The Blue Seal of Trinity Cove (10 page)

The dogs settled themselves on the porch of the shack, staring in the direction the men had gone and happy to wait it out. The leader of the dogs stayed on alert while the others put their heads down and got some sleep. The man went inside and told Wanda to sit at the table and he offered her some stew which she ate voraciously. He watched her as she ate and feeling his eyes on her, she slowed down and tried to appear as if she had used a spoon to eat every day of her life, which was an untruth. This was the first time she had ever set eyes on a spoon and she felt awkward.

She watched him too. He packed his pipe and smoked it, blowing the smoke into the fire. It seemed to relax him to be able to smoke but still he held his eyes on her.

“What's your name, lass?” he finally asked.

“Wanda,” she said in her own language, touching her collar bone, intuitively sensing he asked for personal information about her.

He rubbed at his eyes and held his head down for the longest time and Wanda worried that she may have offended him or that her language was somehow disturbing to him. With his hands covering his eyes she watched as his whole body started to convulse. She realised that he was crying. She looked to the door. Maybe she had made a mistake to come here and now it was time to leave. Quietly, she stood up and backed toward the door. She took deep breaths in preparation for the running that she would have to do to reach the gorge. He looked up at that point and seeing that she was about to leave, he stood up and wiped his eyes and asked her to sit back down again.

“I'm sorry, lass,” he said, suddenly realising how disturbing to her his behaviour must have been. “Please, sit down and finish your lunch and don't let a silly old fool like me bother you none.” He touched her on her arm and pointed toward the table. “It's just that you remind me of my own little lassie,” he said, and he took the photo off the mantle and handed it to her. “My lovely wife, God rest her soul, and I, came out here some years back to live. Life was going to be grand; we were going to build a homestead. This was going to be the biggest farm around these parts. We had so many dreams, the two of us. But then when the little one came into the world I lost her – and well … life just wasn't the same after that,” he stared out of the window as if in a dream.

Wanda could tell that the story was still too painful for him to remember. Even though she didn't understand exactly what he was saying she was aware of his great distress.

“And then I lost her too,” he said, choking back fresh new tears and making and unmaking fists with his hands. He pointed to the little girl in the photo, “One night she just up and disappeared in the middle of the night and I never saw her again. I spent months looking for her – but she was gone. No-one's clapped eyes on her since …”

Wanda stared at the photo for some time as a new thought – a memory actually – was forming in her mind. She locked eyes with the man as new words that she had been unaware she knew suddenly appeared in her mind. At the same time, he frowned at her as if something had just occurred to him as well.

“Where did you say you were from, lass?” he asked.

“Dadda,” Wanda said, pointing to the photo and wondering how this new word had come out of her mouth. The man sprang from his chair and stood motionless next to the fire.

“Dadda,” Wanda said again with more emphasis and stood up as well, feeling equally as shocked. And then she felt quite dizzy as a torrent of memories came rushing into her mind and she reached for the chair to steady herself. She had suddenly remembered that this was indeed her home and this man was her father. She looked about the shack and swooned, but he tenderly took her by her arms.

“Veronica – Veronica,” he said and then clapped his hand to his mouth. “Oh sweet Jesus, Mary, Mother of Christ, my prayers have been answered. It is you; I would recognise those eyes of my wife's anywhere.” And then before Wanda had a chance to say anything else she was swept up into his arms and twirled around the room until she thought her mind might burst.

“Oh my girl, my girl, I cannot believe it. That you have even come back to me … but where have you been my lass?” He suddenly stopped spinning her and gingerly touched her matted hair with a questioning look in his eyes. He sat her at the table again with a look of concern on his face. “And who were those men who were chasing you?” He knelt down beside her and put his face into his hands again. “I dread to think, actually. I dread to know who they were and why they were chasing you like that – oh my goodness.” He stared at her with his hand over his mouth in horror and waited for her reply. Wanda felt happy for him that he was happy to see her and that the puzzle of her white skin was finally solved but because she already considered the native people her family, her feeling at being reunited with her father was comforting yet also strange.

Still, he was expecting a reply and so in her own language she described going to the gorge and becoming a part of a new family. She left out the part of the Shaman's magic turning them into shapeshifters because she still wasn't sure she could trust this man. He was a white man after all. As she continued on through her story she noticed the look of rapture on the man's face turn to a look of disbelief. She also recognised that he probably did not understand one word of what she was saying.

“Never mind; never mind lass,” he said, smiling again. “There's plenty of time for all of that,” and he held her two hands together inside his two, still shaking his head in disbelief. “The main thing is that you're home, lass. After all these years. And –” he continued after going to a dresser drawer and taking out a pencil and paper, “never mind about the language thing because I'll teach you how to speak my language and you can teach me how to speak your language.” He took the pencil and wrote his name. “Madden, lass,” he said and held his hand to his heart, “that's me. Now you say it.”

“Mad – den,” she repeated.

