Page 78 of Stockman's Sandstorm

From Cascades Spur, Harper took one long look back at Wombat Flats. The cattle were gone, but the place remained untouched. A paradise hidden among the sandstone. Would she ever come back?

But she was so glad she came.

By lunchtime, she was game enough to ride by herself, and shifted with the herd, making it to Grass Tree Creek.

There, Charlie approached her. ‘I reckon you can ride up front with me, girlie.’

Fear had a new flavour and it was dusty sand, along with the pungent methane smell of cattle strolling down a stone corridor. It got into her hair, her ears, her sinuses, down her shirt, rubbing in her bra, and was gritty on her teeth. No one had warned her about this part.

She peered around for Ash, but he was nowhere to be seen among the sea of cattle.

Even though she’d been distancing herself from Ash, she kept remembering that incredible kiss. She may have said one kiss, but Ash only agreed because it was dark, they were in the only tent, and he was a guy who was used to being with different women.

She should never have kissed him.

Riding with Bree had kept her mind off Ash. But this was something entirely different. ‘I’m not ready.’

‘Bree told me on the radio you’d be fine.’

‘Is that because Bree needs to concentrate?’

Charlie scratched at his grey whiskers the same colour as his hair beneath the large Akubra. ‘You feelin’ like the third wheel, huh?’

Harper shrugged.

‘Don’t worry, everyone feels like that on their first muster. At least you can ride.’ He held out the reins to her. ‘If Bree reckons you’re ready, then I reckon you’re ready. It’s you who has to believe you’re ready.’ With his spurs jangling, he swaggered to his horse and hoisted himself into the saddle. ‘I reckon it’d be boring if you didn’t do something new in your day. Always waiting for someone to tell you what to do, when you could take the reins yourself. Just look at where we are, missy? Paradise.’

Harper’s eyes got blurry. She viciously scrubbed at the tears, desperate to stop them forming. Charlie had just described her life and her job, which was to follow orders, solve problems, keep to the schedules, and maintain that paper trail.

Out here, there was none of that. She hadn’t seen a clock in days, let alone picked up a pen or seen a screen. Yet, well out of her comfort zone, it was like she was watching the hands of a stranger as she gathered up the reins and climbed back into the saddle.

She patted the horse’s creamy white mane. She liked this horse, with its caramel-coloured hide and big hooves. No one knew its name, as it was borrowed, but she’d learned to trust it.

Charlie gave her a sharp nod of approval. ‘Might have to get ya your own radio holster, for sure. Come on, missy, let’s get that hat of yours dirty.’

Charlie led them down the winding canyon, where rocks and stones rolled, disturbed by the animals. Then the track widened, and Charlie waited for her to ride alongside, leading the long snaking trail of cattle.

‘Charlie, where do I get a fancy crocodile hatband like yours?’

Charlie chuckled, removing his Akubra to admire the dark brown leather band that wrapped around it. The thick sturdy ridges of the leather were distinctive to the saltwater crocodile. ‘Well, you go out and find your own croc, for sure. Which isn’t too hard when this is crocodile country. Them snapping handbags are scattered everywhere.’

‘Even at Wombat Flats?’ They’d all taken turns to splash around in the creeks.

‘Not unless they’re part billy goat to climb over the escarpments.’ He chuckled, but then he sobered up to peer beneath the brim of his hat. ‘Now, listen here, missy, trust me when I say don’t go swimming anywhere unless it’s a pool. Them swamp puppies are sneaky buggers.’

‘Is that why you have a pool at your place?’

‘That’s Bree’s trough. She’ll dump a load of ice in there to watch ice hockey while drinking her gin. She says it’s the best thing after a hot day on the tools in front of the smithy’s forge. But, for me, I don’t swim.’

‘So how did you get the crocodile band? It’s okay if you got it from the shop. Although, I like how Bree dresses up her hats.’

‘That’s for a purpose, missy.’ Charlie was so at ease in the saddle of his surefooted stockhorse, it was like he was in a lounge chair, he was that laid back.

‘What purpose?’ She tried to copy his stance, shifting her bum, widen the legs and then… Oh, wow! Her spine and hips had found heaven in the saddle. Even the horse she rode nodded in agreement, giving a slight shiver across its shoulders. And everyone was happy.

‘When fencing, or out in the saddle, you can only carry so much. Bree learned to tuck it around her hat. That thin piece of leather is good to tie up your swag, or if your boot starts losing its sole. That cloth band is always good to wrap a cut on your arm to stop flies finding it. I reckon she’s got some wire, a match—’

‘And the Queen of spades playing card?’

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