In the Land of the Long White Cloud

day chatting with the police chief. On the other hand, he might give her news of James McKenzie.
    When Gwyneira arrived at the stables, Laurence Hanson was already untying the dog, whose leash he had tied to his saddle. The dog was without a doubt a collie, but it was in pitiful condition. Its fur was dull and clumpy, and it was so thin that its ribs were visible despite its long hair. When the sheriff bent over to it, the dog bared its teeth and growled. Such an unfriendly face was rare among border collies. Nevertheless, Gwyneira recognized the dog right away.
    “Friday!” she said sweetly. “Allow me, Sheriff, she may remember me. She was my dog until she was five months old.”
    Laurence seemed skeptical that the dog would remember the woman from whom it had received its first lessons in sheepherding, but Friday reacted to Gwyneira’s soft voice. He did not try to stop Gwyneira from petting the dog and undoing its leash from the cinch on the horse’s saddle.
    “Now where did you find her? Isn’t this…”
    The police chief nodded. “Yes, this is McKenzie’s dog. Showed up in Lyttelton two days ago, completely exhausted. You see the shape she’s in. McKenzie saw her out the window and raised a rumpus. But what was I supposed to do? I can’t let her inside the prison. Where wouldI be then? If one can have a dog, then another will want a pussycat, and when the cat eats a third fellow’s canary, there’ll be a prison riot.”
    “Now, now, it wouldn’t be that bad,” Gwyneira said, smiling. Most of the prisoners in Lyttelton did not spend nearly long enough in prison to need a pet. The majority just went there to sober up and were released the next day.
    “In any event, it would be unacceptable,” the sheriff said sternly. “So I took the animal home with me, but it didn’t want to stay. I would hardly open the door and it would run back to the jail. This time he picked a lock and stole meat from the butcher for the mutt. Luckily it wasn’t an issue. The butcher later maintained it had been a gift, so there won’t be any charges…and we caught McKenzie again the next day. But of course this can’t keep happening. The man’s putting his own neck on the line for the mutt. And so I thought, well…because you bred the dog and your old dog just died…”
    Gwyneira sniffed. Even now she couldn’t think about Cleo without tearing up. She still had not picked out a new dog. The pain was too fresh. But here was Friday. And she was the spitting image of her mother.
    “You thought right,” she said calmly. “Friday can stay here. Please tell Mr. McKenzie that I’ll look after her. Until he comes for us…ahem, her. Now come inside and have something to drink, Officer. You must be very thirsty after the long ride.”
    Friday lay panting in the shade. She was still on the leash, and Gwyneira knew she was taking a risk when she bent over and undid the lead.
    “Come along, Friday,” she said softly.
    The dog followed her.

11
    A year after James McKenzie’s sentencing, George and Elizabeth Greenwood returned from England, and Helen and Gwyneira finally got news of their children. Elizabeth took Fleur’s request for discretion very seriously and rode in her little chaise to Haldon herself to bring the letters to her friends. She hadn’t even mentioned the reason for her trip to her husband when she met with Helen and Gwyneira on the O’Keefes’ farm. Both women inundated her with questions about her trip, which had obviously done the young woman good. Elizabeth seemed more relaxed and at peace than before.
    “London was wonderful!” she said with a wistful look. “George’s mother, Mrs. Greenwood, is a little…well, takes some getting used to. But she didn’t recognize me; she thought me very well-bred.” Elizabeth beamed like the little girl she once was and looked to Helen for praise. “And Mr. Greenwood was charming and very nice to the children. I didn’t care for George’s brother. And the woman he married! How terribly common.” Elizabeth rumpled her little nose smugly and folded her napkin. Gwyneira noticed that she still did so with precisely the same gestures Helen had drilled into them so many years before. “But now that I’ve found these letters, I’m sorry we extended the trip so long,” Elizabeth apologized. “You must have been so worried, Mrs. O’Keefe and Mrs. Warden. But it looks like Fleur and Ruben are doing well.”
    Helen and Gwyneira were profoundly