by Sarah Lark
Franz didn’t mind. Anyone who asked a mission for help was more likely to be an honest person in need than a trickster or thief. They were usually single men, and more rarely entire families who were headed north to look for somewhere to settle or work. Franz tended to welcome them hospitably, and sent them on their way the next day with plenty of provisions.
“Well, then bring the man in out of the rain,” Linda told the girl who had dutifully announced the visitor.
The children took turns manning the gate in pairs. The orphanage was open to all, but since Kahotu had once invited two old friends over to drink and play cards, Franz wanted to know who was coming and going.
Emere left, and Linda prepared to welcome the visitor. Kahotu was out somewhere, and Franz was busy with renovation work. It would be up to her to find a place for the man to sleep, and perhaps offer him a warm meal right away. Fortunately, she had just finished making a big stew to warm up later for dinner.
“Would you watch Aroha for a few minutes?” she asked the two girls who had been helping her in the kitchen. “I have to go meet the visitor. I’ll be right back.”
She put the baby’s basket down next to the girl who was kneading the dough for the bread. Both girls began to sing a lullaby.
The weather that day was awful. Before leaving the kitchen, Linda took off her apron, wrapped herself in a warm cloak, and covered her head with a woolen scarf. Outside, the wind drove the rain into her face and almost blew her over. There were no children to be seen. They were probably holed up in the sleeping houses or the old meetinghouse that Linda had converted into a kind of school and living room.
Linda heard hoofbeats as she entered the meeting grounds, and could hardly believe her eyes as a little white horse trotted toward her. The man on the horse’s back wore a threadbare jacket and a wide-brimmed sou’wester hat that offered him insufficient protection from the rain. Linda stared. He was rather thin, with short legs . . .
Linda repressed the impulse to turn on her heel and flee. Shaking inside, she waved to Joe Fitzpatrick and pointed at the barn. Fitz followed, not bothering to look closely at the woman under the scarf. But the reprieve wasn’t long enough for her to pull herself together. Linda was in turmoil. What was he doing here? Was he looking for her? Where was Vera? Hadn’t Fitz bought the little white horse for her?
“Isn’t this my lucky day? I expected to be welcomed by a nest full of psalm-singing ravens, and a beautiful woman greets me! Madam . . .”
Linda didn’t know if she should laugh or be angry. It was so typical for Fitz to attempt flattery without even seeing the person he was talking to. Through the curtain of rain and peering out from beneath the brim of his hat, he only recognized his wife after he’d jumped off his horse.
For the space of a heartbeat, he was speechless. “Lindy—”
“Good evening,” Linda said coolly. “What brings you here?”
Fitz seemed to consider his options for a moment. “I’ve been looking for you, Lindy. You disappeared. Why didn’t you wait for me? We could have left together, we—”
“You were in jail,” Linda reminded him.
“But only for a little while,” Fitz insisted. He led the horse under the eaves of the barn. He looked healthy and well, even though he was surely half-frozen, and his movements were as casual and self-assured as ever. “Hey, if you’re working for a mission, shouldn’t you know the Bible? ‘I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.’” He grinned.
“You aren’t really trying to compare yourself to Jesus, are you?” Linda said with disgust. “You were arrested for cowardice in the face of the enemy. Don’t you remember? You left me alone to face a taua of wild Hauhau warriors so you could hide with Vera. I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of any reason why I should care about what happened to you after that.”
Fitz shook his head. “Oh, Lindy, that was all just a misunderstanding. I’ve missed you and our baby desperately. Where is the little one now, anyway?” Then his voice turned accusing. “I don’t even know what you named her!” He pointed at the barn door. “In here?”
Linda nodded. As Fitz led the horse into the barn, Brianna whinnied. She recognized Vera’s horse from the army barn in Patea. While Linda had been waiting for Fitz’s trial, both horses had been kept there.
“Well, at least Brianna missed me,” Fitz said cheerfully.
Amy greeted him too, leaping up on him.
“Disloyal mutt,” Linda muttered.
