In the Land of the Long White Cloud

by Sarah Lark

  “Interest, yes…oh, thank you, Laurie, you’re both simply wonderful! I don’t know what I would have done without you!” Helen held out her cup to Laurie, who had just come to the table with freshly made tea.

  Laurie filled her cup as skillfully as Helen had taught her on the ship.

  “How can you tell that that’s Laurie?” Leonard asked, astounded. “I don’t know anyone who can tell them apart.”

  Helen laughed. “If you leave the twins to their own devices, Mary likes to set the table, and Laurie likes to serve. Just keep an eye out—Laurie is the more open of the pair, whereas Mary likes to take a backseat.”

  Leonard had never noticed that, but he admired Helen’s gift of observation. “Now, what about your friend?”

  “Well, Gwyneira has her own problems,” Helen said. “In fact, you rode right into them yourself. This Maori chief is attempting to bring the Wardens to their knees, and she has no way of going over Paul’s head to resolve it. Perhaps when the governor finally decides…”

  “And the chances of this Paul fellow returning and resolving his own difficulties?” Leonard asked. It seemed rather unjust to leave these two women behind with all these troubles. Although he had not met Gwyneira Warden yet. If she was anything like her daughter, though, she could handle half a continent full of rebellious savages.

  “Resolving difficulties is not exactly a strong suit of the male Wardens.” Helen smiled crookedly. “As for Paul’s return…the atmosphere in Haldon is slowly changing. George Greenwood was right about that. At first they would all have liked to lynch him, but now their sympathy for Gwyneira is winning out. They think she needs a man on the farm, and they’re willing to overlook a few small details like murder to make that happen.”

  “How cynical of you, Mrs. O’Keefe!” Leonard admonished.

  “I’m being honest. Paul shot an unarmed man in the chest without warning. In front of twenty witnesses. But I don’t want to see him hanged either. What good would that do? In any case, when he returns, things are bound to escalate with the Maori chief. And then perhaps he’ll hang for his next murder.”

  “The boy really seems to fancy the noose.” Leonard sighed. “I—”

  He was interrupted when someone knocked on the door. Laurie opened it. As soon as she did, a small dog shot between her legs. Panting, Friday reared up in front of Helen.

  “Mary, come quick! I think it’s Miss Silk…Warden! And Cleo! How is she still alive, miss?”

  But Gwyneira did not notice the twins. She was so beside herself that she did not even recognize them.

  “Helen,” she exclaimed, “I’m going to kill Tonga! It was all I could do not to ride into the village with a gun! Andy says his people held up a covered wagon—heaven knows what it wanted with us, or where it is now. In the village, though, they’re having great fun running around with brassieres and knickers…oh, pardon me, sir, I…” Gwyneira blushed when she saw that Helen was entertaining male company.

  McDunn laughed. “Nothing to pardon, Mrs. Warden. I’m well schooled in ladies’ undergarments: I’m the one who lost them. The wagon belongs to me. With your permission, Leonard McDunn of the O’Kay Warehouse.”

  “Why don’t you just come to Queenstown?” Leonard asked a few hours later, looking at Helen.

  Gwyneira had calmed down and helped Helen and the twins feed the hungry sheep shearers. She praised all of them for continuing the shearing, even though they were rather shocked at the quality of the wool. They had heard that O’Keefe produced a good deal of junk wool, but they had no idea the situation was so dire. Now Gwyneira sat with Helen and Leonard in front of the fireplace, opening one of the bottles of Beaujolais that had thankfully been rescued.

  “To Ruben and his excellent taste!” she said with delight. “Where did he get that from, Helen? This must be the first bottle of wine to be uncorked in this house in years.”

  “In the works of Lord Bulwer-Lytton, Gwyn, which I like to read with my students, alcohol is occasionally consumed in cultivated company,” Helen replied affectedly.

  Leonard took a sip; then he made his suggestion about Queenstown: “Seriously, Mrs. O’Keefe, you do wish to see your son and your grandchildren, don’t you? Now’s your chance. We’ll be there in a few days.”

  “Now, in the middle of the shearing?” Helen dismissed the notion.