“Yes, that's right but I suppose you'll call me Da,” and again he squeezed her hand, his eyes shining with new tears.

“Now, what will I call you?” he asked. He took the paper and wrote her Christian name. “Ver-on-ic-a,” he said, breaking it down so that she could understand.

“Ver-on-ic-a,” she repeated and they both smiled to hear her say it.

“Wanda,” she said, in her own language, holding her hand to her heart.

“Wanda,” he repeated. “Yes, well, I'll try to remember it. And now tell me where you've been all these years; draw it,” he picked up the photo and pointing to it and then to her he used his hands to ask the question. He handed her the paper and pencil. Wanda started to draw the gorge with its towering gums and rushing waterfall and rocky gully but all of a sudden, a chorus of barking and growling and scampering of paws on the wooden porch broke the peace and quiet of the shack. They looked at each other. There was no doubt; the men were back.

“T
hey'll be some distance away yet lass, so don't worry none,” her father said to comfort her and he stroked her hand. With that he went to the back of the shack and took the corner of the rug that lay on the floor and pulled it back to reveal a door in the floor. He pulled on the latch and opened the door and there inside was a large wooden crate that was locked as well. He turned the lock and opened the crate lid. Wanda was astonished to see that inside the crate lay many rifles and guns, all surrounding a weapon that was larger than the rest of them. It was very crudely made and had a barrel that was very large and could shoot many bullets at once. Madden noticed the shocked look on Wanda's face.

“Oh don't worry about this, lass. It's just a little something I've been working on for a while now,” he said, stroking it as if it had feelings. “I was just about to see if I could get the government to buy it from me, you know as a war weapon, but this is good. Today, I'll get to really test it out.” He took out the large gun and threaded a large package of bullets into it. Wanda watched as he rested the massive gun against his shoulder and looked through the eye glass. Her father was obviously an inventor of some sort and she felt herself becoming quite proud of him, if not a little fearful.

“Nobody's going be taking you anywhere, lass. Not as long as I breathe and I have this thing here.” He went to the porch and stood behind his howling and growling dogs with a gun in both pockets and the big gun on his shoulder. He pointed it in the direction of the approaching men and started to fire towards them.

“Argghh,” was all that Wanda could hear over and over again. The sound of men screaming made her cover her ears with her hands. She wasn't sure if the men were being shot or if they had turned tail and run back in the direction they had come when they had seen what was being shot at them. The dogs stopped barking and lay down with their paws over their ears and eyes wincing. The gunshots were very loud and continuous, piercing through the peace of the outback land.

“Good girl,” Madden finally said when it had used up all of the bullets. He stroked the gun, appreciatively and laid it on the table. He then took a cloth and started to polish it. “I'm quite pleased with that. I was just waiting for a chance to use it, I was, and today was my lucky day, lass.”

“But the men …” Wanda asked and pointed in their direction.

“What's that, love? Oh you needn't be bothering 'bout them now, lass. They won't be back. When you live in a place like this you learn that you need to protect yourself. There's nothing wrong with defending yourself is there, lass?” he asked and looked at her. She shrugged her shoulders, not only because she wasn't exactly sure what he had just said but because violence was not something that she had ever witnessed before and something she hoped she would never witness again, even if it was to save her life.

“This is a weapon designed for war and not for everyday use but I'm glad I had it here today, lass, you can be sure of that,” he continued on, touching the gun softly and polishing it until it had a high shine again. Wanda looked out of the window. She suddenly had a deep need to be back at the gorge and among her people. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay here with Madden even though he was her father. Her people were her actual family and she would come to miss them immensely;
that
she knew for sure.

“I … go,” she said in her own tongue and pointed toward the door and then over to the gorge. “I go now; I go home,” she said hesitantly. She wasn't sure how he would react to that. She started to walk toward the door.

“What's that lass?” Madden said, looking confused. “Well, where are you going to go, lass? You can't just be wandering around in the desert, like.”

Wanda went to the table and pointed to the drawing she had done earlier and then to the gorge which was still some distance from there –probably about another three hours running at a steady pace.

“Home,” she said, “home,” and as she spoke the word she felt a gnawing sensation inside her to be back where she belonged. In fact, she now felt absolutely sure that getting back to the gorge was exactly what she should do.

“What? You want to go away over there, lass? Is that what you're saying? Well, I suppose I can't stop you now because that's your home,” he said and he rubbed his head and eyes and appeared very emotional. “All right then, lass, if that's the way it is then that's all right. But if you have to go back there, then at least take me so I can meet the folk you've been living with. That's the only thing that will put my mind at rest, lass.” Madden went about putting his weapons back inside their hiding place and took a few possessions and put them into a backpack. Wanda could tell he was upset but she hoped his mind would be at rest when he saw how wonderful her other family were and how attached to them she was. Besides, soon she would be a bride; that was something no native girl, of her tribe anyway, would want to change.