“Ready,” Faith and Lara echoed, both grinning at him. “Jinx!” They called at the same time and their giggles made warmth spread through him.
They were a beautiful picture. His heart ached, and he kicked his horse to get him moving. “We’ll swing by the sheep on the way back,” he called. “Won’t take too long.”
The sun was directly overhead, but it wasn’t the hottest part of the day yet. They should be back at the farmhouse before then. He led them down the road and then turned at a barely there path to where a gate stood. He opened it, letting the others through before closing it behind him.
They were due to move the sheep to closer paddocks tomorrow, ready for lambing.
They rode for about ten minutes without seeing any animals. Darcy frowned. He should at least hear the occasional bleat by now. Unease brushed his skin. He kicked his horse to a trot to get up a small slope and his stomach dropped. Sheep carcasses lay all over the ground, some red with blood, all unmoving. His pulse raced, and he scanned the area for the cause—a dingo or wild dog snacking on the bodies.
Nothing.
In the distance sheep gathered away from the massacre, some of his flock still alive and unwilling to be near the death. But what lay dead in front of him was about a third of his sheep.
Nausea burst into his stomach and he fought the urge to be sick, as his eyes watered. He inhaled, trying to get control before Lara saw him.
The station would be ruined. They’d been relying on the money the lambs would fetch them.
“Dad? What happened?” The shock in Lara’s voice snapped him out of his despair.
“I don’t know, pumpkin,” he said, injecting some calm into his tone. He swung the backpack from his back and retrieved the radio he always carried. The wind shifted and carried the stench of rotting meat with it. Lara gagged. “Faith, can you take Lara back down to the road? I’ll join you in a minute.” He was pleased with how normal he sounded when inside he wailed.
Faith nodded, her eyes full of concern. “Come on, Lara.”
Lara glanced at him. “No. What if the dingoes attack Dad?”
“They’re long gone, pumpkin, and even if they returned, they’d feast on the sheep rather than me,” Darcy told her. “I’m going to radio Matt and Brandon. You’d be a big help if you meet them at the gate and tell them where I am.”
She narrowed her eyes as she examined him for lies and then slowly nodded. “OK. Yell if you need help.”
“Will do.” He waited until they were at the base of the slope before he headed down to the carcasses. Fezzik stepped warily as they neared, so he dismounted, tied him to a nearby tree, and continued on foot. He pulled his bandanna over his nose when the smell turned his stomach.
It had been only a couple of days since he’d been here, distributing extra feed. The sheep had been in excellent condition and he’d had hope for the future of the station. At the first dead sheep he crouched, brushing away the flies swarming around him, and examined the wound. Definitely teeth marks.
The next one was the same, and the next.
It made no sense. The dingoes and wild dogs did attack the flock, but they always ate what they killed. These sheep had been attacked and then left.
He switched on the radio. “Matt. Bran. You there?”
“Darcy? Something go wrong?” His brother’s concern was clear.
“Yeah, but not with Lara or Faith. I’m at the northern flock.”
A pause. “What’s happened?” Brandon’s tone was flat.
“Something’s been in, killed about a third. Doesn’t look like dingoes.”
“Do I need to call Dot?”
Every instinct told him this wasn’t natural. “Yeah, the police need to check this.”
Matt’s voice came over. “I’m on my way. Where’s Lara?”
“I sent her back to the road with Faith. She’ll be able to direct you.”
“Be there soon.”
“We both will be,” Brandon echoed.
