Tarrapaldi

by Wayne T Mathews

  “It’s the English, Tarrapaldi. We either do what they want, or they’ll do whatever it takes to make us obey.”

  Tarrapaldi shook her head at the stupidity. “Come. They’re following the trail we were following, so we will now follow them.”

  “My boots. I need them.”

  “No, you don’t. What you need, is to learn to walk softly. Watch where I put my feet and put yours on the same place, softly.”

  “I need them, Tarrapaldi. My feet are not as tough as yours. Without my boots to protect them, my feet will be bruised and bleeding in no time.”

  She looked at his feet and noticed their softness. “All right. I’ll lead you to your boots. But I don’t want you to wear them until you must. You make too much noise with them on. While we follow these wild dogs, you must be as quiet as a snake.”

  Nathaniel looked in the direction the sounds of the shots had come from. “How long will we follow them?”

  “Until they realize you’re not in front of them,” Tarrapaldi said. “They’ll turn back then, and we’ll let them go past us without showing ourselves. I wanted them to find the boots still there when they come back. But perhaps this will be even better.” Tarrapaldi explained how she wanted him to walk on bare feet, from his boots, back to the stream, so there’d be tracks to explain where he’d gone after he took them off.

  “What difference will that make? None of the men in that party will see the tracks.”

  “I know. But I think they’ll be back in a day or two with another tracker, and so long as it doesn’t rain, he’ll see them.”

  Tarrapaldi carefully led to where she’d left the boots. She told Nathaniel to walk quickly back to the stream and enter it, then walk back to the boots. While he was doing that, she studied the ground they’d walked over, and brushed away any sign with a handful of long grass.

  When Nathaniel returned from the stream, she had him put his boots on and walk back to the stream again. Satisfied with the tracks he’d left, she then led him upstream until they came to a group of large rocks on the stream’s bank. Tarrapaldi told him to stand still in the water while she inspected her buttocks and the palms of her hands. Once she knew she would leave no marks, she lowered herself onto a rock and lifted both feet from the water, shaking them gently until they dried. Then she carefully stood and instructed Nathaniel to hand his boots to her, along with the other baggage he insisted on carrying. When she had the load on her back and in her hands, she told him to do exactly what he’d seen her do, and then wait on the rock for her to return.

  Nathaniel had been standing on the rock for five minutes, and was beginning to fidget while looking downstream for any sign of pursuit, when he sensed Tarrapaldi’s presence. Turning to check, he was startled to find her standing behind him within inches.

  “You’re learning,” she chuckled. “At least you knew I was here this time. Come, get on and I will carry you.” She turned her back to him.

  “You’re joking! I’m not going to be carried by a woman.”

  “Yes, you are, Nathaniel Johnson. You leave signs a child could read when you move, and we cannot have that. Even with you on my back, there are very few Guringai who will see my tracks. Now get on before the oils in the skin of your feet begin to leave marks on the rock.”

  With a grin to cover his embarrassment, Nathaniel climbed onto her back and thought, “Giddy up horsey.”

  “What’s a horsey?”

  “It’s an animal people ride. Like that one the officer was on when all this trouble started. Only usually, they’re bigger.”

  “I know which animal you mean,” Tarrapaldi said. “We call them yaramans. They can run incredibly fast and far. But they can’t run and turn as fast as me.”

  “Don’t bet on it woman. If ever a mounted trooper comes after you, he’ll run you down in no time.”

  “Do you think so?” Tarrapaldi carried him across the rocks and into the bush for about one hundred yards, without leaving any signs behind her that he could see.

  Suddenly, she hitched him higher on her back, clamped his thighs into her waist with her arms, leaned forward and broke into a flat-out run. After 50 yards, she let go of his legs and sidestepped around a tree. Nathaniel kept going and crashed to the ground. With the wind knocked out of him, he was on his hands and knees, attempting to rise, when she pounced on his back, laughing.

