by Sarah Lark
“Or slaughtered!” she said bitterly.
To pay for it, she’d pawned the only thing of value that she still owned: her mother’s necklace.
“I’ll be back for it,” she reassured the pawnbroker, and managed to get the piece of jewelry back for a few days every time Fitz won a little money.
It would have been smarter to sell Brianna, but that was the last thing Linda wanted to do. Without the horse, they would never get out of the slums. Their only chance was the covered wagon, and if they had no other choice, they could still go to the west coast. But then, when spring had finally chased away the winter and Linda was preparing for their imminent journey over the pass, Fitz appeared with his usual irrepressible smile. It wasn’t in the middle of the night for a change, but early in the evening.
“Lindy, something happened!” Fitz said triumphantly. “Like I say, sometimes things go wrong, but sometimes they go right.”
“What, then?” Linda asked, unconvinced.
She had spent the entire day searching for firewood. She certainly couldn’t buy it anymore. So, she’d walked along the Avon, over the meadows where she’d picnicked and watched regattas in better days. Along the river outside the city, raupo and rata grew, and there were groves of southern beeches and kanuka trees. Linda searched several times a week for broken branches, but hardly found anything after the long winter. Additionally, the wood was always damp. Linda barely managed to make enough coals in an evening to roast a few potatoes or kumara, and at least to warm her hands a little. She might have managed a proper fire if Fitz would help gather wood, but he regularly “forgot.”
“How would you like having a farm again, Lindy? With sheep for this sweet creature”—he stroked Amy’s head—“and a pretty house for you . . .”
Fitz tried to take Linda in his arms and spin her around, but she pushed him away. “Don’t make fun of me, Fitz. You know very well that we can’t buy a farm. Or did you just win a thousand pounds?”
She knew that was impossible. That kind of money might be gambled in the smoking room of the Sheep Breeders’ Association, but certainly not in the pubs of Christchurch.
Fitz looked disappointed. “You’re never satisfied,” he complained. “But this is our big chance. Lindy, I’m enlisting! As a military settler. I have to do a short basic training somewhere near Wellington. The army will pay for the crossing. Then they’ll give us land in Taranaki. Twenty acres, at least! If I can manage to become a corporal or a sergeant, then it will be even more. There’s a meeting in the White Hart tonight. For women too! They’re looking for the pioneering spirit. And you have it, don’t you, Lindy?”
Linda thought for a moment. She remembered that Bill Paxton had been working as a recruiter for the military settlers program. Bill was an honorable man, so it must be respectable, even though Cat and Chris had had doubts.
“Wasn’t that land taken away from the Maori by force?” Linda asked worriedly. “That’s awful, and what’s more, it could be dangerous if they come back.”
Fitz dismissed her concern. “Lindy, darling, they aren’t going to put us alone in a dark forest. Every settlement includes at least a hundred farms. All the men are well trained and armed. No Hauhau warrior would dare to get anywhere near the place.”
“Hauhau warriors are supposed to be fearless,” Linda said. “Cross them and you won’t be able to talk your way out of it like you do with everyone else.”
As far as Linda knew, Fitz had never owned a weapon. Not even for shooting rabbits or birds.
“Sweetheart, I promise you will never even see a Hauhau warrior,” Fitz said with a laugh. “Why don’t you just come with me tonight and hear for yourself what the recruiter has to say. Or would you prefer to go to the west coast? They say the goldfields there are nowhere near as abundant as the ones in Otago once were. Darling, if we have a little bad luck, by the time we get there, the gold will be all gone too.”
The day before, he’d been singing a different tune. Someone had told Fitz about golden beaches. But Linda decided not to rub his nose in it this time. The wind had just turned, and the stench of the slaughterhouse enveloped them again. Then the rain started and put out her miserable little fire. Linda reached for her only shawl that wasn’t completely destroyed, and wrapped it over her faded, dirty coat. She wanted to make a good impression. Despite her misgivings, she preferred the idea of orderly military settlements to the lawless west-coast gold rush. And anything was better than here.
“Our offer goes out to all men under forty years old, healthy, of good character, and capable of military service. Anyone who is interested will be subjected to an exam here in Christchurch. Whoever succeeds will have his passage to the North Island paid, and his family’s. There, you will be divided into companies, each with a captain, six sergeants, five corporals, and a hundred soldiers. You will be provided with quarters, food, and basic military training. Soon afterward, your land will be assigned to you. Every company will become a settlement, with land divided among the members. Depending on your military rank, you will receive between twenty and a hundred and fifty acres.”
The captain, a dashing, slender young man with blond hair and bright blue eyes, was standing in front of the miserable-looking group of applicants. There were approximately fifty men. The few women and children among them looked careworn and undernourished. The families were, for the most part, emigrants from England, Ireland, and Scotland who’d come to New Zealand because of the gold rush. Perhaps they’d also tried to buy land and had been betrayed. They seemed discouraged and unhappy. But the men looked as though they were accustomed to hard labor. Some had surely spent time in the goldfields. One openly carried a gun, and the others looked hardened too.
Linda wouldn’t have wanted to meet them along the road at night.
