In the Land of the Long White Cloud

again.
    John Sideblossom had not held it against Gerald that he took sides with the men of Canterbury and went so far as to reserve seats for him and his family in the courtroom. He greeted Gerald heartily, Paul a bit dismissively, and Gwyneira with icy coldness.
    “Has that charming daughter of yours reappeared?” he asked mockingly as she sat down—as far from him as possible among the four reserved seats.
    Gwyneira did not answer. Paul rushed to answer in her place, assuring his idol that no one had ever heard from Fleur again.
    “In Haldon they’re saying she must have landed in some den of sin,” Paul announced, for which Gerald rebuked him sternly. Gwyneira did not react. Over the past few weeks, she had begun responding to Paul less and less. The boy had long since outgrown her influence—if she had ever had any to begin with. These days he listened only to Gerald; he hardly even attended Helen’s school lessons anymore. Gerald always talked about hiring a tutor for the boy, but Paul was of the opinion that he had attained sufficient education for a farmer and livestock breeder. When it came to the work on the farm, he soaked up the shepherds’ and shearers’ knowledge like a sponge. He was without a doubt the heir that Gerald had wished for—if hardly the partner of George Greenwood’s dreams. The young Maori Reti, who was handling George’s affairs while he was in England, complained to Gwyneira. In his opinion, Gerald was raising a second Howard O’Keefe in terms of ignorance—only one with less experience and more power.
    “The boy already won’t listen to anyone,” Reti bemoaned. “The farmhands don’t like him, and the Maori downright hate him. But Mr. Warden lets him do whatever he likes. Who’s ever heard of a twelve-year-old boy overseeing a shearing shed?”
    Gwyneira had already heard it all from the shearers themselves, who felt they had been treated unfairly. In his drive to make himself important and to win the traditional competition between the shearing sheds, Paul had written down considerably more shears than had actually taken place. That was good news for the shearers, who were paid by the number of sheep sheared. But later, the amount of fleece did not match up. Gerald raged and laid the blame on the shearers. The other shearers complained because the competition had been rigged and the prizes handed out to the wrong people. It was altogether a terrible mess, and in the end, Gwyneira had had to pay everyone a considerably higher wage just to ensure that the shearing gang would return the following year.
    Gwyneira had had more than enough of Paul’s insolent behavior. She would have liked nothing better than to send him to boarding school in England, or at least Dunedin. But Gerald would hear none of it, and so Gwyneira did what she had always done since Paul was born: she ignored him.
    Now, in the courtroom, at least he held still, thank God. He listened in on the conversation between Gerald and John and noted the frosty greetings the other sheep barons gave the visitor from Otago. The room filled up quickly and Gwyneira motioned to Reti, who was one of the last to push his way into the room. There was some difficulty—a few
pakeha
did not want to make way for the Maori—but the mention of George Greenwood’s name opened any door for Reti.
    Finally, ten o’clock struck, and punctual to the minute, the Right Honorable Lord Justice Stephen entered his court and opened the proceedings. For most of the audience, it did not get interesting until the accused was led in. When James McKenzie appeared, the room erupted in a mixture of curses and cheers. James himself reacted to neither the one nor the other, instead keeping his head low; he seemed relieved when the judge demanded order from the crowd.
    Gwyneira peeked out from behind the tall farmworker who sat in front of her—a bad choice since both Gerald and Paul had a better view. But she had wanted to sit as far from John Sideblossom as possible. She would be able to look James McKenzie over as soon as he took his place next to the unenthusiastic attorney he had been appointed. As soon as he sat down, he finally looked up.
    Gwyneira had been asking herself for days what she would feel when she was once again in close proximity to James. Would she even recognize him? Would she see in him that which had once…once what? Had impressed her? Enthralled her? Whatever it had been, it lay twelve years in the past. Maybe