The kerosene lamp on the table hissed gently, its soft light sparkling on the lovely blue of the glass shade, and gleaming on the polished woodwork in the beautiful room. Mrs. Reynolds glanced at her husband. He seemed very subdued tonight. For a change, they had dined alone; usually there were visitors, business associates of her husband's or just friends, and when the maid had removed the dishes, Mrs. Reynolds carefully selected the right shade of silk for her tapestry and moved over to the fireplace. It had been a glorious Spring day, but there was a nip in the air now and the manuka logs made a welcome blaze. Still Mr. Reynolds said nothing.
"We planted the thousandth tree today" Mrs. Reynolds said eagerly. "I think we have just about every tree there is in our orchard now. Did you see in the "Times" that people come out in the train to Eureka just to look at our home?"
"My dear," said her husband gravely, "The N.Z. Land Association has agreed to sell the house and 2,000 acres of this part of the property to Mr.Bruce-Suttor."
For a moment Mrs. Reynolds was too stunned to take it in. "Oh, no!" she said sharply." they can't. After all our work, they can't do that to us."
Mr. Reynolds said nothing, and after a moment his wife got up and walked to the window, which she opened to look down at the garden. The scent of the early roses and honeysuckle drifted up on the cool night air and she could see the corner of the orchard where plums and peach tres were nearly finished flowering, and pears, apples and quinces had just begun to open their petals. "We can't leave here," she repeated, "our friends can come out by train and I can get to shows in Hukanui. Your stupid old association has plenty of land. Oh, why do they want to sell this part?"
"Well, I guess they are getting a good price, and we need money for the new improvements, but one of the reasons to change is that they think I should live in a more central part."
"Taupiri is a desolate place, but the White's live there and they seem to like it alright," Mrs. Reynolds said grudgingly.
"Taupiri is no more central than this, you know, "the man answered." I think the new headquarters will have to be at the 'Woodlands' cottage near the Hukanui settlement. We'll build a proper house like this."
"Oh, no," she said again, "there's nothing there except rushes and bog, and the hungriest mosquitos in the whole wide world."
When Mr. Reynolds had been first appointed as manager of the estate, she had ridden with him on some of his journeys of exploration, though lately she had been so busy with the garden and entertaining her friends, that he had gone alone. Now he came and put his arms around his wife.
"I'm sorry, my dear," he said, "but we can make 'Woodlands' into a show-place too."
"No one will be able to come to see us," replied his wife mournfully. But suddenly she realized what a blow the sale was for her husband too, and like all good wives, immediately hid her reluctance in her desire to help him.
"The daughter of Captain Steele should be able to take disappointments like a soldier," she said with a smile, squeezing his hand. "We'll plan to make 'Woodlands' the real centre of the estate." And there were no more complaints though many times in the days of preparation when Henry was away so often supervising the new homestead, her pillow was wet with tears.
There was an efficient sawmill at the northern end of the estate on the Mangawara Stream, and here a lot of the timber was sawn and floated down that stream, and then taken up the Komakorau to the landing about 2 miles from the homestead site. Especially important were the kauri logs. There were not many living kauri trees left in the Waikato and the Mangawara stand was appreciated. Soon all the settlers round; Nathan Rumney, Charles Martin, John Primrose, John Hastie and Patrick McSweeney were involved in the new building.
"It isn't only the house," commented Henry, "but we've got to be almost self-supporting. No· going to the neighbor's to borrow a ha'penny of salt!" As he worked with his men, Henry talked, and he soon realised how difficult their lives were.
"There just doesn't seem to be any hope. Wool's the only product that we can sell, and we get little enough for that. We've got to kill the older ewes and cook them for the pigs. Sometimes we do get a reasonable price for the skins."
"I wish there was some way to send our products to England," commented one of the men, "There are kids in Manchester starving, and I guess in other towns too. They could use all the meat that we could send them."
"And butter and milk," added Charles, and then they all laughed to think of sending milk to England.
Henry Reynolds did not laugh, but he said, "We'll have to improve our roads somewhat."
"Last year the only money I got to give the kids a treat at Christmas time was from working on the roads," said Nathan. "The gully between us and Martins causes trouble whenever there is any rain at all."
So at practically every meeting of the Kirikiriroa Road Board there was a request for work to be done on the Hukanui road.
"It's ridiculous for my Maori workers to have to use a canoe to cross the Komakorau Stream to get to the station," he said angrily one morning when James Hopa did not arrive.
His wife laughed. "You want him to get on with digging the drain, and you know the Maoris do not like that sort of work. If it had been something to do with the horses, he'd have been here like a shot."
Henry grunted, knowing there was quite a bit of truth in her remark, but he said thoughtfully, "I'll write to Mr. Whyte and ask him to apply for a Government grant for a bridge."
Mrs. Reynolds had met Mr. Whyte, the member for Parliment for Waikato, as indeed she had entertained most of the important people who came to Hamilton, and they were all pleased when the request was grunted and in October 1881 the Government gave 250 Pounds for the erection of the bridge over the Komakorau Stream, and the approaches down to it.
Early in Autumn, the "Waikato Times" commented on the fine herd of Shorthorn cattle that had passed through the town on the way to Auckland and Thames market. Mr. Reynolds had sent the young J. McNicol with them from the Newstead end of the property. As they passed most people said a prayer for the safety of the young drovers taking their cattle along "roads" mostly unfenced and often very boggy, but some only thought of the market price as every penny coming in made a very welcome contribution to life that was mostly lived close to the bread line.
But Mr. Reynolds had begun to think that surely, somehow, the sale of butter could be made a puyable proposition. The Government of the day had begun to believe so too, and offered a bonus of 500 Pounds for the first 25 tons of butter, or 50 tons of cheese produced in a factory and sold on a foreign market. With high hopes Mr. Reynolds and his friend, Captain Runciman of "Marshmeadows" in Newstead, opened the Waikato Cheese and Bacon Factory by the Tamahere Bridge, but unfortunate]y,  the cheese went bad and couldn't be sold. and the bonus was won by the Edendale Factory in the South Island. Captain Runciman went to America to study methods being used there, and the little company tried again. In 1883 the Waikato Land Association's "Big" herd of 39 cows earned 6 Pounds 14 shillings and 9 pence per cow, though the factory didn't make a profit. Even in the following year they made a loss of 28 Pounds though they had purchased 101,131 gallons of milk at 4 pence a gallon.
That summer of 1883 it rained. Everywhere the tracks were bogged down. "There isn't a chance of getting through Piako Road,'' Henry Reynolds told James Hopa, "and I don't think that the Komakorau Roud is any better. I must go to Newstead this week, as Jack is having trouble with his bees. Will you take me to Taupiri in your canoe? I'll go from there by the train."
And in desperation he wrote to the Kirikirirou Road Board, adding a voluntary contribution of 250 Pounds to the 500 Pounds that the Association paid in Road Rates, suggesting that it be spent on the Hukanui-Piako and Tauhei Roads.

References:
Rushes ‘an Raupo, To cows an’ Clover by Edith Williamson