In the Land of the Long White Cloud

For…Mr. McKenzie too. I think he knows all you’ve done for him.”
    Gwyneira left the office before Hanson could even register what she had said. She swung up onto Raven, who had been waiting outside, and whistled for the dog. “Come on, we’ll go look for it. To the harbor!”
    Gwyneira saw as soon as they reached the docks that they had missed it. No seaworthy vessel lay at anchor, and it was over a thousand nautical miles to Botany Bay. Nevertheless, she called out a few questions to one of the fishermen hanging around the harbor.
    “Has the
Reliance
already sailed?”
    The man cast a glance at the perspiring woman. Then he pointed out to sea.
    “You can just see the back of it there, madam! It’s sailing straight ahead. To Sydney, I think.”
    Gwyneira nodded. With burning eyes, she stared at the retreating ship. Friday nuzzled her, whining as though she knew exactly what had happened. Gwyneira petted her and pulled the letter from her pocket.
    My beloved Gwyn
,
    I know you will come to see me before this unfortunate trip, but it will be too late. You will have to continue carrying my face in your heart. Yours comes to me whenever I think of you, and hardly an hour passes that I don’t. Gwyn, for the next few years a few more miles will separate us than those between Haldon and Lyttelton, but that makes no difference to me. I promised you I’d come back, and I have always kept my promises. So wait for me; don’t losehope. I’ll come back as soon as it seems safe. If you’ll just believe in me, I’ll come back! As long as you have Friday, she’ll remind you of me. Good luck and Godspeed, my lady, and give Fleur my love as well if you hear from her
.
    I love you
,
James
    Gwyneira held the letter close to her and stared again at the ship disappearing slowly into the Tasmanian Sea in the distance. He would come back—if he survived this adventure. But she knew James would see exile as an opportunity. He would prefer freedom in Australia to boredom in a cell.
    “And we didn’t even have a chance to go with him,” Gwyneira sighed, stroking Friday’s soft fur. “All right then, come on. Let’s ride home. We won’t catch that ship now no matter how hard we swim!”

    The years passed on Kiward and O’Keefe Stations with their usual symmetry. Gwyneira continued to like the work on the farm, just as Helen continued to loathe it. Yet more and more of the farm work fell to Helen, who only managed thanks to George Greenwood’s active help.
    Though he had hardly ever had a friendly word for Ruben when he was there, and though it must long ago have become clear to him that the boy was not cut out for farm work, Howard O’Keefe could not get over his son’s disappearance. He was to have been the heir, and Howard had been convinced that Ruben would someday come to his senses and take over the farm. Besides, he had gloated for years over the fact that O’Keefe Station had an heir—unlike Gerald Warden’s magnificent farm. But once again Gerald was coming out ahead. His grandson, Paul, was facing his takeover of Kiward Station with great pride, while Howard’s heir had been missing for years. Again and again, he pressured Helen to reveal the boy’s location. He was convinced that she knew something, because she no longer cried into her pillowevery night as she had the first year after Ruben’s flight. Instead, she seemed proud and confident. Helen never said a word, no matter how he pressed her, and he did not always go about it gently. Particularly when he came home from the pub late at night—where he might have seen Gerald and Paul leaning proudly on the bar, negotiating with some local businesspeople about something that Kiward Station needed—he was compelled to vent his rage.
    If only Helen would tell him where the boy was hiding out. He would ride there and drag him back by his hair. He would rip him away from the little whore who had fled not long after him and beat the word
duty
into him. Howard balled his fists in anticipation just thinking about it.
    For the time being, he did not see much sense in keeping up Ruben’s inheritance. It would be the boy’s job to rebuild the farm when he returned. It would serve him right if he had to re-fence the farm and repair the roofs on the shearing sheds. At the moment, Howard was looking to make money quickly. That meant selling the promising new offspring in his flock rather than continuing to breed them himself and running the risk of losing