The Fire Blossom (The Fire Blossom Saga)

by Sarah Lark

  Karl helped Ida down from the coach box. “Allow me to introduce Ida Brandmann. Ida, this is Christopher Fenroy. I don’t know if you’ve met yet.”

  Chris dimly remembered the girl with the heart-shaped hairline and the angelically beautiful, serious face. Even now, Ida had the look of a good Lutheran about her. Unlike Cat, who was wearing a colorful cotton dress, she had combined a simple blue dress with an apron and a bonnet. It must have once been her Sunday best.

  “How could I not remember such a beauty,” Chris said gallantly and bowed. “But why did you come here together? You didn’t say anything in your letter, Karl. I mean, you’re welcome here, of course, Mrs. Brandmann. But what about—your husband?”

  “My husband will follow shortly,” Ida said quietly. “Karl should explain everything, he—we—”

  “You’re going to have another partner, Chris,” Karl said quietly. “Assuming that’s all right with you. Let’s talk about it in a moment. I know this is all very sudden, but it’s an emergency. It couldn’t be done any other way.”

  Chris looked closely at his friend and realized he was anything but the careless adventurer his rakish looks suggested. Karl had found Ida again, but he was still far from winning her as his own. And still, he was prepared to do anything humanly possible for the woman.

  “First, let’s unhitch the horses,” Chris said. “My wife’s expecting us up at the house. She’s prepared a dinner.”

  Karl raised his eyebrows. “A dinner?” he asked. “As in, exquisite delicacies served on Meissener china with crystal glasses and damask napkins?”

  Chris grinned, and for the first time, his old mischievous self shone through. “Just about. You’ll have to do without the ‘exquisite delicacies,’ though. Jane has a cook, but her specialty is fish and sweet potatoes—preferably roasted over an open fire. Jane’s trying to break the habit with the help of a cookbook her mother sent. Jane reads every recipe to her ten times, but she just makes a mess of them. Drives Jane crazy.”

  “Why does the woman stay with her?” Cat asked. “It sounds like she’s Maori, right? Why does she put up with Jane’s rudeness?”

  Chris smiled, and this time, the almost-visible circle of warmth and mutual understanding closed between himself and Cat.

  “Jane’s doing better,” he said. “She still imagines that she’s educating the Maori, and there really does seem to be an exchange going on. When she yelled at the girls in the beginning, it took all my diplomatic skills and the chieftain’s to get them to come back. Now Jane just takes out her anger on me. I’ve been considering learning to cook and do her hair.”

  “But it still wouldn’t be good enough for her,” Cat said with a laugh.

  “I can cook quite well,” Ida said impulsively. “Do you think—”

  “Ida, let’s talk about all that later,” Karl said, interrupting her. Heavens, here she was, naively offering to work as a cook in Jane Fenroy’s manor! Ottfried would probably take offense, and maybe even drag her away. “Is there any place Ida and Cat could freshen up before dinner?” he asked Chris with an imploring look.

  Chris understood the signal. Karl needed to speak to him alone, urgently.

  “Back at the old house,” he replied eagerly. “It’s furnished, but of course we can carry in the furniture you brought later, Mrs. Brandmann.”

  “Call me Ida,” she said.

  “There was no way around it,” Karl said in apology after telling Chris everything. Brandy and the two bays were munching some hay next to Chris’s heavy plow horses and his saddle horse, a small gray mare. The men passed the whiskey bottle that Chris kept in the barn for emergencies. “Believe me, I didn’t want to spring it on you like that. Ottfried wouldn’t be my first choice as a partner, to put it kindly. But otherwise, I would lose Ida again. And who knows what would have become of her? Gibson is gone, and he’s clever enough that they’ll never find him. So now Ottfried’s getting the blame for everything. One of the swindled customers is quick to brawl, and the other one’s hired a proper lawyer from the North Island. A family can’t run away from something like that with no money and no destination in mind.”

  Chris raised his eyebrows. “Well, Ottfried can’t be too destitute if he’s on his way to buy sheep. Might still have been enough to take his family to Australia.” He grinned. “You wouldn’t have liked that, would you?”

