Tarrapaldi

by Wayne T Mathews

Harrington shifted forward in his seat. “Look, Nathaniel, our primary concern is the future and welfare of this country, and its people. Currently, people like Marsden and Macarthur have a tremendous financial, and to a large extent, political advantage,” Harrington said. “They have that because of blatant abuses over the twenty or so years before Governor Macquarie came here. You’ve seen what they’ve done, and are still doing. By maintaining all of the money, and therefore power in the hands of the elite few, they’re oppressing the people, and stifling the colony’s growth.

  “There’s more than enough wealth in this country for everyone.” Harrington lifted both hands, palms up in front of him, in a compassionate gesture. “We need to give people the chance to become prosperous by their own creativity and hard work. To do that, we have to form an alliance of like minded people with enough financial, and political clout, to dilute Marsden’s, Macarthur’s, and their cronies’ power. We have to give the workers the chance, to get out from under the boots the elitists have across the backs of the workers’ necks.”

  “What you’re saying,” Nathaniel said. “Would be considered treason by most officers, and heresy by most clergymen.”

  “Not most,” Macquarie said. “Some. And in the main, it’s the bad officers and clergy who’d say that. Let’s face it, we’ve got a lot of them here at the moment. England does not send their best officers to be prison wardens in New South Wales.”

  “They sent you,” Nathaniel said.

  Macquarie smiled. “I was sent to suppress a mutiny, and prevent another rebellion such as the one that happened in America,” Macquarie said. “And by God, that’s what I’m going to do. Now, do you accept the terms we’ve outlined?”

  Nathaniel hesitated, then nodded.

  Macquarie opened his drawer again and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “I thought you would, so I had these already prepared. The land titles aren’t exactly as you requested. But it’s a better deal than you asked for, so I’m sure you’ll be pleased with what I’m proposing. I’m granting you title to the Valley of Wonggaroa. That’s 100,000 acres, clear and free. I’m issuing you a license to graze the remaining 900,000 acres. The license will cost you £10 every year. Dennis, your 100,000 will cover the valley you showed me on the map that Claire wants for your homestead. You also will have a grazing license for your remaining 900,000 acres. This year’s £10 will be deducted from the payments you’ll receive for the horses you delivered. I trust you’ll approve this change to your proposal?”

  Both Nathaniel and Dennis stood, and moved over to the Governor’s desk. Taking the offered quills, they signed where he indicated. Within minutes, both young men were standing by the window, looking at the papers that’d changed their lives.

  Nathaniel carefully read every word of the pardon document. For the first time in over six years, he was truly free. The next document Nathaniel carefully studied, was the certificate declaring him a Justice of the Peace. Attached to the certificate, was a letter requesting him to advise the clerk in Bathurst, of the dates he would be free to hold court in that town.

  The third set of documents he held, and by far the least impressive to look at, were his title and license to 1,000,000 acres, and all the livestock therein.

  Macquarie handed each young man a glass of sherry. “Well, my wealthy young friends, here’s to Australia’s future.”

  All three men raised their glasses to the proposal, and were sipping their wine, when the door burst open. Macquarie’s orderly tried in vain to hold back Tarrapaldi. She simply swept him aside.

  “Nathaniel, we must return to the valley. Now! Has he given us what you need?”

  “Yes. I have the title deed, and license.” Nathaniel held up the papers. “But what’s your rush? We have what we want. It’s time to celebrate.”

  Tarrapaldi shook her head. “Father is dying. He’s been crushed, and he needs our help.”

  “What? But – How? What happened?”

  Macquarie cleared his throat with a soft cough. “Do we have a problem?”

  Nathaniel turned to him. “Tunggaree’s dying. Give me a minute and I’ll find out more.”

  “Are Caruthers and MacLaughlin alive?” Macquarie asked. “Did they kill him?”

  “Give me a minute will you? I don’t know.”

  Nathaniel turned back to Tarrapaldi. “How did it happen? Caruthers and MacLaughlin,” Nathaniel asked, “did they do something to him?”

