In the Land of the Long White Cloud

the farm, and I like that, as you well know. As for Gerald and Paul…well, I’ll just have to accept them as they are.”

    An hour later Fleurette was sitting astride Niniane and galloping toward the mountains. She had arranged with her mother not to ride directly to Queenstown. Gerald would be able to figure out that she would go looking for Ruben and send men after her.
    “Hide in the highlands for a few days, Fleur,” Gwyneira had advised her. “Then ride along the base of the mountains to Otago. Perhaps you’ll run into Ruben somewhere along the way. For all I know, Queenstown isn’t the only place where they’ve found gold.”
    Fleurette was skeptical. “But Sideblossom’s riding into the highlands,” she said fearfully. “If he comes looking for me…”
    Gwyneira shook her head. “Fleur, the road to Queenstown is well-worn, but the highlands are a big area. He won’t find you—you’ll be a needle in a haystack. So off you go.”
    In the end, Fleur had accepted her mother’s line of reasoning, though she was scared to death when she first pointed her horse’s steps in the direction of Haldon and then toward the lakes where Sideblossom’s farm lay.
    And where her father was camped somewhere…the thought made her strangely happy. She would not be alone in the highlands. James McKenzie was being hunted too.

6
    T he land above Lakes Tekapo, Pukaki, and Ohau was beautiful. Fleurette was overcome by the beauty of the crystal-clear lakes and streams, the strange rock formations and velvety green pastures, with the mountains thrusting upward just beyond them. John Sideblossom had been right: it was entirely possible that hidden lakes and valleys were tucked away here, just waiting to be discovered. In high spirits, Fleurette directed her mare toward the mountains. Now that she had put some distance between herself and Kiward Station, she could slow down and enjoy herself. Perhaps she would find gold! Although she had no idea where to look for it. A close inspection of the ice-cold mountain streams from which she drank and in which she washed her face and hands had not revealed any nuggets. But she had caught some fish and, three days having passed, dared to make a fire to roast them. At first she had been too afraid that Sideblossom’s men would appear out of nowhere, but she had since adopted her mother’s view: the area was much too vast to be searched thoroughly. Her pursuers would not know where to start, and it had rained in the meantime. Even if they used bloodhounds—and there were none on Kiward Station—her trail would have long since washed out.
    Fleur began to move very naturally in the highlands. She had often played with Maori children her age and visited those friends in their villages. Thus she knew how to find edible roots, how to knead and bake flour into
takakau
, how to catch fish and light fires. She left hardly a trace of her presence. She carefully covered burned-out campfires with dirt, and she buried any waste. She was certain that no one was following her. In a few days, she would turn east toward Lake Wakatipu where Queenstown lay.
    If only she were not alone. After two weeks of riding, Fleur felt lonely. It was nice to snuggle with Gracie at night, but she yearned for human companionship.
    She did not seem to be the only one to miss companionship of her own kind. Though she followed Fleurette’s signals dutifully, Niniane sometimes neighed into space as though lost. In the end, it was Gracie who found company. The little dog had run on ahead while Niniane felt her way along a stony path. Fleurette likewise had to concentrate on the path and so did not look ahead for a few minutes. She therefore stared in sheer amazement when they passed behind a rock, where the rocky landscape again turned into grassy plain, and saw two tricolored dogs playing with one another. At first Fleurette believed she was seeing things. But if she had suddenly started seeing double, the two Gracies would have been moving the same way. Instead, they were jumping at each other, chasing after each other, and obviously enjoying each other’s company. And they looked just like each other.
    Fleurette rode up to call Gracie to her. Up close she could finally discern some differences between the dogs. The new dog was a bit larger than Gracie, her nose a bit longer. But she was a purebred border collie, no doubt about it. To whom did she belong? Border collies, Fleur knew, neither roamed nor hunted.