In the Land of the Long White Cloud

select group of potential buyers receive that permission. In addition to that, the boundaries are very imprecise. For example, thepastureland between the lake and the mountains belongs to Sideblossom. So far he’s claimed the land up to the terraces where we met. But if someone discovers more land, he’ll maintain that it belongs to him as well. And no one will protest, unless the Maori get together and claim it for themselves. But they almost never do that. After all, they have a very different understanding of land than we do. Though they come for a few weeks in the summer to fish and hunt, they rarely settle in this part of the mountains for any length of time. The breeders don’t stop them—at least not if they’re smart. However, the less smart ones get angry. Those are the altercations that people write off as ‘the Maori Wars.’
    Fleurette nodded. Helen O’Keefe had spoken of uprisings, but those had mostly occurred on the North Island.
    “In any event, I didn’t find any land at the time. The money would only have been enough for a tiny farm, and then I wouldn’t even have been able to afford livestock. So I decided to make my way to Otago to look for gold—though what I really wanted was to come up with a new plan for my life. I’m a decent hand at panning gold since I took part in the gold rush in Australia. On the way to Otago I thought it wouldn’t hurt anything to make a detour to this part of the country to have a look around…well, and then I found this.”
    McKenzie gestured toward the landscape with a wide, energetic sweep of his arm, and Fleurette’s eyes grew large. The streambed had been widening over the last few minutes; now the vista opened up onto a high plain. She gazed out over an expanse of lush grass stretching out over the gentle hillsides. The sheep immediately spread out.
    “With your permission—McKenzie Station!” James said, laughing. “So far only settled by yours truly and a Maori tribe that comes through once a year and is on as good of terms with Mr. Sideblossom as I am. That is to say, he’s been fencing in large areas of pastureland and in doing so cut the Maori off from one of their holy places. But they’re good friends to me. We camp together, exchange presents…they won’t give me away.”
    “And where do you sell your sheep?” Fleur asked, curious.
    James laughed. “You want to know everything, don’t you? Well, fine, I know a trader in Dunedin. He doesn’t ask too many questions when good animals come his way. And I only sell the ones I raised myself. If the livestock has been branded, I don’t sell it; it stays here, and I sell the lambs. Come on then, this is my camp. It’s rather primitive, but I don’t want to build a hut. Just in case a shepherd wanders in here by accident.” James led Fleurette to a tent and campfire. “You can tie your horse up there; I hang up rope between the trees. There’s plenty of grass, and it should get along fine with the mule. A beautiful horse. Related to Gwyn’s mare?”
    Fleurette nodded. “Her daughter. And Gracie here is Cleo’s daughter. Naturally, they look alike.”
    James laughed. “A real family reunion. Friday is also Cleo’s daughter. Gwyn gave her to me as a going-away present.”
    Again that tender expression in his eyes when he spoke of Gwyneira.
    Fleur pondered. Wasn’t her conception supposed to have been strictly business? James’s face suggested otherwise. And Gwyneira had given him a puppy as a good-bye—when she was otherwise always so possessive of Cleo’s progeny? For Fleur, this was all very revealing.
    “My mother must have liked you a great deal,” she said carefully.
    James shrugged. “Maybe not enough…but now tell me, Fleur, how are you? And old Warden? I heard the younger one was dead. But you have a brother?”
    “I wish I didn’t!” Fleurette exclaimed fiercely, becoming aware as she said it of the happy fact that Paul was only her half brother, after all.
    McKenzie smiled. “So, the long story then. Would you like tea, Fleur? Or do you prefer whiskey?” He lit the fire, put on water to boil, and took a bottle out of his saddlebags. “Well, I’m going to help myself to some. To being spooked by a ghost!” He poured the whiskey in a cup and raised it to her.
    Fleurette considered. “A little gulp,” she said finally. “My mother says it sometimes works like medicine.”
    James McKenzie was a good listener. He relaxed by the fire as Fleur told the