Author's note: Some plotting, but mostly it's all about a hitter and his best girl.


The thunder and lightning slowly faded away to distant Tennant Creek, and the night became swept with starlight and scudding clouds. A slight breeze stirred the rain-drenched trees and Gertie slowly emerged from her humpy, ears flicking as drops of water brushed from the edge of the roof as she hesitantly avoided the huge puddles lying in the hollows of the drenched ground.

Wandering over to the open window of Eliot's room and reaching up her head, she whiffled at the sill and gurgled softly, hoping Eliot was awake to give her scratchies. But all was quiet. She leaned her chin on the sill instead and squeaked, but there was no reaction from within, although she knew Eliot was there.

She shook her head, sighed dramatically and decided she would go on patrol, so she headed through the open gate of her paddock and began to prowl the homestead, rumbling unhappily to herself. Perhaps, she hoped, there were bad people lurking in the undergrowth so that she could roar at them for a bit and then chase them away.

Eliot lay wide awake on his bed, unable to sleep. He heard Gertie's squeaky entreaties, and smiled to himself. Normally he would have awoken, got out of bed and given her huge head a scratch. Then he would have fetched her an apple from the kitchen before telling her to go back to bed, but tonight he was too sore and too uptight to fuss over the big camel. He promised himself he would give her an extra fuss in the morning. Right now he was worried sick about his team.

The lights were still out and wouldn't be fixed until Jacko could look at the transformer in daylight, so Wapanjara was truly in the dark, something Eliot never minded. He enjoyed the quiet and the shadows here in the home he loved, the one place where he could rest and heal and be with people who loved him for who he was.

Tired of the continuous tension, Eliot eased his damaged body off the bed, and deciding not to use his sling, managed to slip on a jacket. Easing himself out of his room, padding silently on socked feet, he decided he needed some fresh air. But the front door leading onto the veranda was already open, and he caught the faint sound of soft, child-like whisperings and squeaky camel-speak. A wry smile creased his tired face and he headed to the kitchen. Unhampered now by his sling, which he knew would earn him some grief from Jo and Effie, he made two mugs of hot chocolate. Snaffling an apple from the fruit bowl, he shoved it into his jacket pocket and awkwardly carried the steaming mugs out onto the veranda and into the dark.

Lizzie sat at the top of the veranda steps. She was snuggled into her comforter, and she was cupping Gertie's enormous head with her tiny hands and talking quietly to the huge camel standing at the bottom of the steps. Gertie listened, rapt with attention. The little squeaks coming from the animal were delightfully absurd.

But Gertie's ears pricked and she let out a huff of pleasure as she raised her head and turned it towards Eliot.

Lizzie twisted around, and even in the dark she could see how tense her guardian was as he held the mugs. Scrambling to her feet, she reached out and hastily took both mugs from Eliot's hands before he spilled the hot contents, placing them on the small table beside the doorway.

"Eliot!" she hissed softly. "Where's your sling? You should be wearing your sling, silly! You could –"

"Shhh …" Eliot said, raising a finger to his lips and then coughed quietly as he eased himself gingerly down onto the top step. Damn, but he was stiff! "I'm okay, 'Lizbeth Grace. I'm gettin' better, so it won't hurt me any just for a little while." He smiled at her reassuringly, but Lizzie wasn't convinced.

Gertie, on the other hand, was delighted to see him. She mumbled at his fingers and tried to lick his face, and then she rested her head on his lap, hoping for scratchies. Eliot duly obliged, and Gertie's eyes closed as she began to hum.

Lizzie placed Eliot's drink beside him on the step before grasping her own, and scrambled to sit down beside him with her own mug of delicious hot chocolate. She carefully draped her comforter over them both, and then they were set.

So the pair of them sat quietly in the dark of the night, sipping their drinks and absorbing the stillness and the starlight, hearing the slight murmur of a whispering breeze as it rustled leaves on the nearby gum trees. The occasional firefly meandered past, the sudden, brilliant luminescence flaring and then dying just as suddenly in the blackness. A pair of eyes from deep in the undergrowth were mirrored in the cold glow for a moment or two, much like the first night Lizzie had ever spent at Wapanjara. The little girl smiled this time, unalarmed, and she leaned her head on Eliot's good shoulder.

