by Sarah Lark
“To Otago first,” Fitz replied. “It’s closer. Gabriel’s Gully, you know.”
Gabriel’s Gully, about fifty miles west of Dunedin, had been named after its discoverer, Gabriel Read.
“Gabriel’s Gully has been stripped bare,” Paxton said. “Thousands of adventurers have picked it clean. The prospectors are all leaving now. There have been new finds on the west coast, but no one knows yet how promising they are. It’s hard to say if the journey over the mountains is worthwhile. In that inhospitable area—”
Fitz waved his hand. “That’s why I want to go to Otago and take a look around. Who knows, maybe we’ll discover new goldfields, right, Lindy?”
Paxton laughed. “Others have tried that already,” he said. “If you don’t happen to be a geologist, Mr. Fitz, there’s not much chance. Read was one, and he says there’s no more gold.”
“He probably didn’t look carefully enough. He was already rich,” Fitz replied casually.
Linda glanced from one to the other doubtfully.
“If you say so.” Paxton shrugged. “And in that case, Miss Carol and Miss Margaret, my offer to you is even more serious.”
“Call me Mara, please,” Mara said.
She was a bit annoyed that this good-looking young man only had eyes for Carol. At the same time, though, Mara was happy for her sister. She liked the lieutenant much better than Oliver Butler. And even if she enjoyed the effect she usually had on men, Mara didn’t really want to flirt. She took her promise to Eru seriously.
“Miss Mara. Please allow me to escort you to the North Island. The army could offer you protection,” Paxton said.
“We don’t need protection,” Mara said defensively. “We speak Maori very well and know the customs of the tribes. I went with my parents to visit the Ngati Hine and the Ngai Takoto. We’ll be fine.”
Bill Paxton regarded her skeptically. “From what I hear, Miss Mara, the situation on the North Island has changed considerably. It’s not about single tribes anymore; they’ve joined forces. And the Hauhau movement—”
“Are they actually attacking people?” Mara asked in alarm. She hadn’t forgotten Eru’s plans, and she was deeply worried about him and his friends. After all, it had been over a year ago that he had promised to be patient. Now, perhaps Jane and Te Haitara would bring him home, and he could more than just dream about war.
“They’ve become a serious threat,” Bill said. “Believe me, it’s in your best interest to travel under protection of the army.”
Carol nodded. “We certainly will,” she said. “Thank you for your offer, Mr. Bill. Perhaps you’ll find space for two more on your ship, even though the thought of another sea voyage terrifies me.”
Bill smiled at her encouragingly. “As you know, Miss Carol, nothing can happen to you when you’re with me. I’d row you back from the edge of the world if I had to.”
In order to travel from Rata Station to Christchurch with the horses and wagon in one day, it was necessary to get up long before dawn. Linda and Carol left their farm in darkness, and they couldn’t look back at the beloved barns and pastures, houses, and shearing shed. Linda wanted to believe that she might see it again one day under happier circumstances, but she couldn’t. She had to admit to herself that Cat and Chris were gone, irrevocably—no matter how often she dreamed of them and thought she felt a connection to her mother. It was extremely likely that they were dead.
The young woman fought back tears and tried to be happy about her impending marriage. It was comforting to feel Fitz next to her on the seat of the covered wagon. It was pulled by Brianna, while Fitz’s horse walked tied behind. All the others were riding. Linda would have been nearly content if Bill’s talk the previous evening hadn’t scared her. What would they do if there really wasn’t any more gold in Otago?
“What if we try the west coast, after all?” she said to Fitz.
He shook his head. “Nonsense, sweetheart. The journey is much more difficult. Our fortune is waiting in Otago! You can count on me.”
Linda leaned her head on his shoulder. There was nothing she would rather do.
They finally arrived in Christchurch in the afternoon, and Linda just barely had time to change from her damp, wrinkled travel dress into her Sunday best. It wasn’t particularly beautiful. All of Carol’s and Linda’s fancy clothes had gone down with the General Lee, and in the year of mourning that followed, they hadn’t bought anything new. Now, of course, they didn’t have the funds. Linda’s rather worn-out dress, which was also now too large, since she’d lost quite a bit of weight over the last few months, didn’t make a much better impression than the travel dress did. During their trip, it had rained constantly, and even the things in their baskets and cases were damp.
