When the Lion Feeds (Courtney Family, Book 1)
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He began life at his twin brother's side, soon running wild on his father's ranch on the edge of Africa. But violence, desire, and fate sent Sean Courtney into exile--where he would fight and love his way to extraordinary success and heartbreaking failure...
In a place called The Ridge of White Waters, Sean made a life-long friendship, mined a fortune of gold, and met his own demons. Then an act of cunning betrayal struck--and ignited a new adventure to a new frontier.
From facing the murderous charge of a towering bull elephant to watching men die unspeakable deaths, Sean fought new enemies, forged new allies--and dreamed of establishing a family on a farm of his own. But in Wilbur Smith's When the Lion Feeds, the young man who had lived by his courage, sweat, and blood was about to discover that the past still had its claws in him…
statement, let it ring with obvious false confidence,’ Duff instructed. ‘If it goes on like this we’ll have the shares down to thirty-five shillings within an hour of opening.’ Five minutes before opening time Sean stood in the President’s box and made his address to his fellow members, Duff listened to him with mounting admiration. Sean’s hearty reassurances and verbal side-stepping were enough to strike despair into the souls of the most hardened optimists. Sean finished his speech and climbed
dear, this is Candy Rautenbach.’ ‘How do you do.’ Katrina smiled uncertainly and Candy said the wrong thing. ‘Sean, you’re joking! You married?’ Katrina’s smile faded. Candy noticed the change and went on quickly, ‘But I must applaud your choice. I am so pleased to meet you, Katrina. We must get together sometime and I’ll tell you all about Sean’s terrible past.’ Candy was still holding Sean’s arm and Katrina was watching her hand – the long tapered fingers against the dark cloth of Sean’s
his nose to the ground. The twins followed him, tensed for the bird to rise. They carried their throwing sticks ready and moved forward a stealthy pace at a time, fighting to control their breathing. Tinker found the bird crouched flat in the grass; he jumped forward giving tongue for the first time, and the bird rose. It came up fast on noisy wings, whirling out of the grass. Sean threw; his kerrie whipped past it. The pheasant swung away from the stick, clawing at the air with frantic wings
went out into the passage. She heard the door of Waite’s study slam shut and she stood still in the centre of the floor. Gradually her panting came under control and the storm surf of her anger abated to expose the black reefs of hatred beneath. She crossed the floor, went down the passage and into her own bedroom. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself. ‘I hate him.’ Her lips formed the words in the mirror. Her face was still pale. ‘There’s one thing I can take from him. Garry’s
‘Now you’re talking sense. Who’s got a few barrels of tar for sale?’ He looked round. ‘What, no offers? Then we’ll have to think of something else.’ ‘I’ve got ten drums of red paint – thirty shillings each, good imported brand.’ Duff recognized the speaker as a trader who had opened a general dealer’s store down at Ferrieras Camp. ‘Mr Tarry suggests paint. What about it?’ ‘No, it comes off too easily – that’s no good.’ ‘I’ll let you have it cheap – twenty-five shillings a drum.’ ‘No – stick