Tarrapaldi

by Wayne T Mathews

  “In a pig’s ear!” Claire said. “Even if you won’t accept help from our fathers, you know where there’s gold to be had. Get a grant for the land. We’ll go out there and raise sheep, cattle and horses like good little farmers. And secretly send our gold back to old England for the newest machines. Life’s good, Dennis. But only for those who have the courage to reach out and grab it by the throat.”

  “We’ll see. Macquarie has told me to get Johnson. He’s the one who found the gold this time,” Harrington said. “I’m to get Johnson to show me where it is. Johnson wants to be granted a huge area of land. Way more than we can give him. Maybe I’ll be able to get Macquarie to give me some of it.”

  “Get whatever you can, Darling,” Claire said between the nibbling kisses she was laying across his chest and stomach. “The more land you have, the more livestock I’ll be able to squeeze out of Father as my dowry. I really want to be able to do this in the mornings, in our own bed.”

  “Me too,” he managed to say before her thighs covered both of his ears.

  “Is this what you call parade dress?” Caruthers asked after staring at the lined up men standing in the morning sun.

  MacLaughlin stood rigidly to attention, his eyes fixed on a distant hill. “Sir, these men have been stationed here at the frontier for over six months. Their kit is almost worn out, and you told me to prepare them for a patrol in the bush.”

  “I also told you I’m a stickler for spit and polish. I’m going to make an example of one of them. – Where’s Pike?”

  MacLaughlin’s eyes flicked to the lieutenant and then back to the distant hill. “He’s already left to scout the land, Sir.”

  “What?” Caruthers stepped closer to the sergeant. “Are you out of your mind? The man was raised by the blacks, and you’ve let him go out in front of us to warn them?” Caruthers asked.

  “Billy is our best trooper for this type of operation, Sir,” MacLaughlin said. “If the runaways can be found, it’ll be him that does it.”

  “You better bloody well hope so, Sergeant,” Caruthers said. “Because if we don’t find them, I’m going to hold you and that colonial lout responsible. Are the mounts ready?”

  “Yes, Sir. But your horse is a little worse for wear, so I took the liberty of selecting another for you.”

  “Very well,” Caruthers said, turning to walk back into the headquarters building. “Mount the troop. Have my mount brought over and call me when you’ve done that.”

  “Ignorant little prick,” MacLaughlin muttered under his breath before scattering the men with roared orders.

  Twenty minutes later, the big black gelding stood patiently while one of the troopers helped the lieutenant mount. At least three parts draught horse, the gelding was reluctant to move off at more than a walk. But he broke into a canter when the lieutenant drove spurred heels into his sides. The troop followed in two lines. After only a short time, the men and horses bringing up the rear began to cough because of the dust.

  “Sir,” MacLaughlin called, bringing his horse up to, but not quite beside the lieutenant’s. “We’ve a lot of miles to travel. Do you think we might drop the pace a little?”

  “No, Sergeant, I don’t,” Caruthers said. “We’ll keep the pace up as much as we can. I want to catch up to Pike, before he has a chance to warn the blacks we’re coming.”

  Looking around from the hilltop he’d crested, Billy frowned when he saw the dust cloud moving towards him from the settlement he’d left the night before.

  “Jesus wept, Bo,” he said to the slightly small but well proportioned, dun colored stallion he was riding. “We’ll find no sign of an Aboe within 20 miles of the dust those ratbags are kicking up.”

  Turning the stallion by shifting his weight in the saddle, Billy set out to intercept the dust cloud that would pass him a good mile to the north if he didn’t hurry.

  Stepping out at a brisk trot, Bo ate up the miles despite the rough terrain, while Billy posted in his seat.

  Coming over a rise, Billy saw he’d miscalculated the intercept angle. The troop was trotting now, and going past him a couple of hundred yards away.

  “Tally ho,” Billy yelled, applying a slight pressure with his legs.

  Bo leapt forward into a flat out run, clearing the fallen timber and wombat holes in his stride, while gravel flew out from beneath his pounding hooves.