"Possum, right?" she whispered.

"Uh-huh." Eliot replied, enjoying the heat of the drink as it soothed his throat and chest. Gertie squeaked in reply, content to be with Eliot and Lizzie. Eliot rubbed her nose, slipped the apple from his pocket and Gertie munched it eagerly. Once she had finished she returned her head to Eliot's lap. He rubbed her uninjured ear affectionately and then allowed his weak arm to rest on the top of Gertie's head, easing the ache in his shoulder.

"They'll be home soon?" Lizzie finally asked. "They promised?"

Eliot nodded.

"Yeah, darlin', they promised. We still have to figure out a way to help Jenny Burkhart an' her dad, but we always find a way. Don't worry about it."

Eliot felt Lizzie shift against him as she drank more hot chocolate, and he could almost see the sweet brown line on her upper lip. Lizzie wasn't the best at drinking hot chocolate with decorum. He saw her wipe the dampness off her lip with her pyjama sleeve, and he mentally winced. She sighed noisily.

"Eliot?"

Here it comes, Eliot thought. Somethin's buggin' her.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

She nuzzled against his jacket, no doubt leaving chocolatey smears on the sleeve, Eliot knew.

"When … when …" she stammered, unsure of what to say it seemed.

"Spit it out, 'Lizbeth Grace, before your head explodes," he warned.

Lizzie took a deep breath and continued, knowing full well her head wouldn't explode.

"Well … when everyone comes home … do we have to go back to Portland? When the job's done? And … and when your bullet holes are all better and you head's not all wibbly and your cold's all gone?" The desperation in her voice made Eliot flinch with the longing in it.

"You want to go home?" Eliot asked, and he turned and kissed the top of Lizzie's head.

Lizzie lifted her head and stared up at Eliot, the starlight mirrored in her brown gaze and the longing aching through her.

"No!" she said, obviously certain Eliot didn't understand. "No, Eliot! I … I want to stay here! Here at Wapanjara! This is my home! Portland … I mean, I know we live there and everything, and I love it … sorta … but … but …" She struggled to explain what she meant and she leaned further in and burrowed her face into Eliot's chest.

Eliot put down his drink and rested his chin on her head, and Gertie nibbled at Lizzie's fingers, concerned at the little girl's obvious confusion.

"We live there, 'Lizbeth Grace," Eliot murmured, "It's where we do our work an' we have the brew pub, an' –"

"But you could do all that from here!" Lizzie insisted, "and Alec could sell the brew pub or something and we could live here and Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't mind and Effie would love you to all be here and -"

Eliot rubbed his cheek on Lizzie's curls.

"'Lizbeth Grace … sweetheart … we have to be practical. I know, I know," he soothed, feeling Lizzie's hitching breath as she began to protest, "Wapanjara's my home. Has been since Soapy an' Jo picked me up out of the dirt, healed me an' gave me my life back. But I live in Portland. That's where our work is, an' people rely on us to help them."

Lizzie hiccupped and then sighed, a little bubbly with unshed tears.

"But I don't want to leave!" she whispered. "I have Grandma Jo and Grandpa Soapy to look after, and Effie needs me, you know! And now Mei will need help with the twins, and … and then there's Charlie! He's so sad, and Kip … we could do our school projects together, I promise … "she huffed wearily. "I'll miss Kip so much!"

Eliot nodded, feeling Lizzie tremble against his side, and he smiled even as Lizzie continued.

"And what about Gertie? She needs you! And I could help with the horses and feed Dottie and Sparky and the dogs, and … and …" she paused for a moment, trying to think of reasons why she should never ever return to Portland.

"It's a problem, huh?" Eliot commented thoughtfully. "So … where do we all live? 'Cause the house ain't big, 'Lizbeth Grace. An' you can't sleep in a chair or on a fold-down bed forever. Your Momma an' Daddy certainly won't like sleepin' in a tent. An' I have no idea where Hardison'll sleep, 'because he sure as hell ain't havin' my room," he added testily. "Parker loves Bernadette's roof tent, but … it's not really the best place," he added, although he thought Parker actually wouldn't mind considering she lived in a warehouse.