Fitz patted the dog and then began to unsaddle his horse. “I can stay here, can’t I? I would really like to stay a night in the mission, even if you’re angry at me. Oh, Lindy, especially because you’re angry at me! We must be able to sort things out between us somehow.”
He’d taken off his hat, and Linda could look into his face. She recognized the old Fitz. He gave her that look again that seemed to say she was the only thing in the world for him, his eyes glowing with warmth and understanding. It was the way he’d looked at her before he’d met Vera.
“I’m a little wet.” Fitz smiled apologetically and moved toward Linda to embrace her.
Linda stepped backward. “Where’s Vera?”
Fitz shook his head. “You’re still jealous, aren’t you?” he said in reprimand, then pasted the irresistible grin back on his face. “I suppose that should make me happy. After all, it proves that you’re still thinking about me.”
“Where is Vera?” Linda repeated. “Answer me, Fitz. I want to know whether I have to reckon with having her on my doorstep tomorrow.”
Fitz laughed. “Vera doesn’t need shelter here. She’s in Auckland. She got a fantastic job as an actress! She had an audition with an agent in Wellington, and he immediately recognized her talent. Now she’s working in a music hall. I’m taking care of her horse.”
“Well then, she’s doing exactly what she’s good at,” Linda replied. “Pretending she’s something she’s not. That is, if ‘music hall’ isn’t another word for bordello. But it doesn’t matter, as long as she’s far, far away.”
“You never liked her,” Fitz said with a snarl, and anger flashed across his face. But the expression vanished again quickly. “But, as you say, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to pretend anymore that Vera is coming between us. She’s gone.” He lifted a hand to caress Linda’s face.
Linda stepped back again quickly. “Where have you been since you left Patea? Are you on the run again?”
“Of course not,” Fitz said lightly. “I’ve been traveling. After that stupid misunderstanding about the Hauhau attack, the army didn’t want me anymore. Bastards. They were only looking for a reason to take the farm away from me. Well, I don’t care. I don’t need a farm. I only joined the military settlers to please you.”
“Is that so?” Linda asked in disbelief. “You seemed terribly excited about it back then.”
“That’s just because I didn’t realize what a small-minded person McDonnell was. Well, I’ve heard that’s all been fixed again, anyway. Lord, I was so happy when I heard about Cat and Chris Fenroy!”
Fitz put his horse in the empty stall next to Brianna, where Franz had already laid out hay and oats for his own horse. Brianna approached Fitz’s mare, shoved her nose through the bars, and whinnied excitedly. But Linda pursed her lips in annoyance. Couldn’t Fitz at least ask before he used the stall? But he never did think about such things. He just took off his wet jacket and smiled at Linda.
“It’s nice to be dry,” he said. “If you’d just warm me up a little—”
“How do you know about Chris and Cat?” Linda asked.
Fitz shrugged. “Sweetheart, the papers in Auckland were full of the news. Six castaways rescued after more than two years! That Bill Paxton is a real hotshot. I’m just wondering what you’re doing here, Lindy. Shouldn’t you have been back at Rata Station long ago?”
So, he had been in Auckland, probably with Vera—until the girl found someone better.
Linda’s mind raced. An agent or a music-hall owner. A man with far more influence than the smooth-talking military settler, and surely not prepared to share his young prize. Fitz would have never let Vera go of his own accord. He’d been dropped. Linda wondered how much it had hurt his pride.
“Maybe there’s something keeping me here,” she said defiantly. “Or someone.”
Fitz threw his head back and laughed. “You aren’t telling me that one of the black ravens is an admirer! Did you tell him that you’re still married? What was joined under God, Lindy, no missionary shall separate.” He grinned.
“This isn’t a missionary station anymore,” Linda said. “It’s an orphanage. Under the leadership of Franz Lange.”
“Your uncle?” Fitz stared at her in disbelief. “That tragic idiot? He was in love with you back at the boathouse in Christchurch.”
“Was he?” Linda asked in amazement.
