Beneath the Kauri Tree (The Sea of Freedom Trilogy Book 2)
Page 38
He contorted his face into a concerned expression. “That reassures me, Miss Drury, but what if your parents can’t find you? Consider that no letter from your incarcerated friend has reached you yet.”
Matariki frowned. “Our post office is closed,” she said curtly.
Colin tried to look insulted. “I know that, Miss Drury, but mail still arrives. And I, though I should not, would not have kept a letter from your friend from you.”
A warm feeling of gratitude spread through Matariki. Colin Coltrane was so nice, so considerate. Still, she tried to remain cool.
“What are you suggesting, Sergeant Coltrane? Do you want to issue me a pass? That would be unfair. There are people here in greater need.”
Colin shook his head. “Issuing a pass is beyond my power.” He hoped she believed that. If not, she would ask him for ten or fifteen passes for her friends. “Meet me an hour before midnight. I’ll get you out of here. And you won’t be leaving anyone in the lurch. You did what you could, Matariki. Now, let me do what I can.” Colin Coltrane looked her straight in the eye.
Matariki thought about his offer briefly, though her cool assessment of the situation was limited by how weak her knees grew when she looked into his shining green-brown eyes. Warmth welled up in her along with a spark of longing and love of adventure. What had Koria said? Matariki and Colin had looked like a prince and princess when they restored peace to the village. And now the prince wanted to save her.
Colin was right: she had done her best to save the spirit of Parihaka. If she now disappeared into a prison . . . they would never let her write a letter. She would never get out.
Matariki swallowed. “All right, Mr. Coltrane. I’ll do it,” she said decidedly.
Her prince smiled at her. “Colin,” he said in a pleading tone. “Please, call me Colin.”
Matariki told no one of her escape plans and had a guilty conscience about it. It would have been the right thing to inform the other girls of the danger looming the next day. They all knew Parihaka like the back of their hand. Even without the accompaniment of a pakeha sergeant, they had good chances for a successful escape. But Matariki was afraid of her friends’ comments, especially because they had become distant since the situation with Kupe. And Colin. And the performance at the village square.
Matariki sighed when she stood up, taking her tiny bundle. She left Parihaka with one change of clothes and a few mementos. If Colin provided horses, they could be in Wellington in a few days—and then on the ferry to the South Island. Matariki wanted to go home.
Naturally, the guards around the sleeping lodge smirked when Matariki slipped out around eleven. They did not stop her, though. The women were not prisoners, and every night one or two of them left the whare—and their men got up from the village square. In this way, some couples offered each other at least a little comfort at night.
Matariki tried to keep Dingo quiet. Since the looting, the mutt had developed an outspoken hate for pakeha soldiers, and he growled at the guards. Her canine friend was another reason to accept Colin’s offer of help escaping. If Matariki landed in some prison, no one would care for Dingo.
Colin looked less enthusiastic when he saw the growling mutt with Matariki.
“Does he have to come, Matariki?” he asked, but then composed himself quickly. “I hope he doesn’t draw any attention to us.”
He tried to pet the dog, but Dingo snapped at him. Colin seized Matariki’s hand.
“Come, Matariki, we’ll sneak off under tree cover.”
He put his finger to his mouth and pulled the girl along behind him as if she needed guidance. Yet Matariki knew the village much better than he did. She knew about the side gate in the fence that provided the workers quicker access to the fields. Now, that did not matter. The fence had been pulled down, and the buildings on the outside had been the first to fall victim to the looting and destruction. The area could not be seen from the village square, so the soldiers could look for valuables in peace, though there had long been nothing left to find or guard, not for two weeks, at least.
Colin knew that, and so his escape with Matariki was risk-free, but he played the role of rescuer perfectly. The girl sighed with relief when the two of them slipped through the gate, but then looked with horror at the destroyed fields.
“This is awful,” Matariki said quietly. “We worked so hard, and now—”
Colin urged her to turn her gaze from the fields and look at him. “Don’t look, Matariki. Leave it behind. Today a new life begins, and it can be just as lovely.”
