Flight of a Maori Goddess

by Lark, Sarah

  “No, I’m sorry, young lady. You’ve come too late. This used to be Richard Pearse’s farm, but my husband and I bought it five months ago. Mr. Pearse offered us a good price. A nice young man, if a little distracted.” She smiled indulgently. “But come in anyway; I just made coffee. I’m happy for the company. I’m Emma Baker, by the way.” She held out her hand.

  Roberta took it and followed her hostess into the house.

  “Why did he sell it? Mr. Pearse, I mean,” Roberta asked as a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies were placed in front of her. Mrs. Baker even heated up the oven so she could dry her shawl. “Forgive me, I didn’t really know him. But my friend knew him quite well, and she said that he didn’t feel he could leave. Particularly not once he married.”

  “He got married?” Mrs. Baker took a cookie. “Well, I don’t know anything about that. He just told us he was moving to Milton.”

  “Milton?”

  Roberta almost choked on her coffee. Milton lay only thirty miles from Dunedin, an easy train ride. Yet Pearse had never turned up looking for Atamarie.

  “He bought a new farm there. Sheep breeding, I think. Said he didn’t like it here anymore. People were always talking about him, which must have been awful. It’s understandable he wanted to get away.”

  “He was a flier,” Roberta explained. “He flew earlier than the Wright brothers.”

  “Yeah, we still have that strange flying machine in the barn. Mr. Pearse did not want to take it, but neither did he want to give it to his father who wanted to scrap it. My Rob thinks it might as well stay here. It doesn’t eat our bread, after all. And who knows, maybe it’ll still be worth something.” She laughed. “Now, the neighbors think we’re a little strange. But it’ll all work out. It takes a bit of time in the country before people warm up.”

  “Well, if you bake these cookies for the next parish bazaar, everyone will love you.”

  Mrs. Baker laughed. “Or hate me. We come from Sussex, and I used to win all the baking competitions at the fair. It doesn’t necessarily make you popular. But that reminds me—if you want to know more about Mr. Pearse, ask at the Hansleys’, the second farm down the way. They know the older Pearses well, the ones who don’t much like us. Digory Pearse claims we took advantage of his son when we bought the farm. But it’s not true. Given the condition the house was in, he couldn’t in good conscience have asked for more.”

  “The Hansleys? Didn’t Richard mean to marry their daughter Shirley?” asked Roberta, standing up to take her leave.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know, sweetheart. But it was really nice that you happened by. Really, everyone’s so nice here in New Zealand. Except for our neighbors, but that’ll work out.”

  Roberta left her to her optimism, unhitched her horse, and rode past the Petersons’ farm to the Hansleys’. A big farm, considerably more extensive than the Bakers’, but just as well kept. Her reception, however, was not half as cordial.

  “What do you want?” A tall blonde woman shot into the yard as soon as Roberta’s horse had trotted to the hitching post. “You’re not wanted here. You—”

  Roberta looked out from under the roof of her chaise, and the woman drew up short.

  “Oh, pardon me. I confused you with someone else. I only saw the horse, but of course, it’s a rental carriage. Please, forgive my impoliteness. I thought you were an impertinent little Maori—”

  “You thought I was Atamarie Turei,” Roberta said. “What do you have against her? She’s a friend of mine.”

  “Your friend? But you’re white—well, it’s none of my business. The past is past anyway. Back then, we thought she’d addled young Pearse’s brain, and Digory and Sarah still do. But he didn’t need some Maori slut for that. He was addled enough on his own. He broke our Shirley’s heart.” The woman sniffed.

  “Atamarie said they’d gotten married.”

  “They were supposed to! Sarah Pearse and I have always wanted to get those two married, since they were little. Especially seeing as Shirley’s so patient. Dick really does need a tolerant woman. But he just wasn’t interested. We were giving up, thinking he didn’t care for girls at all. But then he hauled that Maori here, and Sarah made an about-face.”

  “Sarah’s Richard’s mother?”

  Roberta was having some difficulty following, but at least Mrs. Hansley was talking her head off, even if she did not invite her guest inside despite the rain.

