In the Land of the Long White Cloud

Sideblossom know what he’s talking about?” Gwyneira inquired, maintaining her poise. Over the last few years, almost all the livestock barons in the Canterbury Plains had been planning such battles from their firesides. They generally did not amount to anything, though, since not enough people gathered to comb their neighbors’ land. It would take a more charismatic personality than Reginald Beasley to unite the individually minded sheep breeders.
    “You bet he does!” Gerald boomed. “Johnny Sideblossom is the wildest dog you can imagine! I’ve known him since my whaling days. He was a little runt back then, as old as Paul is now.”
    Paul’s ears pricked up.
    “Hired on as a half-deck boy with his dad. But the old man drank like a fish, and when it came time to man the harpoon one day and the whale was flailing around like mad, the whale knocked him out of the boat—better said, it knocked over the whole boat, and everyone jumped out. Only the boy stayed behind till the last second, firing the harpoon before the tub flipped. He took the whale down, Johnny Sideblossom did! At ten years old! The whale took his old man, but he didn’t let that slow him down. He became the most fearsome harpooner on the West Coast. He’d hardly heard about the gold finds near Westport before he was off. Up and down the Buller River, and always successful. Ended up buying land on Lake Pukaki. And the best livestock, some of them he even bought from me. If I remember correctly, that scoundrel McKenzie herded a flock there for me. Must be almost twenty years ago now.”
    Seventeen, Gwyneira thought. She remembered that James had primarily agreed to the job to avoid her. Had he explored around there back then and found the land of his dreams?
    “I’ll write and tell him we could hold the conference here. Yes, now there’s an idea! I’ll invite a few others too, and then we’ll finally drive this nail home! We’ll get the rat, no worries. When Johnny starts something, he means it!” Gerald would have liked to reach for pen and paper right then, but Kiri was serving dinner. Not to be deterred, he put his plan into action the very next day, and Gwyneira sighed at the thought of the feasting and drinking that would precedethe great punitive expedition. Still, she was excited to meet Johnny Sideblossom. If even half of the stories that Gerald entertained them with at dinner were true, he must be an intriguing character—and perhaps even a dangerous adversary for James McKenzie.

    Nearly all of the livestock farmers in the area accepted Gerald’s invitation, and it sounded as though this time it would be more than just a vacation. James McKenzie had clearly taken things too far. And John Sideblossom really did appear to have the necessary strength of character to lead the men. He completely blew Gwyneira away. He rode a powerful black stallion—which was very fitting—but the horse was also well trained and easy to handle. He probably checked on his pastures and oversaw the herding with this horse. He towered over even the most powerful men by nearly a full head. His body was taut and muscular, his face angular and tan, his dark hair thick and curly. He wore it a bit long, which only emphasized his rugged appearance. And he had a dazzling, engaging personality. He immediately took charge of the men’s conversation, slapping old friends on the shoulder, laughing thunderously with Gerald, and seemingly able to consume whiskey like it was water without showing it. To Gwyneira and the few other women who had accompanied their husbands, he was particularly courteous. All that said, Gwyneira did not like him, though she wasn’t able to pinpoint why. From the very first she felt a certain distaste for the man. Did it have to do with the fact that his lips were thin and hard and displayed a smile that was not reflected in his eyes? Or was it the eyes themselves—so dark as to look almost black, cold as night and calculating? Gwyneira noticed that when he looked at her, his glances were unquestionably too appraising—focusing less on her face than on sizing up her still slender and feminine figure. As a young woman she would have blushed, but now she returned his looks with self-assurance. She was the mistress here; he was the visitor, and she was not interested in any association beyond that. She would likewise have liked to keep Fleurette far from Gerald’s old friend anddrinking buddy, but naturally, that was impossible