The Kiwi Target

none of her femininity. The way she walked across the large kitchen toward the breakfast table reinforced his opinion.
    She had had her breakfast, but she took a cup of tea while he ate. “Dad told me where you’ve already been,” she said. “Are you beginning to get more of an idea of the station?”
    “Yes,” Peter answered. “It’s enormous. But I’ve learned most of the tracks now and where they go.”
    “Good. Dad wants me to take you to some other places around the station, if that’s okay with you.”
    “You know it is,” Peter told her. “Without you and your father, I’d be hopelessly over my head here.”
    Louise didn’t respond to that; instead, she remained silent until Peter had finished. Then she led the way out the front door. The familiar kidney-crushing Jeep was not there. Instead, a tall, lean hand whose name was Andy was standing by with a pair of saddle horses. Louise put on her hat, walked over to one of the mounts, and vaulted up into the saddle with a seeming minimum of effort. She picked up the reins and waited for Peter, composed and at ease.
    “I’ve hardly ever been on a horse,” Peter confessed. “I never had much opportunity.”
    “Then we won’t ride for too long today,” Louise said. “I’ll lead and take it easy. You’ve a gentle mount there, so don’t worry.” Peter put his foot into the stirrup, got into the saddle, and settled himself.
    Without comment, Louise drew her mount alongside his, and they started off together. After only a short distance she turned off the established dirt track and started across an open field. She rode at a slow and even pace, both horses walking easily through the cropped grass. By now Peter knew they were headed eastward toward a section of the station that he had never seen.
    At the end of an hour, Louise led the way out toward the edge of a considerable hill, where she reined up. As soon as he managed to pull up beside her, he saw that the promontory commanded a magnificent view of Lake Wakatipu for miles in both directions.
    Louise patted her mount on the side of the neck before she spoke. “There are three places on the station that have views like this. I think that’s why some people have been trying to buy it. Dad sounded them out. They didn’t say a lot, but he doesn’t miss much. He thinks they want to put up a big hotel or perhaps a bunch of rental condos here and then run a dude ranch. They did talk about ‘tourist attractions,’ as though they intended to turn at least part of the station into an amusement park.”
    “Never,” Peter said.
    “Dad told them that the property wasn’t for sale, that it was being held in trust, but they persisted.” She turned in her saddle and looked him squarely in the face. “You do mean it when you say ‘never,’ don’t you?” she asked.
    “I mean it,” Peter responded. “Unless your father advises me otherwise, this place isn’t for sale.”
    Louise gave him a grateful look. “Stick to that,” she said. Then she picked up her reins once more and turned her mount around, headed back to the ranch house.
    Just before five he received a call from Ray O’Malley, who was pithy and to the point. “Warren Cooper is going to be in Queenstown tomorrow and would like to meet with you. He has suggested drinks at four at the Travelodge.”
    “Precisely who is he?” Peter asked.
    “Mr. Cooper is the minister for foreign affairs. In your language that would be secretary of state. A little while back he was minister of tourism, and he’s kept up a keen interest in the industry.”
    “I’ll be there. Coat and tie?”
    “In this case, yes. I’ll meet you there, along with Bishop. The minister is a very agreeable gentleman and usually quite relaxed in his manner.”
    “You know him, then.”
    “Yes, quite well, actually. I’m sure you two will get along.”
    “Ray, why does he want to see me?”
    “Suppose you wait and let him tell you that. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up.
    For a moment or two Peter was irritated that his own attorney had not answered a reasonable question. Then he decided that O’Malley knew what he was doing and left it at that.
    At ten minutes to four he entered the lobby of the Travelodge and asked at the desk for Minister Cooper. He was directed to a private suite on the second floor. He went up and tapped on the door.
    It was opened almost immediately by Ray O’Malley, who ushered him inside. Minister Cooper was a pleasant,