Jim lived on a property 55km west of 5-mile creek. His family had lived there for generations and generations dating way back to the 1850’s. Jim was now on his own, a widower who was about to lose more than he already had.
Jim woke up this morning, got out of bed and ate his breakfast on the porch looking at the sun slowly climbing its way up. Pondering, reflecting and gathering his thoughts whilst staring at the old acacia swaying in the silent wind like a child on a swing, still standing strong after so many years of rain, hail and drought.
“Get up MacLeod” Jim yelled to his horse as it jumped the rugged log. Jim was now 53, all on his own on his great big property. He was on his way down to the dried up mud banks on horseback to investigate the weary irrigation system. The Pilbara River flowed right through Jims place and it was perfect for his irrigation system with pipes and ducts, which surpassed throughout the property and homestead.
Jim had loved this property. As he was a kid he used to come down to the river and play on the rope swing into the picturesque water. The memories he had were cherished but no – one to share with. These memories were quickly fading as the property was becoming quite run down with little help around as drought was fast approaching.
All Jim could think about was his son, Ned a 22 year old, whom Jim had lost all connection with. They had fallout about how Jim, every night drowned him self in whisky and become very violent towards Ned. Ned put up with it for a while, but soon got fed up when Jim started to get abusive so then he left, for good. That was the wake up call that Jim needed to get his life back on track, but as things were on the mend the drought became closer and as Jim got older the harder and harder the property was to hold on to.
When Jim reached the pipes he noticed an unusual shift on the riverbank. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck .It was a king brown snake shifting in the shade. Before Jim blinked he grabbed the .22 but froze like a bunny in the headlights. Ever since last year Jim could pick off a blue jay from 300 meters away with his eyes closed, but last year Jim had an accident and fell of the back of his Hilux Ute with gun in hand, and as he fell the gun fired blowing a hole through his Ute. Jim hasn’t held a gun since, he usually gets max his workhand to do the shooting. But today was different.
Jim slowly cocked his shoulder, sweat dripping down his forehead, blood stimulating through his veins, he held still, aimed and