The morning came up clear and gold, the kind of late-spring day that promised heat by noon and made a man glad of the work in front of him.
Bryce was beside the hay shed when he heard the riders coming.
Not engines this time. Hooves on the track, voices carrying through the still air, the occasional burst of laughter travelling farther than it had any right to.
He stopped what he was doing and looked up.
Grant appeared first around the bend in the track on the big bay, Elara beside him on a grey mare. Behind them came Saige and a string of riders Bryce mostly didn’t recognise.
Grant lifted a hand.
“Morning.”
Bryce returned it.
“You found the gate, then.”
“Eventually.”
“It’s been there the whole time.”
“That doesn’t mean I was looking in the right place.”
Elara shook her head.
The group slowed as they passed near the shed, the horses settling into a loose cluster.
Grant nodded toward the track ahead. “Still right through from here?”
“Yeah. Follow it out toward the forest boundary. Creek crossing about three kay in got washed out in the last rain, though.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough I wouldn’t use it.”
Grant looked at Elara.
She shrugged. “We’ll follow the creek until we find somewhere better.”
“That was my plan,” Grant said.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It is now.”
Bryce smiled.
The riding route had been Grant’s idea. Ironstone had its own trails, but Bryce’s place opened another way through the hills and bush toward the forest country beyond. He didn’t care about them using it. They shut gates, respected the cattle and left things as they found them.
That was enough.
Grant adjusted his reins.
“You sure you don’t want to come?”
“I’m sure.”
“You’ve got horses available.”
“I know.”
“Perfect day for it.”
Bryce looked at the group, then toward the work waiting beside the shed.
“I’d rather have the beer afterwards.”
A voice came from somewhere behind Grant.
“Finally, someone with his priorities straight.”
The laughter that followed carried down the line.
Grant pointed at him.
“Come over when we get back, then.”
“That I can do.”
The riders moved off again, horses stretching into the track one by one.
Bryce watched until they disappeared around the next rise.
Then he went back to work.
They passed again around midday.
Bryce heard them before he saw them, voices drifting across the gully from the trail.
They were farther away this time, following the creek instead of the usual crossing. Through a break in the trees he caught glimpses of horses moving single-file along the bank.
Grant’s voice carried faintly.
Someone answered.
A woman laughed.
Then the bush swallowed them again.
Bryce worked through the afternoon.
By the time he heard the riders returning, the light had begun to soften.
They came back along the same track in a looser group, horses moving with the steady, tired walk of animals that knew the day was nearly done.
Grant saw him and reined in.
“Found your creek crossing.”
“Yeah?”
“About half a kay upstream.”
Elara drew up beside him.
“Wide, shallow, decent bottom. Better crossing anyway.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“You should mark it,” Grant said.
“It’s a creek, Grant.”
“So?”
Bryce looked at Elara.
She sighed.
“He marks everything.”
“It’s organisation.”
“It’s signs.”
“Signs are organisation.”
The rest of the group had begun bunching behind them.
Grant glanced back.
“Right. Before we cause a traffic jam.”
He looked at Bryce again.
“Fire at ours. Come over.”
Bryce nodded.
“I’ll clean up and head across.”
Grant grinned.
“Look at that. Didn’t even have to argue.”
“Don’t make me reconsider.”
The riders continued toward the trail gate and home.
Bryce watched them go, then finished putting his gear away.
For once, there wasn’t anything he needed to take with him.
No tools.
No parts.
No job waiting when he arrived.
He washed the dust from his hands and face, changed his shirt, grabbed a few beers from the fridge and climbed into the ute.
By the time he turned through Ironstone’s gate, the horses had been settled and the riding gear was being put away.
The fire was already going.
Grant spotted him first.
“There he is.”
The group had spread out around a fire beyond the house, chairs and logs pulled into an uneven circle. Drinks were open, boots had been kicked off, and the hard edge of the day had disappeared with the saddles.
Grant handed him a beer before Bryce had properly stopped walking.
“You know how this works.”
“I brought my own.”
“Good. Mine are expensive.”
A woman with sandy-blonde hair laughed.
“Grant, you didn’t buy those.”
“That is irrelevant.”
He pointed between them.
“Bryce, Mauve Fletcher. Her better half is Callan.”
The stocky, sun-weathered bloke Bryce recognised from the trail raised his beer.
“So you’re the man who prefers drinking to riding.”
“Someone has to stay fresh.”
Callan grinned. “I like him.”
Mauve’s smile was warm and easy.
“We’ve heard about you.”
Bryce glanced at Grant.
“That’s becoming worrying.”
“It should be.”
A blonde woman came over next.
“Adele Hart.”
She shook his hand and pointed toward a wiry man settling into a chair near the fire.
“Ethan. He does speak occasionally.”
Ethan lifted his beer.
“Don’t encourage them.”