  “Surely. And first, she thinks the slut’ll do Dick good. She messed everything up, the slattern thing. The boys here were strutting around like roosters in love, but she just wanted to tinker on that flying nonsense with Richard. And Sarah’d thought she’d put other thoughts in his head. But everything was a mess. Well, and then he finally sent the Maori girl away. We tried again with him and Shirley, but the slut kept showing back up. Then it seemed like she was gone for good. He was real amenable for a while, working on the farm. But then he got ornery again, like he always does. His madness comes and goes. But Shirley stuck with him. My girl has a heart of gold. Until he up and left her behind. Now, he’s got a farm in Louden’s Gully, somewhere in Otago. And we married Shirley off to a fellow in Westport. She cried her eyes out, the dear, to leave Temuka.”

  Roberta thanked Mrs. Hansley and rode back toward town. She wanted out of the rain, and she needed to think. Should she tell Atamarie about her discoveries, or was it better to keep Richard’s story to herself?

  Chapter 10

  Roberta rode back to Timaru, spent the next day there, and boarded the train to Christchurch the following morning. She disembarked in a suburb so she could change to the train on which her family would be traveling. That would calm her mother and make her story believable. While Violet did immediately ask about her pregnant friend, Roberta was ready. She claimed the young teacher had lost the baby.

  “A blessing in this case,” said Violet, and squeezed her hand.

  Roberta sighed with relief.

  Heather and Chloe were anxious about the race, but in high spirits. Their women’s art festival had been a triumph. They had sold a great deal of artwork.

  “We could have sold Atamarie’s kites thrice over, but she couldn’t part with them. Her new boyfriend was of the opinion that she would thereby be handing over part of her soul, and that the souls of the kites would suffer if they just hung in people’s living rooms instead of flying. I guess we’ll just have to live with that.” Heather leaned back with a laugh.

  Sean seemed in a festive mood, but Violet looked anxious. She was happy for Rosie, of course, but she hated racetracks, thought the morality of gambling more than questionable, and dreaded encountering her son. During her last visit with Rosie, she had seen Joe, but the reunion had been short, the atmosphere tense. The new, flashy sign in front of Joe’s stables had reminded Violet of bad times, just as it had Rosie. Furthermore, the resemblance between her son and her deceased husband, which had already been apparent in Joe’s childhood, now positively repulsed her. Joe Fence had looked down on his mother all his life and hated her in the end.

  Sean put his arm around his wife. “You did what you could for the boy, even if he sees things differently. But you had to keep him away from Colin. It was precisely the right decision to send him to apprentice with that other trainer.”

  “But what good did it do?” Violet asked unhappily. “He looks like Eric and deals with horses like Colin.”

  “Fence met his maker a few years too late,” said Sean. “Joe had been shaped by him too strongly to change. But that’s not your fault, Violet. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “I was a bad mother to him,” Violent said, even though Roberta constantly assured her it wasn’t true. She had almost died giving birth to the boy and felt enormous guilt that she had never been able to love him.

  “We’ll invite him to the family dinner regardless,” she now declared, making Sean hang his head in frustration.

  At the train station, Rosie and Tom Tibbs were waiting, but to Roberta’s di
sappointment, Vincent had not come.

  “The vet sends his regrets,” Tibbs explained with a grin. “It involves a surprise, Miss Fence.”

  Rosie nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it might be coming today, and I’ve already—”

  “Rosie, shh, it’s supposed to be a surprise! If you tell her now where you’re, uh, going to put it—”

  Roberta looked at him. “Is it a wedding present for Rosie? Mom says you’ve asked her, Mr. Tibbs. Did you really? I still can hardly believe it.”

  Rosie grabbed Chloe and Heather’s bags. “No, this present’s for you, Robbie. Your—”

  “Rosie,” Bulldog interrupted his excited fiancée again with an affectionate smile, “you’re going to spoil everything for the vet. It’d be better if you told them when you’re going to marry me.”

  “After the race,” Rosie said. “Well, now, if we lose, or not until spring or at Christmas—in any case, after the New Zealand Cup. Because I need to look after Trotting Diamond first. Bulldog doesn’t want to move into the stables.”

