‘The horsemen were a tough breed. Some came from as far away as Hay. The stock route was a kilometre wide. But then National Parks and Wildlife banned cattle grazing in the park because it was destroying the alpine environment. The snow leases were phased out over time, not that it made any difference to our family. We’d already lost ours.’

‘Lost it? How?’

Cate smiled, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. ‘That’s where the Lorrimers come in.’

Flowers’ heart rate spiked.

‘Wendy said you were asking questions about the old feud,’ she said. ‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

Before Flowers could frame his next question, Cate reached up and took her parka from a wooden peg on the wall. ‘It’s a long story. Come on, I’ll tell you while we’re bringing down the wood.’ She stepped outside, and he quickly followed.

‘My great-great-grandfather, Herbert Buchanan, discovered gold up at Kiandra in the 1800s,’ Cate began as they set off from the hut. ‘He used the gold to buy land and establish White Winter Station. That’s how most people got their land around here.’

Flowers nodded. Orville Parish had told him the same thing. ‘I’ve seen your great-great-grandfather’s headstone in the cemetery, the one with the angel.’ He didn’t admit to only seeing it in a sketch.

‘That’s right. His son, James, my great-grandfather, added to the land holdings. He’s also buried in the family cemetery, as well as their wives and the children they lost.’

Flowers nodded again. Cate was powering along the trail on her cross-country skis while he needed every bit of breath to keep up with her.

‘The last Buchanan to be buried in the cemetery was my grandfather, Henry. He fought in World War Two and died a few years after he came home. Wendy and my father weren’t even teenagers then.’

‘So, there were two properties in the family?’ Flowers asked, relieved to see they were almost back at the carpark. ‘White Winter Station and the land up here that was leased from the government and used in summer?’

‘That’s right.’ Cate pointed her skis across the slope and walked up sideways.

Flowers, no longer caring about style, scrambled up using the crampons on his snowshoes, while grabbing handfuls of low vegetation sticking out of the snow.

Cate undid her bindings and straightened up, barely puffing. ‘My grandfather was ill, and he let the snow lease lapse. My grandmother had managed to keep things going while he was enlisted, but when he came back, she was so busy caring for him and the children, as well as running the property—’

‘That’s Wendy and your father?’