  Karl bit his lip. “No, I wouldn’t have. Go ahead, tell me I’m an idiot; after all, I can’t have Ida, no matter where she is. I hoped that if she was happy when I found her again, I could let her go. But she’s not! Ottfried is a lazy, good-for-nothing swindler. So, I’m also sorry that I—”

  Chris silenced him with a sigh and a wave of his hand. “I suppose there are wonderful times ahead of us with Ida and Ottfried. And Jane and Cat as well.” He tried to smile. “So I’m an idiot too. Give me another sip, Karl, and then we should go. Jane will be expecting us. I can only pray that she has no inkling about my feelings for Cat.”

  Chapter 56

  “What a lovely house you have,” Ida said as she shook Jane Fenroy’s hand.

  She meant it wholeheartedly; she was hugely impressed with the Fenroys’ home on the hill. It had two stories and was built of wood, and its little balustrades and alcoves made it more elaborate than the Redwoods’ and Deanses’ no-nonsense farmhouses. It had nothing in common with the defiantly somber homes of Raben Steinfeld.

  “It’s supposed to look a bit like the houses Jane was used to,” Christopher explained and glanced at his wife, hoping for her approval. However, it looked more like he was begging for mercy. So far, Jane had only spoken to her visitors with terse disdain.

  Ida Brandmann, who was dressed like one of the farmers’ wives from the Sankt Pauli, struck Jane as plain and shy. She was quite surprised that the girl could actually speak English. And more surprised that she’d brought a maid—Jane’s former maid, in fact! Jane didn’t find it appropriate to bring staff to dinner. Cat was probably there to take care of the children. Ida had two of them, and Christopher was captivated. He’d probably be getting on Jane’s nerves again about his wish to procreate.

  “I was accustomed to stone houses,” Jane remarked pointedly. “Whereas a wooden house out here in the wilderness . . . takes some getting used to, I suppose. But you’ll have to make do with the old hut for the time being, so I won’t complain. May I ask which of you two ladies intend to move in there with Mr. Jensch? You aren’t married to either of them, are you?”

  “Maybe we should take a seat first,” Chris said, visibly embarrassed.

  He gestured toward the dining table. The furniture was roughly constructed, which was especially apparent in contrast to the fine linen tablecloth and the valuable china and crystal wineglasses. Blushing, Ida stumbled over to her assigned place. Karl, on the other hand, returned Jane’s haughty gaze without flinching.

  “I don’t intend to move in with either of the ladies, Miss Jane. As you have noted quite correctly, I’m unmarried. I’m certain we’ll find another place for me to sleep; the barn should be fine. For the time being, Miss Ida will live in your old house with Miss Cat, and later on with her husband.”

  With a slight nod, he relinquished the conversation to Christopher, who told his wife about the additional partner in a halting voice, leaving out any compromising details. He made it sound as though their new farming goals could be achieved sooner with a larger herd of sheep to breed.

  Jane grimaced. “So, another addition to the farm. Hasn’t anybody ever heard that too many cooks spoil the broth?”

  Karl raised his head calmly. “In this case,” he told Jane and stirred his burnt fish soup with a faint look of disgust, “a few more cooks with better education would be much appreciated.”

  “Chris, you can’t let Jane walk all over you like that!” Karl admonished him later. He was setting up camp in the barn for the time being. “She positively enjoys embarrassing you. And I don’t see any reason for you to cower before her. It’s not even t
rue that you have the farm because of her. You said yourself that her father didn’t buy it properly. You’re paying the lease, and once the Maori understand how things work in the new world, you’ll have to buy the land back again. So don’t let Jane treat you so badly!”

  Christopher shrugged. “I barely even hear it anymore. But what’s going on with Cat?”

  Of course, Jane hadn’t hesitated to steer the subject toward Cat during dinner either. The small house, she’d remarked pointedly, should be easy to keep clean without staff, especially for a hardworking farmer’s daughter.

  “Did you have a maid back in Mecklenburg, Ida?” she’d asked sweetly.

  Ida, who had reached for her wineglass nervously, almost broke the thin stem. “No,” she’d said. “But—”

  “She won’t have one here either,” Cat had said evenly. “I may have traveled here with Mr. Jensch and the Brandmanns, but I don’t intend to stay. As you know, I grew up in a Maori tribe, and I want to join one again. With my language skills and my knowledge about the pakeha, I will be of use to any iwi.”

