Recalled to Life

by Wendy M Wilson

  The young man dismounted and strode towards them. “This man knows something. His name came up…” He poked at Pieter with his whip handle. “Where is he? Where’s Hardy?”

  Pieter gaped at him without speaking, so Mette said, “We don’t know anyone named Hardy. We’re from Schleswig. Hardy is an English…”

  The young man, who had not been paying attention to Mette, looked at her for the first time. “What’s that you’re holding?”

  Mette put Frank’s shirt behind her back. “Nothing. Just a shirt. It belongs to my husband and I was going to wash it.” Her hands were shaking. Who was this young man? He was so familiar…

  He jumped from his horse, yanked her arm forward and took the shirt from her hands. The large dark man had also dismounted. He stepped behind her, his very presence designed to scare her.

  “I’ve seen this shirt before,” said the young man. “Hardy was wearing it in Wanganui, when I had the misfortune to run into him there.” He grabbed Mette by the shoulders and held her, his face inches from hers. “Now, where is he? Where’s Hardy?”

  “Easy there Mountjoy,” said one of the constables. “We don’t treat women like that.”

  Mountjoy glared at the constable. “I’ll treat her how I damn well want,” he said. “If it means finding out where Hardy is. And she’s just a peasant anyway. Why should you care?”

  “Listen,” said the constable. “I’ll take this man…” he pointed to Pieter, “back to camp, and we’ll see if we can make him talk. A bit of gaol time will help, I’m sure. But leave the woman alone. She can help us make her husband talk…”

  “You take him wherever you want,” said Mountjoy. “I’ll stay here and search for Hardy. He’s probably not far away. He left in a hurry when he saw us coming – that’s why his shirt’s here.” He looked at Mette. “And the woman stays with me. She had his shirt…she knows something.”

  The constable shrugged. “Very well. But I’m not responsible for whatever you do. Just remember that.” He dismounted and took out a pair of handcuffs. “Put your hands behind your back,” he said to Pieter. “Unless you talk to me this minute, I’m taking you back to our camp for a discussion. And you’re not going to enjoy it.”

  Pieter complied, his face ashen. Mette watched in horror. Maren would never forgive her for this. There was nothing more terrible for a man from Schleswig than to be taken away by soldiers, and gaol was unthinkable. He was shoved aboard his dray beside a constable, who took the reins. The horse pulled the dray away slowly. Pieter looked back at Mette in despair as they moved off. “Maren,” he said, “Maren…” She nodded, understanding. Of course she would explain everything to Maren, once she was free of this angry young man and his ominous guard. To him she would say nothing, not even if he pointed his gun at her. Not even if he shot her.

  Mountjoy took hold of Mette’s arm. “Now you,” he said. “If Hardy’s still around, you’re going to help me find him.” He gestured to the man in the bowler hat. “Pulau, take her other arm. If Hardy’s close by, he’ll be in those woods across the road. I’m going to flush him out.”

  Mette refused to move her feet, but the two men dragged her across the road, her boots kicking up dust behind them.

  “Lad hende vaere,” she heard Pieter call out. “Jeg vil ikke sige noget, Mette.” He was trying to disguise what he had said, by starting with ‘Let her go,’ but adding ‘I will say nothing Mette.’ You never knew who might understand a bit of Danish.

  “Vaer modig, Pieter,” she called back. Be brave. And he was, she thought.

  They paused at the edge of the bush. Mette pretended to faint, but the two men were having none of it, and dragged her back to her feet.

  “Stand,” ordered Mountjoy. “Or I’ll toss you in the ditch and leave you there to rot.” He turned towards the trees and yelled, “Hardy, if you’re in there, come on out.”

  “He went that way, sir” said Pulau, pointing into the gloom. “See the track through the ferns…?”

  “Right, thanks,” said Mountjoy. Mette’s arm was starting to feel numb, but the young man was making her heart numb as well. “Listen,” he said to the guard, “you stay here with the horses. I’ll…”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can handle this myself…you,” he dragged Mette forward. “Come with me, you whore. Hardy? Hardy? Don’t make me hurt the woman…” He pulled a revolver from his belt and pressed it against Mette’s forehead. “Move.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me with you?” asked the guard again. “She asked me…”

  “Stay with the horses,” said Mountjoy. “That’s an order. Forget what she said. What does she know? I’m not a child.”

