In the Land of the Long White Cloud

shook her head. “No, it was not. It occurred before the ratification of the treaty that assured the Maori a minimum price for their land. One could not violate a treaty that did not yet exist—and that the Kai Tahu, moreover, never signed. Nevertheless, the governor finds that Gerald Warden cheated you when he bought the land.” She took a deep breath. “And after a thorough examination of the documents, I have to agree with him. Gerald Warden paid you off with pocket money. You only received two-thirds of the minimum sum you were entitled to. The governor has now determined that we must either pay the rest of this sum or give back a corresponding portion of the land. The latter seems more just to me since the land will fetch a higher price today.”
    Tonga looked her over, leering. “We feel honored, Mrs. Warden,” he remarked, and hinted at a bow. “You really mean to share your valuable Kiward Station with us?”
    Gwyneira would have liked to give the arrogant brat an earful, but now was not the time. So she got a hold of herself and continued with as much composure as she had begun. “As reparation, I would like to offer you the farm known as O’Keefe Station. I know that you often wander across it, and the highlands there are richer in hunting and fishing grounds than Kiward Station. On the other hand, it’s less suited to raising sheep. Thus we would all be served. In terms of area, O’Keefe Station is half as large as Kiward Station. You would thus receive more land than the governor granted you.”
    Gwyneira had formulated this plan almost as soon as she had heard the governor’s decision. Helen wanted to sell it. She was going to stay in Queenstown, and Gwyneira could pay her for the farm in several installments. That way Kiward Station would not take a hit from the reparation payments, and no doubt it was more in keeping with thelate Howard O’Keefe’s desires, for the land would go to the Maori and not the hated Wardens.
    The men behind Tonga whispered among themselves. It looked as though they took great interest in her suggestion. Tonga, however, shook his head.
    “What grace, Mrs. Warden. A piece of less valuable land, a dilapidated farm—and the stupid Maori should feel lucky, eh?” He laughed. “No, I pictured things a little differently.”
    Gwyneira sighed. “What do you want?” she asked.
    “What I want…what I really wanted…was the land on which we stand. From the road to Haldon to the dancing rocks.” That was the area between the farm and the highlands that the Maori called the stone circle.
    Gwyneira frowned. “But our house is on that land! That’s impossible.”
    Tonga grinned. “I said that’s what I wanted…but we owe you a certain blood debt, Mrs. Warden. Your son’s death is my fault even if he did not die by my hand. I didn’t want it, Mrs. Warden. I wanted to see him bleed, not for him to die. I wanted him to watch while I tore his house to the ground—or took up occupancy myself! With Marama as my wife. That would have caused him more pain than any spear. But so be it. I have decided to spare you. Keep your house, Mrs. Warden. But I want all the land from the dancing rocks to the stream that separates Kiward Station and O’Keefe Station.” He looked at her presumptuously.
    Gwyneira felt as though the ground was giving way from under her feet. She turned her gaze from Tonga and fixed it on James. Her eyes reflected confusion and desperation.
    “Those are our best pastures,” she said. “The three shearing sheds are there. It’s almost all fenced in.”
    James stepped forward and put his arm around her. He looked at Tonga sternly.
    “Maybe you two should take some time to think things over some more,” he said calmly.
    Gwyneira straightened. Her eyes sparked.
    “If we give you what you want,” she exclaimed, “we might as well just hand Kiward Station over to you. Maybe we should do it too! There won’t be another heir. And you and I, James, we could just concentrate on Helen’s farm.”
    Gwyneira breathed deeply and let her gaze wander over the land she had protected and taken care of.
    “Everything will fall apart,” she said as though to herself. “The breeding schedule, the sheep farm, the longhorns now too…and so much work has been put into them. We had the best animals in Canterbury, if not on the whole island. Damn it, Gerald Warden had his faults, but he did not deserve this!” She bit her lip to keep herself from crying. For