  “There’s better ways to ride than this, you know.” Tarrapaldi transmitted after he struggled to his feet with her clinging to his back.

  “Really?”

  “If you take me to our things over there. I’ll show you.”

  “I thought you wanted to follow the party?”

  “There’s no point now, Nathaniel. It’s almost dark, so they’ll camp soon. I’ll go out in the morning and see what they’re doing. But for now. Take me to our things while I rest.”

  Nathaniel laughed. “Not after what you just did to me.” He joggled her as hard as he could on the run to where she’d pointed out their belongings.

  They were both laughing so hard when he finally stopped and allowed her to slip from his back, they clung to each other to stay upright. When the laughter died down, Tarrapaldi started to ease back from the embrace. Nathaniel ran his fingers into the hair on the back of her head, and when her lips came level with his, he kissed her.

  “Is this how you thank the horsey you rode?”

  “It’s proper name is horse,” Nathaniel replied, breaking away from her lips and stepping back. “And you thank your horse by feeding him.”

  “Later.” Tarrapaldi took him into her arms and dragged him to the ground, before rolling him on top of her. “You can feed me later.”

  Chapter Four

  “The crow, Corporal,” the Lieutenant whispered. “Can you bring it down? It’s not much, but we need the food.”

  “It’s a long shot, Sir.” Bringing his rifle to his shoulder, the corporal fired in one smooth action.

  When the pan flashed, the crow launched itself from the branch. The Corporal tried to guess which way the bird would turn when the main charge ignited, and led the bird in that direction. The cloud of smoke that erupted from the barrel, prevented him seeing he’d guessed right, but miscalculated the lead.

  The Lieutenant saw the feathers fly off the bird, but when the Corporal ran through the cloud of smoke, all he saw was the crow winging toward the east, while the feathers that had been dislodged by the passing ball, floated slowly to the ground.

  “Damn, that was close,” the Lieutenant said. “If we’d been loaded with shot, you’d have got the black bastard for sure.”

  “We ‘aven’t seen ‘ide nor ‘air o’ that runaway, Sir,” one of the convicts said. “An if ‘e’s within ‘cooee’ o’ this place, there’s not much ‘ope we will now. ‘E’ll go to ground for sure after ‘earing that shot.”

  “Or he’ll run harder,” the Corporal said, basking in the unusual praise from the Lieutenant. “Come on men,” the Corporal said. “Spread out and keep your eyes peeled for any sign. If he’s running on bare feet, they’ll be cut and bleeding by now.”

  “Well done, Corporal,” the Lieutenant said when the men spread out and began searching the ground. “We’ve got another three or four hours before noon. If we haven’t seen sign of him by then, we’ll have to go back.”

  Nathaniel groaned and tried to roll away from the light irritating his eyes. But it wouldn’t go away. Opening his eyelids, he flinched away from the full force of the sun being mirrored at him. Tarrapaldi chuckled, putting the mirror she had been using to direct the light at him, back where she’d found it in his belongings.

  “Get up, Sleepyhead,” Tarrapaldi prodded Nathaniel with her toe. “The morning is half over already, and your meal is ready.”

  “What is this?” Nathaniel said when he returned from relieving himself and accepted the bark plate she handed
him.

  Tarrapaldi chuckled. “If you’re asking what it is. It is ‘mundawora’ and ‘witchetties.’”

  Nathaniel sniffed the offered food and poked the two-inch long, half-inch thick, white witchetties with his finger. “Looks like blackberries and raw grubs to me.”

  “If you think so. Normally I’d roast the grubs. But I haven’t restarted our fire today, because those men will be coming back this way before long. They’re looking for your tracks.”

  “Have you seen them again?”

  “Yes,” Tarrapaldi said. “I followed their tracks this morning and saw them rise from their sleep. They only ate food they took from the packs they carry, and that wasn’t much. They ignored the food around them on the bushes. Don’t they need as much food as us?”

  “Of course they do. But they don’t know what they can and cannot eat.” Nathaniel looked at her and noticed the livid welt across her ribs for the first time. “What happened to your side?”