  Mette saw a faint look of contempt cross the guard’s face. He pushed his hat down hard on his head and went back across the road to where the horses were grazing on Pieter’s new farmland.

  Mette could feel the nervousness of the young man through his grip. His hand was sweating, dampening her sleeve. “He’s gone, I think,” she said, as calmly as she could. “This Hardy. He was at our farm doing some work. My…my husband hired him, and when he saw you coming he ran off, he…”

  He stabbed at her forehead with his gun. “Shut up and get in front of me. And don’t do anything foolish.”

  She walked slowly forward. She could feel the gun as an almost physical presence, even though Mountjoy was several feet behind her. They moved like that along the trail of crushed ferns that Frank had left as he ran through the bush. She longed to run after him, to follow the tracks, to catch up to him. But she walked at a glacial pace, trying to give him more time to escape. The bush was eerily silent, as if all the birds and animals were holding their collective breath. Time stopped. She had no idea how this would end. She could hear the young man breathing heavily, nervous despite his claim of being able to handle things.

  They walked for several more minutes. She stumbled, and he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Don’t try anything.”

  “I wasn’t…”

  He came up on them from behind. She felt a presence, then heard a loud thump; turning, she saw Mountjoy lying on the ground with Frank holding a gun against his head, the hammer cocked. The young man looked up at Frank and said nothing. But Mette saw fear in his eyes.

  “Don’t say a word,” said Frank. “Mette, get his belt.”

  She ran forward and unbuckled the belt. Mountjoy resisted, but rolled to help her when Frank prodded him with his own gun.

  “I’ll get you for this Hardy,” he said. “My family will hunt you down like the dog you are…”

  Mette handed Frank the belt. “Who is he, Frank. Do you know him?”

  “I’ve run into him before,” said Frank, the gun not wavering. “Mountjoy, stand up slowly, and keep quiet. We both know you can summon your keeper if you want to, but we’ll be gone and he’ll find your body hanging from a tree…your father won’t like that now, will he?”

  Mountjoy found a small piece of courage and spat at Frank.

  Frank wiped the spittle from his face. “I’d be more cooperative if I were you, son,” he said. “I have nothing to lose at this point. Whereas you’re a young man who probably values his future. Now get against that tree.”

  Mountjoy did as he was told, his face twisted with hatred, while Frank looped the belt over a branch and around his neck, forcing him to his toes.

  From the darkness of the bush they could see the guard puffing on a pipe a short distance from the horses. Frank whistled, and one of the horses moved towards them tentatively. He whistled again, and it started trotting. The guard followed him slowly, seemingly unworried, snapping his fingers to get the attention of the animal. “Get back here,” they heard him say.

  Mountjoy was clutching at the belt to stop it from choking him. “Pulau’s going to kill you,” he said, his voice raspy. “Both of you.”

  Frank ignored him. “Mette, when the horse gets here we’re going to mount it really fast. His minder has a gun and h
e’ll shoot, but at this distance he’ll miss, especially if he’s surprised. Stay calm and concentrate on what we’re doing. Don’t think about what might happen.”

  “What about the…about him?” she asked. “Won’t Pulau help him first?”

  “After he gets a couple of shots off at us,” said Frank. “Ready?”

  She took a deep breath. The horse had stopped trotting within a few feet of the bush. “Yes. Will you go first, or should I?”

  “I will, and I’ll drag you up after me. Have your arms up.”

  It was like the first time they met, and although she was terrified she was also excited.

  He made a sudden move, running towards the horse and leaping astride it. She followed him, her arms in the air and he dragged her in front of him. Pulau, realizing what was happening, ran towards them, tossing his pipe aside and pulling his revolver from his belt. They were already a hundred yards away and moving quickly when they heard the first shot. She clutched Frank’s arm and tried not to scream.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. He leaned forward and spurred the horse faster, tucking Mette between his arms, sheltering her. A bullet whizzed by them, not far away, and she screamed. Frank put his mouth near her ear and said quietly, “No one can shoot someone on a horse and score a hit at this distance. Perhaps with an Enfield, but not a revolver. He’s just shooting wildly.”