  Violet was horrified. “You don’t mean to tell me you’re sleeping in the stables, Rosie.”

  “It’s not what you think, Mrs., uh, Violet.” During their fish-and-chips feast, Violet and Sean had offered to be on familiar terms with their future brother-in-law, but Bulldog still found it difficult to treat such genteel people as his equals. Although, as Rosie kept reminding him, as a racehorse owner—and a well-off one, considering the fortune he had quietly amassed—he himself counted among the better sort. “My stable master offered her his apartment next to the stables. Otherwise, she can’t sleep for concern about Diamond. But just until this race. Afterward, we’ll have to work out something new. You’re still planning on moving into my house or at least back to your room at his lordship’s if nothing happens this time, right?”

  “So, there haven’t been any more incidents?” Chloe asked. “That mysterious shaking and the nervousness?”

  Bulldog shook his head.

  “Yes, there were,” Rosie contradicted him. “One time, she had those shiny eyes during training. I rode anyway, and she was a little jittery, but otherwise—”

  “Doc Taylor examined her after, and she was fine,” said Bulldog. “Watch out, Rosie, or you’ll drive yourself crazy. Everything’s going to go smooth tomorrow.”

  But Rosie was not convinced, and she absolutely refused to leave Trotting Diamond alone to take part in the family dinner at the White Hart Hotel. She received support from Chloe, who also had no interest in any dinner that involved Joe Fence.

  “I haven’t had fish-and-chips in forever,” Chloe declared. “What about you, Heather? The pub across from Bulldog Freight has recently become famous for them.” She winked at Tibbs and Rosie. “Care to invite us to dinner in your stables, and tomorrow we’ll celebrate your win with pomp and ceremony at the White Hart?”

  Roberta wasn’t too enthusiastic about dinner with her brother herself. Fortunately, Vincent appeared shortly after their arrival at the White Hart, apologized a thousand times for his delay, and gladly accepted their invitation to dinner. He seemed somewhat beleaguered. Apparently, he had been rushing about quite a bit, trying to pull off his surprise, and it had not worked out in the end.

  Roberta seized the opportunity. The sight of this absolutely reliable man worrying himself over a little delay made her heart beat faster—and made her sure of her decision. It was so simple and natural to love Vincent Taylor—why had she made things so hard for herself?

  “Give me something else,” she declared. “Whatever made this exciting surprise so complicated, it can’t be too hard to buy a couple of rings. I’ll still act completely surprised.”

  While Bulldog, Rosie, Chloe, and Heather had a wonderful time in the stables, dinner with the Coltranes and Fences passed in a strangely divided atmosphere. Vincent Taylor radiated happiness, and Violet hardly recognized her glowing daughter. Until a few days ago, Roberta had still sometimes seemed immature, but now Violet recognized a woman finally at peace with herself. Her questioning of her future son-in-law proved mild, and Sean Coltrane also left Vincent unscathed. The two men were immediately simpatico and spoke about politics and South Africa. Joe had nothing to contribute there, so Roberta and Violet struggled to make conversation with him.

  “You have your own racing stables now,” Roberta noted, and tried to put something like admiration into her voice.

  Joe, who looked out of place in his checkered suit and newsboy cap, nodded. “I’ve had it for a while. But just got a new one since the racing clubs got put together. It’s bigger and brings in more. I’d gladly take you for a ride. You, too, Mother.”

  “Yes, of course. I’d love to take a look at what you’ve built for yourself.”

  “And you’ve got a horse in the qualification races tomorrow?” Roberta folded her napkin delicately.

  Joe ran his hand over his mouth. “Three,” he said proudly. “I drive the best myself. My apprentices take the others. If all goes well, we’ll take places one to three.”

  Roberta furrowed her brow. “What about Rosie? Do you think she doesn’t stand a chance?”

  “A lady with a pony?” He laughed.

  Vincent Taylor interrupted his conversation with Sean. “Well now, Fence, that lady and pony have placed ahead of you more than once. Rosie stands a good chance, Roberta. Joe does, too, of course. Hopefully, the best trainer will win.” He scrutinized Joe as he spoke.

