The Foreman

Jimmy Kelp saddled up his horse and rode out with the two hands he’d hired to move some cattle. He was most at home in the saddle having spent his life on a cattle ranch in Arizona. He had been in Australia now for five years, an Iraq war veteran he came to his new country with an Aussie he met while in the military. They worked together at Nana Glen until Travis hired him as foreman on his ranch. Jimmy liked working with Travis and the pay was better here.

Jimmy rode up along the ridge watching the two boys work for awhile. He spotted the old hut and rode over, dismounting he tied his horse to a tree. He’d been meaning to talk to Travis about the hut thinking with a little work it would make a good place for the hands to take a break, a cup of tea or coffee would be welcome and with a little spirit stove…he stopped noticing the cigar butts. That damn Sweeny had been up here.

Jimmy looked around and saw the tracks of the four wheeler, so this is where he’d been going. He’d heard from Bill that Sweeny hadn’t been seen for a couple of days. Jimmy tilted his hat back, he hated that son of a bitch and wondered the first time he saw him wanting to take the four wheeler out why Travis had brought him out here. He wasn’t the kind of man you’d think Travis would have anything to do with.

He pulled out his phone and called Travis, "Hey Travis, thought you ought to know that Sweeny feller has been up here at the herder’s hut, I’m here now...no he’s not around that I can see…left his callin’ card…cigar butts. I ain’t touchin’ a thing. You want me to wait…all right." Jimmy went over to the tree where he’d tied his horse and sat down leaning against the trunk. He looked down over the little dale below him with the stream running along, he’d followed it one day and knew it emptied into the lake beyond those trees, where the squatter cabin sat.