Fires of Change (The Fire Blossom Saga)

by Sarah Lark

  Linda breathed a sigh of relief when the ship finally arrived in Whanganui. The town didn’t seem threatening to her. Of course, it was influenced by Cameron’s military base, but there were also Maori living peacefully here with the soldiers and settlers. Many had assimilated and were working—the men as scouts or farmhands, and the women in the army kitchens. Others sold produce or helped on the farms. It reminded Linda of the Ngai Tahu, how they’d quickly chosen to work with the pakeha on the South Island.

  Once they were assigned to their quarters at the military base, she slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The cabin was spacious, clean, and warm. The dwelling seemed almost too comfortable, and she was overcome by worry and guilt again when Fitz told her with great amusement how he’d talked his way into it.

  “The quartermaster thought I was the new doctor. His name is also Fitzpatrick or Fitzgerald or something like that. I didn’t correct him.” He grinned.

  “But Fitz . . .” Linda ran her hands through her hair nervously. Fitz probably hadn’t just left the man to his assumption, but confirmed it and offered medical advice. “They’ll find out when the new doctor arrives.”

  Fitz shrugged. “By then we’ll have been in Patea for a long time. That’s where we’re settling, they say. It’s an area on a river, about thirty miles northwest of here. And really, who cares? The quartermaster will get a scolding, not me. And certainly not you, my darling. Everyone here will already be in love with you!”

  And in truth, the officers whom Linda came into contact with because of the proximity of the cabin to their quarters were very kind and polite. But there were few; the base was not fully manned at the moment. The majority of the regiments were taking part in campaigns with General Cameron or General Chute. The others were preparing for new assignments. No one asked about Linda and Fitz’s accommodations until Fitz’s regiment was formed.

  After the men had been given uniforms and guns, they were assigned to section commanders. Fitz’s dream of being promoted to corporal or sergeant before the land assignment was dashed on the first day by Major Thomas McDonnell.

  McDonnell was barely older than his men, but could already look back at an eventful life. He had immigrated from Australia with his parents when he was young, and had grown up in Northland near a Maori tribe. He had not only learned the Maori language but also had an understanding of their philosophy, strategy, and martial arts. He bragged that he could use their traditional weapons better than many young warriors. At some point, he had returned to Australia and tried his luck on the goldfields there. Afterward, he had worked in New Zealand for the Native Land Purchase Department, but soon gave that up and founded a sheep farm in Hawke’s Bay. Later, he had worked as a freelance interpreter between the pakeha and Maori, tried his hand at gold panning again, and then joined the army as a successful leader of the Maori auxiliary troops. He’d fought on the east coast, and afterward at Cameron’s side.

  He took over the leadership of the military settlers’ regiment at his own request. He planned to get married and settle on the farmland he would be given. McDonnell was known as a fearless fighter and a strict disciplinarian.

  And he clashed with Fitz immediately. Linda never found out what exactly happened, but Fitz was unusually upset when he returned to the cabin that evening. He didn’t have a single good word to say about his new major.

  “He puts on airs . . . Thinks he’s better than us . . . Doesn’t listen . . .”

  Of course, he wasn’t one of the newly promoted corporals whose names were revealed the next day.

  To make matters worse, there was an unpleasant encounter between McDonnell and Linda when the major was assigned to his own quarters. Here, too, the unskilled quartermaster had made a mistake. Assuming that the major was already married, he didn’t give McDonnell an apartment in the officers’ quarters, but instead a cabin. By coincidence, it was the one next to Linda and Fitz’s.

  Linda had just been baking when she noticed that someone was moving in next door, and she thought it would be a friendly gesture to welcome the new neighbor with a lamb-and-kumara pie. So she took off her apron, checked her quickly pinned-up hair briefly in the mirror, and then knocked on the door of the next house. She had assumed she would be welcomed by a woman, and wasn’t prepared to see the tall, strong man whose oval face was dominated by broad sideburns. Her heart pounded as she recognized Major McDonnell.

