Stockman’s Stormcloud (Stockmen #3)

Twelve

Hat on his head, wind in his face, even with the mask on, Dex was back in the saddle, living the dream once again. In the back seat of the Razorback, towing a whopping big trailer that held a crocodile cage, they followed a dirt track that travelled from the sheds, tucked behind the caretaker’s cottage, and into an open field full of lush Mitchell grass, with assorted tufts of wild oats, sorghum, couch grasses, even wild rice. Not only was it the perfect grazing feed for producing healthy stock, but it was also fully fenced into sections, with plenty of water points in a network of troughs, and none of his brothers, including Dex, knew about it. This was all covered by the caretaker’s caveat.

He’d been so busy with their never-ending list of projects to get this property back on its feet, he hadn’t had a chance to explore this side of the station. None of his brothers had. ‘What is this paddock called?’

‘Drover’s Rest. Or as I like to call it: stock school .’ Charlie nodded at the land with pride.

The map they had up at the farmhouse had no names, just numbers for paddocks, unlike Charlie’s older maps. ‘Can I get a copy of your map, the one with the names to paddocks?’

‘Sure.’ Charlie nodded with his stockman’s hat. ‘Bree’s got a copier up at the house.’

‘So, what’s my paddock called?’ They passed a barbed-wire fence, through the cattle grid and open gate, where assorted blue and pink wildflowers grew along the edges catching the morning dew.

‘ Dead Dog’s Swamp .’ Charlie grinned at him. ‘Got any idea what you’re gonna do with it?’

‘Nope.’ Dex hadn’t even thought about it, even though each brother had agreed to pick a paddock to run their own experiments to see if their ideas would work on the rest of the station. Ash was busy trialling water trough gauges, drones and automatic gates for his paddock, while also testing his new hi-tech cattle tags. Cap was turning his paddock into a native oasis that had the neighbouring cattle already pushing against Ash’s fences. Ryder had yet to choose a paddock to run his trials.

Dex had only picked his paddock while loaded with bourbon, playing pin the tail on the station’s map—and he hadn’t even looked at it. ‘I’ve been busy fixing the drafting yards and grading the roads.’ Oomph. The bump in the dirt track sent red-hot pain to radiate through his ribs, and he keeled over, wincing as stars pushed on the periphery of his eyes. Breathe, brother.

‘Sorry. I felt that.’ Bree slowed right down as she steered the Razorback across the open field. ‘I should take you back.’

‘No. Keep going.’ Dex pulled down the mask to meet the invigorating smell of dawn that blended with crisp sweet hay. He loved that smell.

From the driver’s seat Bree glanced over her shoulder. ‘Oi! Mask, Stormcloud.’

‘I’m good.’ Hell yeah, with the pain passing, and the wind in his face, he slipped the mask back on and braced his ribs as they tore through some incredible cattle country. An occasional flurry of small grey pigeons fled skyward from their nesting places among the grassy stems, as Bree steered them deeper into this wide field.

‘Have you, I mean, have we got any cattle in this paddock?’ He was part owner of this land that stretched further than the eye could see.

‘Nah,’ replied Charlie. ‘Darcie’s son cleaned this paddock out first, the mongrel.’

‘It’s a good paddock.’

‘It’s a pearler, for sure.’ From the front passenger seat, Charlie nodded under his well-worn stockman’s hat, his grey eyes scanning the vast horizon of open cattle country with not one beast spotted anywhere. ‘You can thank Darcie’s mother, the matron of the family. Tough as nails she was, even in her final years, she’d walk this paddock every morning, throwing assorted grass seeds like she was feeding chickens. She lived in the cottage until she moved on. Ol’ Granny Darcie never liked the farmhouse they built for Darcie’s dad when he got married.’

‘Hold on, Dex.’ Bree shifted gears, and they approached a wall of trees, where the track dipped steeply into a floodway. Water churned under the beefy tyres as the temperature dropped, while the sky became hidden under a blanket of trees.