  She nodded slightly. “In a way. But not MacLaughlin. He had nothing to do with it. He drowned trying to bring too much gold out of the cave at one time. But Caruthers was dying, slowly and very painfully. Tunggaree took pity on him, and went as a funnel web spider, to put him out of his misery. Caruthers crushed the spider before he died.”

  “But that’s the spider’s body that was crushed,” Nathaniel said, “not Tunggaree’s.”

  Tarrapaldi shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Remember when I went as a crow, and John Newman grazed my ribs when he shot at the crow? And the first time you flew as an eagle? You crashed on landing, Nathaniel, and your arms were sore for days. If you damage the body you borrow, you’ll bring the damage back to your own. It’s a price we have to pay.”

  Seeing tears brimming in Tarrapaldi’s eyes, Nathaniel stepped forward and with the papers still clutched in one hand, put his arms around her. “But Tunggaree can fix that. I’ve seen him do it. He can fix it if he wants to.”

  She leaned into his embrace, holding him while stifling a sob. “There’s limits, Nathaniel. He’s old and tired. It’s taking everything he has to control the pain. But we can help him if we get there soon enough.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. “We haven’t got time for this. We have to go. Tell the Governor, the two he is concerned about, died of natural accidents,” Tarrapaldi said. “The secret of the gold is safe. Now we have to go.”

  Nathaniel turned to Macquarie, explained briefly what had happened to Caruthers and MacLaughlin, without saying it’d been Tunggaree as a spider, who’d bitten Caruthers.

  Macquarie watched Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi rush from his office. He put his hand on Harrington’s arm, preventing him from following them. “You told me Johnson doesn’t lie. Well, what he just told us isn’t the whole truth, m’boy.”

  “What do you mean?” Harrington said.

  Macquarie frowned. “He says MacLaughlin drowned, and Caruthers died from a spider bite. He didn’t say why her father is dying.”

  “Is it important?”

  “It might be.” Macquarie picked up the nugget, turning it, appearing to study it carefully. “Do you believe in this thought transfer, and shape changing nonsense?”

  “I never used to. But what I’ve seen Nathaniel do with telepathy – well, I can’t deny that. Shape changing?” Harrington shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve heard about it, but I’ve not seen it proven.”

  Macquarie looked up from the gold. “I have. I’ve never told another living soul this. But back in the ‘70s, during the rebellion in America, I saw an old red-skin do it. I was a young sprog, and I became separated from the rest of my troop. While blundering about in the woods, trying to find my way back, I saw a young Indian girl being chased by a bear,” Macquarie said. “She was only seven or eight, and she’d gone between a mother bear and her cubs. I shot the bear. The girl’s grandfather came to thank me. When I told him I was lost, he sat down, cross-legged with his hands on his knees, and went into a trance. I swear to God. I saw his spirit leave his body and go into a crow. The crow flew off. And when it came back, I swear to you, I saw the old man’s spirit return to his body. Then he stood up and told me exactly where my troop was, and how to get there.”

  Harrington smiled. “Had he given you anything to smoke? Don’t those American Indians have a peace pipe or something? Perhaps he’d put in some secret herbs.”

  “Very funny.” Macquarie hefted the nugget and
walked to the window. “I wasn’t hallucinating, Dennis. I saw the man’s spirit leave his body. It was like a shimmering blue light, and while he was in the crow, the crow glowed. I saw that same blue glow around the crow that delivered this nugget.”

  Harrington stared at Macquarie. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You think the Koradjies can shape change.”

  “I was born and raised in Scotland, lad,” Macquarie said, “not in Ireland. But I’ve reason to believe there might be something in the stories of the little people and such. And if you ever repeat that outside this office, I’ll call you a demented liar.”

  “All right.” Harrington said. “But what’s all that got to do with what Nathaniel told us?”

  “It’s what he didn’t tell us,” Macquarie said. “What if Tunggaree changed into the spider that bit Caruthers, and Caruthers crushed him.”

  “Oh, come on, Sir. You can’t be serious.”

