Chapter 12
Brianna wrestled Molly’s old ute up the winding track towards Sweetwater Acres, the engine grumbling like a cranky pensioner and the suspension growling at every bump. The dashboard rattled like a box of mismatched screws, and the seatbelt clip dug persistently into her hip.
‘Old battle-axe,’ she muttered with a wry smile, patting the cracked vinyl dash.
She couldn’t wait to get her Hilux back from the mechanic – hopefully that afternoon, all going well.
The sun was already warm, glinting off the bonnet as she crested the last rise.
Sweetwater Acres unfurled before her like something out of a painting, sunlight spilling over the paddocks, shadows stretching long and low across the dew-dark grass.
She pulled up near the southern fence, climbed out and stood at the rail.
One hand rested on the sun-warmed timber, the other reached for Duchess’s velvety muzzle.
The mare stood proud and patient beside her, ears flicking lazily, her coat a glossy sheen beneath the rising light.
At her side, Maverick tottered between confidence and clumsy curiosity, his long legs still awkward but his spirit bold.
Brianna chuckled as he nipped at her sleeve. ‘You’re getting cheekier by the day, aren’t you, little buddy?’
Maverick snorted and danced sideways, tail flicking, before circling back to press his face into his mother’s flank.
Duchess, steady as the land, didn’t flinch.
She’d come a long way since the tense night of the birth, where Brianna had knelt in the straw, coaxing life into two uncertain bodies.
Lost in her moment with her two favourite horses, she glanced over her shoulder when she heard the crack of a car door.
Hayden was crossing the paddock with two enamel mugs and a battered thermos, and something inside her tightened at the sight of him.
The early sun caught in his dark hair, mussed from a morning without a hat.
His jaw was rough with stubble, his shirt clung to the cut of his shoulders and chest, and rolled sleeves revealed the strong lines of his forearms. He was tall, steady and unapologetically masculine.
Shading her eyes, she felt her pulse flicker as she watched him close the distance between them.
He wasn’t big-headed in the slightest, but there was something about the way he carried himself, all strength and quiet surety, that made the air feel hotter than it already was.
He moved with a quiet confidence, all sun-baked muscle and work-worn ease, a man who belonged to the land.
Ink marked both of his forearms; she already knew one image showed stock horses mid-gallop, and the other was a date in sharp serifed script.
Another tattoo, faint and half-hidden, peeked from beneath the collar of his shirt near his neck, like a secret he hadn’t quite decided to share.
‘I heard the unmistakable sound of Molly’s old girl battling up the driveway, so I figured you’d be out here,’ he said, handing her a mug.
She smiled, accepting it – this was becoming a regular thing, drinking coffee together. ‘Maverick’s becoming a little heart-thief.’
‘Yeah, he has a way of doing that, the little bugger.’
They stood together in quiet comfort, doing their usual, sipping coffee and watching the horses graze.
‘How’s Molly doing now she’s back home?’ he asked.
‘Better. Busy. Determined.’ Brianna exhaled. ‘She’s opening the café tomorrow, whether the universe agrees or not.’
Hayden nodded, jaw tightening slightly. ‘She shouldn’t be paying that money.’
‘She only paid the eight hundred,’ Brianna replied. ‘Says she’s buying time. And she’s still convinced someone in town knows more than they’re letting on.’
Hayden frowned into his coffee, jaw tight. ‘Eight hundred’s still eight hundred too much. They’re counting on fear to keep her quiet. And it’s working.’
Brianna shook her head slowly, eyes scanning the horizon. ‘I know, and I hate it. But she’s stubborn. She thinks giving them what they want will keep the wolves at bay.’
Hayden sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know if she’s doing the right thing.’
She looked over at him. ‘Wouldn’t you do the same? If it meant keeping someone safe?’
Hayden studied her then, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.
‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘I would. No question. If it was someone I cared about, I’d pay it.
Doesn’t make it right, though. Just means you’re cornered, and doing what you can with what you’ve got.
’ He paused, his eyes fixing on the horizon.
‘I hate seeing her trapped like this. It’s eating her up, whether she admits it or not. ’
A breeze picked up, rustling the grass.
‘When I dropped my Hilux off, Roy’s dad was there too,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘In the back, tinkering with something. He was so quiet, and he was watching me like he was weighing something up.’ She half shrugged. ‘He’s a bit of an oddball, if you ask me.’
