Song of the Spirits (In the Land of the Long White Cloud saga)

by Lark, Sarah

  Elaine could hardly wait for William to ask her to go walking. And she wondered where he would take her.

  Elaine finally did go for a walk with William—after he had artfully asked her if she would not mind showing him around town once. Elaine knew he didn’t need to be shown around. After all, Queenstown still consisted only of Main Street; and the barbershop, the smithy, the post office, and the general store did not really require further explanation. Daphne’s Hotel presented some excitement, but Elaine and William would naturally make a wide detour around that establishment. In the end, Elaine decided to extend the term “town” a bit and lead her romantic interest down the riverside promenade to the lake.

  “Though it may not seem all that big because of the surrounding mountains, Lake Wakatipu is gigantic. It covers one hundred and fifty square miles, and it is continually in motion. The water is constantly rising and falling. The Maori say it’s the heartbeat of a giant who sleeps at the bottom of the lake. But obviously, that’s just a myth. The Maori have a lot of fairy tales like that, you see.”

  William smiled. “My country also has a wealth of stories. About fairies and sea lions that take human form at the full moon.”

  Elaine nodded excitedly. “Yes, I know. I have a book of Irish fairy tales. And I named my horse after a fey: Banshee. Would you like to meet Banshee sometime? She’s a cob. My other grandmother brought Banshee’s ancestors over from Wales.”

  Though William pretended to listen to her intently, he was not especially interested in horses. Banshee would not have mattered any more to him if Gwyneira McKenzie had imported the horse’s ancestors from Connemara. He found it much more important that that evening, after this walk, he was to meet Elaine’s parents, Ruben and Fleurette O’Keefe. Of course, he had already seen and spoken briefly with them. After all, he had made all of his purchases in their store. But now he had been invited to dinner, and would therefore be socializing with them more intimately. He was in desperate need of that. That morning, Joey had dissolved their partnership. While the old gold miner had initially been patient with him, William’s “lack of drive,” as he called it, had gotten on his nerves after just a week. William, however, had found it completely normal to slow down after the first hard few days. The pain in his muscles needed to abate, after all. And there was time. William was in no hurry. Joey, on the other hand, had made it clear to William that, for him, every day without a gold find was a day lost. He was not dreaming of whisper-worthy sized nuggets, just a bit of gold dust to buy his whiskey and secure his daily portion of stew or mutton at the campfire.

  “Nothing’ll ever come out of workin’ with a spoiled boy like you!” he yelled. Apparently, another partner had turned up who had at least as promising a claim and was prepared to share it with Joey. Joey’s own claim had long since been exhausted; he’d had little luck with his allotment.

  William would now have to carry on alone or seek alternative employment. He decided on the latter. Already the early mornings and late evenings offered a foretaste of winter in the mountains. Queenstown was supposed to be completely covered in snow in July and August—which was no doubt very lovely—but panning for gold in icy rivers? William could think of pleasanter things. Perhaps Ruben O’Keefe would have an idea or two.

  William had already seen the O’Keefes’ property from the river. Compared to Martyn Manor, it was not very impressive, consisting only of a homey wooden house with a garden and some stables. But here in this new land, one had to make allowances when it came to the stateliness of residences. And aside from its primitive architecture, Gold Nugget Manor did indeed have several things in common with the homes of the English landed nobility, including the dogs that leaped at you as soon as you stepped onto the property. William’s mother had owned corgis. Here they employed some sort of collie—sheepdogs—which, as Elaine excitedly explained, were imports from Wales. Elaine’s mother, Fleurette, had brought the bitch, Gracie, from the Canterbury Plains, and Gracie had proliferated with enthusiasm. Why they had brought the dogs to New Zealand was a mystery to William, but to Elaine and her family, nothing could have been more natural.

  Ruben O’Keefe had not yet arrived home, so William let himself be taken on a tour through the stables to meet Elaine’s wonderful Banshee.

  “She’s something special since she’s white. That’s rare among cobs. My grandmother has only had bays and black horses otherwise. But Banshee descends from a Welsh mountain pony that mother received when she was a child. She lived to be incredibly old. I even rode her myself.”

  Elaine prattled on unceasingly, but that did not especially bother William. He found the girl charming, and her effervescent temperament raised his spirits. Elaine seemed unable to keep still. Her red locks bounced in rhythm with her every movement. Moreover, she had made herself pretty for him today. She wore a grass-green dress set off with brown bobbin lace. She had attempted to tie her hair into a sort of ponytail with silk ribbons, but it was hopeless; even before Elaine had ended her tour of the town, her hairstyle had become disheveled. William began to contemplate what it would be like to kiss this tomboy. He’d had experience with many girls in Dublin who were more or less up for sale, as well as with the daughters of his Irish tenants; some of the girls had been very obliging when a few perquisites for their families came in exchange, while others had put on exceedingly virtuous airs. Elaine, however, awakened his protective instincts. William saw her, at least for the moment, more as an endearing child than as a woman. Surely a fascinating experience—but what if the girl took it seriously? There was no doubt in his mind that Elaine was head over heels in love. The feelings she nourished for William were impossible for him to miss.

