Page 61 of Duty Preserved

One of the younger rangers said something in Swahili. The others laughed. Sarah smiled and let it go.

She shifted to logistics. “This journey will be mostly on foot because it will be easier to manage the cattle in this particular terrain. Two vehicles will be staged along the route for resupplies and emergencies.”

“We would like the rangers on the flanks and out front. Citadel, if you guys could spread through the middle and rear, that would be great for us. It is especially important that we all remember the pace is directed by the animals, not our clocks. We wanted one vet to stay at camp to be here for animals in the facility, and Daniel has volunteered for that.”

Daniel raised a hand from his seat by the door. “Try not to have too much fun without me.”

Nobody took the bait. Sarah moved on.

I watched her work. She’d marked up the route herself, and she referenced it without looking down at it. She answered questions from the rangers in a mix of English and the handful of Swahili phrases she’d picked up, and when she didn’t know a word, she turned to Zayn, he supplied it, and she said it back and kept going.

She owned this room. Every person in it was listening to her.

I was in trouble with this woman, and I knew it.

She was at ease with her dart gun as much as any trained soldier with a rifle. She was truly passionate about these animals and this reserve. And here, she was directing a large group of men on essentially a tactical operation. I felt my whole being completely anchoring itself to her.

She caught my eye for half a second. Just a glance, nothing anyone else would read. Then she looked back at the map and kept talking.

Andrew leaned over. His voice was low enough that only I heard it.

“You’ve got a little drool, Hughes. Right there on your chin.”

I extended my middle finger without looking at him.

He grinned and turned back to the presentation, lacing his hands behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Dawn came early as it always did before an op.

We stood at the edge of the eastern grazing corridor and looked at the herd. Two hundred and fifty Ankole cattle spread across the ground in front of us, heads down, pulling at whatever grass was left. Those horns. Some of them were wider than I was tall. They arced out from their skulls in long, pale curves.

What dangers could there be that these animals needed spears coming out of their skulls?

The rangers sorted themselves without being told.

Zayn stood apart with three of the older ones, pointing at positions along the flanks. The others were double-checking their gear and weapons. They didn’t look to me or Cole or Andrew for direction. They were certainly moving like they were comfortable with the task at hand.

Two weeks ago, half of them were fumbling through basic rifle disassembly. Now, the maintenance of their rifles was something they had already done before they arrived this morning. They were already on to the bigger tasks.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride watching them.

Zayn broke off from his group and came over. He carried a bundle of long, thin sticks under one arm, each one about five feet in length, stripped of bark and worn smooth.

“For you,” he said and held one out to me.

I took it. It weighed next to nothing.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That is your equipment for the day.”

Andrew took his with both hands like he’d been presented a sword. “I feel extremely prepared.”

“The cattle respond to sound,” Zayn said. “Not force. The herd moves because someone in front calls them forward. Nobody pushes from behind.”

“And the stick?” Cole turned it over in his hands.

“You tap the ground with it. Or hold it out to the side to make yourself bigger. That is all.” Zayn looked at the three of us like he was waiting for the obvious question.