In the Land of the Long White Cloud

her excitement was misplaced. Perhaps he would just be a stranger to her now, someone whom she would not even have recognized on the street.
    But her very first look at the tall man on the defendant's bench told her otherwise. James McKenzie had hardly changed. At least not in Gwyneira’s eyes. Based on the drawings that had appeared in the papers reporting on his capture, she had expected to see a wild, bearded fellow, but the man before her was clean shaven and wore simple but clean clothes. He was still just as slim and sensual, but the musculature beneath his somewhat tattered white shirt revealed his strength. His face was suntanned—except for the places his beard had covered. His lips seemed thin—a sign that he was worried. Gwyneira had often seen that look on his face. And his eyes…nothing, absolutely nothing had changed about their adventurous, lively expression. However, there was no mocking laughter in them now, just tension and something like fear. The lines in his face were still there, only more deeply imprinted, just as James’s whole demeanor had grown harder, more mature, and more serious. Gwyneira would have recognized him at first glance. Oh yes, she would have been able to pick him out from all the men on the South Island, if not the whole world.
    “James McKenzie!”
    “Your Honor?”
    Gwyneira would also have known his voice anywhere. That dark, warm voice that could be so tender but also stern and full of authority when calling out commands to his men or the sheepdogs.
    “Mr. McKenzie, you stand accused of having carried out large-scale livestock theft in the Canterbury Plains as well as in the area around Otago. How do you plead?”
    McKenzie shrugged. “There’s a lot of stealing in that area. I don’t know what that has to do with me.”
    The judge inhaled sharply. “The court has the testimony of several honorable men that you were encountered with a flock of stolen sheep above Lake Wanaka. Do you at least admit to that?”
    James McKenzie repeated his shrug. “There are plenty of McKenzies. There are plenty of sheep.”
    Gwyneira almost laughed but then began to worry instead. This was surely the best way to bring His Honor the Lord Justice Stephen to a boil. It was useless to deny the accusation. James’s face still showed signs of his fight with John Sideblossom. Sideblossom must have had a bad time of it too—Gwyneira derived a certain satisfaction from the fact that John’s eye was still markedly blacker than James’s.
    “Can anyone in the court testify to the fact that this man is the livestock thief James McKenzie and not by chance someone else of the same name?” the judge asked with a sigh.
    John Sideblossom stood up. “I can testify to that. And we have proof that should remove any doubt.” He turned to the room’s entrance, where he had placed an assistant. “Release the dog!”
    “Friday!” A little black shadow flew like the wind through the courtroom directly to James McKenzie. He seemed to instantly forget the role he had planned to play before the court. He bent over, took up the dog in his arms, and petted her. “Friday!”
    The judge rolled his eyes. “That could have been done less dramatically, but so be it. Please enter into the record that when this man was confronted with the sheepdog that herded the stolen flocks of sheep, he recognized the animal as his. Mr. McKenzie, you do not now mean to tell me this dog too has a double out there.”
    James smiled his old smile. “No,” he said. “This dog is one of a kind.” Friday panted and licked James’s hands. “Your Honor, we…we can cut this trial short. I will say anything and confess everything as long as you assure me that I can keep Friday. In prison too. Just lookat this dog; it clearly has hardly eaten since it was taken from me. This dog is to this…she is of no use to Mr. Sideblossom; she won’t listen to anyone…”
    “Mr. McKenzie, your dog is not the one on trial here,” the judge said sternly. “But since you want to confess now: the thefts on Lionel Station, on Kiward Station, Beasley Farms, Barrington Station…all of these can be ascribed to you?”
    McKenzie reacted with his now familiar shrug. “There’re a lot of thefts. Like I said. I might have taken a sheep now and again…a dog like this needs exercise, you know.” He gestured to Friday, which set off thundering laughter in the courtroom. “But a thousand sheep…”
    The judge sighed again. “All