  Gwyneira laughed. “Helen, you don’t seriously believe that my people will shear more sheep if you’re standing there than if you’re not. And you don’t mean to herd the sheep into the highlands yourself, do you?”

  “But…but someone has to feed the workers…” Helen was undecided. The offer had come so suddenly; she couldn’t accept it. And yet it was so tempting!

  “They fed themselves on my farm. O’Toole still makes better stew than Moana and I ever managed to. And let’s not even get started on you. You’re my dearest friend, Helen, but you’re no chef.”

  Helen blushed. Normally she would not have thought twice about such a remark. But suddenly, in front of Leonard McDunn, it was embarrassing.

  “Let the men slaughter a couple of sheep, and we’ll leave them one of these barrels since I was the one to defend them with my life. It’s a sin, really, because the brandy is too good for that lot, but after this they’ll love you forever,” McDunn suggested with composure.

  Helen smiled. “I don’t know…” she said coyly.

  “But I do!” Gwyneira said resolutely. “I would love to go, but I’m indispensable at Kiward Station. So I’m hereby declaring you our mutual emissary. See that all is right in Queenstown. And woe to Fleurette if she didn’t train that dog properly! Also, take a pony with you for our grandchildren. So they don’t grow up to be lousy riders like you.”

  14

  Helen loved Queenstown from the moment she laid eyes on the little town on the shores of the mighty, shimmering Lake Wakatipu. In the smooth surface of the lake she could see the reflections of the dapper new houses, and a little harbor was lined with colorful rowboats and sailboats. The snowcapped mountains framed the picturesque scene. Most importantly, Helen had gone half a day without seeing a single sheep.

  “It’s humbling,” she confided to Leonard McDunn, to whom she had already revealed more about herself after eight days together on the coach box than she had to Howard during their whole marriage. “When I came to Christchurch years ago, I cried because the town had so little in common with London. Now I’m thrilled by this little town because I will be surrounded by people and not ruminants.”

  Leonard laughed. “Oh, Queenstown has quite a bit in common with London, you’ll see. There’s stuff happening here, Mrs. O’Keefe. You feel progress here, like you’re on the frontier. Christchurch is nice, but there it’s more about keeping up old customs and being more English than the English. Just look at the cathedral and the university. They think they’re becoming an Oxford over there! But here everything is new; everything’s on the up-and-up. The prospectors are a wild bunch, though, and raise a bit of rumpus. It’s unthinkable that the nearest police station is forty miles away. But these boys bring gold and life to the town. You’ll like it here, Mrs. O’Keefe, believe me.”

  Helen already liked it as the wagon rumbled down Main Street. It was unpaved just like in Haldon, but the street here was filled with people: a prospector was arguing with the postman because he had apparently opened a letter for him; two girls were giggling and peeking into the barber shop where a handsome young man was getting a haircut; the smith was shoeing horses; and two miners were talking shop about a mule. And the “hotel” was being repainted. A red-haired woman in an eye-catching green dress was overseeing the painters and cursing like a sailor.

  “Daphne!” The twins squealed simultaneously, almost falling from the wagon. “Daphne, we brought Miss Dav…Mrs. O’Keefe!”

  Daphne O’Rourke turned around, and Helen found herself staring into that familiar catlike face. Daphne looked older, maybe a little worse for wear, and was heavily made up. When she saw H
elen on the coach box, their eyes met. Helen was touched to see that Daphne blushed.

  “He…hello, Mrs. O’Keefe!”

  Leonard could hardly believe it, but the ever-confident Daphne curtsied before her teacher like a little girl.

  “Stop the horses, Mr. McDunn!” Helen called. She hardly waited for him to rein in the horses before she jumped down from the box and wrapped her arms around Daphne.

  “No, really, Mrs. O’Keefe, if someone sees…” Daphne said. “You’re a lady. You shouldn’t be seen with someone like me.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Keefe, for what I’ve become.”

  Helen laughed and embraced her again. “What have you become that’s so horrible, Daphne? A businesswoman. A wonderful foster mother for the twins. No one could ask for a better student.”

  Daphne blushed again. “Perhaps no one has enlightened you as to my…line of business,” she said softly.

