Page 125 of Stockman's Showdown

The morning was warm, the breeze barely shifting the fine layer of red dust over the hazy, desolate outback highway. Strong hooves clashed on the black top as the rumble of the horse-drawn carriage led down the asphalt road towards the tiny outback town of Elsie Creek.

On the back of the flatbed horse cart lay a simple wooden coffin. On top lay a well-worn stockwhip.

Dressed in black, Bree walked behind the open carriage. She held her grandfather’s hat to her chest, as she walked Charlie’s grey stockhorse, Slim, with its empty saddle signifying the loss of the rider.

As the sun climbed higher, her shadow blended with that of the horse and the carriage, as the start of a stockman’s funeral.

It had started with just her, the horse, and the carriage driven by the Station Hand himself, continuing a long and proud tradition unique to the stockmen in the Elsie Creek region.

But then they came…

The Riggs Brothers, all five of them—Ryder, Dex, Cap, Ash, and their youngest brother Jonathan—rode their stockhorses, alongside Cowboy Craig.

But then more came…

Men, women, old, young, riding on worn saddles, with wide-brimmed hats bent to shade their eyes, their stockwhips slung over their shoulders, with their proud stockhorses forming sturdy lines like the Light Horse Brigade. Rows and rows of stockhorses and their riders followed the carriage as it travelled down main street.

The town’s stores had closed, and more mourners lined the street as the sound of over a hundred sturdy and sure-footed stockhorses’ hooves echoed off the shopfront windows.

The long line of stockmen rode past the pub that towered over the town’s corner. They rode past the train line, and the empty stockyards of the train station, following Bree, who walkedbehind the carriage, leading an empty-saddled stockhorse to the small church on the hill.

The service was brief, just how Charlie would have liked it. And was laid to rest beside his wife, near his brother and Bree’s mother, and among the other relatives she’d never known.

With the formalities over, it was time to move to the pub where they told stories about the stockman and master brand maker they all knew. There Bree shook hands, smiled politely, just as her grandfather would have expected of her, and when it was over, there was silence.

The cottage was silent. The pizza oven cold. The Razorback had dust on its seat. The tools her grandfather had hand-forged were lying in the shade, his leather apron hung on the hook, and time had stood still once again.

This place had too many memories now. Always expecting her grandfather to wander down the garden path and open the back screen door, to wipe his boots at the doormat, while poking up the brim of his hat to share some news.

But now the caretaker’s caveat was officially over...

Fifty

Ever since that stockman with the bandy-legged swagger had passed, there had been a big gaping hole in the lives of those who lived at Elsie Creek Station. Charlie had been so full of life, happily dancing with the ladies, giving bull-riding tips to the next generation of rodeo riders, or telling scary stories around a campfire.

Ryder truly missed the old man who always had a story to tell, missing the aroma of baking bread that greeted him in the mornings, or that robust cup of billy tea.

Following the smell of coffee brewing, Ryder walked into the boardroom where Ash and Cap were already seated at the table to begin their regular morning meeting. ‘Morning.’

‘How’s Bree?’ Cap asked.

‘Quiet. In the shed this morning.’ Even though she’d been up long before dawn, it was a good thing. Ryder had tried to comfort her, but it was like Bree had completely switched off. All that playfulness, that sassy spark, was buried deep behind her hollow eyes. But he’d refused to let her go through this alone.

‘This is for you lot.’ He dealt out the large manila envelopes like dealing a pack of cards.

‘What’s this?’ Ash spun his envelope around on the tabletop.

‘I want you all to work out your wills.’ Ryder was doing what he always did, prepare for the future.

‘You’re kidding.’ Ash’s jaw dropped. He was young, and still had that ten-foot-tall bulletproof bravado that Ryder remembered at that age.

‘With Charlie’s passing and what Bree is going through, I think we owe it to ourselves and our loved ones to make it as easy as possible for those we leave behind. I’ve updated mine. You guys have dependants now that you need to take care of. Ash, you will need to do one for your son. Cap, you’ve got dogs. And you’ve all got live-in partners.’

The sounds of hooves trotting towards them stopped, a horse snorted, and in a few moments, Dex strolled inside carrying a large rolled up package the length of a shotgun. ‘Morning.’

‘How was the ride?’

‘Great. I thought our stockhorses were good, but Bree’s horse is a beast.’

---