  “Is that so?” Jane had said, smiling smugly. “Tell us, Cat. What are the main differences between the pakeha and the Maori?”

  Mischief had shone in Cat’s nut-brown eyes. “For example, a Maori never smiles when he’s about to club another man over the head.”

  Karl grinned when he remembered her remark. “You’re asking if I knew that she wants to leave? Chris, this can’t come as a surprise to you. Jane’s already making fun of Ida and Ottfried’s ‘maid.’ Before long, she’ll realize it’s you who’s keeping Cat around. And Cat’s too proud for that. So let her go. Maybe she, at least, will find a man who can make her happy.”

  For the time being, however, Cat remained with Ida. The women made themselves at home in Jane and Chris’s old house with the children, and helped Chris and Karl build sheep pens and shearing sheds. Ida chose a few pleasant-natured sheep to milk and began producing cheese again. Cat collected herbs for her recipes, and in the process, she inevitably met some Ngai Tahu women. She caused a sensation when she absentmindedly sang the appropriate karakia while digging for a raupo root. Of course that immediately broke the ice between her and the local tohunga. Only a few days later, she was exchanging ideas about medicinal herbs with them and invited a few young women to come over and learn how to milk sheep from Ida. Karl had already paid his lease in the form of a lovely ewe and two of the lambs, but none of the Maori women had dared to approach the animals yet.

  “All in all, they’re quite skilled,” Ida confessed to Karl. “In dealing with the animals, I mean. They’re friendly otherwise too. I was amazed; they look so frightening with their moko.”

  Karl noted with pleasure that she’d said moko instead of tattoos.

  “Only the men’s tattoos are intended to frighten people,” he explained. “On the women, the moko are reminders that the gods breathed life into them.”

  “But that story was about Adam!” Ida objected. “Eve was made from his rib.”

  Karl laughed. “The Maori beg to differ. And so far, God hasn’t punished them for it. But how is the lambing going? Will we be done soon? Once we are, we could drive our flock out to the greener fields farther away from the house and just keep the dairy sheep here.”

  Ida told him eagerly about her experiences. She enjoyed working side by side with Karl. He never scolded or shouted at her like Ottfried did. He also consulted her often when he was herding the sheep or doing something else that required Chasseur’s help.

  Karl saw how much happier the young woman had become during the few days at Fenroy Station. She had begun hunting again and had cooked rabbit stew for lunch.

  “I only hope Jane doesn’t mind,” she said shyly as Chris, Karl, and the two Maori farmhands devoured the stew. “Does she cook lunch for you, Chris?”

  Chris shook his head. “The cook makes dinner. Lunch is leftovers or a sandwich, at best. Jane doesn’t cook.”

  “So what does she do all day?” Ida wondered.

  Chris shrugged. “She reads, writes . . . She’s also learning Maori, and she’s often with the tribe, supervising their manufacturing business.”

  Cat laughed. “Which is infuriating the tohunga, I hear. But the chieftain supports her, and the results are impressive. The tribe’s going to be rich.”

  “Money isn’t everything,” Chris grumbled and served himself another helping of stew. “I’ll send the cook over tomorrow, Ida. She wants to learn from you.” He got to his feet and raised his hands to the spirits. “I hereby declare you tohunga, Ida Brandmann. Your knowledge of rabbits is second to none on this island. Are you going to help me with the sheep pen after lunch, Cat?”

  Cat worked just as happily and harmoniously with Chris as Ida did with Karl. None of them talked about it, but those few days held a kind of magic for all of them. Karl bantered with Ida, and she didn’t lower her eyes anymore when they spoke. Sometimes, Chris would touch Cat’s hand as though by accident, and she stopped pulling it away.

  Jane didn’t approach either of the women. She wasn’t jealous of their harmonious teamwork with the men, or of the extraordinary beauty they regained as they recovered from the exertions of the journey and their hard work in the old pa, the children’s births, and all their worrying. Cat danced across the yard barefoot, her hip-length hair in a braid or loose like a Maori girl’s. Ida discarded the strict attire of the Lutherans again, and looked irresistible when a few dark strands of hair worked their way loose from her bun. Jane observed all of this impassively.