  At a twitch on the reins, Bo dropped his haunches and slid to a stop at the head of the startled troop, before standing to prance, while snorting through flared nostrils.

  Billy snapped an exaggerated, quivering salute.

  “Trooper Pike reporting we’ll see no sign of Aboes for bloody miles, Sir. Although I can’t guarantee they’re not looking down on us at this moment, wondering what the bloody hell we’re doing, what with all the dust you’ve been kicking up.”

  “Sergeant,” Caruthers said. “Arrest this man.”

  “Yes, Sir. What’s the charge, Sir?” MacLaughlin said.

  “Insubordination, reckless behavior endangering government property, and quite possibly, treason.”

  “Now hang about, Guv,” Billy said. “I was just having a bit of a joke. And what do you mean ‘reckless behavior endangering government property and possibly treason’? I haven’t got a treasonous bone in m’body. And Bo is me own horse. He likes to run like that.”

  “Well we’ll see about that, won’t we? As you’re now a prisoner, I’m impounding your horse and he’ll be used for government service. Sergeant,” Caruthers said, “manacle this man.”

  “To hell with you.” Billy slammed his heels into Bo’s sides.

  Bo shot forward as though stung by a wasp. Both Caruthers’s and MacLaughlin’s horses reared in fright, tumbling their riders from their saddles.

  Billy used both the reins and his weight shift in the saddle, to turn the hardy little stallion in his own length.

  Then with the unaccustomed sting of the reins lashing his rump, and heels drumming his ribs, Bo dug his hooves in and accelerated away. Racing back along the ground he’d covered only a few minutes before. Spraying loose gravel over the few troopers who’d been quick enough to even think of trying to stop him.

  “What are you stopping for?” Caruthers screamed at the troopers who were reining in their horses once Billy had cleared the melee he’d caused. “Get after him.”

  “It’s no use, Sir,” one of the troopers called. “Lieutenant Harrington’s gray is the only horse in the colony can keep up with that little tear-away over ground like this. And only if she’s fresh.”

  “You can’t blame the men, Sir,” MacLaughlin said quietly, while rising to his feet and dusting himself down. “They all heard you lay charges against Billy for endangering government property. And they’re all riding government horses

  “Are you mocking me, Sergeant?” Caruthers said in the same quiet tone MacLaughlin was using.

  “No, Sir, I’m not. But I’m going to suggest you ease up your demands. Before you have a serious accident.”

  “That, Sergeant, sounds like a threat.”

  “You’re wrong again, Sir. It’s not a threat. In this country, it’s a fact. Now, for the sake of morale, discipline, and keeping you alive – what do you want us to do now?”

  “I want to make contact with the blacks who live out here,” Caruthers said.

  “Very good, Sir. Then I suggest we mount up and move quietly, without rushing and kicking up a lot of dust, in the direction Billy Pike came in from. That’s the way he was headed before he came in to tell us we’re making too much dust. And if the blacks are to be found, it’ll probably be in that direction.”

  “But that’s the direction he just went,” Caruthers said. “Surely he’ll get to them first and tell them we’re coming?”

  MacLaughlin smiled. “That’s exactly what won’t happen, Sir. Once Billy gets clear of us and any
chance of being seen, he’ll change direction. And his tracks will disappear to everyone but the best of the black trackers. If they don’t, and we can still see his tracks when we get over these next couple of hills, it’ll be because he wants us to follow him. And that, Sir, given this country and what you’re trying to do to him, would be a very silly thing to do.”

  “But we’ve got 17 men with us and he’s only one.”

  MacLaughlin gave Caruthers a pained look.

  “Lieutenant, every one of those 17 men likes Billy Pike a whole lot more than they like you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tarrapaldi awoke in the gunyah by herself. Rolling to lift herself on an elbow, she saw Nathaniel sitting cross-legged in front of their fire. He was bare chested and methodically working on the shirt he had in his lap.

  “What are you doing, Nathaniel?”

  Nathaniel looked at her and smiled before suddenly swearing, then sucking the finger he’d stuck with the needle. “I have an appointment with the governor and I want to look my best. So I’m repairing my shirt.”