  “You’re right, I can’t be serious,” Macquarie said. “But I want you to get on that pony of yours, and go like the clappers. Catch up to those two, and see for yourself what’s happened. I want a detailed report from you, saying Caruthers and MacLaughlin died of natural causes. If there’s any evidence, or even a suggestion, that the blacks were involved in their deaths. Get rid of it. I don’t want even the slightest suspicion of the blacks, or their magic, being involved.”

  Harrington nodded, saluted, and with his grant and license papers in hand, marched out.

  Claire was waiting in the outer office and ran to keep up. “Slow down a bit. I sent the carriage home with Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi. MacTaffish is arranging another for us. Are you leaving immediately for the wilderness?”

  Harrington slowed slightly. “Just as soon as I can get a saddle on Waratina.”

  “Uh huh. Well, I dashed off a quick note to Uncle Jim, asking him to remount the other two when they get there. I gave the note to Nathaniel, along with the directions to the Munro farm. If you take Brutus with you, and alternate between him and your mare,” Claire said, “I’ve no doubt you’ll catch up to them. If that’s what you want to do.”

  “Of course. But I thought you’d want to come.” Harrington said.

  “Not this time, big boy. Tarrapaldi gave me some herbs to take. And made it clear, despite our limited ability to communicate, that I’m to rest for a few days, to get over the miscarriage.” Claire wrapped her arm around Harrington’s and slowed him some more. “I also need to talk to Dad about our wedding. Will two months from now, give you enough time?”

  “Two months?” Harrington handed her into the carriage MacTaffish had waiting, followed her in, and gave directions to the driver before continuing. “In two months, we’re going to be on the high seas, heading for England.”

  “Well then,” Claire said, “best I get a move on with the preparations. Which brings me to the point of your throwing me out of your meeting. You’re now going to have to tell me what we’re doing. When and where we’ll be doing it, would be nice too. Come on.” She dug him in the ribs with her knuckle. “Out with it.”

  Laughing, Harrington snatched her hands away from his ribs, and explained Macquarie’s plans.

  The horses were blowing hard and stumbling, when Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi pulled the reins in front of the Munro’s homestead.

  Swinging down, Nathaniel took Claire’s note from his pocket, and strode up the stairs onto the verandah. “Mr. Munro?” Nathaniel asked, holding out the note to the middle-aged gentleman.

  “Yes.”

  “Miss Claire Wordsworth is a friend of ours. She said you might be able to help us if I gave you her note. My name’s Nathaniel Johnson, and this is Tarrapaldi.”

  Munro accepted the proffered note, shook hands, and introduced his wife, Joan. He turned away to read, while Joan poured tea for Nathaniel and Tarrapaldi.

  Coming back to accept a cup, Munro handed the note to his wife, then looked at the spent horses. “Will you be pushing the horses I lend you, as hard as you have those two?”

  “Yes, Sir, we will. Tarrapaldi’s father is dying, and we’re trying to get to him before he does. But I’ve got some excellent stock out on our run, and I’ll gladly give you the ten best I’ve got, for two that’ll carry us to him now.”

  Munro nodded. “It’s a generous offer, lad. But I’ll not take advantage of a young couple trying to visit a dying parent. If you knacker the horses I give you, simply replace them. Ah, Fred,” Munro said to his manager, Jones, when he saw him walking up. “Will you whistle up a couple of the lads, and have these horses seen to. Put the saddles on the best two stock horses we’ve got. This pair’ve a lot of miles to travel, and precious little time to do it in by the sound of it.”

  Jones acknowledged the orders, and hurried off.

  Nathaniel stood, and went to the horse he’d ridden. Taking two pistols from his saddle bag, and a shotgun from his bedroll, he returned to the verandah. “Claire asked me to return these to you, with her thanks.”

  Munro checked that they were unloaded before placing them on the table. “Did she use them?”

  “I can’t rightly say, Sir. Perhaps you should ask her.”

  “Perhaps Dennis will know,” Joan said, pointing with her teacup, to the horseman cantering toward the homestead with a second horse being led.

  Waratina and Brutus were sweating, but neither of them were breathing hard when Harrington swung down to join the tea party on the verandah. “Afternoon, all. Beautiful day for a bit of a ride, isn’t it?”