Lizzie frowned, thinking. Eliot did have a point. She brightened suddenly.

"Easy!" she proclaimed, obviously relieved. "We help Grandma Jo and Grandpa Soapy make the house bigger!"

That made Eliot snort with amusement which also made him wince and cough, which in turn made Lizzie start and sit up, raising a hand to feel his brow.

"You're hot still!" she said, worried, but Eliot closed his eyes for a moment or two, basking in the warmth of his little charge's care.

"It's just the last of the fever, 'Lizbeth Grace. I'm on the mend, girl, so stop worryin'." He reached up and caught her hand in his, rubbing her knuckles. "Listen, darlin' … you have to stop bein' so grown up an' feel as though you have to take care of everyone. Now, you have to know how much I love you lookin' out for me an' makin' sure I'm doin' okay. When I was really sick an' hurt, you made me feel safe an' … " he took a breath, " … an' helped me through the really bad bits. And you know I still have stuff to work through in my head, an' you … you help me with that when no-one else can."

Lizzie gazed at him, confused.

"But –"

"But, 'Lizbeth Grace, I've said this before, you have to take time for yourself. Be a little girl. You're only six –"

"I'm nearly seven, Eliot! I'm nearly all grown up!" Lizzie grumbled.

Eliot had to admit his mistake.

"Okay … okay, that's true. But you still need to loosen up, kiddo. And while it would be wonderful to live here forever, we can't. What makes Wapanjara so special is it's a place to rest … heal up, feel better. An' that's because it's far away from cities an' lots of people, so we can sit here in the middle of the night if we like, drink hot chocolate an' look at the stars."

"And hug Gertie!" Lizzie added, and rubbed Gertie's nose.

"An' hug Gertie," Eliot agreed. "But we rely on livin' where we do to help as many people as we can. How would we do that out here?"

Lizzie thought about it some more.

"We buy a 'copter!" she said triumphantly. "Then we could fly wherever we want!"

Eliot shook his head. She was making it tough for herself, he was sure. He really, really didn't want to make her miserable, but there was a reality she had to face.

"Still not gonna work, 'Lizbeth Grace. The big cities here … Darwin, Adelaide … Sydney … are so far away even a chopper would take a long time to get there. Flying from Alice Springs to Sydney takes over six hours on a good day, an' that doesn't take in the trip from here to Alice. Now, I'm not sayin' we couldn't do it, but we would need our own 'plane and –" he could see the disappointment in Lizzie's eyes, even in the darkness. "It's just … well, it's tough enough doing the job an' travelling the world from Portland, and from here …"

Lizzie finally nodded, but Eliot could see she was heart-broken. She had travelled all of her short life and loved every moment of it. She had seen things most people could only dream of … wild tigers in Surinam … the soaring vaults of Saint Mark's Basilica in Venice, and heard the evening call to prayer in the ancient, bustling streets of Marrakesh. But none of those places were home, and now, for the first time in her life, she knew in her heart she belonged.

She sniffed sadly and drank more of her hot chocolate.

"S'not fair," she muttered under her breath, and Eliot heard the pain in her voice.

Eliot took a sip of his own drink, and nudged her gently.

"Now what do I say about things not bein' fair?" he asked.

Lizzie wriggled unhappily before answering.

"Who said life was fair?" she quoted.

"That's right, 'Lizbeth Grace. 'Cause life's not fair most of the time. But we rise above it an' keep goin', cause that's what we do, huh."

"But," Lizzie insisted, "you get to come here all the time! This is your home! Why can't it be mine too?"

Well, thought Eliot, this was an entirely different ball game. Lizzie didn't yet know that half of Wapanjara would one day be hers. He had discussed it with Sophie and Nate late one evening when the child had been persuaded to actually get some sleep while Eliot recovered. It had been decided that she would be told when she was a little bit older and could understand the implications and responsibilities that went with it, and Eliot was content to leave the whole matter in Sophie and Nate's capable hands.

"You can always visit," he said, and he felt Lizzie brighten beside him. "Maybe we all come on a visit now and then –"

"-or I could just come with you!" Lizzie interrupted, thrilled at the idea. "Mama and Daddy wouldn't mind, and you're my guardian and –"

Eliot's eyebrows shot up.

