In the Land of the Long White Cloud

her virginity?” Gerald thundered.
    Ruben was pale as a ghost. “I have to ask you not to talk about Fleur in that manner,” he said evenly but firmly. “Mr. Warden, I love your granddaughter. I’m going to marry her.”
    “You’re going to do what?” Howard boomed. “I can just see the little witch turning your head.”
    “Under no circumstances will you marry Fleurette, you little fucker!” Gerald raged.
    “Mr. Warden! Perhaps we could find a way to express ourselves less crudely,” Helen said in an effort to calm him.
    “I will marry Fleurette no matter what, regardless of what either of you has to say about it.” Ruben spoke calmly and full of conviction.
    Howard seized his son and held him by his shirt just as Gerald had done. “You’ll shut your mouth, boy! And you, Warden, get outof here. Now. And you keep a grip on that little whore of a granddaughter. I don’t want to see her around here anymore, understand? Make that clear to her or I’ll do it myself, and then she won’t be seducing anyone.”
    “Fleurette is not—”
    “Mr. Warden!” Helen positioned herself between the two men. “Please go. Howard doesn’t mean it. And as for Ruben…all of us here have the greatest respect for Fleurette. The children have perhaps exchanged a few kisses, but—”
    “You’ll never touch Fleurette again!” Gerald moved to strike Ruben again, but the boy hung so helplessly in his father’s viselike grip that he desisted.
    “He won’t touch her again; I promise you that. And now out! I’ll sort it out with him, Warden; you can count on it.”
    Helen suddenly did not know whether she really wanted Gerald to go. Howard’s voice sounded so threatening that she seriously feared for Ruben’s safety. Howard had already been angry before Gerald appeared. He’d had to herd the young rams together again when he came home because Helen and Ruben’s attempt at restoring the fence had not checked the animals’ desire for freedom. Howard had been able to herd the rams back into the pen before they fled back into the highlands, but this additional task had not improved his mood. Gerald cast a murderous glance at Ruben as he left the hut.
    “So you’ve been doing it with the little Warden girl,” Howard established. “And you’ve got big plans, is that right? Just met Greenwood’s Maori boy at the pub, and he
congratulated
me that the university in Dunedin wants to take you on. For law school! Oh, you hadn’t heard? Letters like that you have sent to your dear Uncle George! But I’ll beat that out of you now, my boy! Be sure to count along, Ruben O’Keefe; you’ve certainly learned that much. And law, that’s the study of justice, right? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. That’s the justice we’ll be studying now. This here is for the sheep!”
    He struck Ruben a blow. “And this here is for the girl!” A hard right. “This is for Uncle George!” A hard left. Ruben fell to the floor.
    “For law school!” Howard kicked him in the ribs. Ruben let out a moan.
    “And for thinking you’re better than me!” Another brutal kick, this time in the kidneys. Ruben curled up. Helen tried to pull Howard away.
    “And this here is for you because you always take the little shit’s side!” Howard landed his next blow on Helen’s upper lip. She fell, but still tried to protect her son.
    Howard seemed to be coming to his senses. The blood on Helen’s face sobered him up.
    “You two aren’t worth it…you…” he stammered and teetered over to the cupboard in the kitchen where Helen kept the whiskey. The good kind, not the cheap stuff. She liked to keep it on hand for guests; George Greenwood often needed a drink when he was done with Howard. Howard took several long gulps before putting it back. Yet when he moved to close the cupboard, he changed his mind and took it with him.
    “I’m sleeping in the stables,” he announced. “I can’t look at you anymore.”
    Helen sighed with relief when he disappeared outside.
    “Ruben…is it bad? Are you…”
    “Everything’s OK, Mother,” Ruben whispered, but his appearance indicated otherwise. He bled from cuts above his eye and lip; his nosebleed had worsened, and it was difficult for him to sit up. His left eye was swollen shut. Helen helped him up.
    “Come, lie down in bed. I’ll fix you up,” she offered. But Ruben shook his head.
    “I won’t lie in his bed,” he said firmly, dragging himself to the narrow pallet next to the