Stockman’s Stormcloud (Stockmen #3)

Eighteen

The light flickered on in the kitchen, forcing Dex to wake on Bree’s couch with a start. He’d be lucky if he’d had a few hours’ sleep, if that.

‘Morning, lad.’ Charlie turned on a tap to fill his kettle as part of his morning routine.

Dex rubbed his eyes, then squinted up at the grandfather clock. It was four in the morning. ‘Why are you up so early?’

‘Got a mate coming out.’ As the kettle boiled, Charlie plonked the large electric juicer on the bench, then pulled out a plastic container from the fridge.

Oh, no. It was juicing day again.

Charlie read from a piece of paper. ‘Says here on this note from Bree to give you half this juice.’

‘She didn’t?’

‘Read it for yourself.’

Morning, Pop.

No need to bottle the extra mix today, because I’d like you to share the juice mix with Dex. If he argues, tell him his pills are potent and we’re trying to save his liver. And if he still argues about it, which he will, show him this note or tell him the quicker he heals the quicker he can get off our couch, and the juice will help with that.

Also, don’t worry about waking me. I went out for the night and will be back sometime today.

Bree. x x

‘That juice mix is good stuff. I’m surprised my granddaughter hasn’t given it to you sooner.’ Charlie scrutinised Dex’s figure. ‘Bree’s right, it won’t be long, and you’ll be off that couch. You look better already, lad.’

‘I feel it. The rib is still a bother.’ He stretched his spine. Even though he was holding his hand on the rib, it was manageable, and he was breathing easier than yesterday.

Last night, Bree had packed her copper still onto the trailer, then hid it under a tarp. In what Bree called the murder room, she used a blower to get rid of all the dust and cobwebs, cleaning it up nicely, as promised. Then she closed off the hidden room, removing all traces of them ever being there.

But then Bree kicked him out of the passenger seat at the front door of the cottage, and went on her merry way at two in the morning in that despicable yellow van that truly did glow in the dark.

A dog barked, and a car pulled up out front of the cottage. A car door creaked, and a voice hollered. ‘You awake, Charlie.’

‘Door’s open, Lenny. Just in time for some juice.’

‘Morning.’ He cleaned his shoes on the mat, carrying a scroll of paper and a cake box. ‘You must be Dex. I’m Lenny.’ He held out his hand to shake Dex’s. Lenny was a skinny man in his early fifties, who reeked of cigarette smoke.

‘Lenny is the chef at the pub and my fossicking partner,’ explained Charlie.

‘I brought cupcakes for Bree. She around?’ Lenny put the cake box on the bench.

‘Nah. Out somewhere. But she’ll love you forever. That kid loves her cupcakes.’ Charlie peeked under the box lid.

‘What are you fossicking for?’ Dex could smell the rich chocolate coming from the cake box.

‘Gold, lad. Gold.’ Charlie grinned, flicking on the juicer that obliterated fruit and vegetables in seconds. It sounded like a chainsaw in his ears, killing all conversation.

‘Now, hang on a sec, before you start some gold rush…’ Le nny shook his head at Charlie. His accent was Eastern European or something. ‘I thought you got me here to map out the Stoneys?’

‘And to do some fossicking while we’re out there. You never know.’ Charlie bobbed his eyebrows up and down, adding a special canister of powders into the juice mix that he stirred like a cocktail, then poured the green juiced gunk into tall glasses. ‘Didn’t you say you had a plan for mapping the place out?’

‘I do.’ Lenny unrolled a large map across the table. ‘Our aim is to work grid by grid and cross it off.’

‘Where did you get that?’ Dex pointed at the map of the area that included Elsie Creek Station, the town of Elsie Creek, and the wider region. But it had various colours over certain areas.

‘This is from the mining geologist who stays at the pub now and again. It’s his geological map of minerals for this area. He called it soil mapping.’

‘Does it show the new lithium mine they’re trying to start next door?’ Dex leaned in for a better look.

‘Here.’ Lenny tapped on the page. ‘This soil map shows the concentrates of lithium all along this ridge.’

‘That’s all cattle country.’ Which included Dex’s neighbours.

‘Did you know Australia produces nearly half of the globe’s entire supply of lithium?’

Dex shook his head.

‘After hearing about your troubles for water rights, my boss decided to find out how they mine the lithium. It’s not nice either.’

‘Who’s your boss?’ Dex asked.

‘The publican, lad,’ replied Charlie. ‘All the locals call her God. She knows everything that happens in the town of Elsie Creek, that her family started.’

‘Hey, how did we get the name Elsie Creek Station when we’re an hour away from town? The Station Hand said it was because one of our rivers is the headwaters into Elsie Creek. ’

‘Yeah—nah, it was a bet.’ Charlie chuckled, as he pulled the juicer apart to clean it.

‘So the Station Hand was wrong?’

‘Nah. It’s true about the river, but the bet is why.’

Dex scratched his head confused. ‘Lemme guess, there’s a story to it.’

