In the Land of the Long White Cloud

not only carrying her mother’s money with her—but also the purse James McKenzie had thrown to her at the last minute. The bag contained a small fortune in gold dollars—apparently, everything that her father had “earned” over the last few years from his livestock theft. Fleur wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to hold on to it for him or keep it for herself. But she could worry about that later. For the time being, her hotel bill would not be a problem.
    “So you want to stay the whole night?” asked the girl, who clearly must have had something wrong with her. “I’ll fetch Daphne for you.” Obviously relieved at this thought, the blonde disappeared into the kitchen.
    A few minutes later a somewhat older woman appeared. Her face was just beginning to show its first wrinkles and the traces of too much whiskey and too many long nights. But her eyes were a bright green and lively, and her voluminous hair had been pinned up saucily.
    “Well look, a redhead!” she said, laughing when she caught sight of Fleur. “And golden eyes, a rare treasure. Well, if you wanted to start with me, I’d take you on at once. But Laurie says you just want a room.”
    Fleurette told her story once more. “I’m sure I don’t know what your employee finds so strange about that,” she finished, a little annoyed.
    The woman laughed. “There’s nothing strange about it; only Laurie isn’t used to hotel guests. Look, child, I don’t know where you come from, but I’d guess Christchurch or Dunedin where rich people bed down in nice hotels. Here the emphasis is on the ‘bed,’ if you see what I mean. People rent the rooms for an hour or two, and we provide the company to go with them.”
    Fleurette began to glow red. She had fallen in with whores! This was a…no, she did not want to even think the word.
    Daphne observed her with a smile and grabbed her tightly when she moved to storm out. “Now, wait a minute, child! Where do you think you’re going? You don’t need to be afraid; no one’s going to rape you here.”
    Fleur stopped short. It probably was absurd to flee. Daphne didn’t look frightening—nor did the girl from a moment before.
    “So where can I sleep? Do you also have a…a…”
    “An honorable place to sleep?” Daphne asked. “I’m afraid not. The men who pass through here sleep in the rental stables next to their horses. Or they ride straight into one of the gold prospector camps. There’s always a place to sleep there for a new fellow.”
    Fleur nodded. “Fine. Well…then I’ll do that too. Maybe I’ll even find my fiancé there.” Pluckily she took her bag and moved to leave again.
    Daphne shook her head. “I think not, dear. A child like you alone among one hundred, two hundred men who are starved to the breaking point—after all, they only earn enough to afford a girl here every six months at most. Those are not gentlemen, little miss. And your ‘fiancé’—what’s the boy’s name? Maybe I know him.”
    Fleurette blushed again; this time from indignation. “Ruben would never…he would never…”
    Daphne laughed. “Then he would be a rare exception among his species. Believe me, child, they all end up here. Unless they’re queer. But we don’t want to make that assumption in your case.”
    Fleur did not really know what she meant by the word, but she was certain that Ruben had never set foot in this establishment. She nevertheless gave Daphne his name. She thought about it for a long time and finally shook her head.
    “Never heard of him. And I have a good memory for names. So I guess your dear heart hasn’t made his fortune yet.”
    Fleur nodded. “If he had made his fortune, he would already have come for me by now,” she said, full of conviction. “But now I need to go; it will be getting dark soon. Where did you say these camps were?”
    Daphne sighed. “I can’t send you there, girl, not in good conscience and certainly not at night. I guarantee that you wouldn’t emerge intact. So there’s nothing left for me to do but rent you a room. For the whole night.”
    “But I…I don’t want…” Fleur did not know how she was supposed to get out of this. On the other hand, there hardly seemed to be an alternative.
    “Child, the rooms have doors, and the doors have locks. You can have room one. That normally belongs to the twins, and they rarely have customers. Come along, I’ll show you. The dog…” she indicated Gracie, who was lying in front of