Still, Carol did her best to deck her sister out with something borrowed, blue, old, and new, and also tucked a sixpence into her shoe. She put a blue shawl over her shoulders, lent her a barrette, and insisted that she wear the special gold medallion. The most difficult part was something new. Finally, Mara helped with a pair of stockings she’d never worn before. The sisters did their best to laugh about it all and tried not to worry that they didn’t even have a mirror for the bride to see herself in.
At least they had wedding rings. While Linda was changing, Fitz had run off and bought some. They had an unnatural shine to them, and were made of fool’s gold.
“I’ll have a new one made for you from the first nugget we find,” Fitz assured her.
Linda wanted to believe him.
It was a rather damp and weary group that gathered in front of the altar. Mara and Carol hadn’t had the chance to change their clothes. Fitz had no suit, only a leather jacket, which was at least in passable condition. Bill made the best impression in his uniform, and at first, the priest thought he was the groom. The priest combined the ceremony with a late afternoon church service, so at least a few members of his little congregation were present.
Linda carried a bouquet and a wreath of rata flowers that Carol had surprised her with before they entered the church. The flowers were drooping a little because of the rain, but Linda was deeply touched and thanked her sister through her tears.
As the bridal procession made their way to the altar, Mara sang a Maori wedding song, trying to create a celebratory atmosphere in the gloomy church. The sun should have been pouring through the colorful stained-glass windows, but on this rainy day, the house of the Lord was lit exclusively by candles. It came as a relief to Linda. That way, maybe no one would notice how worn out her dress was.
As the priest performed the ceremony in a clear voice, the church doors opened for a few latecomers. The man paused and looked up with a warm smile before turning to Fitz.
“You may now kiss the bride,” he said.
Fitz pulled Linda close, and the wedding party joyfully applauded. They all were expecting a closing prayer to end the ceremony, but the priest turned to his congregation again instead.
“You’re late, but you’re still in time for the blessing,” he told the newly arrived members of his flock. “My dear ones, please welcome John Baden from the missionary school of Tuahiwi. His school, which works tirelessly to make good Christians of the children of our Maori citizens, is the beneficiary of our offerings today. Reverend Baden, would you like to come up and tell the congregation a little about your work?”
Mara spun around in disgust. The last thing she needed now was to hear a sermon from one of the black ravens holding Eru prisoner. But then her eyes widened in surprise. Next to the small, plump man who had just stood to speak were two Maori boys. One of them was perhaps twelve years old, wearing a black suit that was far too large for him. The clergyman took him by the hand and dragged him toward the pulpit. The boy followed with a resigned expression.
The other boy was Eru.
Chapter 28
Mara and Eru were paralyzed for a moment. They broke into ecstatic smiles. Eru stood up, walked quickly along the pew, and gave Mara a sign to follow him.
The missionary, who had brought the younger boy with him as a successful example of the detribalization of the natives through his fabulous school, glanced at Eru skeptically but made no move to stop the young man. Mara noticed that Eru was wearing neither his school uniform nor a suit like the boy at the altar. He wore a simple, clean outfit, like the clothing of a farmer’s son visiting the town.
Whispering, Mara excused herself to Carol, who hadn’t noticed Eru’s presence. Neither had the joyfully smiling Linda. Linda only had eyes for her groom, who himself looked rather restless. The missionary’s speech was holding Fitz up. He wanted to register the marriage with the magistrate as soon as possible.
Carol nodded, and Mara slipped out of the church as inconspicuously as possible. Once outside, she heard Eru whistle her flute melody. He was tucked between a sheltering southern beech and the hedge that surrounded the cemetery. Eru smiled at her in delight and spread his arms invitingly, and Mara rushed into them. As much as she burned to talk to him, it was more important to feel him first, to kiss him, and to finally be close to him again after such a long time. As their mouths melted together, Mara’s hands ran over Eru’s body and through his short dark hair. He was there. He was real! For the first time since she’d left Tuahiwi, Mara was truly happy.
Eru seemed to feel the same. He only let her go reluctantly, and held both her hands tightly as they stood facing each other.
“How did you do it?” he asked her, his green eyes shining with admiration.