“It was impossible to miss!” Fitz laughed. “But you aren’t going to tell me you’re interested now. Sweetheart, the man is ancient. And besides, it would be incest.”
Linda scowled. Of course Fitz knew her family story. “He’s Ida’s brother, not Cat’s,” she shot back. “Besides, he’s not much older than you are, he’s just more mature.”
“Franz Lange was probably born mature,” Fitz joked.
“He’s a good person,” Linda said firmly.
Fitz crossed himself dramatically. “Pious, without a doubt! But sweetheart, you can’t be serious. You just need a shoulder to lean on. Who knows that better than I do? That’s why I’m here for you again. And just in time, it seems, Lindy! Your parents have been rescued, you get your farm back—you should be celebrating! And instead you’re stuck here praying and taking care of heathen bastards. That can’t possibly be any fun, Lindy. Get packed, we’re leaving tomorrow. We’ll show our daughter Rata Station. Forget your missionary. The whole world is at your feet.”
Before Linda could answer, he picked her up and spun her around, like in old times.
“You should at least give Linda some time to think about it.”
Franz Lange was standing in the barn doorway, holding his untacked horse on a lead rope. Linda and Fitz hadn’t heard him arrive because of the rain pounding on the barn roof, and the rustling of the straw in the horses’ stalls. Linda wondered how long he’d been standing there, and how much he’d heard. Ashamed, she freed herself from Fitz’s embrace.
“You can’t just blindside her like that,” Franz said. “She needs a chance to think about what’s best for the child.”
Fitz grinned. “Good evening to you, Reverend! You’re completely right. Linda has to figure everything out. Fortunately, she’s a clever girl and thinks very fast.” He tried to put his arm around Linda’s shoulders, but she pulled away. “And I must say, I’m surprised that you’d question her decision at all. Do I have to quote the Bible to you, Reverend? ‘For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.’ Linda swore all that to me. Do not forget: she is still my wife.”
“You left her,” Franz said, tying up his horse by the door. “You ignored her and betrayed her. Those are grounds for divorce.”
Fitz frowned. “In the eyes of men, perhaps,” he said, feigning piousness. “But not in the eyes of God.”
Linda glared at him. “Stop it right now, Fitz!” she cried. “Don’t be such a damn hypocrite. We all know very well that you don’t believe in God. I’ve certainly never heard you pray to anyone except Vera Carrigan.”
“You see, Reverend, my wife is still jealous.” Fitz smiled. “She cares about me. And now I’m taking her with me.”
“What if she doesn’t want to go with you?” Franz asked sharply.
“I don’t!” Linda shouted. “I’ve had enough of you and your lying and flattery, and your roving around from one playground to another. That’s what the world is to you, isn’t it? A gigantic playground. I’ve had enough of being a toy that you throw away and fetch again whenever it suits you!”
Fitz looked from Franz to Linda, and his cheerfulness seemed to melt away. The coldness in his eyes reminded Linda of Vera.
“Well then, I’ll just have to ride to Rata Station alone and talk to your parents, Lindy. Perhaps they’ll have more understanding for your abandoned husband and the father of your child. A divorce lawyer surely would. I didn’t leave you, Lindy. You left me. I never betrayed you either. Vera will swear to it. Our neighbors will vouch for it, as will her parents. No one ever saw me even touch her. The fault is yours alone. I wonder if you’ll be allowed to keep our child.”
Linda gasped. “That’s ridiculous. You were dishonorably discharged from the army. You were in jail. You’re bluffing. No judge in the world would give you my child.”
Fritz’s face cracked into an openly wicked grin. “May the best man win.”
Linda trembled. She was horrified by the idea of litigation, and the constant alternation between flattery and threats. She never wanted to feel as helpless as she had in Patea, lied to and made to feel crazy. She never wanted to see Fitz ever again.
Franz Lange stepped to her side.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick, be honest for once,” he said calmly. “In the end, it’s only about money for you. You would happily agree to a divorce if you were paid enough.”
“That’s malicious slander,” Fitz said. “I married my wife when she was completely destitute. Don’t you remember, Lindy? And she always had enough to eat!”
