In the Land of the Long White Cloud

to be enough for a whole company of shearers, miss?”
    “Not even close, miss, we need to make it stretch.”
    “Are those supposed to be patties, miss? Then we’d better use more sweet potatoes and not so much meat.”
    “The men don’t need it anyway, or else they’ll get rowdy.”
    The twins giggled happily.
    “And you can’t knead bread like that, miss! Just wait, we’ll make tea first.”
    Mary and Laurie had been cooking for the customers at Daphne’s Hotel for years. Handling the catering for a sheep shearing gang was no problem for them. While they puttered around the kitchen, Helen sat with Leonard McDunn at the kitchen table. He recounted the strange Maori holdup that had led him to her and Helen reported the details of Howard’s death.
    “Naturally, I’m in mourning over my husband,” she explained, smoothing the simple, navy-blue dress she had worn almost every day since Howard’s funeral. There had not been enough money for black mourning attire. “But it’s also something of a relief…excuse me, you must think me heartless.”
    Leonard shook his head. He thought Helen O’Keefe anything but heartless. On the contrary, he could hardly get enough of her joy earlier, when she had embraced the twins. With her shining brown hair, her narrow face, and her serene gray eyes, he found her rather attractive. She did, however, appear exhausted, worn out and pale beneath her sun-kissed skin. It was clear that her situation was pushing her beyond her limits. She was as ill-suited to kitchen work as to farm work and had been relieved when the Maori children had offered to milk her cow.
    “Your son hinted that his father was not the easiest man to live with. What do you intend to do with the farm now? Sell it?”
    Helen shrugged. “If someone wants to buy it. The simplest thing would be to incorporate it into Kiward Station. Howard would curse us from beyond the grave, of course, but I couldn’t care less. As a one-person business, though, the farm is not profitable. There is plenty of land, but not enough for the animals to eat. To make it work, someone would need a great deal of know-how and investment capital. The farm has been run into the ground, Mr. McDunn. Unfortunately, that is the only way to put it.”
    “And your friend from Kiward Station…she is the mother of Fleurette O’Keefe, is that right?” Leonard asked. “Does she have any interest in taking it over?”
    “Interest, yes…oh, thank you, Laurie, you’re both simply wonderful! I don’t know what I would have done without you!” Helen held out her cup to Laurie, who had just come to the table with freshly made tea.
    Laurie filled her cup as skillfully as Helen had taught her on the ship.
    “How can you tell that that’s Laurie?” Leonard asked, astounded. “I don’t know anyone who can tell them apart.”
    Helen laughed. “If you leave the twins to their own devices, Mary likes to set the table, and Laurie likes to serve. Just keep an eye out—Laurie is the more open of the pair, whereas Mary likes to take a backseat.”
    Leonard had never noticed that, but he admired Helen’s gift of observation. “Now, what about your friend?”
    “Well, Gwyneira has her own problems,” Helen said. “In fact, you rode right into them yourself. This Maori chief is attempting to bring the Wardens to their knees, and she has no way of going over Paul’s head to resolve it. Perhaps when the governor finally decides…”
    “And the chances of this Paul fellow returning and resolving his own difficulties?” Leonard asked. It seemed rather unjust to leave these two women behind with all these troubles. Although he had not met Gwyneira Warden yet. If she was anything like her daughter, though, she could handle half a continent full of rebellious savages.
    “Resolving difficulties is not exactly a strong suit of the male Wardens.” Helen smiled crookedly. “As for Paul’s return…the atmosphere in Haldon is slowly changing. George Greenwood was right about that. At first they would all have liked to lynch him, but now their sympathy for Gwyneira is winning out. They think she needs a man on the farm, and they’re willing to overlook a few small details like murder to make that happen.”
    “How cynical of you, Mrs. O’Keefe!” Leonard admonished.
    “I’m being honest. Paul shot an unarmed man in the chest without warning. In front of twenty witnesses. But I don’t want to see him hanged either. What good would that