Mara furrowed her brow. “How did I do what?”
He spun her around. “This, here! You promised me. You said I’d have to be patient. It was hard, and sometimes I could barely stand it. You said you’d somehow arrange for my parents to get me out of there. And now it’s happening. A letter arrived yesterday that said I should come home to the iwi, immediately. Old Baden brought me here, and of course he couldn’t resist showing off at the church.”
“Won’t you get in trouble for walking out?” Mara asked worriedly.
Eru shook his head. “No, the old raven can’t do anything to me anymore! I told you, I’m free. One of the boatmen is taking me up the Waimakariri tomorrow to Rata Station, and we can be together again. Now tell me, which spirits did you conjure in order to change my mother’s mind?”
Mara let his hands go. “Jane didn’t tell you anything else?” she asked carefully. “Only that you should come home?”
“Not much more,” Eru said. “She wrote that she needed me on the farm. That was a bit strange, since it’s still summer and there’s not very much to do.”
Mara pushed her hair out of her face. It had finally stopped raining. The wind was gusting from the river and blowing the first autumn leaves off the trees.
“I didn’t do anything at all,” she said. “And we won’t be together again either. Your mother—your mother is driving us away. We had to leave Rata Station.”
Mara told him the story in short, broken sentences. She brushed past the news of Cat and Chris’s disappearance, her feelings about it still too raw. And the farm wasn’t as important to her as it was to Carol and Linda. For Mara, the most important thing about Rata Station was Eru. Growing up, she had spent most of her time in the Ngai Tahu village and genuinely felt like a part of Te Haitara’s tribe. She had danced and sung with girls her age, had learned to play the flute, and had conjured the spirits without even thinking about it while planting a field or harvesting vegetables. Over the last year, she had missed Eru terribly. She had wanted to write to him, but in the end, after having seen what the school in Tuahiwi was like, she had decided that her letters might make more trouble for him with the old ravens. At least she had been able to see the separation as temporary. And Jane couldn’t really keep Mara away from her other Ngai Tahu friends. Whenever Mara had visited Rata Station during her time with the Redwoods, she had snuck over to the village.
Of course Te Haitara had known about it. Nothing that happened in the tribe was a secret from the chieftain. But he hadn’t given Mara away. To the contrary, the girl had the feeling that Te Haitara liked her and would someday welcome her as a daughter-in-law. But now that Jane’s takeover of Rata Station had forced the sisters to go to the North Island, her separation from the Ngai Tahu would be complete. The sadness and anger colored Mara’s voice as she described Jane’s foul play.
Eru was horrified. “How could she? And how could there be a birth certificate that my father doesn’t know about? I can’t pretend I’m Chris Fenroy’s son! I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m Maori. I look like my father. This is insane!”
Mara shrugged. “Yes, but it’s also true. You’ll see for yourself when you get home tomorrow. You, my dear, are the official heir of Rata Station.”
“I won’t go along with it,” Eru promised. “I’ll give the farm back to you. I—”
“Jane won’t sign it over to you now,” Mara said. “She’s not stupid, and you’re still too young to own it.”
“I’m always too young for everything!” Eru said bitterly.
Mara nestled into his arms again. “Not for everything . . .” She smiled meaningfully and kissed him again.
Eru kissed her but then pulled away. “Mara, it still counts, doesn’t it?” he asked. “You’re still going to wait for me, aren’t you? You won’t kiss any other man, you—”
“That counts forever,” Mara assured him. “At least, as long as you’re just as true to me. If Jane tries to marry you off to a sheep baroness as soon as you’re old enough—”
“My mother won’t be marrying me off,” Eru said sharply. “I will go back now and find out what she’s up to. And of course I will speak to my father about it. If I can’t change things, maybe I’ll stay there and just try to survive the next few years. When I’m old enough, I’ll come for you, I promise. Just like you promised that you’d come for me.”
Mara sighed. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t take another catastrophe. The last thing I would have planned to get you home would have been the loss of Cat and Chris and Rata Station.”
“I’m so terribly sorry,” Eru whispered.
Mara glanced back at the church doors just as they were opening. A few friendly members of the congregation had taken their places on either side of the stairs and were tossing rice at Linda and Fitz. The bridal couple walked between them, smiling. Fancy and Amy, who had been waiting outside, leaped up delightedly, leaving muddy paw prints on Linda’s dress.
