In the Land of the Long White Cloud

do? In any case, when he returns, things are bound to escalate with the Maori chief. And then perhaps he’ll hang for his next murder.”
    “The boy really seems to fancy the noose.” Leonard sighed. “I—”
    He was interrupted when someone knocked on the door. Laurie opened it. As soon as she did, a small dog shot between her legs. Panting, Friday reared up in front of Helen.
    “Mary, come quick! I think it’s Miss Silk…Warden! And Cleo! How is she still alive, miss?”
    But Gwyneira did not notice the twins. She was so beside herself that she did not even recognize them.
    “Helen,” she exclaimed, “I’m going to kill Tonga! It was all I could do not to ride into the village with a gun! Andy says his people held up a covered wagon—heaven knows what it wanted with us, or where it is now. In the village, though, they’re having great fun running around with brassieres and knickers…oh, pardon me, sir, I…” Gwyneira blushed when she saw that Helen was entertaining male company.
    McDunn laughed. “Nothing to pardon, Mrs. Warden. I’m well schooled in ladies’ undergarments: I’m the one who lost them. The wagon belongs to me. With your permission, Leonard McDunn of the O’Kay Warehouse.”

    “Why don’t you just come to Queenstown?” Leonard asked a few hours later, looking at Helen.
    Gwyneira had calmed down and helped Helen and the twins feed the hungry sheep shearers. She praised all of them for continuing the shearing, even though they were rather shocked at the quality of the wool. They had heard that O’Keefe produced a good deal of junk wool, but they had no idea the situation was so dire. Now Gwyneira sat with Helen and Leonard in front of the fireplace, opening one of the bottles of Beaujolais that had thankfully been rescued.
    “To Ruben and his excellent taste!” she said with delight. “Where did he get that from, Helen? This must be the first bottle of wine to be uncorked in this house in years.”
    “In the works of Lord Bulwer-Lytton, Gwyn, which I like to read with my students, alcohol is occasionally consumed in cultivated company,” Helen replied affectedly.
    Leonard took a sip; then he made his suggestion about Queenstown: “Seriously, Mrs. O’Keefe, you do wish to see your son and your grandchildren, don’t you? Now’s your chance. We’ll be there in a few days.”
    “Now, in the middle of the shearing?” Helen dismissed the notion.
    Gwyneira laughed. “Helen, you don’t seriously believe that my people will shear more sheep if you’re standing there than if you’re not. And you don’t mean to herd the sheep into the highlands yourself, do you?”
    “But…but someone has to feed the workers…” Helen was undecided. The offer had come so suddenly; she couldn’t accept it. And yet it was so tempting!
    “They fed themselves on my farm. O’Toole still makes better stew than Moana and I ever managed to. And let’s not even get started on you. You’re my dearest friend, Helen, but you’re no chef.”
    Helen blushed. Normally she would not have thought twice about such a remark. But suddenly, in front of Leonard McDunn, it was embarrassing.
    “Let the men slaughter a couple of sheep, and we’ll leave them one of these barrels since I was the one to defend them with my life. It’s a sin, really, because the brandy is too good for that lot, but after this they’ll love you forever,” McDunn suggested with composure.
    Helen smiled. “I don’t know…” she said coyly.
    “But I do!” Gwyneira said resolutely. “I would love to go, but I’m indispensable at Kiward Station. So I’m hereby declaring you our mutual emissary. See that all is right in Queenstown. And woe to Fleurette if she didn’t train that dog properly! Also, take a pony with you for our grandchildren. So they don’t grow up to be lousy riders like you.”

14
    H elen loved Queenstown from the moment she laid eyes on the little town on the shores of the mighty, shimmering Lake Wakatipu. In the smooth surface of the lake she could see the reflections of the dapper new houses, and a little harbor was lined with colorful rowboats and sailboats. The snowcapped mountains framed the picturesque scene. Most importantly, Helen had gone half a day without seeing a single sheep.
    “It’s humbling,” she confided to Leonard McDunn, to whom she had already revealed more about herself after eight days together on the coach box than she had to Howard during their whole marriage.