In the Land of the Long White Cloud

simply have to bear it. Why do you ask? Doesn’t it hurt for you too?”
    Gwyneira tried unsuccessfully to formulate a reply until Helen, ashamed, let the subject drop. But her reaction had confirmed Gwyneira’s suspicions. Something was not going right between Lucas and her. Forthe first time, she asked herself whether perhaps there was something wrong with her.

    Helen named the mule Nepumuk and spoiled it with carrots and sweet potatoes. After just a few days, a deafening greeting call filled the air every time she stepped out the door, and in the paddock the mule pushed to have her put a halter on it—after all, it knew there would be a treat both before and after. By the third riding lesson, Gwyneira was quite satisfied, and soon thereafter Helen found the courage to saddle Nepumuk and head into Haldon. She felt that she’d crossed no less than an ocean by the time she guided the mule onto the town street. It moved purposefully toward the smith since it expected to be rewarded there with some oats and hay. The smith proved friendly and promised to put the mule up while Helen visited Mrs. Candler. Mrs. Candler and Dorothy praised her endlessly, and Helen basked in her new freedom.
    That evening she spoiled Nepumuk with an extra portion of hay and corn. He snorted happily, and suddenly Helen did not find it so difficult to think of him as a pleasant animal.

8
    S ummer was coming to a close, and they could look back on a successful breeding season at Kiward Station. All the ewes were pregnant; the new stallion had covered three mares, and little Daimon had all the farm’s female dogs in heat—as well as several from other farms. Even Cleo’s belly was swelling. Gwyneira was excited for puppies. As for her own attempts to get pregnant, there had been no change—especially since Lucas attempted to sleep with her only once a week. And it was always the same: Lucas was polite and attentive and apologized whenever he believed himself to be going too far in any respect, but nothing hurt and nothing bled. Gerald’s jibes slowly began to get on her nerves. After a few months of marriage, her father-in-law said, you could count on a healthy young woman conceiving. This only reinforced Gwyneira’s fear that something was wrong with her. In the end, she confided in Helen.
    “I wouldn’t care myself, but Mr. Warden is horrible. He talks about it in front of the help, even in front of the shepherds. I should spend less time in the stables and more time caring for my husband, he says. Then there would be a baby. But I won’t get pregnant just watching Lucas paint!”
    “But he…doesn’t he visit you regularly?” Helen asked carefully. Though no one had confirmed that she was pregnant, she was now rather sure that something was different about her.
    Gwyneira nodded and tugged at her earlobe. “Yes, Lucas puts in the effort. It’s up to me. If I only knew whom I could ask…”
    An idea came to Helen. She had to go to the Maori settlement soon, and there…she did not know why, but she was less ashamed to talk to the native women about her possible pregnancy than withMrs. Candler or another woman in town. Why shouldn’t she take the opportunity to talk about Gwyneira’s problem at the same time?
    “You know what? I’ll ask the Maori witch doctor, or whatever she is,” she asserted. “Little Rongo’s grandmother. She’s very friendly. The last time I visited, she gave me a piece of jade as a token of thanks for teaching the children. The Maori look at her as a
tohunga
, or wise woman. Maybe she knows something about female troubles. She can’t do more than turn me away.”
    Gwyneira was skeptical. “I don’t really believe in magic,” she said, “but it’s worth a try.”

    Matahorua, the Maori
tohunga
, received Helen in front of the
wharenui
, the meeting hall that was so richly decorated with carvings. Rongo had explained to Helen that the airy building’s form was modeled after a living creature. The ridge of the roof formed the backbone, the roof battens the ribs. In front of the hall was a covered grill, the
kauta
, where food was cooked for everyone, as the Maori were a close community. They slept together in huge sleeping houses that were not divided into individual rooms and had almost no furniture.
    Matahorua motioned for Helen to sit on one of the stones that jutted from the grass next to the house.
    “How can help?” she said without introduction.
    Helen ran through her Maori