  “This is a specialty from my home,” she said kindly, and held out the pie dish to the major. “Welcome to the neighborhood, at least until we move on. We heard that you and your wife will also be settling on the Patea River.”

  Major McDonnell’s brow creased, and he made no move to accept the welcome gift. “With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” he demanded. “As far as I know, none of my officers are married.”

  “Oh . . .” Linda could have slapped herself for the faux pas. “Excuse me. My name is Linda Fitzpatrick. My husband is a member of your regiment. Unfortunately, not as an officer, just as a simple private.” She smiled apologetically.

  “Fitzpatrick? Private Fitzpatrick? Unbelievable! Now that little swindler is sending his wife to butter me up? He managed phenomenally well with Captain Langdon and that idiot of a quartermaster too! How did he worm his way into their confidence? It can’t have been anything decent, if he’s living in officers’ quarters when he’s of the lowest rank, and is so shameless he sends his woman over to flaunt it. It’s pure impudence!”

  Linda blushed. “Fitz didn’t send me,” she said. “I just wanted to be polite. I didn’t think it was right about the cabin either. There was a case of mistaken identity, and Fitz, well, he didn’t correct it. And really, it doesn’t matter so much. I mean, if we’re living here or the house is standing empty—”

  The major snorted. “Of course it matters,” he said. “By accepting these quarters, your husband lied his way into preferential treatment. He tried that with me too. Military experience, don’t make me laugh! The man doesn’t even know how to take apart a gun. And Maori-language abilities, ha! He can say hello, that’s about it.”

  “I speak Maori,” Linda said shyly. “Perhaps he meant I could interpret for him.”

  McDonnell glared at her. “I understood exactly what he meant, young lady. After all, he was speaking English, and that’s a language he knows. Too well, if you ask me. But if we’re attacked by Hauhau warriors, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, I won’t need a smooth talker; I’ll need a soldier who can hit a target. That’s exactly what your husband has to learn. You aren’t doing him any favors by attempting bribery and seduction, or whatever you were planning with me. I wish you good day, Mrs. Fitzpatrick!”

  With that, McDonnell slammed the door in Linda’s face. The young woman stood there in shock. She felt dirty and ashamed, almost as though she had done the lying and swindling herself. She wondered how much of the disaster she should tell her husband about.

  Finally, with a pounding heart, she decided to take a page from Fitz’s book. She attempted to smile and told him about her encounter with the general as though it had been a great joke.

  “I—I just hope they won’t throw us out now,” she said nervously. “Maybe we should move without being asked. We could go back to sleeping in the wagon.”

  Fitz glared at her. “They won’t throw us out,” he said. “It’s not worth the effort. We’re leaving the day after tomorrow, anyway. But jeez, Linda, you just made the regiment totally impossible for me! What were you thinking? Attempting to bribe the major—”

  “What?” Linda couldn’t hide her confusion. “You don’t really believe I was trying to bribe him, do you? Fitz, I just wanted to be nice. I didn’t even know—”

  “Then you should have found out before you ran over there and ruined everything for me. Now I can forget about a promotion.”

  Fitz, who’d already taken off his uniform jacket, reached for his cap again. “You did a great job, Linda. Congratulations!” He stormed out of the cabin.

  Linda wat
ched her husband go with tears in her eyes, and tried to fight back the feelings of guilt and inadequacy that rose up in her again. She tried to remind herself it had been Fitz alone who’d created the embarrassing situation with the major.

  Linda spent half the night trying to think of the right words to defend herself. They shouldn’t be angry or bitter. She didn’t want to provoke a backlash that might hurt her even more. Fitz was so much better with words than she was.

  Linda finally fell asleep in spite of all her worrying. The next morning, she found the bed next to her untouched. Worriedly, she began to pack their things. Fitz had never stayed away for an entire night. Where had he slept? What kind of mood was he in? How would the journey go?

  Linda found Brianna in the barn and the covered wagon in the depot. A friendly Maori boy helped her pull out the wagon and hitch the horse to it.

