In the Land of the Long White Cloud

is handling warehouse one.”
    Steinbjörn did not know what the girl was talking about, but assumed that the little girl must be telling the truth.
    “Can you take me to her?” he inquired.
    The girl frowned. “You’re a visitor, right? So I have to take you into the house, and you have to put your card in the silver tray. And then comes Kiri who bids you welcome, and after that Witi, and then you go into the little salon and get tea…oh yes, and I have to entertain you is what Miss O’Keefe says. That means talking with each other, or something like that. About the weather and such. You
are
a gentleman, right?”
    Steinbjörn still did not understand a thing, but he could not deny that the girl was rather entertaining.
    “By the way, I’m Fleurette Warden, and this is Minty.” She pointed to the pony.
    Steinbjörn suddenly took more interest in the child. Fleurette Warden—she had to be Luke’s daughter. So he had left this charming child behind as well…Steinbjörn understood his friend less and less.
    “I don’t think I’m a gentleman,” he informed the girl. “At least, I don’t have a card. Couldn’t we just…I mean, can’t you just take me to your mother?”
    Fleurette did not seem to care much for polite conversation and let herself be convinced. She moved her pony so that it was in front of Steinbjörn’s horse, which then had to work hard to keep up. Little Minty made short but fast strides, and Fleurette directed her with great competence. On the short ride to the shearing sheds, she revealed to her new friend that she had just come from school. She wasn’t generally allowed to go by herself, but she was just then because there was no one to accompany her while the sheep were being sheared. She told him about her friend Ruben and her little brother, Paul, whom she though rather daft because he didn’t talk and only screamed—most of all when Fleurette held him in her arms.
    “He doesn’t like any of us, only Kiri and Marama,” she said. “Look, there’s shed two. What do you bet that Mummy’s in there?”
    The shearing sheds were long buildings with space for several pens that allowed the shearers to work rain or shine. In front and behind them were more pens, where the still unshorn sheep awaited their shearing and those already shorn waited to be herded back into the pastures. Steinbjörn understood next to nothing about sheep but had seen many in his homeland—and could tell that he was looking at top-quality animals. Before being shorn, Kiward Station’s sheep looked like clean, fluffy balls of wool with legs. Afterward they were run through a hygiene bath and looked well nourished and spirited, if a little peeved. Fleurette had dismounted and tied her pony in front of the warehouse with an expert knot. Steinbjörn did the same, then followed her inside, where a pervasive stench of manure, sweat, and wool grease struck him. Fleurette seemed not to notice it as she pushed her way through the orderly chaos of men and sheep. Steinbjörn observedwith fascination how the shearers seized the animals quick as lightning, laid them on their backs, and unburdened them of their wool in short order. They seemed to be competing against each other in their task. They triumphantly called out new numbers to each other at regular intervals, which were evidently meant for the overseer.
    Whoever was keeping the books had a hell of a job keeping up. Yet the young woman who passed among the men noting their output did not seem overly taxed. Clearly relaxed, she joked with the shearers, and it did not appear that her tallies were ever challenged. Gwyneira Warden wore a simple gray riding dress, and her long red hair was braided carelessly. Though short, she was obviously just as energetic as her daughter—and as she now turned her face in the direction of Steinbjörn, he was blown away by so much beauty. What had Luke been thinking leaving such a woman behind? Steinbjörn could hardly take in her noble features, her sensual lips, and her enchanting indigo-blue eyes. He did not realize he had been staring until her smile turned into a frown, at which point he immediately averted his eyes.
    “This is Mummy. And this is Stein…Stein…something with Stein,” Fleur said, attempting a formal introduction.
    Steinbjörn had regained his composure and hobbled over to Gwyneira.
    “Lady Warden? Steinbjörn Sigleifson. I’ve come from Westport. Mr. Greenwood asked me…well, I was with your late