  “Please don’t do this.” Tarrapaldi hurried out of the gunyah and took the shirt from his hands. “If other women see you, they’ll think I don’t care for my man. And that’ll lead to serious fights.”

  Nathaniel frowned. “Oh c’mon. Are you serious? I’ve been making, and repairing my own clothes since I left my mother’s house.”

  “I’m as serious as a snake bite, Nathaniel. You’re a man now, and I’m your woman. It’s your responsibility to protect me and bring home the meat. It’s my responsibility to make our camp a comfortable place you want to come back to.”

  “That may have been true in the past,” Nathaniel said. “But today’s world is not that simple.”

  Tarrapaldi studied the needle and thread for a few seconds, then began completing the repairs Nathaniel had started. “Our world is changing, Nathaniel. There are many things we will have to teach each other. And even more we will have to learn as we go along. But the basics remain unchanged. You are my man. I will help you to do your man things. But I must not be seen to be doing them for you. And you must not be seen doing my woman things for me.”

  “So what do I do while you’re repairing my shirt?”

  “You clean your weapon. Sharpen your knife. Prepare yourself to protect us during the journey we are about to take.”

  “I’ve already done all that.”

  “Then if you are a kind man,” Tarrapaldi said. “You will not shout at me while I catch up. Perhaps while I do this, you might want to go and gather the gold you will give to the Goobah chief in exchange for our land?”

  Nathaniel rose to his feet chuckling at the sight of Tarrapaldi sitting on the ground, sewing his shirt and pretending to be a submissive wife. “Other people might think you’re the domesticated little woman, Tarrapaldi. But you can’t fool me. I know that if I don’t do what you say, you’ll kick me in the balls.”

  Tarrapaldi lifted her head with a shocked look on her face. “That’s not true. I’d never do that. Your balls are far to valuable.” Then she smiled and went back to her sewing while Nathaniel walked off chuckling, to do what she’d said.

  Nathaniel did several trips through the underwater tunnel to bring out enough gold. He’d found on the first trip that the weight of the nuggets was such, that he could only carry a few at a time in the sack he had tied round his neck.

  Coming up for what was to be his last time, he was surprised to see the horse and cart alongside the pool, and only yards from where he’d been stockpiling the nuggets beside his gun.

  Muchuka and Newman were both on the cart. Only Muchuka though, was looking around to see where Nathaniel might be. Newman was staring intently at the mound of gold nuggets.

  Nathaniel took a quick breath and ducked back under the water, heading as fast as he could for the gun. But he was too late.

  With a squealing laugh, Muchuka began pounding on Newman’s arm and pointing to Nathaniel gliding under the surface. Newman leapt from the cart with his crutch and hobbled quickly to snatch the gun up, leveling it in Nathaniel’s face as he surfaced only feet away.

  “No, John, no.” Muchuka screamed in her limited English while she ran to pull him away. As her hand touched his arm, Newman swung the gun’s stock back, driving it into her stomach. On one leg, he spun and slammed the back of the doubled up girl’s head with the stock. Turning quickly from the collapsed girl, he aimed the gun again at Nathaniel’s face. With a malicious smile, Newman drew back the hammer and cocked the weapon.

  “Thought you’d struck it rich did you, Bucko,” Newman said. “Well think again. Nobody is going to blame me for blowing the face off a runaway. So there’s no point in my sharing the treasure. Is there?”

  “What about Muchuka, John?” Nathaniel said as calmly as he could while looking into the barrel of the gun. “She’s your friend. She’s been looking after you since you were hurt.”

  “Friend, b’damned,” Newman said. “She’s only a boong, and she’s the one…”

  “I’ve heard enough, Corporal. If you pull that trigger, I’ll blow your brains all over the river bank. But if you lift the barrel and move away gently, then nobody else will get hurt.”

  Both Nathaniel and Newman snapped their heads in the direction the voice came from.

  “Who are you?” Newman shouted without moving the gun.

  “I’m Billy Pike. The man who’s going to blow you into another world if you don’t lift that gun and do what I tell you.”