  “One of the men shot at a crow. He missed, but his ball grazed my side. It was very close.”

  “Very close! God’s breath, Woman. You could have been killed. Didn’t they see you?”

  “They were all looking at a crow, Nathaniel. They didn’t see Tarrapaldi.”

  “Thank God for that. Let me see the wound. Does this hurt?” he asked, pressing to see if any of her ribs were broken.

  She flinched slightly. “Nothing’s broken. Not even the skin. I’ll have a bruise for a few days, but once it’s gone there’ll be nothing left but the lesson I learned.”

  “Lesson? What lesson?” Nathaniel asked.

  “The man with the two upside down arrows on his arm. He’s a thinker, Nathaniel. When he fired, he aimed at where the crow would be, not where it was.”

  “That would be the Corporal. He’s probably the most experienced soldier, and what he did is called ‘leading your shot’. Any musketeer worth his salt will do it.”

  Tarrapaldi frowned. “Then most of these Englishmen must not be worth their salt, whatever that means, because most of them don’t do it. But that one did,” Tarrapaldi said. “So remember that if ever you see the smoke puff from the side of his gun. If he shoots at you, change your direction quickly.”

  “I’ll try to remember that if it ever happens. But I’ll probably be more concerned with changing locations than directions.” He grinned and picked up what he thought was the cold tea left over from the night before. Pouring the brew into his tin mug, he sipped, and spun away spitting. “What in tarnation is this? Pig’s piss?”

  Tarrapaldi held her side while she laughed. “It’s a mixture of barks, berries, and nuts I made up last night after you slept, and left to soak. If you stand still, I’ll wash you with it and your skin will loose its white brilliance that can be seen from the other side of the valley.”

  Tarrapaldi soaked his shirt in the liquid, then rubbed it all over his body. His skin changed from the color of ivory to that of teak.

  “Kagil ngopun,” Tarrapaldi said before remembering to only transmit to Nathaniel. “Bad move. This isn’t darkening your skin as much as I thought it would. I’ll have to break your lines with burnt wood. It won’t last long, but that shouldn’t matter. Those Goobahs should be turning back and leaving us alone soon.”

  Nathaniel backed up a half step. “What do you mean, break my lines?”

  “This.” She took a piece of charcoal from the cold fireplace and rubbed it on his cheeks and nose. “By blackening the angles of your body, you will not look like the white man they’re expecting to see. If you remain motionless. Their eyes will pass over you,” Tarrapaldi said.

  “Why are you blackening my shoulders? They’ll be covered by my shirt.”

  “No, they won’t. Those men are looking for, and expect to see you in your coverings. So don’t wear them.”

  “I can’t go naked!”

  “Will you stop being so stupid. Those men are trying to kill us. Being naked is not something for you to worry about.”

  After streaking his entire body with charcoal, Tarrapaldi undid the thong holding his blond hair and combed it with her fingers, until it hung down around his head and over his shoulders. Then she streaked his hair with the charcoal before tying leafy twigs into it. When she’d finished, Nathaniel picked up his small shaving mirror and studied his reflection.

  “My mother wouldn’t recognize me,” He said.

  Tarrapaldi glanced up the valley before turning back to face him. “Let’s hope those men won’t either. This valley narrows up the way, and when they turn around to come back, they’re going to be close when they go past. When I tell you to. I want you to kneel on one knee, tilt your head down, look at your foot, and do not move so much as your eyeballs, until I tell you to.”

  “But if they’re going to be that close, they’ll see my swag.”

  “What is your swag?”

  “My bedroll, with all my things in it,” Nathaniel said. “The settlers call the men who tramp through the bush, swagmen, because everything they’ve got is in the bundle or swag they carry.”

  “All right,” Tarrapaldi said. “Then we’ll carry your swag and our weapons between two poles, and cover them with leafy branches. It’ll be easy to carry between the two of us, and when we kneel while they go past, we’ll put the poles on the ground. Your swag will look like a bush.”

