Page 44 of Stockman's Stowaway

‘Pfft, they’ll be fine.’ Charlie’s voice was like gravel. ‘Harper, you can follow me. Mia, you go with Cap. That dog of yours is keen to get in on the action.’

‘Willow is not my dog.’ Willow sat by Mia’s leg, whimpering with excitement, her body quivering as if being held back by an invisible string. ‘I don’t want her to get hurt.’ The cattle were so big, they were nothing like sheep who had wool to soften the impact.

‘That dog is smart. And by the look of her, she’s been here before. Don’t worry, Cap will help you, he’s a pro at this.’ Charlie hobbled up a metal staircase to the thick planked walkway with Harper following while holding Mason to her chest.

‘We’ll be watching.’ Harper encouraged little Mason to wave at her.

Wearing his tiny cowboy hat, the toddler Mason was as dirty as the rest of them, but just as excited. ‘Wiwow?’

‘Wil-low,’ corrected Harper.

The boy moved his mouth as if mumbling the word to himself. ‘Wil-low?’

‘That’s it, good boy.’

‘Willow.’ Mason’s eyes were as wide as his smile as he waved at Mia and Willow. ‘Willow.’

‘That’s right, Mason, we’ll beTeam Willow.’ Harper gave Mia a double thumbs up, with the small boy copying her.

It only filled Mia with such a rush of feel-good warmth, she had to be smiling brighter than the sun.

All morning she’d felt part of a team mustering the mob. With everyone willingly helping her, Mia felt like she belonged. Sure, she may be a farm girl, but this was different because cattle were ten times bigger than sheep and they came with pointed horns.

Used to shearing sheds, the drafting yards were bigger than she’d expected. They contained a complex maze of railed yards she had to jump or duck under to catch up with Cap, who was with his brothers in a round yard where a fire was blazing in an old fire pit.

‘Good, you’re here.’ Cap gave her arm a squeeze before crouching down to Willow. ‘Are you ready to stretch those legs, girl?’ The dog loved Cap, her tongue lolling to the side as she got a hearty pat from the man.

‘I’d take that as a good sign.’ Dex strapped on some thick leather chaps over his denim jeans and then some thick gloves like Bree wore in the blacksmith’s shed. He then removed a long rod that had been sitting amongst the hot coals of a roaring fire. ‘Behold, brothers, it’sthe brand.’

He held up the metal rod like a sword under the sun, its red glowing tip a complex series of bent metal.

Dex pushed the end of the rod against an old log as smoke curled like wisps of fog around the metal edges, leaving behind a mark in the wood:E. C. S.

Elsie Creek Station.

Like the Riggs brothers, Mia leaned in for a closer look and raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Oh, wow. It’s so pretty and so unusual.’ The letters intertwined in an intricate pattern, like old-fashioned lace, but made of steel.

‘It’s an original legacy brand made back in 1902.’ Dex’s eyes shone as if holding the holy grail. ‘Charlie’s grandfather made this. The patterning is flawless.’

‘I see now why they call Charlie’s family master brand makers.’ Ash nodded with admiration while shifting the small box to his hip.

‘Do they still fire-brand cattle?’ Mia asked. Dumb question when they had the fire pit and the brand. ‘Dad painted the sheep or branded certain ram’s horns, or used tags.’

‘If we don’t and they wander, anyone can lay claim to them,’ explained Cap. ‘In the city dogs, cats, even horses get tattooed and microchipped to make them identifiable to their owners. Branding is the same for cattle, pigs, goats, even alpacas. And in the Northern Territory it’s compulsory for cattle to be branded from eight months of age.’

‘It’s a tradition that’s been around for centuries, girlie,’ hollered Charlie, high on the stands. ‘But you’ll find no finer branding iron than that one. It’s art.’

‘Nothing wrong with his hearing, is there?’ Ash chuckled.

‘Bree? Got that salve, kid?’ Charlie whistled.

‘Yeah, I’m coming.’ Bree climbed under the rails, dragging a heavy bucket and a large garbage bag.

‘For you.’ Dumping the garbage bag, Bree peeled back the bucket’s lid and gave the thick goo inside a stir with a long-handled flat spoon. She then wrapped the end of the spoon with a thick cloth that soaked up the goo. ‘In the garbage bag, you’ll find spare rags to change these cloths when needed. I designed this flat spoon to wrap these rags around the end with a quick release, so you don’t get the muck on your hands.’ Bree was known for making all sorts of gadgets to make life easier, like her homemade shower. ‘I’d recommend you do a change every ten brands. Toss the rags into the fire, it’s not toxic, but it really arcs the flames to give you a good coal to reheat the branding iron in half the time.’

‘What is it?’ Dex sniffed at the goo that smelled of eucalyptus, screwing his nose at it. ‘Not another one of your witchy potions, is it? Should I buy you a broomstick?’

‘Listen, stormcloud, I don’t mind being the villain in your story, just know that you’re the clown in mine‌.I’ll get you a costume, complete with green hair and a red nose, and I’ll wear a cape. I’ve always wanted a cape.’ Bree’s green eyes sparkled with the hint of a grin, thankfully her bad mood shifting.

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