  Nor did they escape Fleurette O’Keefe. She was more than a little concerned when she greeted the two young people on her veranda.

  “Welcome to Nugget Manor, Mr. Martyn,” she said, smiling and holding her hand out to William. “Come in, and enjoy an aperitif with us. My husband will be joining us presently. He only has to change his clothes.”

  To William’s surprise, the O’Keefes’ house bar was well stocked. Fleurette and Ruben seemed to be wine drinkers. Elaine’s father uncorked a bottle of Bordeaux first thing in order to let the wine breathe before dinner, but there was also first-class Irish whiskey. William swirled it in his glass until Ruben toasted to him.

  “To your new life in a new land! I’m sure you miss Ireland, but this country has a future. If you let yourself, it’s not hard to love.”

  William clinked glasses with him. “To your beautiful daughter, who has made my move to town so marvelous!” he replied. “Thank you very much for the tour, Elaine. From now on I shall only see this land through your eyes.”

  Elaine beamed and sipped some wine.

  Georgie rolled his eyes. His sister couldn’t possibly deny that she was in love!

  “Were you really with the Fenians, Mr. Martyn?” the boy asked curiously. He had heard of the Irish independence movement and was hungry for adventure stories.

  William suddenly looked alarmed. “With the Fenians? I don’t understand.”

  What did this family know about his past life?

  The situation was visibly uncomfortable for Ruben. The young man was not supposed to learn about Fleurette’s spying within the first five minutes of their acquaintance. “Georgie, what are you talking about? Of course Mr. Martyn wasn’t a Fenian. That movement has all but disappeared in Ireland. Mr. Martyn must still have been in diapers when the last uprisings took place. Excuse him, Mr.…”

  “Call me William!”

  “William. My son has simply heard rumors… for the boys around here, every Irishman is a hero of independence.”

  William smiled. “Unfortunately, not everyone is, George,” he said, turning to Elaine’s brother. “Otherwise, the isle would long since have been free… but let’s move on. You have a beautiful estate here.”

  Ruben and Fleurette explained a bit about how Nugget Manor came to be, during which time Ruben
wittily recounted the story of his fruitless gold-mining efforts. That encouraged William. If Elaine’s father had failed at mining himself, he would undoubtedly appreciate William’s troubles. For the moment, however, he did not mention them, and instead allowed the O’Keefes to determine the topics of conversation throughout dinner. As he’d expected, they listened closely to what he had to say, but that was not a problem. He artfully delivered extensive and relevant information about his origins and education. The latter was the norm for his social class: a tutor in his early years, followed by an elite English boarding school, and finally university. William had not graduated from the last one, but he left out that detail. After giving only a vague account of his work on his father’s farm, he went on to embellish his legal studies in Dublin. He knew that Ruben O’Keefe would be interested in that, and when Ruben then brought the conversation around to the Home Rule Bill, William could more than keep pace. By the end of the dinner, he was rather convinced that he had made a good impression. Ruben O’Keefe appeared relaxed and friendly.

  “And how is the gold mining going?” he finally asked. “Have you come any closer to riches?”

  This was his opportunity. William assumed a distressed mien. “I’m afraid that was a mistake,” he remarked. “Which is not to say that others did not warn me. Even your charming daughter brought it to my attention at our first meeting that panning for gold was really more for dreamers than for serious settlers.” He smiled at Elaine.

  Ruben looked astonished. “Last week you couldn’t have sounded more different! Didn’t you just buy all that equipment, including that camping tent?”

  William made an apologetic gesture. “One’s follies can grow costly,” he said regretfully. “But a few days on my claim sobered me up quickly. The rewards simply don’t measure up to the work.”

  “That depends,” Georgie interjected excitedly. “My friends and I were gold panning last week, and Eddie—the blacksmith’s son—pulled out a piece of gold that he got thirty-eight dollars for!”

  “And you panned all day and didn’t even make a dollar,” Elaine reminded him.

  Georgie shrugged. “That was just bad luck.”

  Ruben nodded. “That would sum up the problem of the gold rush. It’s a game of chance, and only rarely does a real prize come along. Generally, it goes up and down. The men manage to hold their heads above water with the yields from their claims, but everyone’s hoping for a lucky break.”

  “I believe my luck is waiting somewhere else,” William explained as he glanced quickly over at Elaine. The girl’s face brightened—all of her senses were concentrated on the young man next to her, after all. But their eye contact did not remain concealed from Ruben and Fleurette either.

  Fleurette did not know exactly what bothered her, but she had an uncomfortable feeling. Ruben, however, did not seem to share it. He smiled.

  “And what do you have planned instead, young man?” he asked in a friendly tone.

  “Well…” William trailed off meaningfully, as though he had hardly asked himself this question before. “The evening I arrived, one of the local bankers told me I should concentrate on the things I can really do. Well, those things naturally have most to do with running a sheep farm.”

  “So you want to leave here?” Elaine sounded scared and disappointed, though she tried to act disinterested.

  William shrugged. “Unwillingly, Miss O’Keefe, most unwillingly. But the center of the sheep breeding business is naturally in the Canterbury Plains.”