  She did not find that comforting.

  Twenty minutes later they reached the old Maori track where it crossed the metalled road. He rode along the track for a mile more then stopped where it split into two once more, one track going to Palmerston, the other towards the pa.

  “Nice horse,” he said as he dismounted and helped Mette down. “I’d love to keep it, but then they’ll have me for horse theft. This isn’t the wild west of America we’re in here. I can’t ride around shooting people and stealing horses. Pity.”

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked. “Won’t they follow us…can they both ride on one horse?”

  “That’s why I’m stopping here,” said Frank. He gave the horse a whack on its rump and it took off back in the direction from which they had come. “If Mountjoy’s minder does come after us he’ll assume we’ve returned to Palmerston and follow the track that way. We’d best get moving though. We may only have a thirty-minute start and he may be smarter than I think. He’s a professional, I think.”

  “What will happen to you if they catch you?” asked Mette. “Will they send you back to gaol?”

  “Worse, probably,” said Frank. “A flogging, at least, maybe send me to the Chatham Islands.”

  “But why?” asked Mette. What did you do? Was it something to do with that man, the one called…”

  “Mountjoy?” said Frank. He took Mette’s hand and started along the track. “I don’t know. I met his father in Wellington and he reacted to me as if I’d done him harm somehow. I wish I knew what he thinks I’ve done…”

  “Did he remind you of anyone?”

  “How did you…? He did, as it happens…like my brother Will. What made you think that?”

  “Well, your brother Will must have looked like you, because that young soldier looks like you. Perhaps you’re related?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he said. “A distant relative, perhaps.”

  Mette looked doubtful. “I suppose that’s possible. But the resemblance is quite strong. I saw it immediately.”

  “Maybe he has some Spanish blood,” said Frank. “Like me. Look, do you think you could manage double time for a while? We need to get some distance between us and…my cousin, or whatever he is.”

  They moved quickly along the track towards the pa, stopping to rest when they could hear the river in the distance. Mette finally had time to think, and to worry. “I hope Pieter will be all right,” she said. “He’s not used to soldiers, although he was very brave…”

  “Won’t Maren wonder where he is?” asked Frank.

  “No. He often spends the night up at Bunnythorpe when the work is going well. She’ll just assume…Frank, what are we going to do? How will you prove that you haven’t done anything wrong when you don’t know what it is someone thinks you’ve done.”

  He scratched his beard, thinking. “It’s obviously something to do with Colonel Mountjoy. Seeing him in Wellington set this whole thing off…he’s connected to the government, an adviser…although he’d need evidence to have me arrested. I can’t imagine him having the authority to get me kidnapped, drugged and thrown in gaol. I wonder if there’s someone more powerful behind him?”

  “Could you ask the mayor, or Mr. Balance, the member of parliament…?”

  “Snelson?” Frank shook his head. “No. There’s nothing he could do. Balance, maybe…I saved his life at the pa when Anahera attacked. But I could contact Captain Porter. He could find out…I’ll tell you what. When we get to the pa, you go on to Palmerston and ask Karira to send him a telegram.”

  “I’m not staying with you at the pa?”

  “Best you return to Palmerston,” said Frank. “Staying with me isn’t safe for you now.”

  9

  Reunited

  They reached the Manawatu River in the early afternoon, to the east of the town towards Ashhurst and the Gorge, moving in short bursts of running and fast walking. Mette had handled it better than Frank expected – better than he had, even, and she could probably have run the whole way. He’d needed to stop for a breath more often than she did, a testament to her youth. They were covered in scratches and sand fly bites, but there was no sign of anyone following them. Once they were at the river it was an easy walk downstream to the pa.