Bryce laughed.
The last introduction came with strawberry-blonde hair, glasses and a smile that lingered just slightly longer than the others.
“Tessa Morgan.”
She took his hand.
“So you’re the famous neighbour.”
“Apparently.”
“I was starting to think Grant made you up.”
“No such luck.”
Her laugh was easy.
“I keep a couple of horses here. You’ll probably see me around.”
Bryce released her hand.
“Probably.”
Something in her smile suggested she’d expected exactly that answer.
He took the empty spot beside Callan.
For the first few minutes Bryce mostly listened.
They talked about the ride—the creek detour, a horse that had objected to a fallen branch, Grant confidently taking the wrong fork until Elara made him turn around.
“I knew where I was going,” Grant protested.
“You were heading south,” Saige said.
“We needed west.”
“Eventually south becomes west.”
“No,” Bryce said.
The fire erupted in laughter.
Tessa ended up beside him sometime later.
Bryce wasn’t sure whether the empty chair had always been there or whether she had moved it.
She stretched her legs toward the fire.
“You really don’t like riding?”
“I don’t dislike it.”
“That sounded convincing.”
“I’ll ride if there’s a reason. Muster. Move stock. Something that needs doing.”
“But not just because it’s a nice day.”
Bryce took a drink.
“I can think of better ways to spend six hours.”
“Like working?”
“Sometimes.”
Tessa looked at him over the rim of her glass.
“You might be defective.”
“Been suggested before.”
Her knee brushed his.
She didn’t move it.
Neither did he.
A short woman with long blue hair dropped onto the log on his other side, denim jacket open over a dark shirt.
“So you’re the famous neighbour.”
Bryce looked between her and Tessa.
“Do you people rehearse this?”
The woman grinned.
“Holly.”
“Bryce.”
“I know.”
“That’s unsettling.”
“It’s a small circle.” She took a drink. “Grant and Elara have mentioned you. Helping out around the place. Fence. Pump. Whatever else they manage to rope you into.”
“Mostly they feed me.”
“That’s how they get you.”
Tessa nodded solemnly.
“Never accept the first roast dinner.”
“Bit late.”
Holly laughed.
“He’s blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are a little,” Tessa said.
Elara looked across the fire.
“Leave him alone.”
“We’re being friendly,” Holly said.
“That’s what worries me.”
Grant raised his beer.
“He’ll get used to you.”
“I doubt that,” Bryce said.
Callan spoke without looking up from the fire.
“I’ve been saying that for years.”
Grant pointed at him.
“And look what happened. Now we can’t get rid of you.”
“You keep inviting me.”
“Technicality.”
The laughter rolled around the fire again.
The evening wore on.
The fire burned down and was fed again. Stories moved from horses to camping trips to jobs that had gone wrong badly enough to become funny years later.
Ethan told one in the same dry tone he seemed to use for everything, which only made it better.
Adele countered with the story of a horse that had learned to open its own gate.
Saige told everyone about falling into a creek when she was younger, only for Elara to remind her that she had been showing off immediately beforehand.
“You still laughed at me.”
“You were fine.”
“I was soaked.”
“You were showing off.”
“I was a child.”
“You were old enough to know better.”
Grant looked at Bryce.
“She still does it.”
Saige threw something at him.
Bryce listened more than he talked, but nobody seemed bothered by that. Conversations simply opened around him and let him enter when he wanted.
Tessa’s knee remained against his.
Later she leaned closer.
“You should come riding with us sometime.”
“I thought we covered this.”
“Not a six-hour trek. Just a ride.”
“I don’t have a horse.”
“There are plenty here.”
“That doesn’t make them mine.”
“You can borrow one.”
Bryce gave her a sideways look.
“You don’t give up easily.”
“I haven’t started trying yet.”
There was enough humour in it that Bryce smiled.
“Maybe.”
The firelight caught her glasses as her smile widened.
“I’ll take maybe.”
Across from them, Holly was telling Mauve something that had both women laughing. Bryce caught only half of it.
The fire had burned down to coals when people finally started shifting.
Saige was tired enough that she had stopped pretending not to be. Grant stretched until his back cracked loudly.
“Well,” he said. “Successful day.”
“Despite you getting lost,” Elara said.
“I found the creek.”
“Eventually.”
Grant ignored her and looked at Bryce.
“Thanks for letting us through your place.”
“No worries.”
“That route works well. Saves us using the old track, and once we knew where to cross the creek it was easy enough.”
Bryce nodded.
“Use it whenever you want. Just shut the gates.”
Grant looked toward Saige.
“That’s your department.”
“I don’t leave gates open.”
“One time,” Elara said.
Saige pointed at her.
“Exactly.”
“Three.”
“That was years ago.”
The argument carried on around him.
Bryce sat back and took the last drink from his beer.