‘Too right, there is,’ said the old storyteller, hitching up his jeans. ‘And the story goes that the first overseer to purchase the land that was to become Elsie Creek Station was staying in town, flirting with the original Elsie. Her husband was the first stationmaster, who’d named the town after her.’

‘Is this going to take long?’ Lenny dragged out a chair and sat heavily at the table.

‘Oi, be nice to the lad. It’s his property we’re going to map out.’ Charlie frowned at Lenny. ‘Don’t mind, Lenny. He’s always cranky, usually with another hangover.’ Charlie finished cleaning the juicer, and let it drain in the sink. ‘Anyhoodle, the original overseer for this station was sweet on Elsie.’

‘You said that already,’ mumbled Lenny, resting his chin on his hands with his elbows on the table.

‘I’m telling the story, not you.’ Charlie wagged his finger at Lenny. ‘Anyhoodle, it was the year 1910, and the overseer and his mustering mob were stuck at the pub, at the height of the wet season, because they couldn’t cross Leviathan Creek, like most of the stockmen in the region. So on this particular day he sat at the front bar, filling out the paperwork where the place was originally going to be called Mitchell Plains.’

Dex raised his eyebrows.

‘I know, I know.’ Charlie raised his hand, cutting off anyone from speaking. ‘That overseer soon learned from the locals in that pub that in the Territory Mitchell was the name of our wild grass.’

‘So how did it end up with the name Elsie Creek?’ Dex asked.

‘The story goes, it was raining, the dirt roads were all flooded, and they had a pub full of beer, so everyone got into the game of naming this new cattle station.’

‘Sounds like a session.’

‘It was the stuff of legends, for sure.’ Charlie gave a wry wink.

‘And the more they drank, the names would have been—’

‘Crazy. Like proper cray cray.’ Charlie’s grey eyes were so bright. ‘There was Sock-it Hill Station, Elbow Bend Downs, Bung-nosed Possum Station and Golden Gullet Ridge. The stockmen even suggested names from their best muster dogs, their first loves, their favourite pig—so Christmas Dinner was tabled as a station name a few times, and so on.’

Dex had to chuckle with the old man. ‘So how did they decide?’

‘Well, the publican, the original Elsie, came up with the idea that they should write their name for this new cattle station on a piece of paper, then roll it up tight and slide it into an empty beer bottle.’

‘Like a lucky dip?’

‘But outback style.’ Charlie nodded with a wolfish grin. ‘To make it fair and above board and all, the publican had her bartenders mix up the empty beer bottles, then her cook lined them up against the back fencing rail. And anyone who wanted a shot at making their name a part of history, had to be blindfolded, and pay for the privilege to not only name the station but win half the prize pool.’

‘Like a bet?’ As a betting man Dex had never placed a wager on naming a station before. But if he’d been there, he would have.

‘Exactly. So the publican set the bet at five shillings, the equivalent of a day’s wage back then, where they’d have a chance to take home a month’s worth of wages.’

‘To be fair,’ butted in Lenny, ‘they were naming a cattle station, so it deserved big bickies.’

‘How many took their shot?’ Dex asked.

‘Over thirty stockmen, miners, farmers, and train-line workers. And they blasted the hell out of those empty beer bottles.’ Charlie chuckled.

But then he wiped his chin, his voice hushed as he leaned over the kitchen bench. ‘But when the smoke cleared and their ears stopped ringing from the gunfire, only one bottle remained standing. The publican emptied the bottle and unrolled the piece of paper that was tucked inside, and the station was named…’

‘Elsie Creek Station.’ Duh, that was obvious.

‘You didn’t finish it, old man.’

Charlie scowled at Lenny at the table. ‘Don’t spoil it.’

‘What am I missing?’ Dex swivelled between the two older men.

‘Tell him.’

‘Fine.’ Charlie rolled his eyes, like Bree did. ‘The thing is, it was later revealed that the publican had written Elsie Creek Station on every piece of paper tucked into those empty beer bottles.’

Dex chuckled, not expecting that at all. ‘And she got away with it, obviously.’

‘Like I said, the original Elsie was clever, and that overseer was sweet on her—’

‘And she gave half of her winnings to the overseer. Which concludes our history lesson for today.’ Lenny pushed himself up from his chair at the table. ‘My boss, the great granddaughter of the original Elsie, asked me to give a copy of this soil map to the new owners. We know Harper’s got that petition to fight the mine, so the publican thought this might help the cause.’ Lenny held out a rolled map to Dex.

‘Thanks.’ He nodded at the grumpy chef. ‘I’m still waiting on my map from you, Charlie?’

‘Here. Bree did a couple for you.’ Charlie shuffled some paperwork on the desk and dropped them on the table.

‘Thank you.’ Now he had a copy of the bore runner’s map, the map with the names and more. He couldn’t wait to show these to his brothers.

‘So, how do they mine for lithium?’ Charlie handed out glasses of shiny green juice that looked like engine coolant.

