Chapter 1

Jake Browner was born and raised in Mason, Texas, a small town with a population of less than 2,000. As a senior in high school, he weighed 275 and stood 6’2”. He was a standout on the high school football team and hoped to receive a scholarship offer from one of the major Texas universities – Texas, Baylor, or Texas A&M. Sadly, his only offer came from Abilene Christian College, a small school located near his home.

Jake’s eighteenth birthday came on July 4, the year he graduated from high school. At the dinner table that night, his father asked, “Are you going to take the scholarship, son? What do you plan to do?”

Jake loved his parents dearly and held great admiration for his father. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he announced. “Tomorrow I’m going to drive over to the recruiter’s office in Angelo and join the Marines. That’s what you did, Dad. I’m not sure what I want to do, so I’ve decided to join the Marines, get some training, and take three years to decide what comes next.”

Jake’s father was proud of his son’s decision. It was the same decision he had made after high school, and he was proud of his time in the Corps. “You have my support, son. If you’d like, I’ll go along to vouch for you.”

Two days later, Jake arrived at the Parris Island training center.

Three years passed, and Jake still hadn’t decided what he wanted to do in life. But he did have a new name. During the third week of training at Parris Island, his unit was training on an obstacle course. Now 285 pounds, Jake hit the scaling wall so hard that he knocked it over. One of the drill instructors said, “Holy crap! That kid hit the wall like a charging bull.”

From that day forward, Jake Browner was known as Bull.

Years passed, and Bull Browner advanced as an enlisted man in the Marine Corps. At the age of 48, he had served on every continent on Earth. Bull had a chest full of medals, including two Purple Hearts. There was almost nothing he hadn’t done and few things he hadn’t mastered. On his forty-ninth birthday, he retired from the Marines and headed home to Mason, still not knowing what he’d do next.

Back home in Mason, Bull’s father was now 75 years old and extremely proud of his son. “Got any idea what you’re gonna do now, son?”

“I’m just as clueless as I was at 18,” Bull replied. “Three years ago, the Corps took me out of the fighting Marines and issued me a desk. It’s nice to have a soft job, but that’s not for me. Maybe I’ll take up ranching.”

A week later, Bull’s dad called him to the kitchen table, where he was reading a magazine. “Maybe you should take a look at this, Jake. It’s an ad for a fella in Africa who’s looking for a partner.”

“Africa?” Bull said with a grin. “What could I ever do in Africa?”

Jake took the magazine and read the ad his father pointed out.

“I own a safari camp off the Serengeti National Park and am looking for someone to take over for me when I retire. I am looking for a strong, fearless man who can protect my guests while being humble and friendly. Look up Ferguson Safari Camp and reply with your interest.”

Jake looked up at his father with a grin. “Running a safari camp alongside the Serengeti National Park in Africa. As I recall, that’s near Kilimanjaro. Wouldn’t that be a kick?”

When Jake looked up the safari camp, he found it was owned by a retired British Army colonel, Barnwell Ferguson. From the photos, Jake saw an attractive camp with several housing units, a mess hall and trucks. He had to admit the idea was intriguing.

Following the information on the website, Jake sent an email, saying, “My name is Jake Browner, recently retired after 31 years as a Master Sergeant in the U.S. Marine Corps. I’ve served my country on every continent on the planet, but I’ve spent little time in Africa. I find your job posting interesting and would be interested in pursuing the opportunity.”

He was promptly contacted by Col. Ferguson, who wrote, “Sergeant Browner, I find your background appealing and would be most interested in chatting with you about the possibilities. Can we arrange a telephone interview, taking into consideration the time difference of seven hours between your location and mine?”

The two men had an extensive conversation the following day. Ferguson was delighted to hear that while in the Marines, Jake had spent eighteen months in charge of the BOQ (Bachelor Officers’ Quarters) at Camp Pendleton, gaining firsthand knowledge of customer service and running a hotel-like operation. Also, from Jake’s experience, he had an extensive knowledge of weapons, something that would be necessary in the African bush.”

Jake learned that Col. Ferguson wanted to retire and return to England. He proposed that after a two-year apprenticeship, Jake would assume ownership of the camp and pay Ferguson 10% of the profits quarterly for fifteen years. Jake couldn’t think of a better way to own his own business.

A week later, Jake arrived at Kilimanjaro International Airport and was met by Ferguson’s driver. On meeting Ferguson, Jake snapped to attention, giving the colonel a smart salute, saying, “Master Sargent Jake Browner reporting for duty.”

The colonel smiled and returned the salute. “Welcome to Camp Ferguson, Sargent Browner. Please call me Barney. We hold the title for use around our guests. They are impressed with me being a colonel, but I am not. We’ll call you Major Browner for their benefit.” He extended his hand to Jake.

“Thank you, sir,” Jake grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My friends call me Bull.”

“I’m not surprised,” the colonel said, looking up at Bull. “Your countenance will serve you well here.”

Col. Ferguson showed Jake around the camp pointing out three cottages for guests, a large unit for entertaining that included a bar and dining area. The colonel explained that he had plans to enlarge the camp with at least one more bungalow and perhaps a swimming pool as soon as finances allowed.

Over the next six months, Jake learned everything there was to know about running a safari camp and began to gather ideas on improving the place. He studied the other camps in the area to find how he could compete. His interest led him to see that most of the colonel’s clients/guests had returned on several occasions because they enjoyed the colonel and his tours for non-hunting visitors. Most of the guests were on a photographic safari.

Jake was surprised to find how many of the things he had learned in the Marine Corps were helpful in a civilian setting. It was good to know how to use a weapon in case they encountered an angry rhino, but guns were rarely used.

After two years, Col. Ferguson felt comfortable entrusting his business and home to Jake Browner. He said, “Bull, my boy, you have earned the right to take charge of Camp Ferguson. I will not be in the least upset should you decide to change the name, and I have no doubt you’ll find the right name to lure in new and higher-paying guests.”