The Fire Blossom

by Lark, Sarah

  “We’re just going through some hard times; they’ll pass,” Joe Gibson assured Ida. “In the long run, settlers will come, that’s as safe as the Bank of England! We won’t give up.”

  And they didn’t. The men had already invested some of Butler’s payment in two additional cartloads of goods from Nelson.

  “At least the Partridges are making some money,” Cat said dryly after inspecting the purchases. “What do you plan to do with all this? Especially the seeds. They need to be planted; we can’t store them forever.”

  “Are you planning on plowing some fields yourself, Ottfried?” Ida asked, torn between worry and resignation. She didn’t want a farm, but the family had to be fed.

  Ottfried shook his head vigorously. “You can bet I’m not, darling,” he said cockily. “Ottfried Brandmann is all plowed out. I’m in the land business now. And what the Maori want most are seeds. Or did we misunderstand them the last time?”

  Cat frowned. “You want to go back to the tribes and barter for more land? Why? You can’t even sell what you have.”

  Gibson rolled his eyes at so much female ignorance. “There’ll be an onslaught of settlers, mark my words! And we must be prepared. How soon can you travel, Cat? In a week, maybe?”

  Cat shook her head determinedly, and watched the men’s faces fall as she told them that she was nursing both children.

  “Aren’t you good for anything?” Ottfried snapped at Ida, who started in fear and then pressed Carol so close that the child howled in protest. “First, you give me a girl, and now you can’t even feed her yourself!”

  Ida’s eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t been feeling well that day and was walking around with her head hanging, as she had back in Sankt Pauli Village. The previous night, Ottfried had touched her again for the first time in months, and so soon after the birth, his rough “endearments” had been even more painful than before. She was also worried about the possibility of getting pregnant again. Cat had heard that it was less likely when a woman was nursing, so Ida had tried all day to coax milk from her breasts with the help of patient Linda. But it was much too late for that, and at some point, the little one began screaming for a more yielding source. Tears streamed down Ida’s face as she put the child in Cat’s arms.

  “It’s not my fault,” she told Ottfried, whispering. “God, I prayed, I—”

  “God must have put some thought into it,” Cat said, interrupting her brusquely. “And it seems he didn’t want her to be left alone with the children for weeks just so you can buy land that nobody wants. So leave her alone, Ottfried, and face it: there will be no trade expeditions in the next three months. Maybe you can use the time to think of a way to sell the land you already have. It would be good if you got in touch with somebody in England or Germany who could recruit settlers for you directly.”

  “Maybe we could ask the pastors about it,” Ida suggested shyly when she was alone with Cat and the children later. “If one of them goes back to Mecklenburg and tells people about the success of Rantzau, they could come back with settlers!”

  Cat nodded and handed Carol to her mother after she’d nursed her. Ida quickly put her down in her basket and cuddled Linda instead.

  “The missionaries here are in contact with other pastors,” Cat suggested. “Maybe a few letters would be enough. But even that would take a while. How long did it take from Beit’s arrival in Germany until you came here?”

  Ida counted the months and realized it had been seven or eight from the first mention of emigration until their arrival.

  Cat bit her lip. “That’s what I thought. Besides, Beit was a businessman. Your pastors would surely be more, um, intense.”

  Ida wrapped Linda up snugly and began to rock her to sleep.

  “It’ll take some time until Ottfried and Joe earn money again,” Ida said. “And meanwhile, there’s hardly anything left from Butler and the fur trader. There certainly won’t be if we buy the Redwoods’ cow.”

  Laura Redwood had visited them again the day before, glowing with pride from all the praise she had received for her cheese in Port Victoria. She had sold all of it. Now, she was entranced by Ida’s twins, but also worried about the fact that her friend had so little milk. Cat hid her swollen breasts under a wide cloak, but Laura was too observant to overlook Ida’s meager bosom, especially when she heard Carol’s angry cries as she attempted to nurse. Ida had taken the children to her breast on Laura’s behest when they began to fret.