‘There are a few ways,’ replied Lenny. ‘They’ll either drill or blast for the hard rocks in a process that uses up a stack of water. Or they punch into the artesian basins to create these big dams that they then let evaporate under the sun, leaving behind the rocks they ship to China to extract the lithium.’

‘So they’d just waste all that water and not use it for anything? Like cattle, crops, or the wildlife?’ Dex now understood his younger brother Cap’s concern for the environment over having a new lithium mine next door.

‘According to the geologist who gave me this map, your neighbour is looking at doing the hard-rock-drilling method, which uses a stack of water.’ Lenny took a sip of his juice and nodded at the glass. ‘Nice mix.’

Charlie took a few deep mouthfuls of the green gunk. ‘Forgot my pills.’ He opened the fridge. ‘So basically, this lithium mine is a water-hungry monster?’

Lenny nodded. ‘And you guys are on the top of their hit list, because without your water supply, they have no water to work their mine.’

‘We know. That’s why Harper is getting everyone to sign the petition to stop any changes to the land zoning or the Water Act.’ Dex raked his fingers through his hair. The threat to the station still hung over their heads. ‘So, why do you have a copy of this soil map?’

‘Oh, well, Charlie wanted it. It shows caves and stuff.’

‘For what? Are you thinking of fossicking for lithium?’

‘Bree would disown me,’ scoffed Charlie. ‘We’re going to map out the Stoneys. The place is a maze. Drink your juice, lad.’ Charlie pushed the green juice across the kitchen bench.

‘Why now?’ Dex sniffed the juice. It smelled of apples and cucumbers, giving Dex flashbacks to a time when he never liked his veggies as a kid.

‘No one has ever mapped out the Stoneys.’

Dex arched an eyebrow at the old stockman, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter, counting out his pills like lollies. ‘You’re doing it because we found Pandora out there.’

‘Pandora?’ Lenny asked Charlie .

‘My brother’s car. Bree named it that.’ Charlie swallowed the stack of pills labelled for that day, then downed his juice, returning his pill container to the fridge. ‘Here lad, that’s your medicine.’

Now it was Dex’s turn to roll his eyes.

‘Take it with the juice, kills the flavour.’

Not that he wanted to, but he’d have Bree on his back if he didn’t.Dex gulped his pills, then washed it down with the juice. Surprisingly it was sweet, tasting of carrots, apples, and something else.

‘Told you the juice was good. Got that hemp seed in there, said to be good for the ol’ ticker.’ Charlie patted his heart.

‘Witchy woo-woo nonsense.’ He upended his glass, draining it, like a medicine you didn’t want to taste. But he wanted off the couch.

‘Did you bring lunch, Lenny?’

‘In the car. Are we taking the Razorback?’

‘Just for today to get our bearings. Next time, we’ll take the horses for a run, coz the Stoneys get narrow.’ Charlie grabbed his old canvas bag, his hat, thermos, and large water bottle. He then wrote on the cake lid holding the cupcakes. ‘Bree, gone fossicking with Lenny. Pop.’

‘Does Bree know you’re doing this, Charlie?’ Dex leaned back against the counter. Only now realising he wasn’t using the oxygen tank, which was still sitting beside the couch on the other side of the room.

‘Bree knows I go fossicking with Lenny all the time.’

‘But you’re not, are you? You’re looking for something more.’

Charlie stood at the open door, with Lenny heading for the car. ‘Look, I don’t want to upset Bree…’

‘You’re hunting for clues.’

Charlie gave a heavy nod. ‘After young Policeman Porter’s visit yesterday, it got me thinking. If they can’t find anything about my brother, or that married woman he ran off with, and with you saying my brother left his car out there as a diversion, maybe, just maybe, my brother left a message for me out in the Stoneys. I’ve gotta try, lad. For sixty years, I’ve always wondered what happened to Harry. You know, if he’d just left me a note, I’d be okay with that.’

‘Maybe the car was the message.’

‘Nah. It’s just not like my brother. You’ve got brothers, would they leave without saying a word?’

At one stage, Dex didn’t speak to his brothers for years. ‘Mum kept us up to date.’

‘But would you leave your brothers without a message if you were in trouble?’ Charlie tapped the brim of his hat and closed the door behind him.

Dex never contacted his brothers, and they never contacted him. Not that he’d made it easy. They’d been scattered across the country, always moving because of their jobs, until their mother called, telling them that their baby brother, Jonathan, had just bought a cattle station and needed their help with his first muster. It was the first time they’d come together after a decade apart.

At first, they were strangers. But as they worked together, helping their baby brother with his first muster, that old familiarity of family kicked in. Nightly, around the camp fire at their stock camp, they’d shared stories of the good times growing up, and of their own adventures, until they looked to the future.

They each had a unique talent to bring to the table, as well-experienced stockmen who’d worked in differing fields. Like his brothers, Dex believed they could make a go of this place—but it was challenging when they had little cattle, and a mine breathing down their neck for their water.

Dex rolled up the new soil map, including his copies of Charlie’s maps, slid on his hat and grabbed his oxygen cart. It was time to get back to work.