In the Land of the Long White Cloud

and—”
    “But you will come back, even if you don’t find gold, right?” Fleurette said, wanting to be sure. “Then we’ll think of something else.”
    “I’ll find gold!” Ruben insisted. “Because there’s no other way. But now I have to go. I’ve been here much too long already. If your grandfather sees me…”
    “My mother’s on the lookout. Stay here, Ruben, I’ll saddle Minette for you. You can hardly stand up, after all. The best thing would be for you to find a place to hide so that you can recover. We could—”
    “No, Fleurette. No more risks, no long good-byes. I’ll make it; it’s not half as bad as it looks. Just see that you get the mule back toMother somehow.” Ruben limped over, as though he were going to lend Fleur a hand with the saddling. Just as she was about to bridle the horse, Kiri appeared in the doorway, two stuffed-full saddlebags in her hands. She smiled at Fleurette.
    “Here, this is from your mother. For the boy who isn’t really here.” Kiri pretended not to see Ruben as she’d been instructed. “A little food for the road and some warm clothes left by your father. She thinks he’ll need them.”
    Ruben was about to refuse them, but the Maori woman did not even acknowledge he was there as she set the bags down and then turned to go. Fleurette secured the bags on the saddle, then led Minette out.
    “Take good care of him,” she whispered to the mare. “And bring him back to me!”
    Ruben struggled into the saddle but still managed to lean down to Fleurette to kiss her good-bye.
    “How long will you love me?” he asked quietly.
    She smiled. “Forever. And a few days beyond that. I’ll see you soon!”
    “I’ll see you soon!” Ruben reaffirmed.
    Fleurette watched him until he disappeared behind the curtain of rain that obscured her view of the mountains that day. It pained her heart to see Ruben hanging on to the horse, doubled over in pain. Fleeing together would never have succeeded—Ruben could only advance unencumbered.
    Paul also watched as the boy rode away. He had taken up his post at his window early and was now considering whether he should wake Gerald. But by the time he managed that Ruben would be miles away—besides, his mother definitely had her eye on him. He could still vividly replay her outburst from the evening before in his mind. It had confirmed what he had always suspected: Gwyneira loved his sister much more than she loved him. He could never expect to get anything from her. But with his grandfather, there was hope. His grandfather was predictable, and if Paul could learn to handle him properly, he would take Paul under his wing. Paul decided that from this point on, there would be two opposing factions in the Wardenfamily: his mother and Fleur, and Gerald and Paul. He just needed to convince Gerald how useful he was.

    Gerald flew into a rage when he found out why the mare Minette was gone. Only with great effort did Gwyneira stop him from striking Fleurette.
    “Regardless, the boy’s gone now,” he said, trying to assuage his own anger. “Whether to Dunedin or wherever, I couldn’t care less. If he ever shows up here again, I’m going to shoot him like a rabid dog; you must understand that, Fleurette. But you won’t even be here. I’m going to marry you off to the next man who’s even halfway suitable.”
    “She’s still much too young to marry,” said Gwyneira. Deep down she too thanked heaven that Ruben had left the Canterbury Plains. Bound for where, Fleurette had not said, but she could imagine. The gold rush had become what whaling and seal hunting had been in Lucas’s day. Anyone who wanted to make a fortune quickly and prove himself as a man made for Otago. However, she appraised Ruben’s aptitude for mining as pessimistically as Fleurette.
    “She was old enough to lie down with that bastard in the wilderness. So she’s old enough to share a bed with an honorable man. How old is she? Sixteen? Next year she’ll be seventeen. Then she can be engaged. I can still well remember a girl who came to New Zealand at seventeen.”
    Gerald fixed Gwyneira with a look that made her turn pale. A feeling rose in her that bordered on panic. When she had been seventeen, Gerald had fallen in love with her—and brought her across the sea for his son. Could it be that the old man was starting to see Fleur too in a different light? Until that moment, Gwyneira had never thought about how closely the girl resembled her. If