"Whoa there, Little Miss Trouble, who says I want company?" he said, bemused. "I might want to bring somebody else! Like a lady!" He couldn't help teasing Lizzie a little. She knew he occasionally met women and enjoyed their company, but Eliot was very, very careful not to mix his casual relationships with the life he led with his team and god-daughter. To Lizzie they were just ladies Eliot liked to go out with once in a while.

Lizzie was mystified.

"Why would you want to come here without me?" she said, confidence oozing from every pore. "Of course I can come with you!"

Eliot finished his chocolate and placed the mug beside him out of the way of Gertie's whiffling lips. More than once he had found her trying her best to lick chocolate residue from the inside of one of Effie's mugs, much to the little cook's horror.

"Well … how about we ask your Momma an' Daddy first, huh," he said, returning his hand to Gertie's curls and scratching gently. Gertie gurgled happily. "And if they think you'll behave an' do as Soapy and Jo say, and do as I tell you to keep you safe … then maybe. Maybe."

Lizzie, delighted, wrapped her free arm around Eliot's and leaned into him once more.

"They'll say yes," she declared cheerily. "I know they will. And they'll want to come here on vacation too, because Alec and Parker love Wapanjara as well, and it's just wonderful here."

The two of them sat quietly for a while, Gertie's head on Eliot's lap and Lizzie curled into her best friend's uninjured side, and Eliot couldn't be more content.

"So … Wapanjara's home, is it?" he asked finally.

He felt Lizzie nod sleepily.

"Ya-huh," she replied. "I want to live here forever and ever."

"Yeah," Eliot spoke softly, his voice a rumble in his chest. "Me too. An' maybe one day I will."

"And me," Lizzie sighed blissfully.

"And you," Eliot replied, amused, and Gertie hummed.

And as they gazed at the endless reach of stars, a streak of light glittered through the heavens, fading to nothingness in an instant. And then there came another. And another.

Lizzie gasped with awe, and her eyes drank in the spark of light that came again and again, sometimes from the corner of her eye, but as her eyes adjusted to the star-glow she saw more and more.

"Look, Eliot! Falling stars!" she whispered in amazement.

"That's a meteor shower, darlin'" Eliot said, and he looked at his best girl. Her gaze shone in reflected glory as another meteor trailed through the sky. "That's the Draconids," he continued. "Alice … she had a telescope an' we'd watch out for meteor showers because we can see them so clearly out here … away from city lights. Beautiful, aren't they?"

"Oh," Lizzie breathed, the wonder of the night thrilling her and confirming in her soul what she already knew. Wapanjara was her home, and would be for the rest of her life. "Oh yes!"

And as young Elizabeth Grace Ford sat under the silent glory of the star-strewn sky, jewelled by the beauty of the glittering meteors, she finally knew what 'home' meant, and what she would place on her medicine pouch to carry over her heart.


"Pennicuik's a double agent!" Hardison declared over breakfast, his grin widening in triumph as he poured coffee.

"A … a what?" Nate asked as he squinted at the hacker, still half-asleep and looking a little rumpled. It had been lovely sleeping in a real bed at last, but the worry about Ponomarenko was cutting into his stress tolerance level.

Hardison, looking very tired but buzzing with something he had obviously found out during his night-long internet-digging, was almost quivering with eagerness.

"Pennicuik sold the whole project to Bushman, right? Blocked Dennis's patents, promoted Dartford Race's applications – which, incidentally, haven't received approval yet, but it won't be more'n a few days before that happens. He was the one who went to Bushman in the first place, okay?"

Nate shrugged as Sophie handed him a cup of coffee.

"I'm with you … so far," he added, yawning. The first sip of coffee helped as his brain tried to take in what Hardison was saying. "So the furry little fellow is the mastermind on this, not Bushman?"

"You got it," Hardison said, buttering toast. "He found Bushman's own design when he was researching Dennis's application, and knew Dennis's worked and Bushman's didn't. He's an expert on micro-computer systems an' he spotted a miniscule flaw in Bushman's ascent-descent ratio, which sent info via Bluetooth to the external computer system. Tiny … but the flaw made the system unreliable. So it was a simple thing to test the waters and see whether Dartford would be interested in screwin' with the rules an' Bushman took the bait."