  Fence met his gaze innocently. “You said it, Doc. Now, where can I get a beer around here?”

  The bustle around the races began early the next morning. The horses had to be fed, groomed to a shine, and warmed up. In addition to all of that, Trotting Diamond was being moved. The qualification race was one of the most important that day and would not take place until the afternoon, but Rosie wanted to present two of the other horses she had trained in races for younger horses. Diamond was to spend the time until the race in her old stables near the track—and Rosie had already appointed Bulldog to keep watch over her.

  “We’ll be there too,” Chloe said, taking off her hat and, despite her elegant dress, grooming Trotting Diamond a little more. “Oh, I loved harness racing,” she sighed. “If only Colin hadn’t been such a scoundrel.”

  “Just don’t tell me I need to buy you a stud farm to make you happy,” Heather teased.

  Chloe smiled at her. “A racing stable. We’ll only race mares: La vitesse au féminin.”

  The two of them giggled. Rosie looked on uncomprehendingly.

  “Just keep a close watch on her,” she admonished her guards as she drove the first of the young horses onto the track.

  Bulldog placed himself dutifully next to Diamond’s stall while Heather and Chloe quickly defected. The owner’s box lured them away with its canapés and champagne. Their breakfast in the stables had been rather spartan.

  Rosie steered her first horse, a handsome bay mare, sovereignly around the track, and the early spectators clapped when she crossed the finish line third.

  The race day looked to be promising. Fortunately, even the weather was playing along. It did not matter to the owners in their box, of course, and part of the new grandstand for spectators was covered, but to the horses and their drivers, it was preferable not to race in the rain.

  Violet, Sean, and Roberta were in no great hurry to get to the track. They treated themselves to a hearty breakfast in the hotel, and Roberta was happy about the good impression Vincent had made on her parents.

  “I just don’t like that you’ll be ending up at another one of these racetracks,” Violet said. “Raising children in this environment—”

  Sean stopped her. “Violet, dear, there’s a difference between working as a veterinarian at a racetrack and as a trainer. Vincent might take the children with him sometimes, but I’m sure he won’t be leading them into gambling, let alone cheating. He’s more likely to put them off the racing business. Especially as he seemed very concerned about the animals and not to care
much for Joe.”

  “Who does care for Joe?” Roberta asked.

  “Roberta,” scolded Violet, “he’s still your brother. And he, well, he’s certainly made something of himself here. Maybe we should show him a bit more respect. We—”

  “You’re a very good mother,” Roberta and Sean intoned at the same time, and laughed.

  When they arrived at the track, Violet and Sean were happy to let Chloe lead them into the owner’s box, but Roberta went to the stables to look for Vincent. However, a stableboy turned her away.

  “You have to understand. We can’t just let everybody into the stables today. Things are already confused enough without strangers coming and getting the horses even more excited.” He smiled disarmingly. “But why don’t you sit there on the little grandstand? We keep that for the trainers and the like. I’ll tell the veterinarian you’re here. If he’s got a moment, he’ll come look for you. Sound good?”

  Roberta nodded. In truth, she was quite happy to have a seat. She had once again sacrificed comfort for fashion and was wearing a corset and a very elegant velvet outfit in a dark lilac shade with a matching hat. It looked good, but rather limited her movement and was anything but suited to a visit to the stables. So, Roberta waited, and waved quickly to Rosie, who was driving in her second race. This time, a black stallion was pulling the sulky. Just before the starting signal, Bulldog appeared in the grandstand next to Roberta.

  “Just real quick, Rosie mustn’t see me. I’m supposed to stay with Diamond, you know. But I had to see how Dream’s running. He’s my horse, you see. Handsome fellow, ain’t he? And a sort of good-luck charm. If I hadn’t bought him, I’d never’ve found Rosie again. He’s named Spirit’s Dream. And Rosie knew his father before. She thinks he’s got promise. But he’s been limping a long time now. It’s a wonder he can even run. Rosie didn’t want him to at first, but the veterinarian says she can go ahead and race him. And I have to see it.”