  Helen pulled her close. “Businesses work on supply and demand. I learned that from George Greenwood, another one of my children. And as for you…well, if there had been a demand for Bibles, I’m sure you would have sold those.”

  Daphne giggled. “With great pleasure, Mrs. O’Keefe.”

  While Daphne was greeting the twins, Leonard took Helen to the O’Kay Warehouse. As much as Helen had enjoyed seeing Daphne and the twins, she wanted more than anything to fling her arms around her own son, Fleurette, and her grandchildren.

  Little Stephen hung on to her skirts right away, but Elaine displayed more enthusiasm when she saw the pony.

  Helen looked down at her red hair and her lively eyes, already a deeper shade of blue than most babies’.

  “Definitely Gwyn’s granddaughter,” Helen said. “She didn’t get anything from me. Watch out, she’ll be asking for a couple of sheep for her third birthday.”

  Leonard McDunn scrupulously went over the accounts from his last purchasing trip with Ruben O’Keefe before assuming his new duties. The police station had to be painted and the jail supplied with bars with help from Stuart Peters. Helen and Fleur helped furnish the cells decently with mattresses and sheets from the warehouse.

  “Not going to put in any flower vases?” grumbled Leonard. Stuart was likewise impressed.

  “I’m keeping a spare key,” the smith teased. “In case I have guests in town.”

  “You can test it out right now, if you like,” Leonard threatened. “But seriously now—I’m afraid we’ll already be filled up tonight. Miss O’Rourke is planning an Irish evening. What do you bet half her customers end up beating up the other half?”

  Helen frowned. “But it won’t get dangerous, will it, Leonard? Watch out for yourself! I…we…we need our constable in one piece!”

  Leonard beamed. He was exceptionally pleased that Helen was worried about him.

  Hardly three weeks later, Leonard was confronted with a problem more serious than the usual brawls among the prospectors.

  In need of help, he waited in the O’Kay warehouse until Ruben had time for him. Voices and laughter came from the building’s back rooms, but Leonard did not want to intrude. After all, he was there on official business. It was not Leonard waiting for his friend but the police officer seeking the justice of the peace. He breathed easier when Ruben finally broke free and came out to see him in the front of the store.

  “Leonard! Sorry to make you wait,” Ruben said, evidently in good spirits. “But we have something to celebrate. It looks I’m going to be a father for the third time! But first, tell me, what’s this all about? How can I help?”

  “An official matter. And a sort of legal dilemma. A certain John Sideblossom just appeared in my office; he’s a well-to-do farmer looking to invest in the gold mines. He was all worked up, said I had to arrest a man he saw in the prospectors’ camp. A certain James McKenzie.”

  “James McKenzie?” Ruben asked. “The sheep thief?”

  Leonard nodded. “The name rung a bell at once. He was caught a few years ago in the highlands and sentenced in Lyttelton to serve a term in prison.”

  Ruben nodded. “I know.”

  “Always had a good memory, Your Honor,” Leonard said respectfully. “Did you also know they commuted McKenzie’s sentence? Sideblossom says they sent him to Australia.”

  “They deported him,” Ruben corrected him. “Australia was the closest place. The sheep and cattle barons would have preferred to see him in India or some far-off place like that. Most of all, they would have liked to see him in the belly of a tiger.”

  Leonard laughed. “That’s exactly the impression this Sideblossom gave. Well, if he’s right, McKenzie’s back, even though he was exiled for life. That’s why this Sideblossom fellow said I needed to arrest him. But what am I supposed to do with him? I can hardly lock him up for life. And five years in prison wouldn’t make much sense either—strictly speaking, he already has those years behind him. Not to mention that I don’t have space for him. Do you have any suggestions, Your Honor?”

  Ruben pretended to think about it—though Leonard could not help seeing the joy reflected in his face. Was he against McKenzie? Or for him?

  “See here, Leonard,” Ruben finally said. “First, find out if this is really the McKenzie Sideblossom has in mind. Then lock him up for as long as this Sideblossom fellow is in town. Tell Sideblossom you’re taking this man into protective custody. Sideblossom was menacing Mr. McKenzie, and you didn’t want a rumpus.”

  Leonard grinned.