His voice sounded gentle at first, then hoarse. He slowly raised his left hand and ran it tenderly over her cheek to wipe away her tears. Matariki blinked, amazed but also a bit comforted. There were so many new feelings. She did not know what she should think. About one thing, though, Colin was right: she had to leave Parihaka behind.
Silently she followed him farther inland, toward Mount Taranaki. Behind one of the hills, Colin had hidden horses. But they would not ride straight to Wellington.
“I’ve secured us tents and provisions,” he explained. “It won’t bother you to spend a few days in the hills, will it?”
Matariki shook her head. “Of course not,” she replied. “We’ll likely have to do that on the way to Wellington, too, won’t we? Only, I don’t understand why. Wouldn’t it be better to put as many miles as possible between us and Parihaka as quickly as possible?”
Colin smiled at her. “That’s how everyone thinks, Matariki,” he said with a slightly chiding undertone. “If they look for us, it’ll be on the road to Wellington. And how would that look? A British sergeant helping a Maori girl escape? I would lose my post, and you’d be compromised.”
Matariki frowned. Really, she was already compromised enough. And the switch from “Miss Drury” to the familiar use of her first name had happened a bit too fast. But it didn’t worry her. She felt comfortable in Colin’s presence. Her hand was warm in his, and it did not bother her to call him by his first name. On the contrary. But this strange escape plan . . .
“We’ll make camp somewhere on Mount Taranaki, and you’ll stay there and wait for me. I’ll take my leave with the proper ceremonies, and then I’ll take you home.”
Matariki’s heart pounded. Did he really mean to leave the army? For her sake or for Parihaka’s? Did the destruction of her dream touch him so deeply, and did he really intend to accompany her not just to Wellington but to the South Island? It would not have bothered her to spend a few days in the city until her parents’ money arrived. She had already practiced that thoroughly in Auckland. But she had not been alone since then—nor among the pakeha. She had still been able to suppress her experience in Hamilton, but her Parihaka experiences ran deep. She did not trust the pakeha anymore—she almost feared them.
Matariki forgot for a moment all her considerations regarding Colin’s discharge from the army. It was time for her final good-bye to Parihaka. She and Colin stood on one of the hills above the village and looked down at the ruins that shone ghostly in the moonlight.
Matariki saw the razed fields, the rubble of the fences, and the last intact buildings amid all the destruction. She thought of her first sight of Parihaka more than two years before. All the hope, the speeches of Te Whiti. Matariki could no longer control herself. She cried, and she did not resist when Colin Coltrane pulled her to him for comfort. Matariki sobbed on his shoulder. Then she looked up into his understanding, gentle, sad eyes.
Matariki parted her lips.
Colin Coltrane kissed her.
Later she followed him down the hill with a feeling between happiness and resignation. He was right; that night something new began.
While Dingo yapped in front of the tent, trying angrily to free himself from the leash that tied him to a kauri tree, Matariki lay in Colin’s arms.
No Choice
Dunedin, Greymouth, and Woolston,
South Island
1881–1882
Chapter 1
Lizzie had been over the moon since Matariki and Colin had arrived in Dunedin. The Drurys had met their daughter there; they could not wait for the young couple to ride up to Elizabeth Station, especially since Colin had some things to do in the city. Judging by Matariki’s letter from Wellington, the young man had resigned from service with the Armed Constabulary. This pleased Lizzie, who, like Michael, looked at anyone in a uniform skeptically. So, it surprised her that Michael did not seem enthusiastic about Matariki’s marriage plans.
“Now, stop being a wet blanket. Instead, help me lace this. The dresses from Kathleen and Claire are lovely, but they demand a certain amount of suffering.”