“I have to go,” Mara said. “You do too, Eru. It would be better if the old raven doesn’t see us together. I’ll be thinking of you!”
They kissed once more in farewell just before the missionary emerged from the church. John Baden looked around in irritation, seeking Eru.
“See you soon,” Eru said as they parted.
The dinner at the White Hart Hotel that Linda had agreed to with such a guilty conscience turned out to be a very pleasant end to the rainy wedding day. After the strenuous journey and prolonged ceremony, they were all ravenous. Mara indulged in second servings of everything, and Carol was delighted to finally be warm. She also enjoyed the special attention that Bill Paxton was paying to her. The young woman had almost forgotten how gentlemanly and obliging the young officer had been on their sea voyage. And she found it immeasurably relaxing that he chatted with her as though it were just another nice evening, and not the beginning of a completely new life for her after the old one had been shattered.
Only Linda was hesitant about the good food and wine. She kept slipping bits of meat to Amy and Fancy under the table. Her wedding night still lay in front of her, and although she knew what to expect, she was nervous. She would spend her first night with Fitz in the covered wagon. Carol could only shake her head about the decision.
“Mamida and Kapa sent us money for lodging,” she said, trying once more to convince her sister. “There’s still a room available at the inn where we’re staying, and it’s quite affordable.” Carol, Mara, and Bill would go on to Lyttelton the next
day. “You don’t have to spend the night in that damp wagon.”
“Carrie, we’ll be sleeping in the wagon every night for the next few weeks,” Linda said. “Why should we waste the money for a single night in an inn?”
Linda didn’t like to talk about her poverty, especially since Fitz was so carefree. But she was terrified of winding up on the street and fiercely guarded the little money that she had.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my wife warm,” Fitz said. “Getting a room isn’t worth it. We want to leave very early tomorrow morning.”
The entire day, Fitz had been bursting with energy. He couldn’t wait to set out for the goldfields. He seemed to have absolutely no doubt about the success of their venture. He enjoyed the evening and even ordered a third bottle of wine. That was another thing that made Linda nervous. She didn’t want her husband to be drunk on their wedding night.
Fitz laughed off her concerns as he later ordered a fourth bottle. “Sweetheart, I’m not really drunk until I’ve had at least four bottles of whiskey,” he bragged, putting his arm around Linda, who blushed uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, Lindy, darlin’! You’re my wife! That has to make you happy!”
When they finally left the restaurant around midnight, Fitz lifted Linda in his arms and carried her jokingly over the threshold of the White Hart Hotel.
“The wagon doesn’t have a threshold, so we have to improvise,” he said happily.
Linda tried to laugh with him.
Bill gave Carol a skeptical look. “Aren’t you supposed to carry the wife in, instead of out?” he said quietly.
Carol nodded. “Exactly,” she said, tight-lipped. “Into a safe life. Not the other way around.”
In spite of their rather uncomfortable encampment in the covered wagon, among the damp quilts and pillows, Fitz made his young wife happy on her wedding night. Nothing that Linda had heard from other pakeha girls about pain and humiliation and slime and blood turned out to apply.
Linda asked Fitz to wait outside until she’d put on her nightclothes. He did so patiently, only to take them off her immediately with practiced hands. She felt burned by his touches. Fitz’s fingers searched the most secret places of her body. He made her breathless by stroking the smooth skin of her neck and breasts, and then her wrists and the crooks of her arms and the backs of her knees. He felt the blood pulsing through her veins, bluish through her pale skin, tracing them with kisses and massaging her breasts to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Finally, he penetrated her with a finger and brought her to climax by stimulating her with small, circular motions. And then his head was between her legs. He kissed her thighs and entered her with his tongue. For a moment Linda was confused, but quickly gave herself up to the sensation and writhed with lust. At some point she began to wonder when the part with his swelling organ was going to come. The Maori girls had always whispered about size and length and had compared their experiences, giggling. Linda attempted to return Fitz’s caresses, and carefully took hold of his penis. It vibrated in her hand when she rubbed it gently, becoming slightly stiff—and then soft again.