  “But don’t tell my wife anything about it,” Ruben said urgently. “It should be a surprise. Oh yes, and before you lock him up, see that Mr. McKenzie gets a shave and a decent haircut if it proves necessary. He’ll be receiving a lady visitor shortly after entering that grand hotel of yours.”

  During the first weeks of being pregnant, Fleurette was always close to tears, and so she cried her eyes out when she went to visit James in jail. Whether out of joy at their reunion or desperation over his renewed capture was hard to tell.

  James McKenzie himself, on the other hand, hardly seemed upset. Until Fleurette burst into tears, he had been in high spirits. Now he held her in his arms and awkwardly rubbed her back.

  “Now, now, don’t cry, little one, nothing’s going to happen to me here. It would be much more dangerous out there. I still have a bone to pick with Sideblossom!”

  “Why did you have to run into him straightaway?” Fleurette sobbed. “What were you even doing in the goldfields? You weren’t trying to stake a claim, were you?”

  James shook his head. He did not look like one of the adventurers who set up camp on the old sheep farms close to the goldfields, and Leonard had neither needed to take him to the barber’s for a shave and haircut, nor had to help him out with money. James McKenzie looked more like a well-off rancher on vacation. Judging by his clothing and cleanliness, he was indistinguishable from his old enemy Sideblossom.

  “I’ve staked enough claims in my life and even earned plenty from this last one in Australia. The secret is not to spend all the gold you find right away by celebrating at an establishment like Daphne’s.” He laughed. “Naturally, in the goldfields here I was looking for your husband. Only to find out that he now lives on Main Street, throwing the book at harmless travelers.” He winked at Fleurette. Before seeing his daughter, he had met with Ruben and was very pleased with his son-in-law.

  “What’s going to happen now?” Fleurette asked. “Will they send you back to Australia?”

  James sighed. “I hope not. I could pay for the passage. That’s no problem…now, now, don’t give me that look, Ruben. I earned it all honestly! I swear. I didn’t steal a single sheep over there. It would have been another waste of time. Of course I was going to come back with different papers. I won’t go through something like I did with Sideblossom again. But I would have had to keep Gwyn waiting for so long if I had stayed in Australia. And I’m sure she’s tired of waiting—just like I am.”

  “False papers aren’t a solution, either,” Ruben said.
“They would be fine if you wanted to live in Queenstown, on the West Coast, or somewhere on the North Island. But if I’m understanding you correctly, you want to ride back to the Canterbury Plains to marry Gwyneira Warden. It’s just that—every child knows you there!”

  James shrugged. “Also true. I would have to abduct Gwyn. But I don’t have any scruples about that!”

  “It would be better to make you a legal citizen,” Ruben said sternly. “I’ll write to the governor.”

  “But Sideblossom will be doing that already!” Fleurette seemed to be on the verge of bursting into tears again. “Mr. McDunn already said he was raving like a madman because my father’s being handled like a prince here.”

  John Sideblossom had come by the police station around midday when the twins had been in the midst of serving both the guard and the prisoner a glutton’s feast. He was livid when he saw how the prisoner was being treated.

  “Sideblossom is a rancher and an old scoundrel. If it’s his word against mine, the governor will know what to do,” Ruben said, appeasing her. “I will describe the situation to him in detail—including your father’s secure financial situation, his family connections, and his marriage plans. In addition, I will stress his services and qualifications. So he stole a few sheep. He also discovered the McKenzie Highlands, where Sideblossom now pastures his sheep. He should be grateful to you, James, instead of planning your demise. And you’re an experienced shepherd and sheep breeder, a definite gain for Kiward Station, especially now, after the death of Gerald Warden.”

  “We could also offer him a job,” Helen joined in. “Would you like to be manager of O’Keefe Station, James? That would be an alternative, should dear Paul throw Gwyneira out on the street anytime soon.”

  “Or Tonga,” Ruben remarked. He had studied Gwyneira’s legal status in the conflict with the Maori and was not very optimistic. From a legal perspective, Tonga’s demands were justified.

  James McKenzie shrugged. “O’Keefe Station is as good as Kiward Station to me. It’s all the same to me as long as I can be with Gwyneira—though I suspect that Friday will want a few sheep.”