"How much did he sell out for?" Sophie asked, smiling at Tom as the Australian placed crisp bacon and a generous heap of scrambled eggs on the table for everyone to help themselves.

"Three-quarters of a million Australian," Hardison added smugly. "Then …" he began before forking bacon onto his plate, "Pennicuik, the shifty little ass-wipe, discovered that Kremic was sniffing around Dartford. Obviously Bushman couldn't help himself and had begun puttin' out info that his new system was state-of-the-art and Kremic could get in at the ground floor."

Tom, back in the kitchen, bodily slid Parker sideways along the granite work surface as he set the skillet in the sink to soak. Parker huffed as she sat cross-legged and eating her cereal, because Eliot had her trained to eat over the sink so that she didn't drip milk everywhere while he cooked.

"So … Pennicuik found out and decided Bushman's money wasn't enough and decided to sell the system to Kremic as well," Tom said as he rinsed kitchen utensils. "How much money this time?"

"Man, he's a greedy, greedy ass-wipe. One-and-a-half million. Kremic will keep the system to himself and only for his riders' use. Pennicuik has already slipped Kremic's patent application into the system and will approve it as soon as Kremic agrees the deal." Hardison finished his slice of toast before he continued. "But he's gettin' jittery. Kremic headin' to New York to buy Babe Ruth's jersey threw a proverbial wrench in the works by settin' the deal back by a few days an' Pennicuik's gettin' antsy."

"So … is there anything we can do with this? Like … now? Before we head back to Alice Springs?" Nate asked, turning variables over in his head, thinking through plans and discarding them just as quickly.

Hardison helped himself to scrambled eggs.

"Um …" he shrugged, "maybe. I spoke to Becca Hines last night. She's met with Kremic an' the man wants that jersey bad. He offered half a million over the askin' price."

Tom whistled thoughtfully as he settled himself at the kitchen table and forked some bacon onto his plate.

"Money's no object, I see."

"A drop in the ocean, I expect," Sophie added thoughtfully. "I take it the sale's going through, then?"

"Yeah," Hardison agreed. "Becca's free of Kremic, and Shelley said the sale's sound. She's safe." He grinned suddenly. "Becca says to tell Eliot his friend Shelley's ass is mighty fine!"

Parker snorted happily as she rinsed her cereal bowl before sliding off the worktop and wandering over to sit beside Sophie. She poured herself a glass of mango juice and sipped it thoughtfully.

"So does that mean we have to go back to Canberra?" she asked. "To do something really nasty to Pennicuik?"

"That's the thing," Hardison continued. "Pennicuik's here, in Sydney. Remember that call he made sayin' he wanted out? The call was to Kremic. Mister Bad-McBad persuaded Pennicuik to hang on until he got back from New York, an' they're meetin' at four this afternoon at a warehouse a mile from the airport. Then Pennicuik uploads the patent approval an' heads out to Bora Bora with a couple of million dollars in an account in Panama, leavin' Kremic with the authorised and approved patent and Bushman high and dry holdin' a fake patent an' a stolen design."

Nate winced.

"Ouch. Not." His brow furrowed for a moment. "What time do we leave?"

Hardison checked his cell 'phone for the information.

"I got us a private charter at three-thirty. Why?" He narrowed his eyes. "Nate, Eliot said –"

Nate held up a placatory hand.

"I know what Eliot said, Hardison, and point taken, of course, but … I think I have an idea. One which will mean we can possibly get Dennis's patent back and not even be in Sydney while we do it."

Sophie's dark eyes were warm with anticipation.

"Do tell, my clever darling!" she said, her voice sharp now, eager to hear the plan.

Nate, rubbing his hands together, smiled slyly at the ex-policeman now paying attention to his breakfast.

"This is where we need your contacts, Tom. Are you happy to help with that?"

Tom Reid took a mouthful of scrambled eggs, swallowed, and leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He nodded calmly.

"Whatever it takes, Nate … whatever it takes."

