Call of the Kiwi (56 page)

“They don’t actually use it,” Gwyneira said.

“And what is all this about
mana
?”

“
Mana
denotes a man’s influence within his tribe. But there are spiritual aspects as well. You increase it b
y . . .
” Ben set himself up for a longer lecture.

“Extorting an old woman, among other things,” Tim stated. “Seriously, though, that’s what this is about. The man wants to impress his people by controlling the local
pakeha
and exerting influence on the land use and labor market. You need to put a stop to it. Herd those sheep where the grass is growing, and if he gets worked up about it, we’ll just have to give his
mana
a jolt. It would be interesting to see what kind of effect it had on the spirit world if you threatened to drive his people entirely from your land. Tell him you’ll tear down the village by the lake.”

Gwyneira looked at him, horrified. “People have been living there for hundreds of years.”

“And the coal in Greymouth has been lying under the ground for thousands of years. But I’m hauling it out. And so far no spirit has gotten worked up about it.”

“Now, don’t exaggerate,” Elaine chided him. “Besides, the sheep have just been shorn, and it’s storming outside. Do you really not have any more hay?”

“Just what’s left for the horses. Jack thinks I should order concentrated feed. But the seller is located in Christchurch and doesn’t want to deliver it.”

“What? Where’s the telephone?” Tim asked.

He came back a few minutes later, snorting with rage. “The rat tells me that he can’t come before next week because of the weather! As if it’s never rained here before. I told him we’ll send a wagon and get the feed ourselves. Can we assign a man to that?”

Gwyneira shook her head. “We don’t have anyone here except for Tane. And we couldn’t possibly send him to Christchurch alone.”

“Then I’ll drive,” Lilian offered. “Do you have a covered wagon? We have to cover the feed. What horse should I yoke? Naturally a car would be better.”

“Take Ben with you,” Tim ordered, “even if unloading sacks isn’t exactly your specialty.”

“You’re wrong there, sir.” Ben grinned at him, rolling up his sleeves and showing his considerable biceps. “Before Lilian began writing her, er, books, I worked nights on the docks.”

For the first time Tim felt respect for his son-in-law. Until then he would never have believed Ben capable of supporting his family with the sweat of his brow. Ben was not Caleb. His son-in-law was a man.

“If Ben would like to go and Gwyneira doesn’t have anything against it, you can pick up his father afterward,” Tim grumbled conciliatorily. “If Caleb sits alone in Christchurch, he won’t see any of his grandson.”

Gwyneira’s spirits rose as she accompanied Lilian and Ben to the stables and pointed out a cob team and a box wagon. Elaine joined them and immediately began organizing the stables.

“These need to be cleaned out. Tane can do that. Or do you need him for repairing the fence, Roly? Oh, you know what? Forget the fence. We’ll drive the sheep into a shearing shed. And the other sheds should also be prepared since Jack and Gloria are bringing back loads more sheep.”

Elaine borrowed an old-fashioned riding dress and a waxed jacket from Gwyneira, and by the time she had locked the rams in the first shearing shed with Tane’s help, she was soaked to the bone.

“Is it worth riding after Jack and Gloria? What do you think?” she asked Tim while she crouched shivering in front of the fireplace. Tim had just been on the phone with George Greenwood, who was going to provide an extra delivery wagon. The delivery team would remain at the farm temporarily to help care for the animals.

“We won’t get the sheep down here before the storm strikes. But maybe someone could warn them?”

“It could hardly be done in time,” said Gwyneira. “Normally it’s a two-day ride. Well, a very fast horse with a good rider could perhaps do it in a day.”

“Impossible, it’s got to be snowing already up there,” remarked Tim. “And where would the rider look? They could be anywhere.”

“I know where they are.
I . . .
” Gwyneira made a motion to rise.

“You stay where you are,” Elaine commanded. “Don’t get any dumb ideas. It looks like we’ll just have to wait and trust Jack’s experience with the mountains and the weather.”