  The business of removing the Maori village to make room for settlers’ homes was underway, but two whare, the communal huts where families lived, were still standing alone at the edge of the river. Frank had not been to the pa since the chief, Hakopa, had sold the land to the government without consulting his people, and he was shocked by what he saw. The buildings had been destroyed and the people cast out like rats from a barn. He wondered where they’d gone. Not to Palmerston, for the most part. He knew Te Whiti was preaching that the Maori were one of the lost tribes of Israel, and had been condemned to wander the earth. Perhaps they had recommenced their wandering.

  A young woman was harvesting potatoes on a patch of sandy land using an old surveyor’s peg to dig the earth. “There’s Wiki,” said Mette, relieved. Wiki waved at them, and came over, surveying Frank with amusement.

  “Wiki, this is the man I told you about, my fiancé Sergeant Frank Hardy.”

  “Will Karira’s partner?” said Wiki. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt, Sergeant Hardy? Have you been in the river?”

  “Frank, Sergeant Hardy, was gaoled by the Armed Constabulary,” said Mette. “They took him to their prison up the Wanganui River and he escaped after a fire. And then they came after him in Bunnythorpe.”

  Wiki rolled her eyes in disgust. “Huh. The Armed Constabulary,” she said. “What did you do to get in their sights?”

  “Nothing that I can remember,” said Frank. “I didn’t have a chance to discuss it…”

  “Well, you stay here,” she said. “We’ll look after you. Just like we did our cousin from Poverty Bay when he was here and the constables were chasing him.”

  “Your cousin…?” asked Frank. “You mean Anahera?”

  “Some people call him that,” agreed Wiki.

  Mette stared at Wiki, shocked. “You knew about Anahera?”

  “Course I did,” said Wiki. “He’s my cousin, well, sort of my cousin…”

  “Anahera was in the Armed Constabulary gaol with me,” said Frank to Mette. “Up the Wanganui River. He was locked in a cell in the path of an intense forest fire and they were going to leave him there to burn. I unlocked his cell and let him out.”

  “He escaped again?” asked Wiki. “I’m so happy to hear that. He was in prison for such a long time, and it was hard on him…”

  “Hard on the r
est of us when he escaped,” said Frank. He’d been wondering if he’d done the right thing, turning Anahera loose again.

  “Well, you’re his friend now,” said Wiki. “Lucky for you. He’s a hard man and doesn’t forgive people who hurt his family.” She swung the surveyor’s peg back and forward and smiled. “I liked him. He has good ideas and he’s very strong. He’s a warrior.”

  “But he killed…” said Mette. She stood abruptly, straightening her skirt. “I think I’d better return to town before it gets dark, I…” Frank could see that she was overwhelmed by the situation, and Wiki’s sudden change of sides – at least from Mette’s point of view – had not helped. She looked drained.

  He took her hands in his. “Anahera has gone upriver,” he said, not sure himself if it was true. “He’ll be in the Ureweras by now. Don’t worry.”

  She held his hand to her face and sniffed. “I’ll try not to. But you seem to be in so much danger now, and if anything else happens…”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Tell Karira to send a telegram to Captain Porter, and you stay close to Karira and Hop Li. They’ll take care of you if there’s a problem. Tell Karira that Anahera’s on the loose as well, and that he should keep an eye out for him.”

  “Never mind,” said Wiki. She looked uncomfortable and Frank wondered if she knew something. “If he comes here I’ll tell him not to kill you, or Sergeant Hardy. I’ll get one of my brothers to take you home, Mette. He’ll keep you safe.” She whistled, and yelled, “Hemi, come here.”

  A slender Maori boy no taller than Mette’s shoulder appeared from the reeds on the river bank. “Hemi, go into town with this lady. Make sure nothing happens to her please.”

  “Now?” asked Hemi. “I’m catching eels…”

  “Now,” said Wiki. “Right now.”

  Hemi rolled his eyes. “If I have to…”

  He followed Wiki and Mette to the broken gate, dragging his feet, his whole body signalling reluctance. Wiki put her arm around Mette’s waist as if they were old friends. It was difficult to see Mette leave; he felt as if they were attached by a long string and would always be pulled back together, no matter what happened. But the string was getting more and more tangled.