In the Land of the Long White Cloud

for that; as soon as he had noticed Ruben turn conspiratorially to Paul’s sister, Fleur, he had glued himself to the two older children’s heels. Secrets, he knew very well, almost always involved something forbidden, and for Paul there was nothing better than catching his sister at some petty infraction. He had no compunctions about tattling, even if the results rarely proved satisfactory. Kiri never punished the adolescents, and even Paul’s mother displayed lenience when she caught Fleurette telling fibs or a glass or vase broke during one of her wild games. Paul rarely experienced such mishaps. He was naturally deft, and besides, he had practically grown up among the Maori. He had adopted their fluid hunter’s gait, their ability to sneak up on prey all but silently—just like his rival, Tonga. The Maori men made no distinction between the little
pakeha
and their own offspring. If there were children there, people cared for them, and it was among the hunters’ duties to instruct the youths in their art, just as the women taught the girls. Paul had always been among their most gifted students, and now those skills enabled him to sneak up behind Fleurette and Ruben unnoticed. Itwas a shame that their whispering was probably about one of the young O’Keefe’s secrets instead of some wrongdoing by his sister. No doubt Miss O’Keefe’s punishment for anything her son had done would not prove harsh enough to warrant his having to listen to her harangue about tattle-telling. He would have achieved better results by telling on the boy to his father, but Paul didn’t trust himself around Howard O’Keefe. He knew that Helen’s husband and his grandfather did not get along, and Paul would not collaborate with Gerald’s enemies; it was a question of honor. Paul only hoped his grandfather appreciated it. He made every effort to impress his grandfather, but the older Warden took little notice of him. Paul did not hold that against him. His grandfather had more important things to do than play with young boys—on Kiward Station, Gerald Warden was almost like God himself. But eventually, Paul would do something noteworthy, and then Gerald would have to notice him. The boy wanted nothing more than his grandfather’s praise.
    As for Ruben and Fleurette—what might they have to conceal? Paul had become suspicious when Ruben had not taken his own horse but instead settled in front of Fleurette on Minette. Minette did not have a saddle on so there was room for both riders on her back. What a strange way to ride. Ruben took the reins while Fleurette sat behind him, pressing her upper body against him with her cheek tight against his back and her eyes closed. Her curly, red-golden hair fell loosely to her shoulders—Paul remembered that one of the shepherds had said she looked good enough to eat. That must have meant that the guy wanted to do it with her—though Paul still only had a vague idea what that involved. One thing was certain: Fleurette was the last person he would ever think of for that. Paul couldn’t imagine the word beauty ever being used in connection with his sister. Why was she snuggling up so to Ruben? Was she afraid of falling down? Not very likely—Fleurette was an extremely confident rider.
    It did not help that Paul had to get closer to hear what the two of them were whispering. How stupid was it that his pony, Minty, made such short, quick strides. It was almost impossible to bring her intotempo with Minette so as to be less noticeable. Fleurette and Ruben, however, were oblivious. They must have been able to hear his pony’s steps, but they weren’t paying attention to them. Only Gracie, Fleur’s sheepdog, who followed her mistress around as naturally as Cleo did their mother, cast suspicious glances into the brush. But Gracie would not attack; after all, she knew Paul.
    “Do you think we’ll ever find these damned sheep?” Ruben asked suddenly. His voice sounded nervous, almost fearful.
    Fleurette was obviously displeased to have to lift her face from his back.
    “Yes, of course,” she murmured. “Don’t worry. Gracie will herd them together in the blink of an eye. We…should even have time for a rest.”
    Paul noted with bewilderment how her hands played on Ruben’s shirt and her fingers felt through his buttonholes for his naked chest.
    The boy did not seem unwilling. He reached behind him briefly and stroked Fleur’s neck. “Gah, I don’t know…the sheep…my father will