In the Land of the Long White Cloud

about to present itself. Someone appeared to be busy in the stables—though Howard O’Keefe would hardly have knocked at the door of his own house. This visitor was apparently intent on announcing himself politely.
    “Open the door, Dorothy,” Helen ordered, bewildered.
    Gwyneira was already at the door. Had Lucas come to find her? She had told him about Helen, and he had reacted kindly, even expressing a wish to meet her friend. The feud between the Wardens and the O’Keefes seemed to mean nothing to him.
    But it was James McKenzie, not Lucas, standing in front of the door.
    His eyes lit up when he saw Gwyneira, though he must have already seen in the stables that she was there. After all, Igraine was waiting there.
    “Mrs. Warden! Thank God I found you.”
    “Mr. McKenzie…do come in. How kind of you to come pick me up.”
    “How kind to come pick you up?” he asked angrily. “Are we talking about a tea party here? What were you thinking, being gone the whole day? Mr. Warden is crazy with worry and conducted excruciating interrogations of us all. I told him about a friend in Haldon that you might be visiting. And then I rode here before he could send someone to Mrs. Candler’s and learn…”
    “You’re an angel, Mr. McKenzie,” Gwyneira beamed, oblivious to his admonishing tone. “Not to mention if he knew I had just helped deliver his archenemy’s son. Come in! Come meet Ruben O’Keefe.”
    Helen looked a touch embarrassed when Gwyneira led the strange man into the room, but James McKenzie behaved impeccably, greetingher politely and expressing his delight at little Ruben. Gwyneira had already seen this light in his eyes many times before. James McKenzie always seemed overjoyed when he helped bring a lamb or a foal into the world.
    “You managed that on your own?” he asked, impressed.
    “Helen also made a negligible contribution,” Gwyneira said, laughing.
    “Either way, you pulled it off wonderfully!” James beamed. “Both of you. Nevertheless, I would gladly accompany you home now, miss. That would no doubt be best for you as well, madam,” he said, turning to Helen. “Your husband…”
    “Would certainly not be pleased that a Warden had delivered his son.” Helen nodded. “A thousand thanks, Gwyn!”
    “Oh, you’re welcome. Maybe you’ll be able to repay the favor sometime.” Gwyneira winked at her. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so much more optimistic about being pregnant soon, but all the new information had given her wings. Now that she knew where the problem lay, she was certain she could find a solution.
    “I’ve already saddled your horse, miss,” James said. “We should really be going.”
    Gwyneira smiled. “Let’s hurry, then, so my father-in-law calms down,” she said, realizing only afterward that James had yet to say a word about Lucas. Wasn’t her husband worried at all?
    Matahorua followed her with her eyes as Gwyneira left with James McKenzie.
    “With that man good baby,” she remarked.

9
    “H ow wonderful of Mr. Warden to think of throwing this garden party,” said Mrs. Candler. Gwyneira had just brought her invitation to the New Year’s party. Since the new year fell in the middle of summer in New Zealand, the party would take place in the garden—with fireworks at midnight for the climax.
    Helen shrugged. As always, she and her husband had received no invitation, though Gerald had probably not honored any of the other small farmers with one either. Nor did Gwyneira give the impression that she shared Mrs. Candler’s excitement. She still felt overwhelmed by the job of running Kiward Station’s manor, and a party would demand still new feats of organizational prowess. Besides, at that moment she was occupied with trying to get little Ruben to laugh by making faces and tickling him. Helen’s son was now four months old, and Nepumuk the mule shuttled mother and child on occasional excursions into town. In the weeks following his birth, she had not risked the journey and had found herself once again isolated, but with the baby, her loneliness had not been as acute. Early on, little Ruben had kept her busy all hours of the day, and she was still delighted by every aspect of him. The infant had not proved troublesome. Already at four months he generally slept through the night—at least when he was allowed to stay in bed with his mother. However, that didn’t suit Howard, who would have liked to resume his nightly “pleasures” with