Lizzie had been shopping that afternoon at the Gold Mine Boutique. She was determined not to play second fiddle to Kathleen Burton’s beauty on this special evening. Jimmy and Claire Dunloe had invited Kathleen and Peter, Michael and Lizzie, and Colin and Matariki to a celebratory dinner in one of the best restaurants in the city. They had to celebrate the return of the “prodigal son,” as Jimmy had said with a smile. He was as proud as ever to have convinced Kathleen years ago to send Colin to England. Lizzie had gladly accepted the invitation, but she was prepared to welcome Colin Coltrane without reservation. His father had been a scoundrel, but the boy did not have to take after him, and so far, Colin had made only the very best impression. Lizzie had always felt guilty with regard to the boy. She had killed Ian Coltrane in self-defense, though no one besides Michael and Reverend Burton knew. She was not sorry, but she had taken away Colin’s father. If the boy now started a new, happy family with her daughter, that would be a relief to Lizzie. Proof that God, too, forgave her.
“Return of the prodigal son,” Peter Burton snorted as he dressed in a distinguished brown suit. “Jimmy Dunloe citing scripture! With the character in question, we don’t know what becomes of him later. Honestly, I’ve always found the metaphor somewhat dubious.”
Kathleen laughed. In her simple dark-green evening dress, she was captivating. She merely hoped she did not outdo Lizzie Drury, who had invested a fortune that afternoon in a dark-red dream with white sleeves and a light-brown, gold-laced belt.
“Just don’t let the bishop hear that—he’ll send you back to the goldfields. Or this time into the coal mines, closer on the way to hell.”
“That doesn’t change anything about my bad feeling about this relationship between Colin and Matariki,” said Peter. “He’s started by not telling her the truth. He didn’t really resign his service, or did he?”
Kathleen shrugged and tucked back a lock of her hair. “Not directly. But transfer to the South Island comes to the same thing. Here there just aren’t any Maori uprisings. So, there’s no need for armed constables—except in the police service, but there aren’t many posts.” Most police officers in the small towns of the South Island were elected by the residents or named by the government, and as a rule, they were interested in keeping the climate between the pakeha and Ngai Tahu peaceful. A veteran of the Taranaki Wars or the invasion of Parihaka was the last person they would choose. “So, they’ll put Colin to work building roads or train tracks. He’ll find out today. He has an appointment at the barracks.”
“Then, we’ll hope for the best,” sighed Peter. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s lying to Matariki. And I can’t imagine that in Parihaka his heart suddenly opened to Maori causes. Matariki does portray him as a hero of peace. I just can’t believe it.”
Kathleen bit her lip. “Perhaps we should stop attributing the worst motives to him. I include myself in that. Jimmy Dunloe seems to be the only one to believe in his wondrous transformation. But he really is charming with Matariki. Whatever else he has in his head, he loves her, without a doubt. He can hardly take his eyes off her. She shines like the stars she’s named for. Lizzie is also happy. I think she’s glad her little girl fell in love with a pakeha, no matter how close she is to the Maori. I always thought that was important to Michael too.”
Kathleen put a valuable headdress of feathers and flowers in her hair. Whenever she and Claire went out in public, they always advertised for the Gold Mine.
Peter laughed. “I don’t doubt Michael would rather have a pakeha son-in-law, but Colin wouldn’t have been his choice. After all, he remembers him from Tuapeka, and he knows what you went through with him here. Lizzie doesn’t know him, and she’s a good soul. She won’t condemn the son for the deeds of the father. We’ll see if she doesn’t regret it.”
Kathleen cast a last look in the mirror. “Perhaps we simply shouldn’t take such a dim view of things,” she said, trying once more to encourage herself as well as Peter. “Like I said, he loves the girl. And love can change people.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “You can give my next sermon, dearest. Faith, hope, and love, as seen in the example of the prodigal son. Or shall we wait a year or so and see how things go?”
That evening, there did not seem to be anything troubling the relationship between Matariki Drury and Colin Coltrane—perhaps because they had banned Dingo to the stables for the night. For Matariki, Dingo’s obvious dislike for her beloved was the only drop of wormwood in her happiness. The dog had become a bit aggressive. If he ever bit Colin, it would force a decision that wouldn’t land in Dingo’s favor. The thought of separating from her companion of many years broke Matariki’s heart.
