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the loch.’
    â€˜You could have stayed with your father.’
    â€˜He’s your father too,’ Charlie replied softly.
    â€˜He’s no kin to me. Decisions made, lad,’ he growled. ‘We’ll be leaving when I give the word.’ How he longed to remind his brother that he’d not invited him on this journey.
    â€˜You should not have put Mary before your own family, nor forced me to take sides.’
    Selecting a chunk of sizzling meat, Hamish skewered it with a knife. ‘Firstly, no-one asked you to take sides and secondly, never mention her name again.’
    Charlie looked about the waking goldfields and winced at the thought of another day. He should have stayed in Melbourne. There was good work to be had there and loading supplies and chopping wood were chores he could manage. ‘I should have told you,’ he said simply, ‘about what I saw that afternoon.’
    Hamish glared at him, his lips greasy from the meat. ‘Yes. You should have.’

Sarah flung the louvered doors open onto the verandah and walked out of her bedroom. The morning sun was just beginning to skirt the trees on the horizon. As she waited patiently for the first rays to flicker across the countryside, a flock of lorikeets flew overhead. She followed the formation of brilliant colour until they landed with a chorus of squeaks in a gum tree at the end of the garden. She didn’t expect her mother to be very impressed with their return. Twelve months ago they had managed to decimate one of Sue’s favourite trees directly outside the kitchen window, condemning them immediately to abuse should they ever return. Sarah lifted a finger to her lips, willing them to quietness. The birds would forever remind her of the day she learned that Wangallon was to have a new jackeroo.
    With a smile she breathed in the dawn moist air, her eyes surveying the distant paddocks dotted with merino sheep. Their bodies moved effortlessly through the swaying grasses, their heads obscured as they munched with military precision.The sun was climbing faster now, turning the distant skyline from a smudge of rose pink to a widening streak of red and blue. With its ascent came the almost imperceptible change in smell that Sarah knew so well. It reminded her of a basket of flowers, herbs and grasses. A tangy potpourri of scents growing in intensity as the slumbering countryside woke to a new day. It was this moment she loved best, even more than sunset when the animals quieted for the night and the shadows lengthened into the memory of the day. The constant majesty of the bush would always delight her.
    Constancy within her family, however, was a totally different matter. Returning to her bedroom, Sarah tucked her pale yellow shirt into blue jeans and, not bothering to look in the mirror, gathered her hair back into a loose ponytail. After her grandfather’s visit to their kitchen the previous year, Sarah had expected a shift in attitude amongst the inhabitants of the property, yet nothing altered. Indeed, her grandfather’s presence only grew stronger. In some ways it was a relief. Cameron was still the same brother, dependable and fun. But it bothered Sarah that Cameron didn’t change one bit with the formal notification of his eventual succession. In fact she had begun to worry whether he took the responsibility seriously, for if it had been her she doubted she would ever have felt the same again. Of course Cameron spoke often enough of sharing the running of Wangallon with her. He even went so far as to cheekily suggest that Anthony would be an excellent permanent addition. However, the fact remained that the property belonged to him.
    As her thoughts threatened to ruin a perfect morning, Cameron’s voice echoed loudly through the three-bedroom house. Sarah glanced at the small metal alarm clock on her dressing table. He too was an early riser, content to hunker down with a coffee in the kitchen with his