  “The regiment for Patea is gathering in the main square, missus,” he said, obviously pleased that she could speak his language with him. “It’s beautiful land you’re getting, missus. Take good care of it.”

  Linda promised him she’d show proper respect to the land and would sing karakia to satisfy the gods and spirits of the people who’d lived there before. And she would bring honor to Papa, the earth goddess, when she worked the land.

  The young man waved as she drove the covered wagon to the cabin, where she began to load it with their few belongings. She didn’t need Fitz’s help for that. But she was still worried. Where could he be?

  Finally, Linda guided Brianna toward the drill ground. Fitz was surrounded by other men, and Linda felt tentative relief.

  Private Fitzpatrick would surely be marching with the other soldiers. He couldn’t ride on the covered wagon with her. Linda scolded herself for her stupidity. Perhaps the major had made him drill longer the evening before, and Fitz had tried to make peace by sleeping in the shared accommodation with the other privates.

  She decided just to wave encouragingly at her husband, before joining the regiment’s baggage train as unobtrusively as possible. No other settler’s family owned a horse and wagon. The few women and children who’d come with their husbands were walking.

  When Fitz spotted Linda, he immediately separated from his comrades and hurried over. Apparently, the marching orders weren’t so strict. Linda’s heart pounded when she saw her husband smile. He had forgiven her—whatever he’d thought she’d done wrong. Only as he came closer did she realize it wasn’t the familiar, self-assured grin. His smile was defiant and tense. Alarmed, Linda slid down from the seat of the wagon. There on the ground, they could talk more privately.

  Fitz stopped awkwardly in front of the wagon, keeping his distance. “Lindy, sweetheart, I’m sorry that I didn’t make it back last night. But fortunately, nothing happened. The major didn’t give us away.”

  Linda suddenly understood. Fitz hadn’t come home because he wanted to avoid a confrontation with the quartermaster! He’d left Linda by herself in case the man had come in the middle of the night and thrown her out.

  While Linda stood there at a loss for words, a girl separated from the group of settlers. She had a bundle on her shoulder, and she made her way over to Fitz and Linda with a sullen, smug expression on her face.

  “Fitz?” she said in a questioning tone.

  Fitz grinned again. “Uh, Vera. Linda, I want to introduce you to someone. This is Vera, Mary’s daughter. She’s looking for a job, and I hired her. She’s going to ride with you, and then she’ll come with us to our farm.”

  “You did what?”

  The incensed question escaped Linda’s lips before she could stop it. Usually, she thought carefully before saying anything that might provoke Fitz in any way. But this had come as a surprise.

  Linda’s heart pounded wildly as she forced herself to be fair. Perhaps the girl was nothing like her wild mother. Perhaps she had turned to Fitz because she needed help. Linda eyed the dark-haired, gaunt young thing. Vera was probably fourteen or fifteen, a little younger than Irene, but nothing about her reminded Linda of her friend from Otago. Vera was tall, half a head taller than Fitz. Although she was very thin, she looked strong. And Linda couldn’t explain it, but there was something menacing about her. Her hard, cold eyes didn’t fit with her still almost childish face.

  “What did you hire her as?” Linda asked nervously as she grasped for composure. She suddenly felt nauseated.

  “I thought she could help you. As a maid,” Fitz said. Vera turned her expressionless face toward him, and he smiled at her. “Or more of a lady’s maid.”

  With a groan, Linda turned away, stepped behind the covered wagon, and lost the contents of her stomach.

  Fitz and Vera just stood there blankly as she staggered back, pale, trembling, and agitated. Vera eyed Linda. Then she turned to Fitz.

  “You didn’t tell me she was pregnant.”

  Chapter 53

  The journey to Patea took them through deep forests that had been ruthlessly marred. Swathes had been cut through the trees to build roads and simplify the progress of armies.