  Fleurette smiled at him. She felt strangely relieved.

  “Perhaps I could give you a recommendation. My parents have a large farm near Haldon and excellent contacts.”

  “But it’s so far away.” Elaine attempted to control her voice, but William’s announcement had struck her like a knife in the heart. If he was to go away now, probably never to see her again… Elaine felt the blood leaving her face. Did it have to be now? Did it have to be him?

  Ruben O’Keefe registered his wife’s relief as well as his daughter’s disappointment. Fleurette wanted to shoo this young man from Elaine’s side sooner rather than later, though the reason for that was not clear to him. Up until that moment, William Martyn had been making a good impression. Giving him an opportunity in Queenstown did not mean an engagement, after all.

  “Well… perhaps Mr. Martyn’s abilities are not limited to counting sheep,” he said. “How are you with bookkeeping, William? I could use someone in the store to take all that exasperating scribbling off my hands. But of course if you’re looking to start in a management position…”

  Ruben’s expression made clear that he considered that to be illusory. Neither Gwyneira McKenzie nor any of the other sheep barons in the east were waiting for an inexperienced young upstart from Ireland to tell them how to run their farms. Ruben himself was not terribly interested in sheep, but he had grown up in the business. He knew that animal breeding and husbandry in New Zealand had little to do with agriculture in Britain and Ireland—Gwyneira, his mother-in-law, had always alluded to that. In Wales, Gwyneira’s father had not even had a thousand sheep and was considered one of the largest breeders in the region. But here, even his father’s farm, with three thousand sheep, had been too small to make a profit. Moreover, Ruben hardly believed that William would be able to control the roughnecks who worked as shepherds and for the shearing companies.

  William smiled incredulously. “Are you offering me a job, Mr. O’Keefe?”

  Ruben nodded. “If you’re interested. You won’t get as rich as my bookkeeper, but you’ll gain experience all the same. And if my son really makes good on his plans for branch offices in other towns”—he nodded at Georgie—“there will be room for advancement.”

  William had no intention of making a career as the manager of a branch office in some little town. He had in mind a chain of stores of his own or a marriage into this one, if things should continue developing so happily. Still, Ruben’s offer was a start.

  He gave Elaine another radiant look, this one a fraction of a second longer than the last, which she returned as one blessed, turning alternately red and pale. Then William stood up and offered Ruben O’Keefe his hand.

  “I’m your man!” he declared with assurance.

  Ruben clasped his hand. “To a good partnership. We should pour another whiskey to that. This time something local. Since you plan to set yourself up in this country for a while after all.”

  Elaine walked William outside when he finally made a move to leave. The area around Queenstown was showing its best side that night. The immense mountains were illuminated by the moonlight, and myriad stars sparkled in the sky. The river looked like flowing silver, and the forest was filled with the calls of nocturnal birds.

  “It’s strange that they sing in the moonlight,” William mused. “As if we were in an enchanted forest.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that noise singing.” Elaine had a limited understanding of romance, but she was doing her best. She nudged herself up next to him inconspicuously.

  “To their females, that noise must be the loveliest of songs,” William remarked. “The question isn’t how well someone does something, but for whom.”

  Elaine’s heart overflowed. Of course, he had done it for her! It was for her that he had ignored a well-paid job managing a sheep farm in order to help out her father. She turned to him.

  “You would have… I mean, you didn’t have to do that,” she said vaguely.

  William looked into her open, moonlit face, which held an expression between innocence and expectation.

  “Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” he whispered. Then he kissed her.

  For Elaine, the night exploded in that kiss.

  Fleurette observed her daughter from the window.

  “They’re kissing!” she remarked and sloshed the rest of the wine into her glass, as though wishing she could empty the memory of what she had just seen along with the bottle.

  Ruben laughed. �
��What else did you expect? They’re young and in love.”

  Fleurette bit her lip and emptied her glass in one gulp. “I just hope we don’t regret this,” she murmured.

  4

  Along with Kura, Gwyneira McKenzie intended to accompany a goods transport for Ruben O’Keefe and to travel to Queenstown in its protection. She would be able to load their baggage on the freight wagon and they themselves could travel in a light chaise. Gwyneira thought that would be the most comfortable way to travel; her granddaughter did not express herself on the point. Kura faced the trip to Queenstown as ever with an almost unsettling apathy.

  The ship with Ruben’s delivery was taking its time, however, so their departure kept being pushed back. Apparently, the first autumn storms were making the crossing difficult. So the sheep had already been herded down from the mountains before Gwyneira could finally depart—which actually calmed, rather than annoyed, the concerned sheep breeder.

  “At least I have my sheep somewhere dry,” she joked as her husband and son shut the last gate behind the herds. Jack had once again proved himself. The workers praised him as “a man’s man,” and the boy raved about camping in the mountains and the bright nights during which he had slipped out of his sleeping bag to observe birds and other nocturnal creatures. There were many of them on New Zealand’s South Island. Even the kiwi—that strange, plump bird chosen as the symbol of the settlers—was nocturnal.