Willem Kloot came out of the kitchen as they arrived.

‘I came in for coffee and there was no one—what happened?’

Drieka pointed an accusing finger at Kleintje.

‘She was playing with this filthy Hottentot at the dam. She almost drowned.’

Sanna stood protectively in front of her son.

‘He did nothing, Grootbaas. Tinktinkie’s shoe got stuck in the mud and …’

‘Vinkie,’ Drieka corrected.

Sanna looked at Roeloff. Tinktinkie was Roeloff’s nickname for his sister. Everyone called her that.

‘Tinktinkie’s shoe got stuck in the mud,’ Roeloff said, ignoring Drieka. ‘She went after it. It’s not Kleintje’s fault.’

‘What were the two of you doing at the dam?’

‘Playing, Grootbaas.’

‘Playing? What did I say about playing near the dam when it’s full?’

Kleintje looked up, wide-eyed and trembling, at the towering white farmer. For once there was no snot in the crease under his nose.

‘I don’t know, Grootbaas.’

‘You don’t know? What do you know?’

‘Nothing, Grootbaas.’

‘He doesn’t listen,’ Sanna said. ‘I told him about the dam swelling up. He just runs out like an ostrich with no brain.’ She brought Kleintje out from behind her skirts, pulling his ear to show she was angry with him. ‘But he didn’t make her fall in. Kleintje’s lazy, but he’s not bad, and he likes Vinkie.’

‘How did she get out?’

Drieka opened her mouth to speak, but Sanna beat her to it.

‘Twa fetched Roff and Roff jumped in the dam quick, quick. We all thought she was dead. But he turned her over and hit her on the back and the water came out. He saved his sister.’

Willem turned to his son.

‘That was quick thinking.’

Roeloff coloured slightly.

‘Well, don’t stand there like a tree, Sanna,’ Drieka said. ‘Get her changed and hurry with those potatoes. My brother and his wife will be here soon.’

Roeloff saw Sanna’s bottom lip curl. She’d been embarrassed in front of the Joubert girls. Drieka had also called her a monkey. Sanna didn’t forget such things. Tomorrow she would leave the loaves extra long in the oven to burn, and Drieka would retaliate by withholding meat from the three-legged pot which fed the servants.

They entered the kitchen and Roeloff gave Vinkie to Sanna.

‘I’ll change her in front of the hearth, Sanna, give her to me,’ Diena said, coming forward. ‘You help Tante Drieka.’

Sanna handed Vinkie to her and poured water from the kettle onto a rag. ‘You can wipe her with this, it’s nice and hot.’

Roeloff studied Diena as she went about tending to his sister. She had a neat brow, with light brown eyes, and the thick plait of hair wound all round her small head. Why was it he didn’t find her attractive? The pimples were gone, her waist had narrowed, and he liked her. Much better than Soela. Soela was the handsomer of the two sisters, but her manner belied her looks. Diena spoke straight, and she was kind to the people on her father’s farm. A bit too religious, but that was not surprising. The missionaries had made quite an impact when they came all the way from Europe to save the natives’ souls, Oupa Harman had said. Many farmers now held services for their workers on Sunday afternoons, and on the farm it was Diena who performed it, instead of her father whose duty it really was. Just as well, Roeloff thought. How could a man with no Christian feeling for his workers impart the word of the Lord when he never gave them a day off, never paid them except in the form of wine to keep them drunk? God wasn’t sleeping. And neither were the Koi-na. They were always making off with his sheep; recently six more had been lost to raiders.

Aware of Soela’s eyes on his back as he stood with Diena and Vinkie in front of the hearth, he fought the temptation to look up. He wasn’t unaware of the snug fit of her dress, the curves underneath, the effect they had on him. It displeased him that she had this power over him.

‘I was thinking, Roff,’ Willem Kloot said from where he stood at the half door drinking coffee and looking out for Joubert’s wagon, ‘I’m getting too old for that stallion. I was thinking of giving him to you.’

Roeloff came fully alert.

‘Boerhaan?’ Champion stock was hard to come by, and a stallion like Boerhaan was priceless, besides being his father’s favourite horse. Willem cared for nothing and no one like he cared for Boerhaan. Roeloff couldn’t believe it.

‘You’re seventeen. It’s time you took care of some things. I’m putting you in charge of the foaling. You’ll run the stable from now on.’

Drieka, cutting potatoes and carrots, stopped with the knife in the air.

‘Giving him all this responsibility, the stallion—David’s more suited.’

‘Roff has his way with horses, David doesn’t.’

‘David will take a wife. It’s a start.’

Roeloff looked at his stepmother from under his lashes. Her hair had greyed prematurely, making her look older than her twenty-eight years, and her size had not decreased much since Vinkie’s birth. She’d lost her looks, and her thin lips, mean and unfriendly, bore a strong resemblance to her brother’s. Roeloff wasn’t surprised that she favoured David. David, wanting to curry favour with the aunt of the girl he had his heart set on, had worked diligently through Drieka to promote himself with Soela, and Drieka, wanting at least one son on her side for future insurance, had responded. Still, Roeloff was hopeful. Drieka had no hold over his father; in the end his father did what he wanted.

‘Everyone will take a wife sooner or later. There’s enough on this farm for everyone. He’s yours, Roff, but I don’t want anything happening to him, or any change in his routine. He’s still number one around here.’

‘Don’t worry, Pa.’ The thrill of ownership was overpowering. ‘He’s mine, then, completely? You won’t be riding him any more?’

‘He’s yours. I’ll take one of the mares.’

‘Thank you, Pa. Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me so quickly. I’ve given you a big responsibility.’

‘Yes, Pa.’

Twa appeared at the back door.

‘Meisie is ready, Grootbaas.’ Meisie was one of the brood mares.

‘Come in, Twa.’

Twa came into the kitchen and stood awkwardly in front of them. He was in the same duiker loin cloth he’d arrived in almost a quarter century before, the only additional adornment an old hat hanging from the leather waistband that held up his testicle pouch, a carry-all for his pipe and tobacco. The playfulness he exhibited with Roeloff was seldom seen by the womenfolk.

‘When are you going to wear the clothes I gave you?’