  “Why are we doing this?” Nathaniel asked. “Why don’t we just go off to the side and go round them? Or find a good spot to hide while we wait for them to come back?”

  “Why do you ask so many questions without waiting for answers?”

  “What?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Never mind,” Tarrapaldi said, “We’re doing this because Baiame told us to hurry. We can’t go off to the side because this is the quickest way through the mountains. And we can’t just wait because we don’t know when they’ll turn back. My people are sick and need our help. We must get back to them as soon as possible.”

  “There is no way through those mountains, Tarrapaldi. The English searched for twenty-five years for a way through. They found a way over by following the ridgelines the year I arrived here. But there is no way through.”

  “My people have lived here since the beginning of time. But when I tell you this is the quickest way through, you don’t believe me because the English, who have been here thirty summers, have decided there is no way. The stupidity of you people is beyond belief at times.”

  “I’m not one of the English, Tarrapaldi. But don’t underestimate them. They’re here. They’re taking over the land. And when you least expect it, you’ll find they do think. As you found out this morning.” He pointed to the welt across her ribs. “They also have the luck of the devil. And they’ll not give up once they’ve decided to do something.”

  “I’m finding that out.” Tarrapaldi said. “It’s because they don’t give up that we must follow them. We must find a way to make them turn back. They’re out of food but if they keep going at the speed they are now, in another two days they’ll come to the valley of ‘Wonggaroa’, and find any amount of the food they know.”

  “What do you mean, ‘the food they know’?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Many summers ago, the Elders of my people sent my father and the other young men, to gather up the animals that strayed from the English enclosures. The women who went with them, brought back some of the plants the English tend. Most of those animals and plants now thrive in the valley.”

  Tarrapaldi went on to describe what Nathaniel realized were cattle, horses, sheep, chickens, turkeys, and many of the vegetables grown by the English farmers.

  Nathaniel shook his head. “What you’re describing sounds like paradise. If the English find it, they’ll claim you stole the animals and take everything away from you.”

  “We know that. That’s why Tunggaree sent me to find you. You’re going to
help us protect the land, Nathaniel.”

  “What can I do? I’m on parole, with a ticket of leave, and now I’m a runaway. When the English find me — and they will find me, Tarrapaldi. If I’m lucky, I’ll be sentenced to a hundred or so strokes of the cat and be put back in chains.”

  “The cat, Nathaniel? Is that the nine-tailed lash that strips the flesh from a person’s back?”

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “We must not let them do that. Tunggaree has a plan and I know that is not part of it.”

  “Then you better think up a way to stop those men from discovering Wonggaroa.” Nathaniel said.

  “All right. I didn’t want to do this, but I will if you think it’s that important. You stay here in this camp. Do not start a fire, and do not make any noise. When you hear the men chasing me, look at your feet, not at the soldiers, and do not interfere. I will lead them back to their boats before disappearing. Then I’ll come back for you and lead you to safety.”

  “I can’t let you do that, Tarrapaldi. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’ll only be dangerous if I forget the Corporal knows how to lead his shot,” Tarrapaldi traced the welt across her ribs. “And I’m not going to do that again.”

  “Did you see that, Corporal?” the Lieutenant said pointing across the valley. “Something moved over there.”

  When the rest of the men looked in her direction, Tarrapaldi bolted from the cover she’d hidden in, heading back down the valley in the direction from which the men had come. The Corporal snapped up his rifle and squeezed the trigger, swinging the muzzle to lead the streaking, spear-carrying woman.

  When Tarrapaldi saw the puff of smoke erupt from the pan, she dropped and rolled. After the ball passed, she rose to her feet and hobbled over to where her spears had fallen. Taking them up, she set off again in the same direction, dragging her right leg in a limping run.

  “Well done, Corporal. You hit the slut.” The Lieutenant said.

  “I don’t think so, Sir. She went down before my ball was there,” the corporal said.