The Kiwi Target

them. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.
    “It was great,” Peter answered.
    “Come in—lunch is ready. Peter, Ray called. He wants to meet you in Queenstown later this afternoon. You’re to bring your things with you. After you see him, please call us and tell us what happened.”
    He made good time on his return trip to Queenstown and reached the Mountaineer not long after four. At the reception desk he was expected. “Welcome back, Mr. Ferguson,” the girl behind the counter said as she handed him his key. “Mr. O’Malley is waiting for you in the bar.”
    “My luggage is in the car,” he said.
    “Let me have the keys. I’ll have it attended to.”
    Peter walked into the bar and joined O’Malley, who was occupying a booth for two. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “We need to talk rather urgently. The manager’s offered me the use of his office. Get yourself a drink, and we’ll go in there.” Armed with a dark beer, Peter followed the attorney into a well-appointed office. O’Malley seated himself behind the desk and opened his briefcase. “To begin with,” he said, “I want you to understand that technically I’m still representing your grandfather’s estate. I also work for your aunt Martha and now you, if you still want it that way. I don’t see any conflict of interest unless you want to contest the settlement of the estate that’s already been worked out and approved by the Court.”
    “Of course not,” Peter said.
    “Good. I’ve already spoken with Phil Matthews, the presiding judge. He has agreed to go along with my assessment, and Martha’s, that your identity’s been established. No one’s contesting the estate or your right to share in it.”
    O’Malley took some papers from his briefcase. “I have some things for you. First, a copy of your late grandfather’s will. As I told you, it leaves the estate to be divided between his two daughters, if living: if not, to their spouses or descendents. Since your parents are both dead and you’re an only child, your claim is clear. It’s fortunate that your former wife no longer has any claim on you. Is there any chance you might go back with her?”
    “No,” Peter answered. “She’s remarried.”
    "Then that’s settled. Now about the estate: when it was probated, the judge approved a division that I’d worked out. Here’s a copy of that.” O’Malley passed a document across the desk. “I advise you to read it carefully. If you’re willing to accept it, fine. If not, you have the right to reopen the matter.”
    “I’m sure I’ll not want to do that,” Peter said.
    “Here in essence is what was agreed to, with the Court protecting your interest. The estate consisted of considerable funds, the station you saw this morning, some other properties on the South Island, and a portfolio of securities. You’ll find a full inventory attached to the agreement.
    “The largest single item is the station. It’s a major asset and a good source of income. In terms of cash value, it represents slightly more than half the total estate. But Martha and Edmund already have substantial property holdings, and Edmund has other interests. Your aunt, therefore, proposed that it go to you.”
    “If my grandfather wanted her to have half of his estate,” Peter declared, “I’m going to insist that she get it.”
    “Peter, I hear what you’re saying, but Martha told me she was more than satisfied. As you’ve gathered, Edmund is a very successful man. About the station: Jack McHugh has been running it for you for a percentage of the return. This has worked out well. The income from the station, after all costs were met, has been deposited in a trust account in your name. As soon as the Court gives its approval, I’ll have the funds released for your use.”
    Peter folded his hands carefully together to help focus his thoughts. “I need some advice,” he said. “I’m an American. I don’t live here, and I don’t know the first thing about farming or ranching. It seems logical for me to sell the property and invest the proceeds. Do you agree?”
    “Let me defer your question for a moment, Peter, to straighten something else out. It isn’t a farm, it’s a station, and it’s just under forty-one thousand acres.”
    “Good God!” Peter said.
    “With that understood, I’ll tell you why I wanted to see you so urgently. Within the last few days some Australians have been to see Jack twice about buying the