Stockman’s Stormcloud (Stockmen #3)

Thirteen

Day three of home detention and Dex wanted to throw the pesky alarm clock out the window, slamming it silent once again. He’d been napping and sat up and did his breathing exercises like he was doing some dumb meditation.

‘You’re getting better at that, lad.’ Charlie leaned back against the kitchen counter. ‘You’re sitting up quicker than you did yesterday.’

‘I’m feeling better.’ Yet getting off the super comfy couch was still a challenge. ‘Where’s Bree?’ His evil taskmaster.

‘In the smithy’s shed. Working on orders.’

A deep bark from the ex-police dog echoed across the yard.

‘That’s Sarge.’ The shepherd was the homestead’s best alarm system.

Charlie scooted to the front door as the crunch and pop of gravel under a set of car tyres rolled to a stop.

Was it Sophie?

Dex looked at the old grandfather clock on the wall. He wasn’t expecting Sophie for a few hours. As much as he didn’t want to, he was looking forward to seeing her again and playing Battleship. It killed the hours. And she was nice to look at, compared to the four stone walls and Bree’s witchy kitchen of coloured jars and hanging herbs.

‘It’s the po-po.’

‘Who?’

‘Policeman Porter. ’

‘What does he want?’ Having the cops around wasn’t exactly comfortable for Dex, considering he participated in an illegal sport. ‘Charlie, we have to be careful about what we tell Porter.’

‘Behave, boy, it’s not my first rodeo,’ said the ex-rodeo champion, hobbling out to the front porch. ‘Got the billy on if you want a cuppa, Porter.’

‘Sounds goods.’ The police officer removed his hat as he came inside. ‘Hey, Dex. What happened to you?’

‘Farming accident,’ blurted out Charlie. ‘We’ve got Bree fixing his place up. Lad’s crashing on the couch until then.’

‘Best couch in the world, isn’t it?’

Dex had to agree. ‘What brings you out?’

‘Well…’ Porter pulled out a chair at the dining table.

Charlie took only a few seconds to put a teapot on the table, a set of plates and mugs, and opened a tin that held a slab of cake. ‘Dig in, boys. Bree made it for us to eat and not look at it.’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Even if they didn’t do coffee in this house to not tempt Charlie with his tricky ticker, the old stockman knew how to brew a good full-bodied bushman’s tea that went perfectly with Bree’s cake.

Porter opened a folder. ‘I wanted to let you know that the original case file for Operation Stoney Silence arrived from archives the other day.’

‘The what operation?’ asked the ex-hospital patient, arching his eyebrows at the cop seated at the end of the table.

‘It’s the code name for the murder case.’ Porter shrugged. ‘I called it that because you found that car, Pandora, in the Stoneys. And this case has been silent for over sixty years.’

‘I get it.’ Charlie rubbed his scruffy chin as if deep in thought, only to nod. ‘I like it.’

‘Now I’ve been through the file, I have questions. Which is why I’m here. I’ve reopened the case—’

‘Obviously, if you renamed it,’ mumbled Dex, taking a mouthful of cake. Heck Bree could cook. He was eating like a king, yet living like a pauper on the couch.

‘—and I’ ve run an initial search for Penelope Price.’

‘She was married to Jack Price.’

‘Is that the guy that got murdered?’ Dex gave a shrug. ‘I don’t know the details.’ All he knew was a murder had been committed at Elsie Creek Station sixty-odd years ago, and that it involved Charlie’s older brother, Harry.

Porter nodded, producing some black-and-white photos from the file, plus a few in colour. ‘That’s Jack Price. And that’s Penelope Price.’

‘Hey, that’s my brother, Harry.’ Charlie looked devastated, as if the grief rolled over him like a black cloak.

Dex didn’t know these people, but he recognised the station’s sheds, the farmhouse, and the caretaker’s cottage without the garden and long, corrugated fence.

‘Did you find anything new?’ Charlie’s weary eyes sparked with hope.

‘Sorry, Charlie. Penelope seems to have disappeared just like your brother, Harry.’

‘If Charlie’s brother is wanted for murder,’ said Dex, ‘it would’ve been easy to hide in those days. Did they even have security cameras back then? All I know of the sixties is women wore miniskirts.’ It would have been nice living in a world without big brother watching over his shoulder, like Dex had to deal with in his line of work.

‘We’re talking about the other end of the sixties, lad. Colour photographs weren’t that common, and miniskirts weren’t a regular thing until around 1966. I remember that time well.’ Charlie sighed wistfully over his tea mug. ‘And there was no such thing as an eft-possy-what-not machine back then, either.’

‘Which makes it nearly impossible to find anything new about this cold case.’ Porter rubbed at his forehead, the frustration showing. ‘My sergeant has suggested that I check out the crime scene, which is why I’m here. I want to take a fresh set of images and take new metric measurements. Everything in the original file is in inches and feet. I could do with a hand, Dex?’

