Page 36 of Stockman's Stormcloud

‘Hold on, Dex.’ Bree shifted gears, and they approached a wall of trees, where the track dipped steeply into a floodway. Water churned under the beefy tyres as the temperature dropped, while the sky became hidden under a blanket of trees.

‘Welcome to Scary Forest.’ Charlie sounded like an outback tour operator. ‘And this here is Leviathan Creek. Don’t let the looks fool you, lad, she runs like a river in the wet season to cut off the floodway by the front gate. You remember that floodway, don’t you, lad?’

‘Don’t remind me.’ It was where Dex couldn’t drive any further because of the pain in his ribs. Right now, he forced himself to ignore the pain, because he chose to be here, and craned his neck at the monsoon forest’s thick clusters of tangled vines, and interlocking branches that blocked the light.

The forest’s floor was thick with moss-covered trunks, assorted ground ferns and aromatic leaf litter, with orange-footed scrub fowl busily digging to unearth the bugs beneath.

Above them a group of screeching fruit bats feasted on red berries from palm trees so tall he couldn’t see their crowns. Dominant evergreen trees towered over thirty metres tall.

Bree flicked on the Razorback’s lights, while steering them along the curvy track that was part of the creek bed.

Green ringneck parrots and rainbow lorikeets flewoverhead, as a flock of large black cockatoos gorged on the nut kernels on the distinctive layered branches of a native Indian almond tree. He had to thank his time with Cap for knowing the names of the trees and the wildlife. His brother would love this place.

‘Look.’ Bree pointed ahead, where they got the rare privilege of spotting a group of ghost bats, flying from one trunk to another.

‘I haven’t seen one of them in decades. They roost in caves, right?’

‘You’ll find some in the Stoneys. This group hang at Cattleman’s Keep, where there’s plenty of caves for them to roost.’ Charlie pointed to a gap in the trees, where he could barely make out the red earthy escarpment that was the border of their land.

‘I can’t believe this is here.’ It was a rare wet monsoon rainforest that he had to admit was like paradise, complete with the yellow eyes from a pair of barking owls staring down at him.

To think, they weren’t even ten minutes from the caretaker’s cottage.

No wonder Bree rode her horse through here in the mornings. He would, too. ‘Who called it Scary Forest? You, Bree?’

‘My mother.’

Well, that killed the conversation, knowing that Bree’s father had murdered her mother.

Effortlessly shifting through the gears, Bree handled the Razorback like she’d been driving it all her life. Which she probably had, considering she lived with her grandparents for most of it. The engine roared as they began the steep climb out of the rocky creek bed.

The soft dawn light greeted them as they climbed up and out the other side, to weave their way through the large thicket of paperbark trees that made up the dried-out swamp. The rich terracotta soils magically contrasted against the pale trunks of the peeling paperbarks that stood beneath a paleblue sky.

Again, the landscape changed, giving way to a massive field of magnetic termite mounds, reminding him of a giant’s graveyard, each standing taller than a man, but barely wider than a tombstone, their shadows stretching across the black soil plains.

From there they followed a dusty track, until Bree parked the Razorback on the crest among the dry grasses that were like soft creamy hay, with a view of the sky.

‘Did you really ride your horse all the way out here?’ Dex hobbled off the vehicle, wincing as his lungs burned like fire.

‘No. I took us the long way around.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s a pretty day to play tourist.’ Bree paused from untying the back trailer’s ropes to inhale a lungful of air and gaze at the endless countryside.

Dex wanted to fill his lungs up too, but they squeezed against him like his body had gone on strike. And he hated the oxygen tank he had to drag along, with its stupid little wheels tangling in the dry grasses. He gave up moving. ‘Why here?’

‘It’s easier to drop the crocodile trap here.’

If his lungs were working, he’d be helping Bree to unhook the ropes from the large rectangular cage, sturdy enough to hold a monster that could crush a man’s head like an ice cube. ‘Did you make this croc cage, Charlie?’

‘Bree and I did.’

‘So you’ve done this before?’

‘Couple of times. We used to just shoot them when I was younger.’

‘That’s how you got your leather hatband.’

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