Gwyneira sighed. “You can’t really count on Jack much anymore.”

Roly O’Brien, who was likewise warming himself on the fire after spending the entire day straightening up the stables, glared at her. “You can always count on Sergeant McKenzie. If he has to, he’d bring your sheep back from the gates of hell.”

Gwyneira looked irritated for a moment. But then she looked the young man over closely.

“So you’re the Roly I’ve heard about,” she said finally. “You were there with Jack. Would you tell me about the war, Mr. O’Brien?”

Roly had never spoken in such detail about Gallipoli before, and it was not only thanks to the excellent whiskey with which Gwyneira loosened his tongue but also her animated sympathy. The old lady with the tired eyes listened in silence, but the longer Roly spoke, the more life came into her gaze, and the more they reflected her sorrow and horror.

The delivery truck with the feed arrived the next morning, and everyone went straight to work getting things ready for the herd’s arrival. There was more than enough work to keep everyone distracted all day, but the mood on Kiward Station that evening was palpably depressed. With the storm now raging over the Canterbury Plains too, everyone’s thoughts were on what was happening in the mountains. Lilian tried to distract Gwyneira with Galahad, but the baby was tired and fussy. In the end she took the infant to bed and joined her parents in silence. The only ones engaged in any kind of enthusiastic conversation were Ben and Caleb.

“It will be very helpful to be able to consult Mrs. McKenzie’s records,” Caleb remarked, once more praising Charlotte’s contributions.

Gwyneira, happy to be able to do something useful, stood up.

“My son has laid out her things. If you’d like, I can go get them.”

She did not normally enter her son’s room without asking, but she had seen Charlotte’s folders on his desk. And if her worst fears came to pass, she would soon have to clean up this room anyway. She took a deep breath as she stepped inside, inhaling the same air he had breathed, and was suddenly dizzy. She sat down on Jack’s bed and pressed her face into his pillow. Her son. She had not understood him. She had not grasped any of it. In her heart she had believed him a coward. And now he might never come back to her.

Finally she collected herself and reached for the folders. One lay next to the rest of the stack. When Gwyneira picked it up, a pile of pictures fluttered to the floor. Gwyneira sighed, turned the light on, and began gathering the pictures together. She was startled when a skull grinned back at her.

Gwyneira had spent the night before in Gallipoli.

Tonight she would be traveling on the
Mary Lou
and the
Niobe
.

By the next day the storm had abated, but it was still freezing. Elaine and Lilian shivered as they saw to the sheep and horses. Roly and Ben and the new helpers were just carrying a load of water when a veritable torrent of wet, freezing sheep descended onto the farm. Hori and Carter had arrived with the first flock. They had suffered only a few losses and even reached the watch hut before the storm.

“We thought the wind would blow it away, but it’s still standing,” Carter reported. “Have you gotten any word from Mr. McKenzie or Miss Martyn?”

“You didn’t ride back up to look for them when the storm subsided?” Elaine asked severely.

Hori shook his head. “If anyone is still alive up there, Mrs. Biller, he, or she, will manage without us. And if no one is still alive, at least we managed to save these sheep.”

Like most Maori, he thought practically.

Elaine went in search of her grandmother to give her the news about the sheep. The night before, Gwyneira had been pale as death when she’d returned to the salon and silently handed the folders to the Billers. After that she had gone to bed and had not appeared that morning. But Elaine found her grandmother sitting by the fireplace. She was playing with Galahad, but it was obvious that her thoughts were elsewhere. She looked like she had aged several years.

“The men brought back two thousand sheep, eight hundred of them with lambs. The lambs that were born yesterday have mostly been lost. They couldn’t survive the snowstorm. But a lot of them are giving birth today, and Jamie is truly working miracles.”

“Who is Jamie?” Gwyneira asked absently.

“The new shepherd Lilian hired. And four or five more Maori have come. Tim had a few harsh words for them over the business with Tonga. Told them if they pulled that again, they wouldn’t be hired back,” Elaine continued her report.