‘Nah, the lad’s injured. He’s gotta drag that oxygen tank around with him like a shopping cart.’

Dex scowled—yes, he scowled once again, feeling like himself. ‘I’m not helpless.’

‘Dex can hold a tape measure. And he’s mechanically minded. I’m not good with measurements.’ Porter shrugged at Dex. ‘Maths wasn’t my thing. But I’ve seen how easily you can calculate the ratios on car engines and work out their fuel consumption in seconds, back when I was here giving Pandora that roadworthy test.’

‘I can do that. And don’t you say no, Charlie. You’re not my old man.’ No one was Dex’s boss.

‘Hmph. And what will I do?’ grumbled the old stockman. ‘Play tea lady?’

‘You can both help me.’ Porter dragged out a notebook and clicked his pen.

‘Well, let’s go then.’ Charlie pushed up from his seat.

‘Slow down, Charlie. I’m re-interviewing the witnesses—those I can find—and I thought I’d start with you.’

The old stockman plonked heavily into his seat. ‘Sure, ask me anything.’

Again, Porter clicked on his pen, all official like. ‘Did you know Harry was having an affair with a married woman?’

‘Nope. If I did, I would’ve walloped some sense into him. Even if Harry was my older brother, I would’ve beat him.’

The only member of Dex’s family that he couldn’t beat was Ryder. Only because his older brother had some sneaky military moves and had the advantage of reading Dex like a darned book. One day he hoped to win the title—just not today. And not with a stinking oxygen tank sitting beside his leg like a dog.

Which reminded him, Nurse Kitty was expecting the second tank to be almost empty. He did some quick mental calculations and estimated he had just over nine hours of oxygen left to consume. Which should make Nurse Kitty happy.

Even if he wasn’t happy, slipping on the stuffy oxygen mask, meeting Porter’s look of pity with a scowl. Nurse Kitty, he could handle. It was Bree who’d be on his back if he didn’t follow doctor’s orders.

‘Do you remember these people, Charlie?’ Porter showed more images of strangers.

Charlie took a long look at the photo of a woman in her early thirties. She was pretty, but nothing like Nurse Kitty.

Hmm, would Nurse Kitty purr like a domesticated kitty? Or could he get her to bring out her claws like a fierce feline and have her scream his name while he got savage and— Flipping hell. He wiped his brow as if to rid his mind of the thought.

Sophie was sneaking into his head a lot more than she should. Especially when he’d sworn to steer clear of women. Period.

‘Penelope Price was an older woman. Quiet thing she was.’ Charlie put the photo back on the table. It sat beside an image of a man wearing an old-style Akubra, with a sun-hardened, no-nonsense look about him. ‘Mrs Price did the cleaning for the farmhouse and some camp cooking when needed. Her husband, Jack, was head stockman and a tough taskmaster. He ruled our stock camp—and his household—with his fists, if you get my drift.’

‘Jack hit his wife?’ Policeman Porter arched an eyebrow.

‘We couldn’t do nothin’ back then.’ Charlie gave a shameful shrug. ‘Me and Harry, even Darcie, had heard it a few times when they lived here in the cottage. When we spoke to Darcie’s old man, he said it was none of our business what went on between a husband and wife. Back then, that was law.’

‘Where were you living if Penelope and Jack Price were here in this cottage?’

‘At Dex’s place, the stockman’s shack. Hey, those girls cleaned it up already. Bree’s got the first coat on the walls.’

Dex dropped his head, to bite back the groan. The woman had taken over his life. Bree was his torturer, not his girlfriend. How could Sophie think such a thing ?

‘So, you were working with Jack before he died?’ Porter asked, while scribbling down notes.

‘Lemme see…’ Charlie leaned back in his seat, rubbing his jawline as he stared at the ceiling. ‘I remember it was the year when the Indigenous got the right to vote. Robert Menzies was prime minister, and the Northern Territory wasn’t a territory but still part of South Australia.’ Charlie sat forward, leaning his forearms on the table. ‘And just before Harry disappeared in November, we’d listened to Essendon beat Carlton in the VFL on the radio. I won a stack on Even Stevens in the Melbourne Cup. Australia won thirty-eight gold medals in the Commonwealth Games in Perth. And that sweet girl, Marilyn Monroe, died of a drug overdose, so they say. I still reckon she was murdered, you know.’

‘Nothing wrong with your memory, then.’ Porter gave a grin.

‘Nah, just the ticker.’ Charlie patted at his heart. ‘I remember we had a terrible drought that year, too.’

‘Drought? In the top end.’ Dex didn’t believe it, considering it rained six months of the year.

‘Two years in a row we had weak wet seasons, in between a couple of long dry seasons. We were lucky Darcie’s old man had a stack of turkey nests set to get us through. Then he had us redoing Starvation Dam and we’d make new bores every year after that. It’s why we have seventy-odd bores now. I’ve got a map here that I’d give to the bore runners.’ Charlie rummaged through his paperwork. ‘There.’ It was another map of the station, showing a lot of X marks with a number to represent the bores, and dotted lines for main tracks. ‘Which reminds me to get you your map, lad. I’ll get Bree to copy this one, too.’