‘Welcome to Scary Forest.’ Charlie sounded like an outback tour operator. ‘And this here is Leviathan Creek. Don’t let the looks fool you, lad, she runs like a river in the wet season to cut off the floodway by the front gate. You remember that floodway, don’t you, lad?’

‘Don’t remind me.’ It was where Dex couldn’t drive any further because of the pain in his ribs. Right now, he forced himself to ignore the pain, because he chose to be here, and craned his neck at the monsoon forest’s thick clusters of tangled vines, and interlocking branches that blocked the light.

The forest’s floor was thick with moss-covered trunks, assorted ground ferns and aromatic leaf litter, with orange-footed scrub fowl busily digging to unearth the bugs beneath.

Above them a group of screeching fruit bats feasted on red berries from palm trees so tall he couldn’t see their crowns. Dominant evergreen trees towered over thirty metres tall.

Bree flicked on the Razorback’s lights, while steering them along the curvy track that was part of the creek bed.

Green ringneck parrots and rainbow lorikeets flew overhead, as a flock of large black cockatoos gorged on the nut kernels on the distinctive layered branches of a native Indian almond tree. He had to thank his time with Cap for knowing the names of the trees and the wildlife. His brother would love this place.

‘Look.’ Bree pointed ahead, where they got the rare privilege of spotting a group of ghost bats, flying from one trunk to another.

‘I haven’t seen one of them in decades. They roost in caves, right?’

‘You’ll find some in the Stoneys. This group hang at Cattleman’s Keep, where there’s plenty of caves for them to roost.’ Charlie pointed to a gap in the trees, where he could barely make out the red earthy escarpment that was the border of their land.

‘I can’t believe this is here.’ It was a rare wet monsoon rainforest that he had to admit was like paradise, complete with the yellow eyes from a pair of barking owls staring down at him.

To think, they weren’t even ten minutes from the caretaker’s cottage.

No wonder Bree rode her horse through here in the mornings. He would, too. ‘Who called it Scary Forest? You, Bree?’

‘My mother.’

Well, that killed the conversation, knowing that Bree’s father had murdered her mother.

Effortlessly shifting through the gears, Bree handled the Razorback like she’d been driving it all her life. Which she probably had, considering she lived with her grandparents for most of it. The engine roared as they began the steep climb out of the rocky creek bed.

The soft dawn light greeted them as they climbed up and out the other side, to weave their way through the large thicket of paperbark trees that made up the dried-out swamp. The rich terracotta soils magically contrasted against the pale trunks of the peeling paperbarks that stood beneath a pale blue sky.

Again, the landscape changed, giving way to a massive field of magnetic termite mounds, reminding him of a giant’s graveyard, each standing taller than a man, but barely wider than a tombstone, their shadows stretching across the black soil plains.

From there they followed a dusty track, until Bree parked the Razorback on the crest among the dry grasses that were like soft creamy hay, with a view of the sky.

‘Did you really ride your horse all the way out here?’ Dex hobbled off the vehicle, wincing as his lungs burned like fire.

‘No. I took us the long way around.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s a pretty day to play tourist.’ Bree paused from untying the back trailer’s ropes to inhale a lungful of air and gaze at the endless countryside.

Dex wanted to fill his lungs up too, but they squeezed against him like his body had gone on strike. And he hated the oxygen tank he had to drag along, with its stupid little wheels tangling in the dry grasses. He gave up moving. ‘Why here?’

‘It’s easier to drop the crocodile trap here.’

If his lungs were working, he’d be helping Bree to unhook the ropes from the large rectangular cage, sturdy enough to hold a monster that could crush a man’s head like an ice cube. ‘Did you make this croc cage, Charlie?’

‘Bree and I did.’

‘So you’ve done this before?’

‘Couple of times. We used to just shoot them when I was younger.’

‘That’s how you got your leather hatband.’

Charlie tapped the brim of his well-worn hat. ‘And I got a good set of crocodile boots and belt from that creature, too.’

