Page 8 of Stockman's Sandstorm

‘I already tried.’ Cap sat back in his chair, blowing at the steam curling from the fresh cup of coffee. The strong caffeine aroma filled the air.

‘What did Mum say?’ Ash winced as his eardrums copped the full brunt of another wail from Mason.

‘Mum said it’s time you grew up and she won’t be visiting for a while to meet her grandson. But she promised to send a few packages and she wants photos.’ Cap picked up his phone and aimed it at Ash. ‘We all know Mum loves her photos, and she wants lots of them.’

‘So, if we send Mum photos of Ash looking absolutely pathetic, it might change her mind.’ Dex picked up his own phone.

Now both of his brothers were taking photos as the kid wailed in Ash’s arms, while Ryder casually sipped his coffee, watching over the compound, which was normal for Ryder, who didn’t sleep much.

Dex dropped into his chair, leaning his arms on either side of his coffee cup, practically inhaling the brew. ‘Someone needs to work out how to stop the crying, or I’m sleeping in my swag in the back of my ute.’

‘I think I’ll build myself a humpy near the dog kennels,’ muttered Cap.

‘Oi. Here comes trouble.’ Ryder nodded at the torchlight.

‘Do you reckon it’s Charlie?’

‘Not at that pace.’ Ryder inhaled deeply, as if to brace himself for it.

‘Boys.’ Bree came into the porch light wearing a nightgown showing off her curves, with her long thick hair flowing past her shoulders. In one hand she held a torch, in the other she carried a small cloth bag. ‘Hey, sweetie …’ She put her hand against Mason’s forehead. ‘Look at you, screaming down the house.’ She reached into her bag, then rubbed something over his gums, followed by a colourful stick of ice, and the toddler was instantly quiet.

‘What did you do?’ Ash asked Bree, as his brothers sighed with relief.

‘Your son is teething. Cruellest thing every child goes through.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I noticed him drooling yesterday, chewing his fist. At his age it’s probably a molar coming through.’

‘What did you rub on his gums?’

‘Clove oil. It’s the best thing for toothache, but not so tasty. That’s why he’s got that ice block. Don’t worry, it’s just frozen fruit juice to numb his gums. It’ll be messy, but it works. I suggest you get him some children’s paracetamol from town tomorrow. Goodnight, boys.’ And just like that, she walked off.

‘I’ll pay you to babysit, Bree,’ called out Ash.

‘I don’t work for you boys. Find a nanny, and one you won’t sleep with, Ash. Find one who can clean, to save the farmhouse from looking like some frat house.’ She pointed at the boxes of empty beer tins and bottles of bourbon. Assorted boots lay in loose pairs, while shirts and jeans lay wherever they fell. Heck, they hadn’t even unpacked, more focused on working the land than being houseproud.

‘Bree?’ Ryder stood. ‘What’s the story about those death threats?’

She stopped in the middle of the compound, her head dropping to her chest as a trillion stars shone above her.

‘We can’t help you and Charlie, if we don’t know what the problem is.’ Ryder leaned his shoulder against the post, while Ash paced the porch holding Mason sucking on a stick of ice.

Bree sighed, as she turned and reapproached the light. ‘When Darcie passed, there were plenty of offers to buy this station—from corporations, foreign investors, and even a few mining companies. But with the caretaker’s caveat in place, it gave Charlie the power to say yes or no on who bought the property. My grandfather was only following Darcie’s wishes for what he wanted for this place.’

‘Did you get a lot of threats for saying no?’

She nodded. ‘One particular group wouldn’t take the hint.’

‘Who?’

‘Your eastern neighbour, Leo, and his band of balding gorillas.’ It was a death look of pure fury that made Ash stop pacing.

‘What did they do, Bree?’

She looked back at the cottage hidden under starlight. ‘Can’t be proven.’

‘Tell us,’ demanded Ryder.

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