Page 75 of Stockman's Stormcloud

‘So, what happens now about the stolen cattle?’

His scowl returned. ‘I don’t know. Sure, it happens a lot, but it’s the first time for us as owners.’

‘How common is cattle rustling?’ She couldn’t believe she’d said that word, like they were in the wild west. Although, glancing out her driver’s window at the passing scenery that stretched endlessly into a wild landscape that surrounded her, it was an apt comparison.

‘Some cattle stations are so big, it’s hard to keep watch on everything. Which is what we’re trying to do with thecameras, the hi-tech ear tags, and the drone flyovers. We haven’t started on the back block yet. And there is a stack of stock on the other side that’ll need mustering, and…’ Dex sighed, while holding his sore rib—but the good thing was that he could sigh. ‘We can only work on one paddock at a time.’

It sounded like a lot of work. ‘You haven’t had the place long? Not if Charlie was telling you the names of the roads and areas.’

‘We’ve only been here six months. Before that we were working all over the country until we got the call to help our baby brother with Sandlot Station.’ He pointed out the window. ‘It’s the property to the west of us.’

There it was again, that proof of their strong brotherly bond, coming together to help each other.

‘Have you dealt with rustlers before?’

He gave a brief nod. ‘They’d normally steal between two and ten at a time. But not eighty where they were organised enough to remove the ear tags.’

‘Which means?’

‘We’ve only got the Elsie Creek Station cattle brand to prove they’re ours. But luckily, Charlie’s family designed one that is almost impossible to switch up. It’s a legacy brand—that the old fool still owns,’ he said with a scowl. ‘The police reckon it’s well recognised.’

‘Are you saying that you may find the cattle?’

‘I’m not holding my breath, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Again, she patted his forearm. ‘How is your breathing?’

‘Good. But I don’t want to give up the oxygen tanks just yet.’ He tenderly squeezed her hand.

Even if her heart wanted to maintain the contact, she pulled her hand free to steer the car along the dusty trail past the sheds and into the main homestead area with the farmhouse ahead on the left, and the cottage on the right. It was like driving through a suburban street, where the neighbours were warring with each other, that was eerily quiet. ‘Ishould grab the cat and go.’ She parked at the cottage’s front gate. ‘And you should get some rest.’

‘No. You stay right there.’ Dex left the passenger door open, as well as the front gate, to disappear inside the cottage. He soon returned with the cat, his pills, and a duffel bag that he dumped on the back seat. Letting the cat lie across the dashboard, he sat heavily in the front seat, closing his door. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Where?’

‘To my place. Turn the car around and head back to the sheds.’

She followed his directions, turning right behind the long shed that sheltered lots of machinery, a big workshop, and an assortment of utes sitting inside separate bays like a horse stable.

‘Damn, Bree took Pandora already.’ He shook his head at the empty car space.

‘Is that black ute yours?’ She pointed to the sleek vehicle at the end.

‘It is. I won that in a fight.’

‘So you do fight?’

‘Bare-knuckle champion. But you won’t find that in any of the record books.’ He said that so coldly.

‘I’ve never heard of it. Is it like boxing?’

‘Without the gloves, the ring, or rules…’

There had to be some sort of rules in an organised fight. Right? ‘Your poor hands.’

Ignoring her as per normal, Dex pointed ahead. ‘That’s my place.’

She drove to the simple rectangular dwelling. It stood on a raised slab of concrete with its corrugated roof extending into a carport that contained a boxing ring and a stack of gym equipment.

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