Page 126 of Stockman's Showdown

‘You rode Black Hand?’ Ryder’s jaw tightened. Bree loved that horse.

Dex nodded. ‘He’s having a drink in the trough by the bar.’

Bree still fed her horses daily, but she hadn’t ridden them since Charlie had passed.

‘Unless you can get Bree to start riding again, I’ll be riding Slim tomorrow.’ They all knew the stockhorses were used to being ridden on a regular rotation.

‘Good idea. I’ll get Bree back on Black Hand tomorrow, and I’ll ride Slim.’ Even if Bree may argue with him, Ryder would carry her to that saddle if he had to. He’d rather she’d get mad at him than continue in the catatonic state she’d been in lately. Grief just sucked.

‘Cool, I’ll go back to running in the mornings then. Can’t wait until we get our first station hand to care for the horses.’ Dex poured himself a coffee, carrying that long roll on his shoulder.

‘And they can clean the troughs,’ mumbled Ash.

‘Oh, and the fencing, don’t forget the fencing,’ said Cap, peeking inside the large envelope.

‘Did I miss much?’ Dex dropped into his chair and dumped the roll on the table with a heavy thud.

‘Just that I want you to make out a will.’ Ryder dropped the envelope in front of Dex. ‘I want it back in a week to lodge them.’

‘Swap ya. I found this package on the bar.’ He slid it across the table.

Ryder peeled back the bubble wrap, the same stuff Bree used for her customer’s packages. Only this time it revealed a green blanket, the one he’d given Bree when he’d fixed her shotgun. It was his blanket!

Was she giving him her shotgun back?

‘What’s that?’ Ash asked, with Cap leaning forward.

Ryder rolled open the blanket to reveal a branding iron.

‘Is that the Elsie Creek brand?’ Ash was on his feet to pick up the branding iron, with Cap scooting around the table to stand beside him.

Dex plucked up a note tucked inside the blanket and read out:

As per the final request of Charlie Splint, this is for the Riggs brothers.

Please take care of it, boys, and all that this brand represents as the owners of Elsie Creek Station.

Bree.

Ryder gathered up his old green blanket, releasing another slip of paper that fell to the table. ‘It’s the brand’s registration. Bree’s transferred it into our name.’

‘We finally have it,’ said Ash, passing the branding iron to Cap.

Yet none of them felt like celebrating ownership of the brand they’d argued with Charlie about from the very beginning.

Cap passed the iron to Ryder, who cradled the rare legacy branding iron as if it were forged from more than metal. It held the weight of this station’s history, that was part of the stories of every beast and every hand who had ever marked this land.

He passed it on to Dex, all of them solemn as it exchanged hands. It wasn’t merely an iron rod passing from one owner to the next, it was the station’s soul, entrusted to Ryder and his brothers to carry forward.

Ryder then carried it to the vacant space on the wall, where he’d asked Bree to make him a bull’s head when she did this room’s makeover. Of course she’d refused, yet kept this space blank, complete with the special hanging hooks. He’d never understood why she’d left this space empty, until now.

It was the perfect place to hang their legacy brand for all to see, as all four brothers stood in a row and stared at it in heavy silence. It felt official now, as owners of Elsie Creek Station, with the torch being passed on from the caretaker, and longest serving head stockman, to the next generation of stockmen.

Then they all heard the familiar rumble of the Kombi van.

‘Where is Bree going?’ Dex peered through the wall of windows.

Ryder shrugged, yet there was a tingling sensation at the base of his neck. Something wasn’t right. Bree could have given him that brand personally, there was no reason to leave it on the bar like that. And she had Dex riding her horse, Black Hand.

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