The other white man was thin and short with sickly-yellow skin. He wore a seafarer’s peaked cap pushed back on his head. A broad smile exposed a set of tobacco-stained teeth.

The other three men were Aborigines, dressed in a curious mixture of animal skins and European clothing. They kept a little distance between themselves and the two leaders, their eyes flicking left and right.

The white men eyed the musket in Sean’s hands and said something to each other. They separated as they came on, heading for opposite ends of the verandah. Sean had to step back a little to keep them both in sight without turning his head too far. The little yellow man reined in on the left and lifted a hand in greeting.

‘No cause for concern, sir,’ he said, pointing at the musket. ‘We’re just after some directions.’ He swept his gaze over the front of the homestead. ‘Be glad of some food, too,’ he added, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. ‘Happy to pay you.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you close the slip rails?’ Toby heard his father snap. ‘Can’t you see I’ve got cattle in the paddock?’

‘We don’t expect to stay long,’ the other man responded, his voice as deep as mountain thunder. ‘We’ll close them on the way out.’

‘If you want anything from me, you’ll ride back down and close them now.’

The little man lifted his chin defiantly. Toby saw the way his eyes narrowed and knew then that they meant trouble. His next words only served to confirm this.

‘And if we don’t?’

Sean lowered the musket’s muzzle a little. ‘Then you’ll get nothing here.’

‘Now, don’t be rash, sir.’ The large man fidgeted in the folds of his shirt, drawing Sean’s attention. He produced a little leather purse and bounced it on the drawstring so the contents jangled. ‘Like we said; we’ll pay you.’ The purse slipped from his fingers and fell into the dust beside his horse. ‘Oops!’

‘I don’t want your money. You can turn around and ride away. There’s nothing for you here.’

The big man raised his hands in resignation. ‘Sorry to have caused you any concern. If you’ll be kind enough to return my purse we’ll be on our way. We’ll close the slip rails as we go.’

Toby watched as his father stepped off the verandah and stooped towards the purse. A flash of movement drew his attention back to the little man as he pulled a single-shot pistol from beneath his shirt and aimed it at his father. There was a metallic click as the pistol cocked.

‘Pa! Look out!’