In the Land of the Long White Cloud

right, fine. Have it your way. Let’s call in the witnesses. First we have Randolph Nielson, foreman of Beasley Farms.”
    Nielson’s appearance was the first in a chain of workers and breeders who without exception testified that hundreds of animals had been stolen from the aforementioned farms. Many had been found in McKenzie’s flock. It was all very tiring, and James could have shortened the proceedings, but he proved obstinate and denied any knowledge of the stolen animals.
    While the witnesses rattled off numbers and dates and McKenzie’s fingers wandered over Friday’s soft fur, stroking and comforting her, he let his gaze drift around the room. There were things leading up to the proceedings that concerned him more than the fear of the noose. The trial was taking place in Lyttelton—Canterbury Plains, relatively near Kiward Station. So would she be there? Would Gwyneira come? James had spent the nights leading up to the trial recollecting every moment, every incident involving Gwyneira, no matter how small—from their first encounter in the stables to their parting, when she had given him Friday. Not a day had gone by since she had cheated on him that James had not thought of it. What had happened back then? Whom had she chosen over him? And why had she looked so desperate and sad when he had pushed her to speak? Shouldn’t she have been happy? After all, the business with this other fellow had turned out just as well as with him.
    James saw Reginald Beasley in the first row, with the Barringtons beside him—he had suspected the young lord, but Fleurette’s response to his cautious questions had assured him that he was only in limited contact with the Wardens. Would he have been so disinterested in Gwyneira if he were the father of her son? It appeared that he cared deeply for the children who sat between him and his unlikely wife on the bench. George Greenwood was not present. But according to what Fleur had said, he was hardly a candidate for Paul’s father. Although it was true that he was in regular contact with all the regional farms, he had taken Helen’s son, Ruben, for his protégé instead.
    And there she was. In the third row, half-hidden behind a few burly shepherds who presumably planned to provide testimony as well. She was peeking at him, turning her neck a bit to keep him in view, which she managed effortlessly, slender and flexible as she was. Oh yes, she was beautiful! Just as beautiful, lively, and engaging as before. Her hair was already falling out of the austere coiffure she had tried to force it into. Her face was pale, her lips slightly open. James did not try to lock eyes. That would have been too painful. Perhaps later, when his heart was not thumping so wildly and when he no longer feared that his eyes would give away everything he still felt for her…he forced his gaze away and continued to let his eyes drift over the audience. Next to Gwyneira he expected to see Gerald, but a child sat there, a boy, maybe twelve years old. James held his breath. Naturally, that would be Paul, her son. The boy would certainly be old enough to accompany his grandfather and mother to these proceedings. James looked him over. Maybe his features would reveal who his father was…Fleurette didn’t resemble him in the least, it was true, but that was hardly unusual. And this one here…
    James McKenzie froze when he looked at the boy’s face more clearly. It couldn’t be! But it was true…the man Paul most closely resembled was sitting right next to him: Gerald Warden.
    McKenzie saw that they shared the same square jaw; the alert, close-set brown eyes; the fleshy nose. Both had clear features, and the older face displayed an equally determined look as the younger one. There could be no doubt: this boy was a Warden. James’s mindraced. If Paul was Lucas’s son, why had he hightailed it to the West Coast back then? Or…
    The realization knocked the wind out of James like a sudden punch to the stomach. Gerald’s son! It couldn’t be otherwise: the boy showed no resemblance at all to Gwyneira’s late husband. And that might also have been the reason for Lucas’s flight. He had not caught his wife committing adultery with a stranger but with his own father…but that was utterly impossible. Gwyneira would never have given herself freely to Gerald. And if she had, she would have handled it with the utmost discretion. Lucas would never have gotten wind of it. So that meant…Gerald must