  “There’s hardly any milk,” she said in surprise. “I’m amazed that the two of them look so fit. They certainly need more. The boys will string me up for this offer, but . . . I’ll sell you Jennifer for fifty pounds.”

  Jennifer was their best dairy cow, and she was pregnant. Out in the country like on the South Island where livestock was rare, the cow was worth a fortune. Of course, Ottfried was furious over the expenditure, but Cat used all her rhetorical skills to sway him. Jennifer would make them less dependent on the Redwoods, who lived ten miles away.

  “It would be smart to buy some sheep too,” Gibson said in agreement.

  He did not, however, want to invest any of his own income in livestock. When Ottfried suggested it, he shrugged and said he’d already contributed land and the houses they all lived in.

  “He acts as though he built them himself,” Ida said, flustered. “He didn’t even pay for the land; he just took it.”

  Cat wondered if the Maori tribe connected to this pa would turn up once they acquired animals and began to enlarge their fields. She was silently determined to plow a large field for grain by herself if Ottfried kept refusing to do it. Although Cat was unhappy living with Ottfried, she didn’t want to separate the children. And as long as they were both nursing, leaving was out of the question, anyway. They might be here for another few years, and they needed bread.

  “We should definitely buy the cow,” Cat was saying. “And Joe might even be right about the so-called hard times. More pakeha will be coming, that’s what everybody’s saying. But if it takes until the blankets and clothes become threadbare, the knives are dull, and the grain has been eaten before the settlers come to claim their land, there may be problems with the tribes.”

  Chapter 47

  Grumbling, Ottfried and Gibson resigned themselves to waiting until Cat had weaned the children. For Ida, the whole period was agonizing, since Ottfried claimed his marital rights every night. Carol and Linda had no chance of saving her from it by screaming and crying. After the first time, when Ida had gotten up immediately afterward to take care of the “twins,” Ottfried had banished them to the barn with Cat.

  “First the mutt, and now the brats!” Ottfried ranted. “It’s like everyone is trying to ruin our fun here! It won’t do, Ida. We need some privacy, or we’ll never get an heir.”

  Ida clenched her teeth and didn’t reply. Could he really believe that she enjoyed his nightly assaults?

  “The whores he visits probably pretend to like him,” Cat said calmly when Ida told her about it. “Remember Lucie? She acted like he was such a hero.”

  Ida blushed. “Why do you remind me about his adultery?” she whispered.

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Ida, Ottfried’s a rapist and a fool. I didn’t think you cared.”

  Ida blushed more deeply. “But he promised,” she murmured. “Love and fidelity. He swore before God—”

  “Stop it,” Cat scoffed. “God isn’t going to punish him. Not in this world, anyway. If your priests are right, he’ll go to hell after he dies and you’ll be rid of him. But for now, forget those oaths. They don’t bind him.”

  Not only did Cat feel sorry for Ida, but she also was furious about having had to fend off several new advances on nights when Ottfried came into the barn smelling of whiskey. The men often spent entire days and nights in Port Victoria—which was called Port Cooper now. Ottfried and Joe claimed they were looking for settlers, but the people were still all sailors, whalers, and adventurers. Had any of them intended to buy land,
they would have done so right by the marina, where two new pubs had opened.

  Ottfried and Joe were their best customers, and Ottfried had spent almost the last of his money there, whereas Joe sometimes increased his. Gibson was excellent at poker and blackjack, but Ottfried’s Lutheran upbringing had forbidden any games.

  At least Ottfried had bought the cow and two sheep first, which meant that the women had milk, butter, and cheese. There were kumara, grain, and cabbage growing in the garden, and they gathered herbs and berries in the forest. They wouldn’t starve.

  “Maybe there’s a good side to Ottfried’s dalliances too,” Cat said, distractedly rocking the babies’ cradle. “Just think, if he isn’t bound by his oaths, then neither are you.”

  The men still hadn’t managed to sell any more land by the time they were ready for their next expedition to trade with the tribes. Almost four months had passed since the babies had been born, and even Ottfried and Joe had realized it would be foolish to set out in winter. But now spring had arrived. Grass was sprouting on the plains, and blooming rata and kowhai could be seen everywhere.

