not any more. We made friends some time back.” A slight smile twisted his mouth as he recalled that day at the Molopo when he and Frans had fought until they were both too exhausted to aim another blow. “But he’s gone anyway. Now they want me back.” Frau Offstedt studied his face, and when he turned away so she wouldn’t see his pain, she said softly, “Dav- Dirk, go after her. Go after your mother and make it right with her.”
Catherine heard the hoofs beating on the packed earth of the wagon trail behind her and halted the mare. When Dirk reached her, she nodded and smiled.
“Changed your mind?”
Jumping off his horse, Dirk took the mare’s rope and waited for his mother to dismount.
“Why did you come?” he asked.
“To take you home,” Catherine replied simply. “We need you. We need a son around the place.”
Dirk shrugged.
“You’ve still got Matthew. He’ll be big enough soon.”
“Why no, didn’t I tell you? Vicky is going to Holland, Frans wants her to come and live there. Of course Matt will go with.”
Dirk looked puzzled.
“Why?”
“Well, of course he must go with his mother - ” She broke off, realising she probably shouldn’t have said that. “What I mean is... well, you’d have known soon enough...”
But Dirk wasn’t listening any more.
“Vicky’s child? Not yours?” He slapped the mare’s neck with the flat of his hand. “Jesus, is nothing in this rotten family what it seems?”
Catherine tried to put her arm on his shoulder, but he wrenched away.
“All lies!” he burst out. “You and Uncle Baptiste and then Pa, and Frans not even being my brother and now little Matthew... ” He stopped, at a loss for words.
Catherine smiled wryly.
“You don’t know the half of it,” she said.
Blinking back tears, Dirk jumped on his horse. One more time Catherine tried to reason with him.
“Please come home, Dirk. We miss you, your Pa wants you back. We lost little Anna, Maria’s mind has turned feeble and soon Vicky and Matt will go away. There’s hardly anybody left...”
“So now I’m good enough,” Dirk said bitterly. “No thanks, Ma. Tell Vicky to give Frans my regards.”
He kicked his horse into an instant gallop, away from her. Catherine stared after him until even the plume of dust had settled, then she swung into the saddle and turned the mare towards the blaze of the setting sun. She had failed, this time.