Page 11 of Stockman's Showdown

Ryder craned around in his saddle to peer at the wide-open plains. ‘There you are.’

Bree was leading her group of horses towards the rocky escarpment that made up Cattleman’s Keep. What was she up to now?

Bree had been avoiding him all day. First, keeping to the back of their convoy, and then taking no time in riding out to begin the muster. By the time Ryder and his brothers had caught up with Charlie, Bree was bringing in the first lot of stragglers from Scary Forest.

There, plans were made, where Dex and Ryder took Bullock’s Bath and Ash and Cap had Station Dog Cemetery, meeting in the middle to muster their cattle into one large herd of over a thousand head of prime beef cattle. It was so much more than he’d realised.

Once again, they’d practically been gifted another healthy herd, cleverly hidden by Bree, that he knew she checked regularly, as part of her morning horse rides.

But then that clever concept of stock school had the cattle following that redhead like pets who didn’t need coaching, they just followed Bree like she was the Pied Piper, leading them to the promised land.

Charlie was right, with this group of cattle it was like gathering them up with a butterfly net, mustering them closer to the other side of Koala Creek. While on this side, his family had set up their stock camp like an unorganised bunch of squatters.

To escape the rabble, Ryder rode after Bree, where she’d disappeared under the tree line that spread below the verge of the rocky escarpment. The towering red rocks had created a drip line that fed into a creek he followed upstream to catch up to Bree.

‘Go away.’ Bree scowled at him over her shoulder as she led the horses along the creek bed.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To water the horses.’

‘Why not here?’ They were walking through cool fresh water as it was.

‘If you like it so much, cupcake, stay here then.’

He scowled with such a hate for that nickname. He was no bloody cupcake.

But he wasn’t going to stop following her. Bree was up to something.

Bree led her team of horses deep within the cool thicket of trees where the creek wound alongside the rocky walls that hid the sky. The air was damp with the rich smell of wet earth, along with the sharp scent of eucalyptus leaves lingering in the background. He could almost taste it on his tongue, along with gritty dust from a long day mustering on horseback.

With no fear of crocodiles, Bree led the way on her fierce black stallion, as the sturdy stockhorses splashed through the shallow creek to meet the white sandbar that they used to cross over to the far side. Up the riverbank, they plodded along a rich dirt path that muffled the sound of their hooves, where soft ferns brushed against the horses’ lower legs like feathers. The movement stirred up dozens of hidden blue-winged butterflies, rising fromamong the fronds to flutter gracefully around them. Even Bree paused, holding out her hand and smiling as the curious, soft-winged creatures landed delicately on her fingertips.

All he could do was sigh from the saddle, as she took in the moment of the world around them, that was part of this land he called home.

‘You shouldn’t be here.’ She scowled at him for being in her space.

‘I live here.’

‘Hmph. Why don’t you act like a middle-aged hairline and start disappearing back to the stock camp.’

‘No.’ Even if he felt like he was intruding, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Again, Bree kicked on, pushing her horse uphill, the stockhorse’s hooves clashing against the rocks, only to disappear around a massive boulder.

Ryder spurred his horse on to catch up and was led into a large brightly lit rock cave.

‘No way…’ Ryder ripped off his hat to stare up at the open circular ceiling of blue skies surrounded by high rock walls to create a cave, where fresh water spilled over its smooth rocky ledges to create an indoor waterfall. ‘What is this place?’

‘The Veil.’

‘How did it get that name? Come on, Bree, every place on this station has some sort of short story to it.’ Finally, this was his chance to hold a conversation with her that lasted more than two minutes.

‘There’s no big story to the name…’ Bree got off her horse and pointed to the waterfall. ‘Because that’s The Veil.’

Ryder climbed off his horse and peered at the fall’s watery curtain, which shimmered like a veil, cleverly shielding a primitive rock painting of a kangaroo that stretched across theentire back wall. ‘Will I have a problem with this Indigenous rock painting?’ Land claims were tricky things.

‘Relax. It’s not a sacred site. That was painted in the seventies, back when the dot painting technique was first taught to them by a white English teacher. Charlie told me the artist who painted that mural was one of her students.’

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