Nate's smile widened into a feral grin.

"So," he said. "Let's go steal a double-cross!"


After breakfast, Eliot bore the never-ending cleaning and packing of his wound and also garnered a very gentle finger-flick across the uninjured side of his head from Effie for not using his sling. How the little cook had found out about it Eliot had no idea, but he had his suspicions as Lizzie sat with him, her brown eyes innocently watching him for any return of his 'wibbly-ness.' But she held his hand in hers and soothed his cheek when the pain became too bad, although he couldn't help the grunt of agony as the packing was pulled from the hole beneath his arm.

Once he was bandaged up, Jo left Lizzie to settle Eliot and ease his shaking. It was when he was in pain that the whispers usually came, and Lizzie knew it. So she spoke to him and kissed him on the end of his nose, and Derry Ryan's voice would fade to nothing and the tremors subsided. Eliot could feel Alice Jakkamarra in his heart, her laughter and warmth helping Lizzie's love for her best friend and guardian work its magic.

But this morning, Eliot decided, was the time to begin making Lizzie's medicine pouch. As Derry Ryan's voice railed threats in Eliot's head, Lizzie had told him quietly that she had decided on the design for the front of her pouch.

So with his medication taken and wearing his warm jacket and a beanie, Eliot settled stiffly at the table on the veranda as Lizzie gathered up the things she needed.

Soapy had decided to help, seeing as Eliot only had one good arm and sharp implements were being used. So he sat opposite Eliot as Lizzie placed her kangaroo skin on the table along with her ruler and a marker pen. Another trip to Eliot's room and she returned with her project book and the old tome containing the beautiful tinted engravings she had so diligently shown to Tom Reid.

Soapy was armed with a couple of razor-sharp scalpels and a cutting-board.

They were ready.

"See? This is what I decided, Grandpa Soapy!" Lizzie said, and opened her project book to a sketch she had made of the design she wanted for the front of her pouch. It consisted of a circle with six smaller circles dotted evenly around it. She had carefully coloured the sketch in a warm golden brown, and Soapy smiled when he saw it but didn't say anything.

Lizzie stuck her tongue out with effort as she carefully opened the old book to the engraving of the symbols, and pointed at a design almost identical to her own.

"There!" she said to Eliot, pointing at the symbol. "I decided on this one!"

"Uh-huh," Eliot replied solemnly, and then he gave her his Lizzie-smile, his blue eyes crinkling with pleasure. "Why that one?"

Lizzie thought about it for a second, trying to figure out how to explain her choice.

"Well," she said finally, "you told me I could maybe think about what 'home' meant to me, and I had to decide all by myself with no help. And it was really, really hard!"

She sat and stared at the pages for long moments.

"And?" Eliot prompted.

Lizzie smiled up at him, and he could see the wonder in her face.

"Y'see, because Wapanjara is my home, and I can sit outside at night and be safe and look at the sky, I decided that the stars made me feel like home. Wapanjara stars. Stars and meteors and the clouds that look like silver." She pointed at the symbol. "I chose the star. The WarWaruWarumungu star," she added, struggling with the word but thrilled with her effort when she pronounced the name perfectly. "That means that Wapanjara is always with me wherever I go."

And her eyes filled with starlight and she felt the spark of the meteors as they flooded her veins, warm and fierce with the love she felt for this place and its people.

Soapy cleared his throat and wiped his eyes, and Eliot's blood thrummed with pride. His 'Lizbeth Grace had found her place in the world, and his blue eyes shone with the joy of it.

"Okay …" he rasped without a quiver in his voice, although he didn't know how he managed it, "okay, let's get to work. Let's see your drawings, darlin'."

So Lizzie talked through her ideas about the shape of her pouch. She had decided on a simple pouch, like Eliot's, with no intricate beadwork and just drawstrings with a single bead on each one to keep it closed. It would be stitched together with fine thongs also made with the kangaroo hide, and finished with a loop long enough to hang it over her heart. Eliot suggested the loop be in two parts with a bead of some sort threaded over both lengths, with a knot placed below the bead so Lizzie could lengthen the loop as she grew bigger. Lizzie thought that was an excellent idea.