  “Ha,” Nathaniel snorted. “If you call Rose Bay to here a bit of a ride, I’ll be damned if I ever want to go with you for a long one.”

  “But you will.” Harrington smiled. “Macquarie asked me to go out to Wonggaroa, and find out what’s happened to Caruthers and MacLaughlin. I thought we might travel together, if I could catch up to you. I have to say, you’ve been setting a cracking pace.”

  “Yes, well,” Nathaniel said. “We’ll be clapping on a whole bunch more, once the remounts have been saddled.”

  Munro looked at Harrington’s horses. “Will you be needing remounts too?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Harrington said. “I’ve been swapping from one to the other every hour or so, and they’re traveling well. They’ll be tired by the time we get to the valley tonight. But I’ve no doubt they’ll get there.”

  “As you wish.” Munro turned to Nathaniel. “If you’ve any stock on your place like that gray, I’d be pleased to buy a couple.”

  “I don’t know that we’ve any as good as her. But I’ll put it to the Pike boys that you’re looking for a pair. And I’ll gladly give them to you for your kindness today.”

  “Ah, yes, the Pike boys. Jones told me he’d sent them out with Claire. Did they find their brother?”

  Harrington looked at Nathaniel, then turned to Munro. “They found Billy all right. But one of the reasons I’m going out there, is to investigate some deaths. Young Richard is one of them, I’m afraid.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Joan said. “The lad was here only a week or so ago. All full of life, and bubbling with laughter.”

  “Do you know how it happened?” Munro asked. “And who else is dead?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Harrington said. “But Lieutenant Caruthers and Sergeant MacLaughlin are missing. I’ll know more, once I’ve been out there and had a look around.”

  Munro glanced at Tarrapaldi, then leaned closer to Harrington, speaking softly. “It’s not the blacks is it? I’ve heard they’re starting to cause trouble.”

  “No, Jim, it’s not the blacks,” Harrington said. “It may well be worse than that. I won’t know for sure ‘til I see for myself. But the rumor is we’ve got a rogue officer out there. Keep that under your hat though, will you.”

  Munro stroked the side of his nose twice with his forefinger, and winked.

  Jones came into
the yard with two farm hands, each leading a solid stockhorse. The men quickly changed the saddles, and led the blown horses off.

  Tarrapaldi, Nathaniel and Harrington came down from the verandah to mount.

  Jones stepped up close to Harrington, and took hold of his arm. “Did I hear you right, from around the corner. Has that Caruthers chap done in Richard Pike?”

  “I don’t know, Fred. And I won’t know ‘til I’ve been out and checked.”

  “Well, if he did, Guv. You let me know. There’s an ant’s nest over the way I’d love to bury that little prick in. If you’re needing to get rid of a body, that is. And I don’t mean Richard’s. Know what I mean?”

  Harrington studied Jones for a second, nodded, swung into his saddle, and turned his horses to follow Tarrapaldi and Nathaniel.

  Billy and Andrew walked into the camp Muchuka had set up. They’d been back to the pool, cleaned the pigment from their bodies, dressed in their spare clothes, and brought the horses along.

  Muchuka was squatted beside her father, brushing insects away from him. She dribbled water into his mouth when he asked. Occasionally she added sticks to the small fire she had going for light.

  Billy stopped beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “How is he?”

  “He’s alive,” Muchuka said. “But only just.”

  “Have you heard from Tarrapaldi and Nathaniel?”

  Muchuka looked up at Billy. “They sang me a short time ago. They’re in the valley, but it’s dark, and they have no light. Their horses are tired and stumbling. Tarrapaldi has dismounted, and is running. Leading the way on foot. With luck, Nathaniel and Dennis’s horses will be able to keep up, and they’ll be here soon.”

  “Dennis Harrington is with them?” Billy said. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. And I don’t care. I just want them to get here quickly.”

  Billy turned to Andrew. With a slight movement of his head, he indicated his brother was to follow him into the shadows.

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Andrew asked, when he heard Billy cock his gun.