Gwyneira sensed that the farm was slipping away from her. It was not a bad feeling.

13

G
loria did not return Jack’s kiss, nor did she pull away. Before she lowered her eyes, she looked at him in surprise and confusion.

A thin layer of snow lay in front of the tent. Even far under the rocky roof, the wind had blown snow inside, and it was so cold that it did not melt. Snow blanketed the valley between the rocks, but the pond had not frozen. It was a sickly blue, reflecting the blue-gray sky. A few dirty gray sheep drank from it, standing in snow soiled with dung. Most of the animals seemed to have survived, and the lambs bleated out of the next tent. Unhappy, but very much alive. Curses could be heard from outside. Wiremu and Paora had seized one of the ewes and were now trying to milk the half-wild animal for the orphaned sheep while it protested violently. Other men were busy relighting the fire. Rihari was bringing water in from the pond.

Jack had hoped he would be able to ride again that day, but after the forced ride the day before, it was hopeless. He still had a fever and was fighting dizziness as Wiremu helped him to the fire. He squatted, exhausted, and tried to make sensible plans for the day.

“Well, what do you all think? Shall we ride back and bring ourselves and the animals to safety, or should we try and find the rest of the sheep?”

“You can’t ride, Mr. McKenzie,” Willings said. “You could barely hold on to your horse yesterday. You need to stay here until you’re doing better.”

“It’s not about me,” Jack retorted gruffly.

“We’ll gather the rest of the sheep,” Gloria decided. “Assuming that a few survived. The beasts spend every summer up here. They probably know all kinds of shelters like this one.”

“But we should send someone to Kiward Station,” Paora responded. “Mrs. McKenzie will be beside herself with worry.”

“I can’t spare anyone for that,” she said impatiently. “The sheep have to be found quickly now and herded back. For the flock here, the grass in the valley will be enough until tomorrow. They can brush the snow away. Besides, they need to recover after that storm. Then a team can descend with them tomorrow while we gather the rest of the animals and follow the next day, weather permitting. What do you think, Rihari?”

The Maori pathfinder and weather watcher looked searchingly at the overcast sky. “I believe Tawhirimatea’s anger has dissipated. It looks like rain, maybe a bit more snow, but the storm seems to have passed.”

“We’ll move camp again. Early tomorrow,” Gloria said, looking around the rock-walled valley. “And by next summer, when the
tohunga
come to speak with the spirits, the grass will have grown back and the valley should look as it always has.”

Gloria did not say whether this decision was out of respect for the
tapu
or whether she simply did not want to anger Rongo. She wondered a little at the fact that no one challenged her, but the magic of the hidden sanctuary had touched the soul of even the last
pakeha
.

That evening Gloria slipped quite naturally into Jack’s tent and crawled into his sleeping bag. She lay next to him without looking at him. He felt her body stiffen, but he did not mention it; just as she had not said a word about the kiss that morning. They exchanged a few forced remarks about the sheep—Gloria and the men had tracked down almost a thousand animals that day. Jack kissed Gloria gently on the forehead.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “Sleep tight, my Gloria.” He wished more than anything to take her in his arms and break through her defenses, but that would be a mistake. And Jack did not want to make any more mistakes. Not with the woman he loved.

He forced himself to turn his back to Gloria and fell asleep while waiting in vain for her to relax. When he awoke, he felt her warmth. She had snuggled against him, her breasts against his back, her head leaning on his shoulder. Her arm lay over him as if she wanted to hold him tight. Jack waited until she woke up. Then he kissed her again.

That morning Gloria sent Paora, Willings, and Rihari on to the watch hut with most of the flock. Jack was still not strong enough to be very useful, but, with Tuesday’s help, he managed to keep the remaining sheep together while Gloria, Wiremu, and two of the Maori shepherds searched through the highlands once more for lost sheep. Wiremu enjoyed a surprising success that afternoon. In a hidden valley he discovered what they thought were the remaining sheep, about six hundred ewes in all. Many of them had lost their lambs, but almost all of the valuable adults had survived.

