Tarrapaldi

by Wayne T Mathews

  “We’re dealing with an officer and a gentleman. You know what that means.”

  “Yeah, but Harrington’s different from the rest. He was born here. Same as us.”

  “He’s not the same as us, Mate.” Billy leaned in close so Andrew could see him, and pointed with his chin. “Now check your powder, and stay low over there,” Billy said. “That way we’ll have him in a crossfire, while we work out why he’s here.”

  Tarrapaldi smelled the wood smoke before she saw the fire. Changing direction slightly, chest heaving, sweat streaming from her, she ran into the camp on rubbery legs and dropped to her knees.

  “Father,” she gasped. “We’re here.”

  Tunggaree opened his eyes, tried to smile, but grimaced instead. “Have you brought Nathaniel?”

  “He’s coming.” Tarrapaldi placed her hand on her father’s forehead. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “Good.” Tunggaree closed his eyes. “Nathaniel, can you hear me?”

  “I can hear you, and I can see your fire. But my horse has foundered. I’ll be a few more minutes.”

  Nathaniel swung out of his saddle, and ran for the fire while shouting over his shoulder to Harrington. “See to the horses. I’ll do what I can to help the girls with the old man.”

  Tunggaree opened his eyes again when he felt Nathaniel arrive. “You’ve done well, son. Are you ready to become a Master Koradji?”

  “A Master Koradji? What do you mean?”

  Tunggaree tried to chuckle, but gagged, and coughed blood instead. “The Pike boys have seen my injuries. Now they’ll see you heal me. They’ll spread the word, and you’ll be famous throughout the land.”

  “You know I don’t know how to cure you, Tunggaree,” Nathaniel said. “I haven’t been taught that. And anyway, you said the healing comes from within. We do it ourselves.”

  “Some injuries,” Tunggaree said, “like the ones I have, are too much for one person to cure. But if two or three Koradjies link together, their combined strength can repair the worst damage. I’m going to teach you how to do that now. I want you to each take one of my hands in one of yours.” Tunggaree coughed. “Take each others free hand, so that we form a circle of hands. Now come with me to Bullima. Stay with me though. I need your strength.”

  Harrington walked the horses to the edge of the camp. By the flickering light of the small fire, he saw Tarrapaldi and Nathaniel kneeling, trance-like, while holding hands with the hideously twisted body of Tunggaree.

  “Oh, God. Nathaniel, Tarrapaldi, please, don’t prolong it.” Harrington drew, and cocked his pistol while stepping up to the threesome. “Put the poor bastard out of his misery.”

  “If you so much as twitch another muscle, Harrington,” Billy called from the shadows. “I’ll blow your brains out.”

  Harrington froze. “Billy, please, I’m trying to help him. He can’t survive those injuries. And even if he does. What sort of life will he have? All crippled and twisted.”

  “Shut your cake hole. You’re interfering with the Koradjies. Watch if you want. But don’t make another bloody move, or sound, while they do their work,” Billy said.

  Harrington stood only feet from the three on the ground. Tears of compassion blurred his vision. He blinked hard to clear it. For while Harrington watched, Tunggaree’s broken, twisted body, straightened.

  “Oh, my God,” Harrington said. “It’s a miracle. I’m witnessing a miracle.”

  Harrington staggered backward, flinging the cocked pistol away, horrified by what he’d almost done.

  The pistol thumped onto the ground. The hammer fell. The pistol discharged. And the ball hit Harrington high on his right shoulder, twisting him, throwing him forward, and out of the path of the ball Billy Pike fired at his head.

  “What’s going on?” Nathaniel released the hands he held, and caught Harrington before he hit the ground. “Jesus Christ. Dennis, are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry. Oh, my God,” Harrington said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted to put him out of his misery. I didn’t know you could heal him. Oh, God, Nathaniel, I’m sorry.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nathaniel lowered Harrington to the ground, and saw the blood from his wound when he lifted his hands. “Jesus wept. You’ve been shot. Who shot you?” He swiveled his head left and right, looking for a threat.