‘You know, they’re a protected species.’

‘It shouldn’t have bit me, then.’

‘Who are you going to tell, Mr Illegal Street Fighter?’ asked Bree.

‘We don’t kill ‘em anymore,’ Charlie said. ‘We mainly catch salties to protect their cousins, the freshwater crocodiles.’

Charlie pushed through the dry grasses that brushed his knees and walked to the verge where he pointed to the wide waterhole. A large cattle carcass floated on the surface, only to be dragged underwater leaving a pool of expanding ripples. ‘Crikey. Carked-it’s gotten big if he’s dragged that steer down.’

‘Is this the part where I say I told you so ,’ said Bree, standing beside them. ‘Can’t fish in here for a while.’

‘Are those ours?’ Dex pointed beyond the glistening waterhole, to the white dots scattered across the landscape of wide, open fields.

Charlie nodded, as his sun-hardened skin crinkled around his eyes. ‘Dusty diamonds, eh, lad?’ He patted Dex’s shoulder.

It was a herd of Brahman. ‘I didn’t know we had them.’

‘I’m sure I told you mob that you had a few scrubbers bashing through the brush.’

‘You did, but that…’ The decent-sized herd was more than a few . ‘How?’ Breathe, brother.

‘Don’t you worry none, them grass puppies all come a-lookin’ for water this time of the year. And that’s when we muster them up like throwing out a butterfly net. In a few weeks, that mob will be ready for mustering.’

Dex made a mental note to tell his brothers. ‘How many head?’

‘Bree? You’ve been overseeing this mob.’

At the trailer, Bree hammered large trolley wheels into the base of the crocodile cage. ‘You’re just shy of eleven hundred head in this area.’

Dex’s eyes widened, as he adjusted his hat as if to help him see the dots of white scattered throughout the valley. ‘Why didn’t you say anything, Bree?’

‘Did you ask?’

‘Did you hide these, too?’ He scowled at Bree, who gave him that evil grin.

‘Nah, the kid played drover, and played hide and seek—’

‘Pop,’ warned Bree. ‘Don’t give all our secrets away.’

‘But you did.’ Charlie chuckled as he hitched his jeans higher. ‘You see, lad, them flamin’ overpaid contract musterers Darcie’s son hired never bothered going through Scary Forest. Not after Bree told their Aboriginal stockmen, who’d come from New South Wales, that it was a sacred site for secret women’s business. They refused to go near the place after that. Then Bree drove what cattle she could deep into Scary Forest, right before she helped me muster that other mob into Wombat Flats.’

‘How long did you keep that herd in Scary Forest for?’

‘Not long. As soon them contract musterers’ left, after stripping the place bare, Bree drove them back out here where they belonged.’

‘You’re my hero, Bree. You should make yourself a monument out of steel for the smithy’s shed.’

‘Don’t get too excited, Stormcloud,’ said Bree, coiling up the long rope then tossing it back into the trailer. ‘This valley used to hold ten thousand head with room for more.’

‘How do we get out there?’ The trek from the caretaker’s cottage had been a challenge.

‘You come in off Emu Plains.’

He knew Emu Plains. Not only was it on the way to the Stoneys, it also kissed the edge of their newly fenced laneway to the drafting yards.

‘Now do you understand why we need to get rid of Carked-it?’ She nodded at the cattle peppered in the valley.

‘Hell, yeah.’ Besides protecting human life, they had another herd, that Bree and her grandfather were protecting. ‘So how do we do this?’

‘You do nothing, bubble boy.’ Bree picked up his oxygen tank and its stupid trolley, pushing down the grass to widen the path, making it easier for him to follow her to the shade of a nearby gum tree. ‘You can supervise, not that we’d listen.’

‘You can’t lift that cage on your own.’

‘That’s why I added these nifty little wheels, to wheel it around like a trolley. It’s not our first crocodile hunt.’

It was his, as a station owner, yet he couldn’t do a damned thing to help.