  Normally, Linda would have been just as horrified by this as her sisters had been a few months before. Now, however, she steered the wagon across the coastal landscape with its destroyed Maori villages without so much as noticing the clear-cutting. She was far too preoccupied with her own thoughts and with Vera, who sat next to her, seeming to revel in triumph and self-satisfaction. Linda couldn’t explain why she rejected the girl the way she did. She didn’t even feel any jealousy toward her. After all, it hadn’t looked as though there were any sparks flying between Fitz and Vera. But still, something about the young woman bothered Linda, scared her and disturbed her. She didn’t want to share her house with the girl, and she certainly wasn’t going to take on a motherly role.

  And then, there was the thought of a pregnancy . . .

  Linda had never considered such a thing, since she had only had actual intercourse with Fitz once. But when she thought back, the symptoms were obvious: the nausea, the mood swings. She had interpreted her lack of a period as a consequence of the hardships she had endured during the winter in Christchurch. But in fact, her monthly bleeding had only stopped coming since that bewildering night in spring.

  Linda didn’t know whether she was supposed to be happy. The day before, she certainly would have been, since things had seemed to be changing for the better. The child wouldn’t be born in a covered wagon or in a hut in a gold-digger camp, but on their own farm in Taranaki. Their child’s future would be guaranteed by Fitz’s army salary for the first three years and, after that, by the farm’s proceeds.

  Now, however . . . Linda stole a glance at Vera. The girl was staring straight ahead. The only emotion she displayed was sullenness.

  “Do you like children?” Linda asked cautiously.

  Vera didn’t answer immediately. Only after Linda repeated her question did she bother to respond. “No.”

  Linda was disconcerted. Things had sounded different before. Fitz had been thrilled to learn of Linda’s condition—another piece of evidence that he was hardly planning on replacing his wife with the girl. “Pregnant?!” he’d practically yelled across the drill ground before Linda could even say a word about it. “Hey, comrades, I’m going to be a father!”

  A few of the military settlers had applauded and congratulated him, and Fitz had beamed. “Isn’t it wonderful that you’ll have Vera with you?” he’d said. “She’ll help around the farm and with the baby, won’t you, Vera?” The girl had nodded. “Of course,” she’d said, managing a smile. “I’d love to.”

  Apparently, she was more inclined to be honest now.

  “Have you ever worked on a farm before?” Linda asked.

  “No,” Vera said again.

  Linda examined her more closely. The girl was wearing an old blue skirt and a threadbare blouse. The faded fabric displayed too much of her bodice and her breasts, which were already quite full.

  “We shall have to buy you some new clo
thes,” Linda murmured.

  Vera couldn’t run around like that in front of the men. Perhaps her questionable reputation was only due to her attire.

  Vera remained silent.

  “So, where did you and your parents and sister live before? Is your father a prospector?”

  “My father’s dead,” Vera said.

  Linda frowned. Women couldn’t join the regiment on their own. She wondered if Mary’s last name had been mentioned aboard the ship at some point. Finally, she remembered.

  “Then Private Carrigan is your stepfather?”

  “My mother’s husband,” Vera replied flatly.

  Linda asked another question anyway. “Why don’t you want to work on your mother’s farm? I’m sure there will be a lot to do . . .”

  In response, Vera only hunched her shoulders. Linda wondered if she’d had a past similar to Irene’s. Had her mother’s husband abused her? Now Linda remembered Private Carrigan. He was a rather short man who seemed quite shy. The women aboard the ship had gossiped viciously about how he could possibly have ended up with a woman like Mary.

  “Don’t you like your stepfather?” Linda asked.

  For the first time since the conversation had begun, Vera turned to face her. Her expression was odd. It didn’t even remotely remind Linda of the hounded, hurt expression Irene had worn when she’d spoken of her father.

  “I do,” Vera said. Her brittle voice softened somewhat, but her eyes didn’t show any more warmth. They flashed as she continued. “But I like Fitz better.”

  Fitz’s estimation had been correct; there were a good thirty miles to cover between Whanganui and the new settlement on the Patea River. This was hardly manageable in one day by foot, so the regiment rested at the halfway point and set up camp for the night. There were traces of earlier fires in the large clearing, and with a shiver, Linda recognized the typical outline of a marae. Cameron must have burned down the village during his approach to Patea.