In the Land of the Long White Cloud

and helped her onto the coach box.
    “Did you have a nice day, miss? Mr. Candler said you ran into an old friend.”
    To Gwyneira’s delight, James knew the way to Helen’s farm. He whistled through his teeth though when she asked about it.
    “You want to go to O’Keefe’s? Into the lion’s den? Just don’t tell Mr. Warden. He’d shoot me if he found out I told you how to get there.”
    “I could have asked elsewhere for directions,” Gwyneira said coolly. “But what is it with those two? To Gerald, Mr. O’Keefe is nothing short of the devil, and Mr. O’Keefe seems to feel likewise about Gerald.”
    James laughed. “No one knows exactly. Rumor has it that they used to be partners. But then they went their separate ways. Some say because of money, others because of a woman. Their lands border each other, but Mr. Warden got the lion’s share. It’s very mountainous around O’Keefe’s property. And he’s no born shepherd, though he’s supposedly from Australia. Everything is very murky. Only those two know the details, but could anyone ever get them to talk? Ah, here’s the fork.”
    James stopped the team at a path that led to the left into the mountains. “Here you ride straight. You can orient yourself by the rocks. And then just follow the path; there’s only one. But sometimes it’s hard to find, especially in the summer when you can’t see the wagon marks as easily. There are also a few streams to cross, one of which is almost a river. Once you’ve oriented yourself, there are no doubt more direct paths between the farms. But at first it’d be better to take this one so that you don’t get lost.”

    Gwyneira did not get lost easily. Besides, Cleo and Igraine would have found their way back to Kiward Station under any circumstances. She was therefore optimistic when she set out three days later to visit her friend. Lucas did not have anything against her riding to Haldon; he had other problems just then anyway.
    Gerald Warden had not only decided that Gwyneira should take her duties as a housewife more seriously, but was also of the opinion that Lucas finally needed to assume a bigger role in looking after the farm. So he gave his son tasks to perform with their employees every day—frequently choosing activities that made the aesthete’s cheeks flush with embarrassment—or provoked even worse reactions. The castration of the young rams, for example, made the young Mr. Warden so nauseated that he was indisposed for the rest of the day, Hardy Kennon revealed with a snort while sitting around the shepherds’ fire. Gwyneira heard about the episode by chance and could hardly keep from laughing, though she had no idea whether she might have reacted similarly—there were jobs that had remained off-limits to the curious young lady even at the Silkhams’.
    That day Lucas was to head out with James to drive the wethers into the mountain pastures, where the animals would remain for the summer before being slaughtered. Lucas was terrified at the prospect of having to oversee that task as well.
    Gwyneira would gladly have ridden along, but some feeling kept her from doing so. Lucas did not need to see how naturally she workedalongside the shepherds—she had learned to avoid competitive situations like that with her brother at all costs. Besides, she had no desire to spend the day riding in a sidesaddle. She was no longer used to sitting that way, and after a few hours her back would no doubt start to hurt.
    Igraine moved briskly forward, and after an hour or so Gwyneira reached the fork that led to Helen’s farm. From here it should be only two more miles, which were certain to be rough, however. The road was in miserable condition. The idea of leading a team along it horrified Gwyneira—let alone a wagon as heavy as the one Howard O’Keefe had been pulling. No wonder poor Helen had looked exhausted.
    Igraine was not concerned about the road. The strong mare was used to a rocky landscape, and the frequent stream crossings were fun and refreshing for her. It was a hot day by New Zealand standards, making the mare sweat. Cleo, however, always tried to keep her paws as dry as possible while crossing the water. Gwyneira laughed every time the little dog fell into the cool water after an ill-fated leap, which caused the dog to look up at her mistress, hurt.
    The house finally came into view, though at first Gwyneira could hardly believe that the log cabin ahead was really Howard O’Keefe’s