  However, she regarded Cat’s trips to the Maori village with suspicion. The blonde Maori shouldn’t presume to take her place there! But soon, she realized that Cat couldn’t do math well, and business didn’t interest her. Jane wrote her off as stupid and superstitious when she heard her singing incantations while harvesting sweet potatoes in the garden. She willingly sent her cook to Ida when Chris began raving about her stews. But she didn’t really care what he thought of either of them.

  Five weeks after his departure for Nelson, Ottfried arrived at Fenroy Station with his sheep. Karl had been hoping that he’d actually fled to the North Island or somewhere with the rest of the money. But then the Maori scouts announced his arrival—and he managed to make a surprisingly good first impression. A herd of fifty ewes trotted along the Waimakariri, flanked by two obviously very well-trained young collies, which attempted to respond correctly to Ottfried’s clumsy gestures and whistles. Ottfried was following on horseback.

  “So?” He grinned as Karl examined the animals with visible awe. “Are they good enough?”

  “They’re excellent,” Karl marveled. “I would never have guessed that they’re already breeding such good animals there. They’ll fit in wonderfully. And such beautiful dogs as well! Are they from the market too?”

  “Got those for free,” Ottfried said. “I told you, I have good connections. So, are you going to show me the farm now? And how about drop of whiskey? Deals like this should be celebrated.”

  After Karl made introductions, Chris eagerly opened a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t remember Ottfried; he hadn’t really noticed him in Wairau.

  “That because all you look was that Cat,” Ottfried said mockingly in English. “And now she here. Oh, careful that wife not sees!”

  Chris tried not to blush. Cat had been out in the pastures with the men when Ottfried arrived, and she had immediately taken off in the direction of the farmhouse. But apparently, the German had noticed the attraction between them. Chris tried to smile; he already disliked Ottfried. The sheep may have been a wonderful addition to Fenroy Station, but he wondered if their owner was too high a price to pay. Nevertheless, he filled their glasses. Ottfried toasted him, grinning.

  Karl bit his lip. “Come,” he said. “If you want to see the farm while sober, Ottfried, we should go now. We won’t manage to ride the length of the perimeter today, but I’ll sketch it for you.” He crouched down and drew a rectangle in the sand. “This
is the Waimakariri; it borders the land to the south. In the east, the border is a lake that’s sacred to the Maori, so please don’t get the clever idea of swimming or fishing in it. There are streams and ponds all over the place, so it shouldn’t be a problem. The Maori village is in the north, and they’ll have many of their own sheep soon as well, but they’ve agreed to graze them north of the village. Nevertheless, the herds will mix sometimes. In the long run, we’ll have to mark our animals to avoid misunderstandings.”

  Ottfried scowled. “You’d better keep an eye on those tattooed savages.”

  Chris shook his head. He hadn’t understood all of the German, but he had grasped the most important parts. “The Ngai Tahu are very honest people,” he said seriously. “We live together in peace, and I don’t wish to see that jeopardized. That’s what Karl meant. So please, listen to him.”

  “To the west, the land goes almost all the way to the Alps!” Karl finished. “Theoretically, Te Haitara’s Ngai Tahu are in charge of the land, but in reality, it’s barely used. We can let our sheep graze there as much as we want, and we can take the breeding animals to the mountains all summer the way they do in the farming areas of England.”

  “But there are other tribes using that land occasionally,” Chris argued. “We should talk to them if we see them.”

  “And if we don’t?” Ottfried asked belligerently. “Then they’ll drive away all of our sheep?”

  Karl translated.

  “They don’t even know enough about sheep to drive them away,” Chris said placatingly. “They might appropriate one and butcher it. That’s to be expected, but not big-time rustling operations. And as I said, Te Haitara is in charge of the land. When other tribes come through, there’s a reception, and they talk. There are only Ngai Tahu villages here; they’re not enemies. If it happens, I’ll just go with them and explain to them about the sheep. Don’t worry, Ottfried, nothing’s going to happen.”