In the Land of the Long White Cloud

kill me if I don’t bring them back.”
    So that was it. The sheep had gotten away from Ruben once again. Paul could even picture which ones. On the way to school the day before, he had seen the amateur repair job done to the fence holding the young rams.
    “Have you at least fixed the fence?” Fleur asked. The two riders crossed a brook to an especially lovely bank covered in grass, screened by rocks and nikau palms. Fleurette removed her small brown hands from Ruben’s chest and reached nimbly for the reins. She brought Minette to a halt, leaped from her back, and threw herself in the grass, where she lounged provocatively. Ruben tied the horse to a tree and lay down next to her.
    “Tie her down tightly or she’ll be gone in a heartbeat,” Fleur told him. Her eyes were half-closed, but she had still noticed Ruben’s inept knot. The girl loved her beau, but she was as distressed about his lack of practical skills as Gwyneira had once been about the man Fleur took for her father. Ruben had no artistic pretenses though, wanting instead to go to Dunedin to study law at the university beingorganized there. Helen supported her son’s vision—erring on the side of caution, he had not yet presented his plans to Howard.
    The boy got reluctantly to his feet to see to the horse. He did not hold Fleur’s assertive nature against her. He knew his own weakness as well as anybody, and he was awed by Fleurette’s practical capabilities.
    “I’ll take care of the fence tomorrow,” he muttered, which made Paul shake his head uncomprehendingly. If Ruben just enclosed the rams in the same broken pen again, they would run away again by morning.
    Fleurette said something to that effect. “I can help you, you know,” she offered, and then they were both quiet. It annoyed Paul that he could not see anything, so he finally crept around the stone to get a better look. What he saw made him catch his breath. The kisses and caresses that Fleur and Ruben were exchanging beneath the trees looked rather like what Paul thought “doing it” was! Fleur lay in the grass, her hair spread out like a radiant web; on her face was an expression of pure delight. Ruben had opened her blouse and was stroking and kissing her breasts, which Paul also gazed upon with interest. It had been at least five years since he had seen his sister naked. Ruben too seemed happy; he was obviously taking his time and was not thrusting his body repeatedly like the Maori man Paul had once observed with a woman from afar. He also was not lying on top of Fleur but next to her—so they couldn’t actually be doing it yet. But Paul was certain that Gerald Warden would be extremely interested.
    Fleurette had put her arm around Ruben and was stroking his back. Then her fingers began to reach under the band of his breeches, caressing him below. Ruben moaned with pleasure and threw himself on top of her.
    Oh, so they were…
    “No, dearest, not now.” Fleurette gently pushed Ruben off her. She did not look afraid, but rather, decisive. “We have to save something for our wedding night.” Her eyes were now open and she was smiling at Ruben. The young man returned her smile. Ruben was a handsome boy who had inherited his somewhat austere, masculine features from his father, as well as his dark curly hair. Otherwise, hemostly took after Helen. His face was narrower than Howard’s, his eyes gray and dreamy. He was tall, more lanky than stout, with wiry muscles. His gaze exhibited desire, but it looked more like anticipation than naked lust. Fleurette sighed happily. She felt loved.
    “If there ever will be a wedding,” Ruben finally said, concerned. “I don’t imagine your grandfather and my father would be too happy about that.”
    Fleurette shrugged. “But our mothers won’t object,” she said optimistically. “Then the others will have to accept it. What do they even have against each other? A feud like that across the years—it’s crazy!”
    Ruben nodded. He had a more even-tempered nature than Fleurette, who got worked up more quickly. He couldn’t rule out that Fleurette herself might be capable of bearing a lifelong grudge as well. Ruben had no trouble picturing Fleurette wielding a flaming sword. He smiled but then became serious again.
    “I know what happened!” he revealed to his beloved after a moment. “Uncle George got it out of that talkative banker in Haldon and then told my mother. Do you want to hear it?” Ruben played with one of