What an absolute waste of bloody time going down to see those lawyers in Melbourne. Henry Lindsay's stubbornness had been a thorn in his side for years. He wanted to buy the property back when the old man died. No one could call that unreasonable. I’d have offered them a fair price, damn it. To find out the relatives in England not only refused to sell, but wanted to settle here and start up a horse stud enraged him. He cursed under his breath at the sheer insolence of those Lindsays. Imagine having the gall to take out an advertisement in the local paper and stick up notices in the general store? His lips curled contemptuously. He had ripped down every notice he saw. Warrior. What kind of name was that for a stallion? Probably some broken down old hack. They would get no credit anywhere, he made sure of that. How dare they hog water he desperately needed for his stock to survive a prolonged drought. He would do everything necessary to scare off those wretched interlopers. I’m not prepared to stand by and let any animal suffer while Henry Lindsay’s relatives play at being farmers.