Colin appeared in the lobby of the hotel where the Drurys were staying so he could accompany Matariki to the table. Rather than the gala uniform of the Armed Constabulary, he wore an elegant gray waistcoat and suit his mother had financed. He kept proper posture and wore his curly blond hair a bit longer than military norms required, and in his beautiful eyes shone genuine love and admiration for Matariki.
Even Peter had a good impression. He finally saw more than a fleeting resemblance between Colin and his beloved Kathleen. Usually Peter thought that Colin’s good looks made one miss the warmth and gentleness that were part of Kathleen and that elevated her radiant appearance above the beauty of a perfect marble statue.
It was similar for Michael, even though the young Colin had reminded him more of Kathleen’s brothers than Ian Coltrane. Lizzie, by contrast, observed Colin completely free of prejudice. Though Ian Coltrane had caused more suffering for Kathleen than for the men, she had hardly known him. And when she saw Colin for the very first time beside her radiantly happy daughter, she could only smile.
“Well, what do you think of your girlfriend?” Lizzie teased Colin. “I had to drag her to the Gold Mine Boutique, but then her guilty conscience about the starving Maori or whoever else could use the money better disappeared pretty quickly.”
Lizzie winked at Matariki, to whom the business was rather embarrassing. She was happy not to have Kupe around her. He would surely have admonished her for putting forward her pakeha side again so quickly. Matariki still mourned Parihaka, but Wellington’s stores, restaurants, and cafés had pulled her back into their gravity, and now, in Dunedin, she bloomed. Matariki had not been able to get enough of looking at her own image in her new dress in red and gold tones. She saw the admiration in Colin’s and her parents’ eyes. Matariki felt a little like a traitor, but she could live with the guilt.
“Matariki always looks beautiful,” Colin said. “This dress emphasizes her charm, but when I fell in love with her, she was wearing a hemp skirt and looked like a queen.”
“So, what’s the news with your post, Colin?” asked Jimmy Dunloe once the first course was served. “Where will you be stationed?”
Matariki looked at Colin, confused.
“I’ll take a post overseeing railroad construction,” Colin answered. “The stretch from Christchurch to the west coast, you know.”
Matariki lowered her fork. “But then you’ll be traveling weeks at a time,” she objected. “I thought you were looking for a job in Dun
edin.”
Matariki had been intending to first complete her high school matriculation exam. There had been differences of opinion between her and her parents about what came after that.
Michael and Peter exchanged conspiratorial looks, which rarely transpired between them. But “Let’s see how he talks his way out of this” was written all over their faces.
Then, however, Jimmy Dunloe took over the explanation. “Oh, he doesn’t decide that himself, Miss Drury,” the banker said amiably. “The Armed Constabulary decides that.”
Matariki frowned, and Michael marveled that she did not get angry. Before, the girl had always been impulsive and easily riled. “Just like her father, Irish temper and all,” Michael tended to joke. Now, however, she remained astoundingly calm.
“Didn’t you resign from the service, dearest?” Matariki asked.
“From active military service, love. But otherwise, it’s not so simple, Riki. We do need for me to earn a living.”
“You wanted to find work in Dunedin,” Matariki said. “That has to be possible.”
Colin bit his lip. He had asked around to determine whether there really weren’t any police posts or other jobs more suited to his military education and experience than railroad construction. Colin Coltrane had tried a variety of apprenticeships but had never left a good impression. Even though that was more than fifteen years ago, there were still plenty of businesspeople who remembered him. Neither Reverend Burton nor Jimmy Dunloe wanted to put his reputation on the line by recommending the young man. Colin had caused enough trouble back then. Now, he needed to prove himself.
“Love, I’m going to first try my hand in the service with railroad construction,” Colin said. “And in a year or so, I’ll look again.”
Matariki looked a bit unhappy, but she acquiesced to Colin’s decision—again to her parents’ astonishment. Only later, after the main course had been served, did Matariki return to the subject.