Gloria was overjoyed, and when she sat at the fire that evening, she nestled lightly against Jack. In the tent she allowed him to kiss her again, but lay stiffly on her back. This time Jack did not turn away, but he still did not touch her. In truth, he did not really know what to do. He detected no fear from Gloria’s tense body, just acquiescence to the seemingly inevitable. Jack found it almost unbearable. He could have worked around fear, but the surrender appeared to be a desperate form of self-preservation.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t, Gloria,” he said.

“I do want to,” she whispered. To his horror, it sounded almost apathetic. Jack shook his head. Then he kissed her temples.

“Good night, my Gloria.”

It did not take as long for her to relax that night, and he felt her warmth on his back as he fell asleep. The next morning they would ride to Kiward Station. It would probably go no further between them right away. But Jack could be patient.

The next day Maaka arrived first. The young foreman had decided that the rest of his wedding celebrations could wait. Instead of welcoming his beautiful young bride formally into his tribe’s
marae
, they spent their first night at Kiward Station in the manor, where it was more crowded than it had been for many years.

Tim Lambert was relieved at Maaka’s arrival, having come to fear that his adventurous wife and his even more impetuous daughter might plan a rescue operation for the missing shepherds in the highlands on their own.

As soon as he had an opportunity, he took Maaka aside.

“Now, tell me honestly,” he asked, “is it possible that someone is still alive up there?”

“Absolutely, sir. There are any number of caves, valleys, and even isolated woods that offer shelter. As long as they weren’t surprised by the storm and they know the area.”

“And? Does Jack McKenzie know the area?”

“Not as well as the Maori men, sir. The tribe often spends the whole summer up there, so Marama’s sons probably know every rock.”

“What do you think about the idea of a search party?” Tim inquired.

“What for?”

“Well, to rescue them! Something must have happened or else they would have been here by now. What could they still be doing up there otherwise?” Tim exploded.

“Herding the sheep together,” Maaka answered curtly.

Tim was taken aback. “Do you think that anyone would just manage to survive a once-in-a-lifetime storm and then not come directly home but instead continue gathering sheep as if nothing had happened?”

“Probably not anyone, sir. But a McKenzie, yes.” He paused for a moment. “Or a Warden. I’ll see to the preparations in the old cow stalls, sir. So that the sheep can go somewhere dry when they arrive.”

The stalls were clean and being strewn with straw and the fences checked and repaired when the first group of men and sheep arrived. Smiling, Marama put her arms around Rihari. Elaine sighed with relief when they assured her that the rest of the company would be coming down the next day.

“Couldn’t you have sent someone ahead?” Gwyneira asked between laughter and tears. She had brought the wet and tired men into the house, poured them generous quantities of whiskey, and had them recount their adventures.

“We suggested it, but the boss, Miss Martyn, said we needed every man.”

When Elaine and Lilian came downstairs to dinner a little too early, Gwyneira was sitting at the fire turning a glass of whiskey between her fingers.

“They never called me boss,” she said, lost in thought.

Lilian giggled. “Well, times change.” She smiled. “And to think she used to be so shy. That seems to have passed.”

Jack, Gloria, and her men spent the last night in the watch hut. Wiremu insisted that the two of them sleep in the main room this time. Jack was still unwell and had to lie down somewhere warm after the ride. But then Gloria sprung a surprise on them. “We’ll all sleep in here,” she decided. “The lambs will be in the stables, and with all that bleating, no one would get a wink of sleep.” She glanced at the men as she spoke. With the exception of Wiremu and Jack, no one knew what a hard decision that must have been for her. The Maori were used to sharing the communal sleeping lodge; it would never have occurred to them to harass young women in that manner. Especially not when she belonged to someone else.