“During the building phase of your farms, the governor will support you generously,” the captain continued. “You will receive full supplies and a salary for the first year, and you will also continue your military training. You will be members of the army, and you may also be assigned to campaigns, punitive expeditions, and guard duties in the name of national defense. However, you will never be put into service for longer than four weeks per year outside your settlement. If such service becomes necessary, you will be paid a full salary. Otherwise, you will be obligated to serve the Crown for three years. After that, the land will be your permanent property. You alone will have the power of disposition. Any questions?”
Linda raised her hand. “What if a military settler is killed?” She had been burned once; she didn’t want to lose another farm.
As the captain reassured her that, of course, the full ownership of the land would be transferred to the widow immediately, Fitz regarded her with a look she’d never seen before. Was he disappointed? Angry? Annoyed? Guarded?
“Is it dangerous?” another woman asked.
The captain shrugged. “The government is going to great lengths to make the land safe for settlers. That’s why they are being so strict with the leaders of the Maori tribes. Still, settlers are occasionally victims of marauding murderers or tramps. You will all have heard about the so-called Hauhau movement, insane criminals who know no mercy. But there isn’t a safer place for you than in the middle of a settlement of military servicemen who have been trained to defend their new homesteads. Additionally, we will build fortifications—”
“We’re going to live in a fort?” Linda asked.
The captain laughed. “In a sense, madam. At least until the danger from the Hauhau has passed. That can’t take very long. Believe me, General Cameron and General Chute have everything under control. And all over the North Island, our brave military settlers are making sure that the serpent won’t raise its head again.”
A few people in the audience clapped. The captain took it as a sign that further questions and answers were no longer necessary. He passed around a list for the interested parties to sign up. Fitz gave Linda a brief, quizzical look. When she nodded, he wrot
e his name down.
After the meeting, many of the aspiring military settlers stood together and discussed what they’d heard. Almost all the men had signed up, though a few had been disqualified because of the age limitation. Fitz, sociable as he was, was soon standing in the middle of a large group of settlers, laughing and drinking whiskey. Linda didn’t quite know what to do. She was hungry and tired but didn’t want to nag her husband to leave. She kept thinking about the strange look he’d given her. Was Fitz worried about her safety after his possible demise, or had she reminded him too painfully that he wasn’t immortal? Linda was slightly afraid of how he would react when they made their way back to the covered wagon together. She finally had some hope again and didn’t want new arguments to overshadow it. As she made small talk with a few of the wives, she thought about how she could justify herself. Linda was tense and nervous by the time Fitz was finally ready to leave.
But Fitz seemed to have forgotten the incident. He was in the best of moods and put an arm around Linda’s shoulders as they walked. In public it wasn’t an appropriate gesture, but Linda didn’t pull away. She patiently listened to his euphoric plans for their wonderful life on the North Island with a growing sense of calm.
“The winters are milder there too, Lindy. It’s not as damp as here. You’ll see. You’ll like it better than the plains. And the neighbors won’t be grouchy snobs like the Butlers and the Redwoods.”
Linda furrowed her brow. Sure, Deborah Butler was a special case, but the Redwoods were lovely, down-to-earth people. What could Fitz have against them? She wondered if he’d recently happened to meet Joseph or his brothers in Christchurch again. She also wondered what their new neighbors would be like. She hadn’t felt much connection to anyone at the recruitment meeting. They had seemed more like rootless drifters than frugal, industrious types prepared to conquer new land with harrows and plows.
Fitz, true to form, had no doubts at all. He was in a better mood than he’d been in for months, and he insisted on carrying her over the “threshold” of the covered wagon. The wind had shifted, blowing fresher air over from the river, and with a large dose of goodwill, one could even detect the first hint of summer. Linda could almost imagine that they were camping somewhere in the wild.
“Today, Lindy, our new life begins!” He laid her down on their straw pallets that were covered with blankets to protect against the cold that rose from below. “Pity we don’t have any champagne to celebrate with.”
Linda gave him a tired smile. “It would be enough for me if it just wasn’t so cold,” she said.
Fitz gave her one of his irresistible smiles. “I’ll warm you up,” he promised. He pulled a blanket over the two of them and began to undress his wife.
Linda protested. She only wanted to nestle up between Amy and her husband, wearing as many clothes as possible to stay warm and perhaps be able to sleep. She wasn’t in the mood for making love, but Fitz was trying to excite her. Not as hastily and fleetingly as usual, but gently and . . . differently. For the first time, she felt something hard and pulsing between his legs.
“You never thought I’d ever build a farm for you, did you, my little sheep baroness?” he whispered, and positioned himself on top of her. “Admit it, you didn’t believe it . . .”
Linda was bewildered by his strange words, but she was also wide awake and suddenly excited. She was wet, she was ready for him . . .
“Say it!”
Linda pushed upward toward him. “I didn’t dare to hope,” she whispered.
“And I did it!” Fitz exulted. “I did it!”
At long last, he sank into her. Linda welcomed him, gladly. She moaned and arched her back to feel him deeper inside, and never wanted to let him go. At some point, everything exploded in a delirium of sweet pain and relief. It was as though a door to another world was opening, as though something inside of her was set free, reeling through a sea full of stars.