So the three of them spent the day carefully marking out the design on the hide and then Soapy very carefully cut the shapes out with a scalpel. Any irregularities were trimmed off, and by late afternoon the pieces were all ready to be assembled. The slits for the drawstrings were cut, and Lizzie sat back, satisfied.

"Will that do, d'you think, Eliot?" she asked shyly, worried in case she was doing anything wrong to upset the spirit the pouch would help keep safe. "Have I done it right?"

"Does it feel right to you?" Eliot asked, fingering the soft skin and smoothing flat the oval shapes that would be stitched together to form the body of the pouch. Then he reached out and tapped Lizzie's chest. "It's come from in here … from inside, where your wolves are. From your spirit. Let it guide you," he said softly, "and it will be everythin' you need it to be."

Lizzie absorbed every word as she gazed at the pieces. Yes, she thought. It feels right. But another thought struck her, and she pursed her lips.

"But I don't have any beads!" she exclaimed, and looked back at Eliot, who raised an eyebrow. "How can I get beads? Do I have to make them? How do I make beads?" Lizzie said, now worried that her pouch couldn't be made without them.

"I think I can help with that!" Soapy said, and shoving back his chair he disappeared into the house, only to return minutes later with an old circular tin box, much-dented and adorned with the picture of a stone bridge over a river. Soapy opened the lid and began rummaging in its depths.

Lizzie was intrigued, and it was only Eliot's slight frown that prevented her from peering into the tin. Soapy let out a grunt of satisfaction.

He looked up at Lizzie and his black eyes shone with humour.

"Remember me telling you about my great-great-grandma Lily?" Seeing Lizzie's wide-eyed nod, he continued. "Well, this is her tin of things that she gave to my grandfather just before she died."

Lizzie's eyes widened even more and she gasped. She didn't think she had ever seen such an old tin.

Soapy fished about inside, pushing aside unseen things and rustling about, and then he brought out something hidden in the palm of his hand, now fisted tight. Putting the lid back on the tin with his free hand, he laid his fist on the table and opened it for Lizzie to see what it contained.

Lizzie found herself looking at three small, oval objects, a hard, shiny red-brown in colour.

"Beads!" she breathed, and looked up at Soapy. "For my pouch?"

Soapy nodded.

"These aren't really beads, I suppose. They're Ininti seeds. Great-great-grandma Lily collected them when she was a child, oh, probably in the 1840s. She made 'em into a necklace, and she gave them to my grandfather so he could give them to the girl he married. But down through the years the string broke, I suppose, and most of the seeds were lost. But I still have a few left. Maybe … maybe you'd like them for your mukurtu."

Lizzie's mouth gaped, and she took a deep breath.

"Yes please!" she whispered, thrilled beyond belief. "Thank you, Grandpa Soapy!" And she flung her arms around the old pastoralist, hugging him so hard he could barely breathe. By the time Lizzie let go Soapy was spluttering happily even as he carefully handed the seeds to the child.

Lizzie studied the seeds closely, seeing the hole piercing them through. They were well-worn and glossy from use, but they winked warmly at her from the palm of her hand and she knew instantly that she would treasure them dearly. She glanced at Soapy.

"What's a mukurtu?" she asked, intrigued.

"Eliot's Cherokee family make medicine bags, and the Warumungu make mukurtu," Soapy explained. They're often called dilly-bags in English, and they can be quite big and used for carrying food. But the little ones are used in the same way as a medicine pouch."

Lizzie wrinkled her brow, trying to understand.

"See," Eliot spoke quietly, "it's almost like a spiritual scrapbook of your life … things you've done … places you've been that mean a lot to you … something that helps you understand who you are and where you belong."

Lizzie fingered the seeds. They had been at Wapanjara for over 150 years and had belonged to Soapy's beloved great-great-grandmother Lily, who was Warlpiri. The kangaroo skin had been lovingly cured by Auntie, and given to her as a gift so that Lizzie could make her pouch. Eliot had told her that when the pouch was finished, he would gift her something of his own as his Grandfather had done for him. And Wapanjara itself had told her where she belonged, and she would carry the stars from the night sky with her for the rest of her life.

The enormity of it all almost took Lizzie's breath away.

