Page 39 of Stockman's Stormcloud

‘In the smithy’s shed. Working on orders.’

A deep bark from the ex-police dog echoed across the yard.

‘That’s Sarge.’ The shepherd was the homestead’s best alarm system.

Charlie scooted to the front door as the crunch and pop of gravel under a set of car tyres rolled to a stop.

Was it Sophie?

Dex looked at the old grandfather clock on the wall. He wasn’t expecting Sophie for a few hours. As much as he didn’t want to, he was looking forward to seeing her again and playing Battleship. It killed the hours. And she was nice to look at, compared to the four stone walls and Bree’s witchy kitchen of coloured jars and hanging herbs.

‘It’s the po-po.’

‘Who?’

‘Policeman Porter.’

‘What does he want?’ Having the cops around wasn’t exactly comfortable for Dex, considering he participated in an illegal sport. ‘Charlie, we have to be careful about what we tell Porter.’

‘Behave, boy, it’s not my first rodeo,’ said the ex-rodeo champion, hobbling out to the front porch. ‘Got the billy on if you want a cuppa, Porter.’

‘Sounds goods.’ The police officer removed his hat as he came inside. ‘Hey, Dex. What happened to you?’

‘Farming accident,’ blurted out Charlie. ‘We’ve got Bree fixing his place up. Lad’s crashing on the couch until then.’

‘Best couch in the world, isn’t it?’

Dex had to agree. ‘What brings you out?’

‘Well…’ Porter pulled out a chair at the dining table.

Charlie took only a few seconds to put a teapot on the table, a set of plates and mugs, and opened a tin that held a slab of cake. ‘Dig in, boys. Bree made it for us to eat and not look at it.’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Even if they didn’t do coffee in this house to not tempt Charlie with his tricky ticker, the old stockman knew how to brew a good full-bodied bushman’s tea that went perfectly with Bree’s cake.

Porter opened a folder. ‘I wanted to let you know that the original case file forOperation Stoney Silencearrived from archives the other day.’

‘The what operation?’ asked the ex-hospital patient, arching his eyebrows at the cop seated at the end of the table.

‘It’s the code name for the murder case.’ Porter shrugged. ‘I called it that because you found that car, Pandora, in the Stoneys. And this case has been silent for over sixty years.’

‘I get it.’ Charlie rubbed his scruffy chin as if deep in thought, only to nod. ‘I like it.’

‘Now I’ve been through the file, I have questions. Which is why I’m here. I’ve reopened the case—’

‘Obviously, if you renamed it,’ mumbled Dex, taking a mouthful of cake. Heck Bree could cook. He was eating like a king, yet living like a pauper on the couch.

‘—and I’ve run an initial search for Penelope Price.’

‘She was married to Jack Price.’

‘Is that the guy that got murdered?’ Dex gave a shrug. ‘I don’t know the details.’ All he knew was a murder had been committed at Elsie Creek Station sixty-odd years ago, and that it involved Charlie’s older brother, Harry.

Porter nodded, producing some black-and-white photos from the file, plus a few in colour. ‘That’s Jack Price. And that’s Penelope Price.’

‘Hey, that’s my brother, Harry.’ Charlie looked devastated, as if the grief rolled over him like a black cloak.

Dex didn’t know these people, but he recognised the station’s sheds, the farmhouse, and the caretaker’s cottage without the garden and long, corrugated fence.

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