  “It was his own ball what hit his shoulder.” Billy stepped into the circle of light, reloading his gun. “Saved his life to, I’d say,” Billy said. “It knocked him out of the path of the ball I sent at his head. Bastard was going to shoot Tunggaree.”

  “What?” Nathaniel spun back to Harrington. “Why? Why would you shoot the man we’ve knackered our horses to save?”

  “I didn’t know.” Harrington reached up with his left hand and grasped Nathaniel’s wrist. “I didn’t know you can do miracles. My only thought was to put the man out of his misery. And then I saw his body mend. Oh, my God. I almost killed him before you could mend him. I’m sorry.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch.” Nathaniel grabbed Harrington by the front of his shirt and lifted his fist.

  “Nathaniel!” Tarrapaldi’s thought roared in his mind. “It was a mistake. Look where his pistol is. He didn’t fire it. He threw it away, and it went off when it hit the ground. He’s asking you to forgive him for almost making a mistake. Can’t you see that?”

  Nathaniel looked at Tarrapaldi. “How do you know? You can’t understand a word he’s saying.”

  “True. But I can read the signs on the ground. And they don’t lie. He saw us heal Father, and he’s trying to acknowledge you as a Koradji.”

  “She’s right, Son.” Tunggaree sat up with a groan, flexing his arms and stretching his legs. “By Baiame’s beard, I’m too old for this. I’m going to hurt for days. But she is right. If you want to seal your acceptance as a Koradji, you’ll take this opportunity, and heal Dennis’s wound.” Tunggaree said.

  Nathaniel lowered his fist. “You said yourself, Tunggaree, we can only heal people who already believe we can heal them.”

  “And you think, after what he just saw, that he doesn’t think you can heal him?” Tunggaree looked at Tarrapaldi. “Perhaps he’s not as quick in his mind as we thought.”

  “God dammit!” Nathaniel said before letting go of Harrington’s shirt front, thinking about what Tunggaree had said, and then looking at Harrington’s wound. “No, Dennis. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should have told you what we were going to do. Then it wouldn’t have been such a shock,”

  Leaning down, Nathaniel tapped around the wound lightly, then sniffed it, the way he’d seen Tunggaree do with Tarrapaldi’s wound. “I can fix this, you know. If you believe I can, that is.”

  “Would you?” Harrington struggled to sit up. “God, please do. It hurts worse than if I had my balls caught in a dingo trap.”

  Placing one hand over the point of entry, Nathaniel put his other hand where he could feel the ball under the skin. Over the next few seconds, he could feel the flesh and bone working, repairing itself, and to his amazement, the ball exited the wound and lay in his hand.

  Tunggaree smiled. “Don’t look so surprised, Nathaniel. You’ll destroy your credibility.”

  Glancing at Tunggaree, Nathaniel turned back to Harrington, offering him the ball. “Put this in a little bag, and give it to Claire. Tell her it has your blood and bone on it, and while ever she keeps it, you’re hers.”

  “No.” Harrington reached up with his repaired hand, and closed Nathaniel’s fingers over the ball. “You do it. At our wedding. I’d like you to be my best man, if you will. And you could give it to her, for me.”

  “Which is the way it’s supposed to be done, Koradji Nathaniel,” Billy said, before turning to Tarrapaldi and speaking in Dharug. “This fellah’s got more raw talent than I‘ve ever seen, Woman. But by crikey, you
’re going to have your hands full, teaching him the right way to do things.”

  “Women don’t teach Koradjies,” Tarrapaldi said.

  “Yeah,” Andrew said to his brother while coming in from the shadows. “And when I tell other Kooris what I just saw, I’ll be leaving out the part about the women being here. I reckon we won’t be wanting any of the Kadatchies putting on their feather shoes and coming around our camp, eh?”

  Muchuka picked up her spears. “They’ll be in for a dreadful shock if they do.”

  “That may be so,” Tarrapaldi looked around the group by the fire. “But there’s no point in looking for trouble, now is there? What say we keep Muchuka and my being here for this a secret amongst ourselves?”

  The End.