  Cat seized every opportunity to collect plants, both to make into medicine and to flavor Ida’s cheese. Each night, when the birds began to make their unsettling noises, she worried about leaving Ida all alone. But two babies, livestock, field work, and cheesemaking probably wouldn’t leave her any time to be afraid. Besides, they’d been living in the old fort almost three-quarters of a year now. If ghosts hadn’t haunted them yet, they’d probably keep quiet now.

  The expedition to the Maori went much like the first, except that Ottfried no longer was kept at bay by Cat’s pregnancy, and even Joe tried to court her.

  “Cat, wouldn’t it be nice if there were two couples in our fort? I sleep alone, you sleep alone. We could change that.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Listen, Joe, I sleep with a howling dog and two crying babies, and all three of them go wild when we hear Ottfried forcing himself on Ida. Believe me, you don’t want to be there!”

  Joe grinned. “Right now, I don’t see the mutt or the children. So why not tonight, sweet Cat?”

  As always, Cat pulled her knife and toyed with it. “Because I’d skewer you before you could get your pants off, Joe,” she replied. “And Ottfried, don’t even think about holding me down, or I’ll tell the next Maori warrior that you’ve broken a tapu and angered the spirits. It’s all the same to them, whether they give you land in exchange for your wares or they just take the lot of it after they’ve boiled you for a tasty stew.”

  It was nonsense, of course, but Cat was relieved to see that Ottfried had grown pale and Joe was remembering his “manners.”

  “I was just joking,” he replied quickly. “I know, sweetheart, you’re tapu.”

  When they found a tribe, the problem solved itself again anyhow. As before, curious girls came to Ottfried and Joe’s tent after the Maori had welcomed their visitors. Again, trading proved to be easy, and again, large tracts of land changed hands, at least contractually, in exchange for two cartloads of fabrics and seeds.

  Meanwhile, Ida tried to stay calm as she faced her loneliness, and actually, she got along quite well. She took care of the livestock and the girls, sheared the sheep, and set to work processing the wool. She had also set up an improvised dairy in one of the former storage buildings, and there, she experimented with new cheese recipes. Maybe Laura Redwood would even give her money if she came up with some new recipes. She had returned the favor, anyway, with gifts such as sourdough. Up until then, Ida and the others had gotten by with the flatbread Cat had roasted over the fire Maori-style, but now Ida could bake real sourdough, and it tasted fresh and moist like the bread back in Raben Steinfeld.

  When Ida entered the house on the fourth day of Cat’s absence, after having spent the morning taking care of the animals and churning fresh butter, she was tired and hungry. She could hardly wait to spread some of the butter on a piece of her delicious homemade bread and enjoy it before the children woke up. The pair were asleep in a basket that she had placed in front of the house, well guarded by Chasseur. The dog certainly seemed more qualified for guard duties than for hunting, and Laura had been right—he was quite adept at herding the sheep. For the children, he was invaluable. He immediately reacted with an alarmed whine or even barking if one of them stirred. Ida was able to work in peace, knowing they were safe, and she could even go into the house for a little while without any qualms.

  Ida opened the kitchen door—and froze. She had left the loaf of bread lying on the table without concern; the rat infestation they’d dealt with during their first weeks in the pa hadn’t been a problem in months. Laura Redwood had helped her get rid of the little monsters after she’d found Ida in her bedroom, terrified, and seen that the rats were looting the pantry. As soon as they’d arrived at the Redwoods’ house, she had taken Ida aside.

  “Child, the dog won’t be able to deal with those pests. You’d be better off with ten cats. But we don’t have ten cats. Instead, we have this . . .” She’d taken a package of rat poison from the kitchen cupboard, where she apparently stored all her deadly weapons. “As long as you and your silly mutt are staying with us, we’ll put this around your house. Just be sure to clean it up when you go back—we don’t want to accidentally poison the dog. First thing tomorrow, I’ll ride out to the pa and distribute it while you wait here and cook lunch for the men!”

