Page 38 of Stockman's Showdown

‘Black Hand?’ She whistled for the horse, and it obediently trotted towards her. ‘Good boy.’ She patted his nose, and dug around in her saddlebags, to find his raisins as a reward. She also dragged out her phone and took a photo. Then, with the tip of her knife, she pierced the pipe and water spurted free. The pipe was running water directly from the dam.

Again, with her phone, she videotaped the scene. She then dragged out the thick gaffer tape she always kept in her saddlebags, along with other tools and equipment, repairing the hole to not waste any water. She then re-covered the pipe with dirt in case this was one of the brothers’ projects.

But she was pretty sure she knew about all their projects. After all, they’d each sought out her opinion at one time or other. And Charlie could never keep a secret, replaying his conversations with the boys nightly over dinner.

Bree’s shadow spread over the red soils as she followed the channel of dirt that was well concealed. Every ten metres or so, she’d dig at the crusty soil to locate the irrigation pipe. With her horse behind her, she tracked the pipe’s trail, until her heart dropped, as heated anger bristled across the back of her neck. ‘You prick.’

The pipe ran under the fence to disappear into Leo’s land!

Sheathing her knife back onto her belt, she loosely looped Black Hand’s reins over the fence post, preparing to jump the fence and follow that pipeline.

BANG!

It was gunfire.

Her horse nickered, tugging on his reins.

‘Yeah, I heard it.’ It was enough for Bree to swing back into the saddle.

A red plane, with a straw broom painted on its underbelly, flew overhead, as another gunshot rang out:BANG!

Bree ducked from the looming shadow of the plane that was so close it sent a cascade of falling leaves, stripped from the treetops, as if suffering the turbulent wind of a massive dust devil.

The black stallion’s sleek muscles rippled as it reared up, his nostrils flaring wide. Dust billowed up from the dry ground beneath its thrashing hooves, as Bree yanked the reins, trying to steady the panicked beast and held fast in the saddle. ‘It’s okay boy, it’s okay.’

With her heart hammering, she wiped away the sweat from above her top lip, trying to soothe the horse. Bree recognised the red plane, heading in a north-westerly direction towards the homestead.

Repositioning her hold of the reins, she peered back at the dense scrub that made up her neighbour’s land, but didn’t spot anyone. But they had guns, were stealing water, and they weren’t shy about shooting at planes, which meant only one thing.

It was too big to handle on her own.

‘Dammit, I’m going to have to talk to Ryder, aren’t I?’

Sixteen

Spread out over the boardroom table was Ryder’s copy of the murder file. He’d re-read each interview, each witness statement, and the officer’s investigation reports while making his own notes. But what held his attention the most were the various images of the actual murder scene itself. Together, it just didn’t add up.

Through the open windows, Ryder heard loud rock music as if it were coming from the clouds.

‘Do you hear that?’ Ryder called out to Dex, who was working on the harvester inside the mechanical workshop.

‘Yeah.’ Using a rag, Dex wiped the grease from his hands as he walked out to meet the sun. ‘You won’t believe who it is, brother.’ Dex pointed to the air, his cheesy grin growing, as a red plane skimmed above the shed’s roof with a straw broom painted on its undercarriage. ‘It’s theWicked Witch of the Westerly Winds.’

It was their cousin, Monet.

‘Where’s she going to land?’ Dex asked, as rock music bellowed out of the plane as it circled wide over the homestead.

‘On our driveway.’

‘Since when is our driveway an airstrip?’

‘Since you graded it. Apparently, our driveway doubles up as an airstrip when Leviathan Creek floods in the wet season.’Ryder couldn’t imagine the dust bowl turning green and the dry Leviathan Creek flooding. But he was looking forward to it.

‘Who told you that?’ Dex asked.

‘Monet did, when she flew in our parents, while you were having that brief vacation in the hospital. Our cousin has the wet season contract to make mail deliveries to remote cattle stations and said we’re on the list.’

‘Seriously?’

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