‘Lad, you’ve gotta remember, Bree and I have been out here on our own for a while now, doing our best to keep this place goin’. And, as much as we appreciate you wanting to help, you need to look after your health. I should know, what with my tricky ticker.’ Charlie patted his shoulder and helped carry the oxygen tanks closer to the tree. ‘So, could you kindly play overseer by sticking here in the shade?’

Dex hated this. He was a hands-on guy who didn’t mind getting dirty. But as he laboured for air with his lungs squeezing like broken glass, he was stuck leaning against the trunk of a tree, forced to play the unhappy spectator.

With Charlie guiding Bree, she backed the trailer down to the edge of the waterhole. Bree climbed onto the cage and used some chain to attach the large pig leg inside the cage. She raised the door, and then with Charlie’s help they pushed it into the large watering hole and watched it settle until the ripples disappeared, leaving the top of the cage door open, while Bree dragged the length of chain to wrap around a cluster of saplings.

‘I’m guessing you’re treating that croc cage like a boat. Anchoring it to those trees.’

‘Unless you want to take a swim and check on the bait.’ Bree grinned as she tucked the ratchet straps under the back bench seats of the Razorback. ‘I’ll come back in the morning and check it. Not that I expect much for a while, especially since Carked-it has that carcass to keep him entertained, and he’s cunning with traps. But later today, I’ll cut off his food supply and muster the mob closer to Koala Creek for water. What do you think, Pop?’

‘Good call. Our stockhorses could do with a workout. If that’s all right with you, lad? You bein’ station owner and all.’

‘If I didn’t have this issue,’ Dex said, kicking the side of an oxygen tank, ‘I’d be helping.’

‘We can handle it. Don’t you worry yourself, lad, your herd is in good hands. I reckon we take the horse truck, kid?’

Bree nodded, still dressed in her mustering clothes. ‘But first we should take Dex back, before the hospital sends out their medico to torture him.’

‘Ugh.’ Dex didn’t want to go back to that couch. He preferred being outdoors, watching the sun spread its rays over the valley where a herd of cattle shone in the field, just like dusty diamonds, as Charlie called them.

This is why he was a stockman. It’s why he entered those bare-knuckle street fights to pay for this small pocket of paradise. ‘Can’t we just sit here for a bit?’

In a rare moment of empathy, Bree nodded, with her green eyes softening as she faced the horizon that went further than the eye could see. All of it was Elsie Creek Station. It was his home.

But then Bree surprised him when she leaned over and turned off his oxygen tank with a wink. ‘You’ll be wearing that mask for the drive back.’

Ripping of his mask, he wanted to hug her. But Dex didn’t hug anyone. He hadn’t been a hugger for a long time. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged anyone.

Oh, yes, he did.

But he didn’t want to. Clenching his jaw, he pressed his hand against his rib cage to purposely unleash the pain of the present to forget the pain of his past.

‘Hey, Pop? Do you reckon you could make us one of your billy teas? A proper one? I’ve got the billy can and some tea leaves with me.’ Bree rummaged under the driver’s seat of the Razorback to drag out the well-used billy tin and three tin mugs. ‘It won’t take much to scrounge around for some kindling to start the fire for coals. Just be sure to stay clear of the smoke, Stormcloud.’

‘Aw, you’re a gem, you are, kid. Makin’ my day into one like diamonds, for sure.’ Charlie gleefully rubbed his palms together. ‘We’ll have ourselves a proper bushman’s billy tea, we will. Dex, I might even show you the knack to swinging the billy the way my old man taught me. It’s an art, you know.’

‘I’d like that, Charlie.’ Free from his oxygen mask, Dex adjusted his hat, and with his thumbs hooking through the belt loops of his jeans, he admired the land, where the water sparkled under the rising sun.

It was then, as if time paused, he pushed through the pain to take in a deep breath of fresh, outback air. It was his first full lungful of air.

Charlie was right, days like these were like diamonds.