Linda didn’t reply, which seemed to encourage Fitz. He turned toward her again.
“Come on, Lindy, what is all this? I don’t want to threaten you. I just want to be with you and our little girl again. Forget all this about a divorce. We used to be happy together. Come with me, Lindy, and I’ll teach you to smile again. We have to take life lightly and play all our good cards! You know, Lindy, I’m a lucky fellow. I never lose!”
Franz took a deep breath. “If you see it that way,” he said, his voice firm, “then let’s just reshuffle the cards. How would you like to play a hand of blackjack with me, Mr. Fitzpatrick? The stakes are your wife.”
Linda gasped again. “I’m no prize in a game,” she declared, horrified.
Fitz laughed. “Sweetheart, you were the highest stakes I ever played for. And make no mistake, you belong to me. Good Lord, Reverend! I never would have dared to suggest such a wager. But you’d have to offer me something comparable. Which may be a deal breaker. Or do you actually own anything of value?”
Franz narrowed his eyes. “You will be satisfied,” he said, and all of his disdain for Fitz rang in his voice. “Now get your horse out of Herbie’s stall.” He pointed to his patiently waiting bay. “He worked all day, and now he wants to eat his dinner somewhere dry, in peace and quiet.”
Fitz looked around in irritation. “There are plenty of stalls here,” he said. “Put him in a different one.”
Franz shook his head. “Not everyone is so careless about where he lies down to sleep, Mr. Fitz. You may be a vagabond, but my horse is not.”
Chapter 69
“Where shall we play our little game?” Fitz asked.
He seemed to be in a good mood again after he’d led his horse into a guest stall, freeing the stall next to Brianna for Herbie. Linda fetched fresh hay for the white mare and new oats for Herbie, reeling and eager to keep herself occupied.
“I suppose you don’t have a pub here,” Fitz said.
“We have a meetinghouse,” Franz replied. “We can sit down there.”
“Franz, not in front of the children!” Linda said, objecting.
Fitz grinned. “You could send them to bed.”
“It’s fine if they see,” Franz said. “There’s no better way to dissuade someone from gambling than to see a big loss.”
Linda’s eyes went wide. This was all too much. She knew how adamantly Fitz believed in his luck, against all logic. But Franz? He was a clergyman and the most serious person she kne
w. And suddenly he wanted to wager her future on a deck of cards? Linda wanted to object again, wanted to shout, but then she thought about Fitz’s legal claim on her and the baby. She shivered at the thought of his power over her.
Outside, it was still pouring rain. Linda hardly noticed it as she hurried across the meeting grounds. She cast a glance at the cross and altar in the center, and sent a desperate prayer to all the gods and spirits. Franz, following close behind, seemed to read her mind.
“That’s a sin, Linda. You can’t pray for luck in gambling.”
Linda shook her head and tried to fight down her rising panic. Franz couldn’t help her. The man had lost his mind!
Laughter and singing were coming from the meetinghouse. A few girls were playing Maori instruments. The music sounded a little off. Neither Linda nor Omaka knew very much about how to play the koauau, the nguru, or the putorino. However, there were children who knew how to make the traditional flutes, and Omaka encouraged them to practice. The results made more noise than music, but it was fun for everyone. When they entered, they saw a few of the smaller children, among them Franz’s favorite, Pai, dancing. Franz smiled. A few children were playing blackjack at one of the tables.
Fitz looked surprised. “Strange mission you’re running here. Usually, you pastors say that cards are an invention of the devil.”
“Sometimes you have to use the devil’s tools to conquer evil,” Franz replied. “You’ll have to make space for us, children. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I promised Mr. Fitzpatrick here a game. You can watch and then go on playing afterward.”
Looking surprised, the children cleared the table without complaint. Little Hoani passed Franz a stack of play-money.
“Look, Revi Fransi,” he said in English. “Is five million. You could lose much!”
Franz smiled.
“Revi Fransi never lose,” his friend Kora insisted. “The spirits with Revi Fransi.”