  After crossing the ridgeline and considering himself safe from being shot, Billy had slowed the game little stallion, and held him down to the mile-eating trot he was so good at. After an hour or so, he had come across the tracks of a mob of wild horses, and on impulse, decided to follow them.

  He knew there was no one in the troop good enough at tracking, to be able to tell the difference between Bo’s tracks, and those of the wild horses. So he’d planned to turn away from the wild horse’s tracks when he came to a suitable piece of ground. But before he found ground that would leave no tracks the novices behind him could follow, the wild horse’s tracks had led him to a pass into the most incredible valley he’d ever seen. He’d followed the tracks down into the valley. But where the horses had crossed the stream, he’d turned east and traveled in the stream-bed until he’d come to a deep pool beside a huge rock. While Billy had been exiting the stream, a white man had surfaced in the middle of the pool and swum over to deposit some small objects on the bank.

  Billy had quickly concealed himself and Bo, before settling down to figure out what it was the white man was doing in the middle of nowhere. He had only just come to the conclusion the man must be diving into a cave with air, when the cart came along with another white man, this one in a corporal’s uniform. Beside the corporal, twittering like a finch, was the most beautiful girl Billy’d ever seen. And then the corporal had clubbed her to the ground and told the man in the water, she was ‘only a boong.’

  Newman couldn’t see the man who was threatening him, so he looked back at Nathaniel before checking behind himself. Very carefully, Newman raised the barrel of the gun to point at the sky, and began to move backwards towards the rocks he could take cover behind.

  When the gun barrel was no longer pointed at his face, Nathaniel began to come out of the water and crawl on his hands and knees towards Muchuka.

  “Hold it. Both of you. I didn’t tell you to leave the water, Water-man.”

  “Dammit. My name’s Nathaniel. I want to help the girl. Her name is Muchuka. And if this ass-hole hasn’t killed her, I want to help her.”

  “Very well, Nathaniel, help Muchuka. But you, Corporal. You stand where you are and lower the gun to the ground,” Billy stepped out from behind his cover and, with his gun pointed between Newman and Nathaniel, he began walking across the clearing.

  Half way th
rough lowering the gun to the ground, Newman suddenly swung the weapon up to his shoulder, aimed at Billy and fired.

  Billy saw the corporal’s barrel swing, and the pan flash. The boom of his own gun prevented him from hearing the corporal’s shot. But he did feel the corporal’s ball when it sliced open the flesh covering his left ribs.

  Newman wasn’t so lucky. Billy’s fifty-caliber ball hit Newman on the bridge of his nose. His head snapped back as the heavy, now misshapen slug tore through his brain, and his body collapsed.

  Nathaniel jumped to his feet, snatched the gun from Newman’s lifeless hands and began reloading.

  Billy saw this and reloaded himself. Despite the pain in his side, Billy’s actions were quicker and smoother. He had the advantage of his powder horn, shot and wads being where he normally kept them. Without withdrawing his ramrod, Billy primed, cocked and leveled his gun on Nathaniel.

  “The rod will do you as much harm as a ball at this range, Bucko,” Billy said. “Put the gun down and see to the girl. Is she alive?”

  “Yes, she’s alive,” Nathaniel said. “But I don’t know what damage that bastard did. She needs help. Her father and sister are a mile or so downstream. Her father’s a koradji. He’ll be able to heal her if we can get her to him.”

  “How do you know he’s a koradji?”

  “He told me, and I saw him heal Tarrapaldi by putting his hands on her.” Nathaniel said.

  The color drained from Billy’s face. He shifted his gun barrel to point at the sky. “What is this Koradji called?”

  “His name is Tunggaree. Dammit, will you stop asking questions and help me get her into the cart?”

  “Wait, Nathaniel. Can you sing Tunggaree?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Can Tunggaree hear your thoughts?”

  “Sometimes I’m sure he can read my mind. Other times I’m not so sure.”

  “If you have the gift, Nathaniel, use it. Sing Tunggaree. Call him in your mind. Tell him we need his help. If he’s only a mile or so away, he’ll get here faster than we can get the girl to him,” Billy said.