It was the very popular opinion that Kelly had done them all proud, marrying the new owner of Marian Park. She was one of them. And she would make Justin St John one of them. It would be like Henry Lloyd's time all over again.

Their congratulations to the bride and groom resounded with sincerity.

Kelly looked heart-wrenchingly beautiful in her bridal gown and veil. And Justin St John was not a bad-looking man either, even though he was a good few years older than her. The general opinion was that he scrubbed up very well. A fine fellow. And no doubt about him thinking the world shone out of Kelly. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.

'A fine wedding!' Judge Moffat proclaimed afterwards to the grandfather of the bride, his voice honed to a rich roll by the demands of the day, his face more florid than usual from an accumulated consumption of the best French champagne.

'And he's a fine man,' his old friend asserted, nodding solemnly towards Justin St John. 'It's got me thinking… maybe we shouldn't have done it, Judge.'

'Now, Michael…' The judge eyed him gravely. 'We can't be mixing principles up with personalities. We did the right thing. All of Crooked Creek was agreed on it. And what's done is done. Anyway, the Russians will still get better than they'll ever produce naturally. Lambs that will grow the best wool the Russians have ever seen. No doubt about it. And we saved the best bloodline for our own country.'

'That's true, Judge. Guess I'm going soft in my old age.' A reminiscent grin spread over his face. 'We did plan it well, didn't we? Taking Octavian Augustus the Fourth to distract attention from the real operation. No one even thought of checking the cryogenic unit to see if the artificial insemination straws had been replaced.'

A smug chuckle issued from the judge's throat. 'Well, it was handy that Uncle Tom's, nephew is the local vet.'

'Tom Kennedy sure was a slippery one in his day.'

'Heart's in the right place, though. Look after your own first. Can't go wrong doing that, Michael,' the judge said with wisdom.

'Yes, you can!' Michael O'Reilly protested heatedly. 'Kelly and that husband of hers won't leave me alone. Insisted I live up here at Marian Park. Treating me like an old man who can't look after himself. That's wrong!'

'Well, Michael, you might as well face up to it. I reckon Kelly's got you beaten there.'

'It's a sad thing… a sad thing when a man has to leave his home of seventy years. But you're right. She's got me beaten.'

The judge searched for a way to cheer up his old friend. Inspiration came with a burst of triumph. 'Think of next spring, Michael! We'll be wearing smiles with every Iamb born around Crooked Creek. Nothing beaten about that! We won. We may never be able to brag about it… except to ourselves… but we won!'

And that glorious thought brought broad smiles to their faces and they toasted each other with the best French champagne.

The months rolled by: summer into autumn, autumn into winter, winter into spring… and with the spring a child was born to Kelly and Justin St John. A son, whom they named Henry Lloyd. He had black hair, a dimple in his chin, and green eyes, and he promptly enslaved both parents for life.

It was not the only birth celebrated that spring.

On every sheep farm around Crooked Creek there was a fall of lambs that were remarkable for the fine quality of their wool. Lots of people wore very broad smiles. Octavian Augustus the Fourth was toasted as the prince of sires.

In the stables at Marian Park, Rapunzel gave birth to a black foal, who seemed to think that ordinary walking was a waste of time. He pranced and jumped and put Rasputin's nose out of joint with his competitive antics.

The seasons rolled into years that moved inexorably on to other years. Marian Park prospered… sheep stud… horse stud… and five children were born-Henry, Noni, Suzanne, Michael, and Christine-all fired with the desire to carry on the traditions that had grown up around their family home.

They gathered in the drawing-room each night after dinner to ask questions and be together. Even the baby of the family was included in this hour, although she invariably fell asleep on her greatgrandfather's chest. He often fell asleep too, but Pa was very old, so nobody minded that. Everyone knew he was reserving his energy to outlive Judge Moffat.

'Daddy, who is the lady in the picture above the fireplace?' Michael asked one night.

'That's Noni Lloyd,' Justin answered quietly. 'Someone your mother and I loved very much,' he added, flicking a smile at his wife.

'She taught me how to ride,' Kelly put in.

'Why don't we have a picture of Mummy up there?' Michael said critically.

'Because no artist could paint a picture of your mother that was perfect, and we wouldn't be satisfied with less, would we?' Justin reasoned. 'We'd sit here and say, it doesn't show how her face lights up when she smiles, or the way her eyes grow warm when she gives you a cuddle, or all the things we see when we look at her.'

They all looked at her with such judgemental faces that Kelly laughed.

'You're right, Dad,' Henry declared. 'An artist wouldn't have a hope.'

'Tell us a story, Daddy,' Suzanne urged as she climbed on to his knee. 'The one when Mummy took Rasputin…'

'And you tried to stop her,' Michael crowed delightedly.

'And she jumped Rasputin bareback, right over the gate where you were standing,' Noni pressed eagerly.

'And eventually won the World Championship,' Henry added with filial pride.

'Go on, Dad,' they all urged.

Kelly rolled her eyes. Justin laughed. He had told the story so many times, the children knew it by heart, but somehow it never lost its magic for them.

'Well, you must remember that Rasputin was a real rogue in those days,' he started, frowning with worry as he was supposed to at this point. 'Not the placid old fellow we put out to graze now. No one could handle him…'

'Except Mum,' Henry put in with a wide grin. He was very much her son, and they shared a special rapport.

'That big black stallion was a mighty strong horse, with a will of its own,' Justin continued. 'And there was your mother, telling me he was a dream to ride. She was fighting mad that night, I can tell you…'

All the children grinned at that. Many a time they'd seen their mother fighting mad when they hadn't done what she'd told them. They could picture the scene perfectly.

The story went on, embellished by the children if Justin left out the slightest detail. Kelly watched her husband as he related it all again-tailoring it into the kind of story that legends are made of- yet there was so much more to it than he ever told…the emotions that had churned through them that night… the misunderstandings… their first kiss, which had been meant to frighten her but had turned into something completely different.

Their first kiss…

Her eyes softened with the love that had grown richer with every year. Her gaze swept slowly around their children-each one special in his or her own right-the future she had planned with Justin so long ago. And it had been all she had wished for and more. She sighed happily as she thought of the years still ahead of them.

Justin heard her sigh and glanced at her. Their eyes caught and locked, and for one heart-leaping moment there were only the two of them… together… discovering the bond again… and knowing the promise was true for all eternity.

And much later that night, Justin held her in his arms, caressing her body with featherlight fingertips. Kelly shivered with pleasure and hugged him closer. Justin kissed her hair.

'Kelly, I should have asked you…' he murmured. 'Would you like your portrait painted?'

She nestled her head contentedly over his heart. 'I liked your answer to the children better.'