In the Land of the Long White Cloud

her red-gold strands of hair.
    Paul pricked up his ears. It was just getting better and better. It looked as though he was not only going to learn Fleur and Ruben’s secrets but also the details of the family history.
    “Are you joking?” Fleurette asked. “I’m dying to know! Why haven’t you told me until now?”
    Ruben shrugged. “Could it be that there was always something else we could have been doing?” he asked mischievously, kissing her.
    Paul sighed. No further delays, please. He would have to leave soon if he wanted to be halfway on time getting home. Kiri and Mother would ask questions if Marama came home alone—and then they would find out he’d cut class.
    But Fleur too wanted to hear the story more than sweet nothings. She gingerly pushed Ruben away and sat up. She snuggled up to him while he spoke, taking a moment to rebutton her blouse. It had probably also occurred to her that it was time they went to look for the sheep.
    “So, my father and your grandfather were already here in the forties when there still weren’t many settlers, just whalers and seal hunters. But back then there was still a great deal of money to be made in those industries, and the two of them were very good at poker and blackjack as well. In any event, they had a fortune in their pockets when they arrived in the Canterbury Plains. My father was just passing through on his way to the Otago region, having heard some whispers about gold. But your grandfather was contemplating a sheep farm—and tried to convince my father to invest his money in livestock. And in land. Gerald established good relations with the Maori straightaway. He started haggling with them from the get-go. And the Kai Tahu were not exactly disinclined. Their tribe had sold land before, and they got along well with the buyers.”
    “And?” asked Fleur. “So they sold the land…”
    “Not so fast. While the negotiations were dragging on and my father couldn’t decide what to do, they were staying with these settlers—the Butlers, they were called. And Leonard Butler had a daughter. Barbara.”
    “But that was my grandmother!” said Fleur, becoming more interested.
    “Right. Only really she should have been my mother,” Ruben explained. “My father was in love with her, and she loved him as well. But her father was not so enthusiastic about the match. My father thought he needed more money to impress him.”
    “So he moved to Otago and found gold but in the meantime Barbara married Gerald? Oh, Ruben, how tragic!” Fleur sighed at the romantic tale she had envisioned.
    “Not quite.” Ruben shook his head. “Father wanted to make the money then and there. It came down to a card game between Father and Gerald.”
    “And he lost? Did Grandfather win all the money?”
    “Fleurette, just let me tell the story,” Ruben said sternly and waited for Fleurette to nod apologetically. She was clearly impatient to hear more.
    “Father had already declared himself ready to be a partner in Gerald’s sheep enterprise—they even had a name for the farm: KiwardStation, from Ward-en and O’-Kee-fe. But then he not only lost his own money but also what Gerald had given him to pay the Maori for the land.”
    “Oh no!” Fleur cried, understanding at once why Gerald was so angry. “No doubt my grandfather wanted to kill him.”
    “It turned into quite an ugly scene,” Ruben explained. “In the end, Mr. Butler lent Gerald some money—so that he would not lose face before the Maori since the land had been promised to Howard and himself. So Gerald acquired a portion of the land that now forms Kiward Station, but my father did not want to be left behind. He still harbored hopes of marrying Barbara, you see. So he put his last penny into a piece of rocky land with a few half-starved sheep on it. Our wonderful farm. But by then, Barbara had long since gotten engaged to Gerald. The money that her father had loaned your grandfather was her dowry. Later she inherited the land from old Butler. Which is why it’s no wonder that Gerald rose like a meteor to become a sheep baron.”
    “Or that your father hated him,” remarked Fleur. “Oh, what a terrible story. And poor Barbara! Did she every really love Grandfather?”
    Ruben shrugged. “Uncle George didn’t say anything about that. But if she had initially meant to marry my father…then she could hardly have fallen instantly in love with Gerald.”
    “Which Grandfather now holds against your father.