Hayden didn’t reply straight away. ‘Yeah, he’s most certainly an oddball. Len senior used to run the shop, and Len junior, the one you met, inherited it from his dad.’
Brianna’s phone buzzed and she answered it, her tone polite and professional.
‘Next job?’ Hayden asked as she ended the call.
‘Uh-huh. A property over the other side of town, a sick ewe and two lambs not feeding.’
Hayden gave a low whistle. ‘Always something with livestock. Are you heading out there now?’
She nodded. ‘Yup.’
He tilted his head. ‘Need backup?’
She smiled. ‘I think I’ve got this one, but thanks.’
He grinned. ‘All right, Doc. You know where to find me if those lambs start giving you sass.’
Brianna flashed a crooked smile as she turned towards the ute. ‘If they start mouthing off, I’ll send them your way.’
Hayden raised an eyebrow, following her with an easy smirk. ‘Hey now, I’ve wrangled worse than mouthy lambs.’
‘I bet you have,’ she called back, chuckling.
Molly’s ute grumbled in protest as it fired up again with the dashboard rattling like loose change in a pocket.
After giving Hayden a wave goodbye, it took Brianna a little over twenty minutes to get to the property.
Afterr rattling over a cattle grid, she headed down the straight-as-a-pin driveway, flanked on both sides by long, dry paddocks dotted with wiry grass and rusted fence posts.
A windmill creaked in the distance, and a mob of curious cattle stared at her passing with dull, blinking eyes.
The sun had set higher now, baking the corrugated tin roofs of the outbuildings that shimmered ahead like a mirage.
She passed an old tractor parked haphazardly beneath a lone tree that had discarded all its leaves and noticed a collection of blue drums and spare tyres stacked against a lean-to.
Everything had a distinctly weathered look.
Functional but tired, held together with baling twine and history.
And as she rolled closer to the paddocks, she spotted a familiar pair.
Trev, the handyman, and Joe, the delivery driver, were leaning close together by a fence line.
Both men stiffened when they noticed the ute approaching, their conversation cutting off like a switch.
Pulling up, she stepped out, and their faces shifted from cautious to surprised.
‘Oh,’ Trev said. ‘We thought you were Molly.’
Brianna paused, curiosity pricking. ‘She lent me the ute.’
‘Right. Well, uh, good luck with the ewe and her babies,’ Joe muttered, then both men turned back to the fence.
After pondering, bewilderedly, what a handyman and delivery driver would be doing here together, she tried to file the encounter away.
Maybe Trev had been doing maintenance on one of the old sheds.
These back properties always needed patching, and Joe might’ve been dropping off supplies.
Still, the way they’d both snapped quiet so fast …
It scratched at the back of her mind like a burr that wouldn’t shake loose.
She was startled from her thoughts as the sound of boots on gravel drew her attention.
A broad-shouldered man in his sixties appeared from behind the main shed, wiping his hands on a rag.
His wide-brimmed hat was sweat-stained and shadowed a weather-worn face that spoke of years spent under the sun.
‘G’day,’ he called. ‘You must be the vet?’
‘That’s me. Brianna Steele,’ she said, extending a hand.
‘Ray Travers. Thanks for coming. The ewe is in the smaller holding shed, this way.’
He led her past a series of old troughs and a tractor missing one rear wheel. As they walked, he added, ‘Noticed she wasn’t moving much yesterday. Thought she’d pick up today, but this morning she was flat again. And the lambs, well, they don’t know what to do without her.’
Brianna nodded. ‘Let’s take a look.’
Inside the shed, the ewe was listless, her sides heaving.
The lambs bleated faintly, circling her nervously.
Brianna knelt down, speaking softly to the animals as she worked.
The ewe needed fluids and an antibiotic, the lambs some coaxing with a warmed bottle.
Brianna worked with quiet confidence, pulling her supplies from her worn leather bag and setting up with practised efficiency.
She cleaned the injection site, her fingers sure despite the ewe’s weak shuffles.
Her voice stayed low and steady as she administered the medication, one hand gently resting on the ewe’s side to soothe her.
With the lambs, she knelt low, careful not to startle them.
She offered the bottle, coaxing them closer with soft murmurs, her patience unyielding.
The smaller one resisted at first, bleating sharply, but she persisted until it finally latched and drank greedily.
She smiled, just a little. These were the moments she loved – the quiet victories.
It was routine for her, comforting in its normalcy.