Page 77 of Stockman's Sandstorm

‘So maybe this is just another chase, like you do with all of those other girls?’

‘Hmm …’ He sat back in the saddle, with Mason trying to flick the reins, the horse patiently ignoring the boy. ‘You might be right.’ Most of the women Ash went with all worked in his field, they were used to mustering, and didn’t mind hanging out at the pub. Harper was completely different.

‘But is it worth it, bro? Breaking her heart, like the others in your past, especially when you have Mason to consider.’ Cap nodded at the toddler, having a fat time in the saddle. ‘Your son adores Harper.’

Ash bit his own tongue to stop himself from admitting that he adored Harper, too.

‘Da-da.’

‘What did he say?’ Cap pointed to Mason.

‘Da-da.’ Mason waved the reins, showing off his gummy grin at Ash.

‘Mate, your son just called you dad.’

Ash peered down at Mason’s big brown eyes.

‘Daddy.’ His little hands cupped Ash’s chin, he smiled and then pointed at the horse. ‘Orsey?’

‘That’s right mate, horse. H-horse.’ All morning the boy had been playful.

‘Congrats, he’s yours now, Daddy.’ Cap patted Ash’s shoulder.

Hold on, Ash had a countdown happening. Yet he couldn’t remember how many days until that welfare visit, while staring down at the boy who was smiling at him.

This morning Ash woke to the boy smiling at him in the tent, tapping his nose while Harper slept, holding his flowers to her chest like a princess. He didn’t want to wake sleeping beauty, so he quietly slid on his boots, with the boy copying him. They then crept out of the tent together like it was a game for Mason. The boy happily toddled alongside Ash to stand beside him and copy him as they peed near a tree. This trip the boy had become Ash’s shadow, sitting beside him at the campfire for lunch, dinner, then breakfast. He’d tug on Ash’s jeans when he couldn’t hold Ash’s hand. Even holding out flowers he’d picked for Ash. Somehow that kid had wormed his way into Ash’s heart.

Now, after hearing that one little D word, it did something inside Ash’s chest, releasing an inner warmth but also a fierce layer of protectiveness that washed over his shoulders, to replace that blend of fear and worry. He’d just been called Dad. Him. A father.

He wanted to tell Harper. Honestly, he wanted to share everything with Harper.

But he shouldn’t, because in the harsh light of day, that kiss was all messed up. He should have never kissed the nanny.

‘You’re right, Cap.’ He pulled on the reins. ‘I have to think of Mason. I’ll take the far side.’ For his own sanity, Ash turned the horse to ride away from Harper. With any luck, he could avoid Harper for the rest of the day.

Thirty-two

The herd was massive, slow moving and almost hypnotic. Harper listened to the cattle’s lowing, watched their hips sway, horns bobbing, keeping a pace that was as steady as a crowd streaming through the doors attending a classical ballet performance. All calm and collected.

This was what Bree called The Long Walk.

The pace grew slower the higher they climbed, slimming down to single file as they clip-clopped past the Cascades Spur, where they lapped at the water, to continue their slow trek to Grass Tree Creek.

This morning, with Mason hanging with his father, Harper had to focus on something else and approached Bree, who was packing up camp, tying the last of the large sacks containing their camping gear onto her horses.

‘Can I help?’ Harper asked Bree.

‘Doing what?’

‘The mustering thing?’ Harper didn’t want to be a spectator anymore.

‘For real?’

The Riggs brothers stopped what they were doing to raise a few eyebrows. Ash grinned at her, even giving her a small nod of encouragement as if she’d made him proud. Which was odd when she was doing this to get away from him.

‘Of course you can, missy.’ Charlie nodded with a glimmer in his eyes. ‘Bree, you can start the little miss off with the basics.’ He patted Harper’s shoulder. ‘Good on ya, for having a go. Shows true spirit, that.’

‘Ready for some girl talk?’ Bree slid on her riding gloves. ‘We’ll be bringing up the rear for a bit. Best place to start …’ It was a slow trek, and they talked about anything and everything, and with all this time they shared, Harper finally learned the art of small talk.

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