He looked skyward as he pressed the central locking button on his horsehair keychain. In every direction ominous dark grey clouds blanketed the blue sky and clung to the edges of the surrounding mountaintops, the sun only peeking out from behind as if it were teasing the earth beneath. The scent of rain was heavy in the air. It wasn’t going to be too long before the sky opened up to a heavy downpour, and the darkening sky matched Dylan’s increasingly gloomy mood. He just hoped the rain would hold off for the next hour or so. Was that too much to ask whoever was in charge above? Upon arriving home from the Studs and Fuds ball that morning, his cattle had been let out again, the keys had been stolen from his tractor and four-wheeler motorbike—thank God he had spares—and the pump that sent the water up from the back creek had been switched off again, leaving his horses and cattle without sufficient water. He’d called into Craig’s place and filled him in, but as usual, it was the same shit, different day, Craig saying he would investigate further and let him know if he came up with anything.