“Fitz,” she whispered, and pulled him into her arms as his warm seed finally emptied into her. “Fitz, I—”
“Say it,” he murmured, close to her ear.
“I—I never imagined it could be so beautiful. It was so wonderful, Fitz.” She kissed him.
“Say it again!”
Linda felt the stars inside lowering her back down to the ground. The radiant, wonderful feeling of completeness gave way to the old confusion. Was this not an act of love, but an act of subjugation?
“You—you did it,” she whispered almost silently.
Chapter 52
Fitz’s euphoria lasted through the next week. He’d passed the qualification test for the military settlers program with flying colors. He was healthy, and his reflexes, flexibility, and agility put him leagues ahead of the other applicants. He also impressed the captain with his intelligence, charisma, and charm. Finally, the captain offered him a promotion from the entry level of a private to a corporal, and perhaps even had his eye on him for a sergeant.
“That means more land for us, darling,” he told Linda excitedly. “Corporals get twenty-five acres, and sergeants get thirty-five.”
Linda didn’t care how much land they would have. She was just relieved to be leaving Christchurch. But it took time. Once all the applicants had been tested, it was still necessary to book passage between the islands for the men and their families. All of that took several weeks, and Linda had to live with the fear that Fitz would gamble away the entire first paycheck he’d received when he was hired. They desperately needed the money to pay for Brianna’s board in the livery stable. They were already in debt, and Linda might not be able to get her necklace back from the pawnshop. Fitz’s salary had to be enough for both. On the new farm, she would need the horse more than ever before. The army surely wouldn’t look kindly if their new recruits spent the nights wheedling money out of the citizens of Christchurch. Who knew if the captain wouldn’t revoke his offer if he caught Fitz at the gambling table? Fitz was annoyed when she voiced her concerns, and of course continued to trawl the pubs. Their night of passion wasn’t repeated. Sometimes Linda thought she must have imagined the entire thing.
But everything worked out in the end. Fitz increased his salary by gambling, which of course he’d never doubted would happen. He even had money left after Linda paid for Brianna’s board. Now she turned the wagon toward Lyttelton Harbor with a sigh of relief. Cat’s necklace hung securely around her throat, well concealed under her dress and shawl. She certainly wouldn’t be showing it off. She didn’t trust Fitz’s new comrades or their wives.
When they arrived in Lyttelton, they found that the army had paid the crossing for Fitz and Linda, but not for the horse and wagon. Fitz took this as another vindication.
“If I hadn’t won at poker, Lindy, we would have been in trouble.”
Linda smiled wanly, convinced that the captain would have offered them an advance on Fitz’s next salary if necessary. The young recruiter was delighted with Brianna. He praised the horse and the well-cared-for harness, and was very courteous to Linda. She conversed with him a little and reinforced the good impression that Fitz had made.
“You’re exactly what we want for our settlement program,” he told her. “People with a pioneering spirit, as well as military and farming skills, who are ready to devote all of their strength to the development of their land.”
Linda nodded politely and wondered what military skills he was talking about. Fitz explained later with a smile.
“Oh, I told him I’d been a cadet at the Royal Military Academy,” he said. “In London—Woolwich. Unfortunately, I had to leave after a year because my father died. A tragic turn of events.”
Linda slapped her forehead. “Fitz, if he finds out it’s not true—”
Fitz laughed. “Maybe it is true, sweetheart,” he said, grinning at her. “And besides, you don’t really think they’re going to check, do you? Why should they? I only told him in passing. It has nothing to do with my acceptance as a military settler. At least not officially.”
The ship took the military settlers directly to Whanganui. For Linda, the journey of several days had been torture. She had battled constantly with nausea, caused not only by the movement of the waves but also the remaining trauma from the sinking of the General Lee. She couldn’t even relax in Fitz’s arms, though the couple slept relatively comfortably in the covered wagon, which had been lashed to the deck. The other settlers shared accommodation in steerage. Fitz cared for his wife devotedly for the first few days, but lost patience when not even his attention could comfort her. Below deck, the poker and blackjack players found one another, and once again, Fitz was coming back late at night with whiskey on his breath. She listened to his satisfied snores with a pounding heart as terrible scenes played before her mind’s eye. The covered wagon could come loose and roll overboard. The ship could spring a leak and sink. A horde of insane Hauhau warriors in canoes could attack. Linda clung to Amy and lost herself in visions of blood and death. The company of the other settlers’ wives didn’t help her overcome her fears. In fact, they didn’t even provide any distraction. Most of the few women and children seemed impassive and apathetic. One thin redhead named Mary was selling whiskey. The captain had been very strict about not allowing the men to bring alcohol on board, but he hadn’t checked the women and children. Mary spent the money she earned at the poker table. She tippled and gambled with the men at night, and the other women spread rumors that she was prostituting her daughter. In any case, Linda didn’t like any of the women enough to make friends. No one helped her either when she staggered weakly and was in danger of falling overboard as she repeatedly vomited over the rail. Linda thought of Ida’s stories of her voyage on the Sankt Pauli, where the tight-knit Mecklenburgers had taken care of each other. Here, it was every man for himself.