Dex nodded as he leaned in closer to the map.

‘What do you mean by turkey nests?’ Porter asked.

‘Short-term reservoirs to catch the wet season rains.’ Dex then asked Charlie, ‘they didn’t turn into mosquito swamps?’

‘Nah. They kept us going, but. Unlike some of the neighbours, who were selling off stock at sawdust prices to get them through. But in a time of drought, you’ll get a lot of hot heads.’

‘That’s no excuse for murder,’ mumbled Porter, clicking his pen.

Charlie leaned in closer to the cop. ‘Have you seen what happens in a drought, lad? The soil gets as hard as concrete, where it’ll crack open like it’d been left in the oven too long. Nothing grows. All you see is a sky of scavenger birds, and a haze of heat across the horizon where everyone is begging for shade… But then when the rains did finally come, all that water ran off like it had landed on Teflon. None of it soaked into the soil like you’d expect. Let’s hope Cap’s regeneration thingy stops all that.’

‘It will. I have faith in my brothers.’ All of Dex’s brothers had a special talent. Ash with his patented tech tools. Cap with his regenerative projects, native nursery, and muster dogs. Ryder was the bank and the business brains. Which left Dex scrambling for a unique way to make a positive impact on this station. He needed to be something more than play as the grader driver.

It’s why he pushed himself so much with the bare-knuckle fights for the hefty payouts. Dex wanted to own his quarter share of the place, to have equal voting rights, especially against Ryder. Dex did not want his big brother as his boss. No one was his boss.

Charlie spread out the black-and-white images across the table as if creating a collage. ‘Harry had worked for us before, but then he decided to go off and play football, while doing line work for the Post Office. He set up the telephone lines in this place. But with the drought the work dried up, so Harry came back to crash on my couch to work the muster.’

‘Hold on…’ Porter flicked back through his notebook. ‘You told me that Harry worked for the telephone company.’

‘Yeah, that’s right. The Post Office was the telephone company. They didn’t separate the telco company until 1975.’ Charlie sighed, cupping his tea mug in two hands to take a shaky sip. ‘That’s what bothered me the most, you know. I never understood why Harry never left me a message. With his know-how of both the telegraph and the telephones, Harry knew how to get a message to me. But he never did.’

‘Maybe Harry didn’t want to get you involved,’ suggested Dex. ‘Especially if he killed that man and ran off with his wife.’

‘Did you know they were a couple?’ Porter shifted the images of Harry and Penelope to lay them side by side across the table. ‘All of the other witness statements claim that no one knew about the affair.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘I was out mustering with Darcie when his old man came out and told us Jack had been murdered and that my brother had run off with Penelope. I couldn’t believe it.’

‘Was it possible for your brother to have an affair with this woman without anyone knowing about it?’

‘Well, Harry was always a bit of a flirt. I did hear him call her Pen a few times, and I pulled him up on that. She was always Mrs Price to us. Jack would’ve thumped us if we didn’t show his wife respect.’

‘You didn’t think anything of it then?’

‘No. I wasn’t my brother’s babysitter, when I spent most of my time with my best mate, Darcie where we’d go out hunting or fishing a lot. Harry could’ve snuck out and seen Penelope whenever her husband wasn’t around. As head stockman, Jack was always first in the saddle, ready to ride at dawn, and the last one in at sunset.’

‘Just not a good husband, by the sounds of it,’ mumbled Porter as he scribbled down his notes.

‘Look, I didn’t know their business.’ Charlie frowned at the policeman. ‘Back then, it was none of our business of what happened between a husband and his wife, and like I said, mate, it was law.’

‘I know, Charlie.’ Porter patted the old man’s shoulder, instantly defusing his bitter mood. ‘Would your brother had hid the affair from you on purpose? Knowing you wouldn’t approve. ’

‘Probably.’ The old man shrugged. ‘Havin’ a pretty woman on a cattle station was a rarity back in those days. I know I had to bop a few cocky ringers flirtin’ with my wife, in my time. But Darcie and I avoided Mrs Penelope Price. We were young, and I valued my job. And like I said, Jack Price ruled with iron fists. But he was well-respected as head stockman on this station. In fact, Jack helped me learn to rodeo. He set up a ring for breaking in brumbies, to teach us technique. Together Jack and I built this special rodeo rocker we kept under the trees.’ The aged rodeo champion shared a heavy sigh. ‘I never went back to an Elsie Creek rodeo after Jack passed…’

‘Charlie, if your brother hid the affair from you, how many other secrets did he hide?’ Dex understood the power of keeping secrets, considering he had plenty of his own that he shared with no one, especially with his brothers. But he was pretty sure Ryder had his fair share of secrets, too.

‘I’m guessing Harry had a few.’ Porter shuffled the papers together and closed the police file. ‘But I’d like to check out the crime scene.’