  Laura had been true to her word, and even went again five days later. After that, no rodents had been seen or heard in Ida’s house.

  Until now.

  In the middle of Ida’s kitchen table sat a huge black rat with a pointy nose, large ears, and a long, bald tail. It was nibbling on her bread and blinking insolently at her. Ida’s first impulse was to scream, but there was no one to come and help her. Paralyzed with fear and disgust, she stared at the snuffling animal. Everything she knew about rats exploded in her head: Where there was one, there were others. Any food they didn’t eat, they contaminated. In a bout of horror, Ida saw the cradle in her mind’s eye, filled with black, stinking, flea-ridden creatures snapping at Carol and Linda with sharp teeth. She could almost hear their screams but could only utter a strangled noise herself. She was all alone, and she was helpless . . .

  But wait, of course she wasn’t! Ida felt her body relax. She pushed her way into the kitchen, not letting the rat out of her sight, and opened the cupboard where she kept the Colt. She hadn’t shown it to anybody—she hadn’t even thought about it again after the men and Cat had returned. Now, she groped for the box that held the loaded revolver; she just needed to open it and get the thing out. The weapon felt comforting in her hand.

  Ida aimed at the rat. She remembered exactly how to hold the weapon and how to release the safety. Ida felt bile rise in her throat, and started as the animal reacted to the clicking sound of the lever. It glanced at Ida uncertainly, and swiftly like a weasel, it ran down the leg of the table . . . Ida hoped that the rat would disappear into some hole before she could aim, even though she would be beside herself with fear over its return. But then the animal paused and made a move to climb up the kitchen cupboard. Ida took a deep breath. She couldn’t allow that; the girls’ porridge was there . . . She aimed determinedly and pulled the trigger.

  The bang was deafening, and the recoil made her stumble. She had forgotten how strong it could be, and how loudly it roared in her ears. It took her a few heartbeats to get her bearings. The weapon was smoking—and the rat was gone. It had probably fled behind the cupboard; she couldn’t imagine that she’d actually hit the animal. Then she discovered the hole the bullet had left in the cupboard door. She had only barely missed the creature.

  Ida regarded the weapon with renewed interest. It had been easy to fire, and her nervousness seemed silly now. She inspected the drum, which still contained four bullets.

  But then her thoughts were interrupted. Chasseur was barking, and one of the babies began to cry. Ida quickly warmed some porridge and
locked away the bread after cutting off the part the rat had gnawed on. She had lost her appetite for the moment.

  She could see the sun shining brightly through the kitchen window. She had to pull herself together and dispel any thoughts of the rat before joining the children outside. Chasseur was waiting for her, torn between his fear of the gunshot and his duty to protect the children. He lay down by her feet with visible relief as she picked up Carol and Linda, who were wailing with irritation, and spooned porridge into their little mouths one after the other. She couldn’t stop thinking about the gun, not even as she sang lullabies to the children until they fell back asleep.

  “I’m bringing you to the bedroom now,” she said, and carried the babies’ basket resolutely into the house.

  The bedroom was the most soundproof room of the house; the cries of the night birds had been quite muffled there back when she’d hidden in fear. She placed the children in their cradle and pulled the curtain closed.

  “No barking,” she warned Chasseur, who had jumped onto the bed contentedly to guard the cradle from there. “I’ll be doing your work from now on.”

  Ida took the revolver, went outside, and placed smaller and larger stones on the fence of the horses’ pasture. She’d practice again and again until she learned to aim perfectly.

  During the next three days, Chasseur and the children got used to Ida’s target practice. She no longer spent the afternoon washing, dying, and spinning wool, but instead cleaning and loading her weapon and casting new bullets for it. So far, the huge rat hadn’t reappeared, but it could at any time. She kept peering fearfully into the girls’ crib. She even took them into the bed with her, although she constantly worried that she’d crush them—especially Linda, who was quiet and still while lively Carol squirmed. During the day, Ida never went anywhere without her weapon in the pocket of her skirt. It was a good feeling, and she didn’t feel silly anymore for being afraid of ghosts. There were enough real threats; all she had to do was be ready for them.