"Are you okay, Lizzie?" Soapy asked, concerned. The child had suddenly become very still and pale.

Lizzie jumped as though surprised.

"I … I think so, Grandpa Soapy," she replied a little shakily, and then she giggled as Eliot pulled her to him for a hug.

"I know, 'Lizbeth Grace," the hitter said gently. "Sometimes things get a bit hard to deal with - even the nice things. C'mon. Let's get tided up an' we can do the stitching tomorrow. Jo said she would show you how."

Lizzie leaned back and looked Eliot square in the eye, and for the first time since he had been shot and returned home wounded and sick, she saw how clear they were.

So she kissed him on the nose, patted his cheek and set herself to her task. Carefully putting away the pieces of her pouch into a bag, she tidied up the remnants, kissed a surprised Soapy Munro on his leathery cheek and skipped into the house to help Effie make tea.


Albert Pennicuik was fidgeting.

Sitting in the entrance area of Sydney's huge airport, he checked his watch. He had just over an hour before he met Benjamin Kremic in a small warehouse a mile away from the airport. His luggage was already checked in and all he had to do was meet the man, get his money transferred digitally as well as pass on the blueprints and approve the patent application. He had already collected his 'fee' from Bushman and handed over the useless design, so within ninety minutes, Pennicuik figured, he would be in the air and away from his boring job and his humdrum life and living the life of Riley in Bora Bora.

But this waiting was killing him. He checked his watch again. Maybe a drink would help, he thought.

As he stood up, his bag over one shoulder, a hand dropped onto his arm. Albert Pennicuik shrieked like a girl.

Turning while trying to shove the hand from his upper arm, he came face to face with a stocky, fair-haired man with a stubbly beard and wearing the worst Hawaiian shirt he had ever seen. The man grinned at him cheerily.

"Hey there, mate!" the man said. "Remember me?"

Pennicuik blinked. Yes … yes, he knew who the man was now. He was the slobby fellow who had accused Pennicuik of seducing his daughter.

"Oh! Oh … um … yes, yes, I remember you!" he replied, and saw the man had his other arm around a tall, elegant, dark-haired woman with beautiful brown eyes. On his other side stood a slender blonde girl who grinned at him eerily. "I, ah … I see you found your daughter."

"Too bloody right!" the man replied. "This is my wife, Elsie, and this is my girl," he continued, gesturing at the young woman. "My Beryl!" he said, pride in every word.

"Well now," Elsie simpered, reaching out a well-manicured hand to shake Pennicuik's, "what a lovely soul you are for not reporting my Alf to the coppers!" she added, her broad Queensland accent making Pennicuik wince. "You're a bloody prince, so you are!" Pennicuik shook the proffered hand limply, not really knowing what to do but unable to excuse himself without being rude.

Alf nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah," he muttered, dropping his eyes to his shoes in embarrassment, "What a ruddy wally I was, hey! The silly little cow was back at home all the time! Sorry about that, mate!"

Pennicuik murmured a quick 'no, really, I quite understand' before glancing at his watch once more.

Alf turned to his daughter who was staring at Pennicuik with an unnerving intensity in her blue eyes.

"Beryl! Give the nice man a hug, why dontcha! You nearly got him into a right bloody uproar with the coppers, you silly trollop!"

Beryl let out a little shriek of delight and launched herself at Pennicuik, and he suddenly found himself with an armful of wriggling blonde female. She hugged the wits out of him for what seemed a lifetime, and then she let him go and stepped back. Then she leaned forward and gave the little man a smacking kiss on the cheek, almost as an afterthought.

"Righto," Alf said. "We're off to Brisbane to see the in-laws. Thanks again, mate. You're an absolute brick!"

And before Pennicuik could reply, the three of them were gone, heading for the domestic flights terminal.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Pennicuik checked his bag. His passport, paperwork and tablet were all there, as was his in-flight reading matter. Another check on the time meant he still had eighty minutes to go before he met Kremic.

Shaking off the shock of meeting Alf and his horrendous family, Pennicuik decided that a stiff drink really was in order, so neatening his tie which was a little askew, he looked for the nearest bar where he could settle down and wait.

To be continued …