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The high-pitched squeal of the chainsaw rang around the side of the mountain.

It was loud, even through the padding of Indy’s earmuffs, but she kept her focus on the wood.

The chainsaw’s teeth sank into the last branch, cutting a line as neat as if it were a knife in butter.

The hot February sun beat down on her and, as she made several more cuts, divvying up the thick branch from the fallen gum tree, a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face.

She’d long grown used to working outside in the summer heat, but still dreaded the prickling of tiny wood chips sticking to her skin.

At least she had jeans on and her work shirt, baggy as it was, covered the fold of her elbows.

With the final cut made, Indy switched off the chainsaw and took a step back. Emery stepped into view at the top of the tree, her mouth moving but no sound coming out.

‘Oh.’ Indy yanked the earmuffs off her head. Damn, they worked well. She hadn’t even heard them arrive. ‘What’d you say?’

Her friend and coworker’s hands went to her hips and her ponytail, a rustic mix of brown and red, flopped over her shoulder as she tilted her head. ‘I said, that’s a bloody thick trunk. You’re going to have to cut it up small for us to carry.’

‘I didn’t think the wind was that strong last night,’ Mara said, jumping onto the log, and swinging her legs around in some mock ballerina move.

‘We’re pretty sheltered on the other side of the cliff,’ Indy told her, putting the chainsaw on the ground to grab her water from the ute.

The quad bike Emery and Mara had ridden up on was parked next to it.

She leant back against the tray and unscrewed the lid, then gazed at the view.

It was pretty spectacular on this side of the mountain.

Over the drop-off, the land stretched out, cut into paddocks that resembled a patchwork quilt of yellows, greens and browns.

Indy shuddered. The last place she’d want to be in a storm like the one they had last night was close to that cliff.

There’d be no coming back for anyone who misjudged the edge of the mountain.

So different to the other side that was Windale Mountain Station, nestled amongst slopes and man-made flats.

‘Up here in the top paddocks, the trees get a hammering. And Nova only wants us to load up the branches. She said to cut the trunk up thickly for the football team to use for training.’

Mara squealed, causing Emery to drop the armload of wood she’d gathered. ‘I can’t believe the Sydney Scorpions are coming to train here!’ Mara said. ‘If I’d known this farm doubled as a training camp for hot athletes, I wouldn’t have argued so much with Nova about coming.’

Emery swapped a look with Indy as she crouched to pick up what she’d dropped.

Indy tipped her head back to pour the much needed water down her throat.

At sixteen, Mara was Nova’s most recent recruit and the youngest of their station crew.

This was the most enthused Indy had seen her since she arrived without warning—just like Indy and Emery, and a lot of the others between them had—after Nova had gone to Denarlie for supplies three weeks ago.

The teen had spent the first couple of weeks stomping around with a scowl on her face, muttering about stupid sheep and the dumb heat.

Indy got it. She’d been exactly the same when Nova had brought her to Windale Mountain Station just over a decade ago.

The three thousand hectare property of rolling hills, gullies and flats on the other side of the steep peak of the mountain itself was so far removed from anywhere Indy had been before.

Not that that included many places. Like Mara, she’d been so pissed off at Sarge and Nova for setting her up and taking her choices away, but those feelings seemed so foreign now.

She’d fallen in love with this place. The fresh air, the views from the mountain top, the green grass and even the sheep.

The blisters she’d developed when she first arrived had become calluses she was proud of, and the isolation had become comforting.

It was refreshing to know everyone in a thirty kilometre radius.

Mara would grow to love this place too if she gave it a chance.

Indy watched her, irritation bubbling up inside at the carefree dancing the girl was doing along the tree. If Mara stayed, she stayed. Indy didn’t really care. There’d always be another girl to take her place.

‘We don’t get too many rugby league teams up here,’ Emery said, stacking her load in the back of the ute.

‘The Daggers used to come every couple of years for short camps, like three days at a time. But it’s more usual that we get netballers, the Sydney AFL women’s team and field hockey teams. Oh, we had the Matildas here once, which was pretty cool. ’

Mara’s dancing stopped. ‘I love soccer.’

‘The Australian beach volleyball team came here before the last Olympics,’ Indy added. ‘They were insane.’

‘Give me a hand with the wood, Mara,’ Emery called, brushing her hands off on her jeans before moving back to the pieces of tree Indy had already cut. ‘Nova wants us back before the bus arrives.’

Mara performed another ballerina turn with her arms over her head. She was too giddy. It grated on Indy’s nerves.

‘We don’t get a lot of crossover with the athletes,’ she warned. ‘So I wouldn’t get your hopes up. They do their thing and we do ours. We really only run into them at mealtimes, but we have our own table.’

‘Maybe Janet and Theresa will let me help out in the kitchen.’

‘Probably not, if this is your idea of helping,’ Indy said, screwing the lid back on her bottle and throwing it onto the ute’s front seat a little harder than necessary. ‘Get your arse off that tree and help Emery load the back of the ute.’

With an exaggerated pout, Mara jumped down from the trunk and grabbed a couple of smaller logs. ‘Well, I think this is the greatest thing to ever happen to me. Sharing meals with hot muscly footballers who get paid, like, hundreds of thousands of dollars each game—’

‘I don’t think it’s that much,’ Emery said, amusement in her voice. But it didn’t deter Mara.

‘And it’s summer! Which means they’ll be topless for at least eighty per cent of the time.

I’ll need to find my bikini. Get my tan on.

I’m pretty sure that delicious footy pin-up guy plays for the Scorpions.

He better be coming! My friends have been giving me shit for coming out here, but they’ll be singing a very different tune when they find out I’ve bagged a hot, rich, famous footy player. ’

Indy scowled at the younger girl’s yammering, ready to tell her to shut up, but didn’t because the logs continued to hit the ute’s tray.

‘You know footy boys are players on and off the field, don’t you?’ Emery said.

‘Who cares? It’s not like I want to marry them. It’s just for a bit of fun.’

Indy bristled like a cactus. ‘Nova told you about the golden rule, didn’t she?’

‘Golden rule?’ Mara screwed her nose up and went back for another load.

‘Yeah, no sleeping with any camp guests.’

‘You’re shitting me! Why?’ The shock on Mara’s face almost made Indy laugh.

‘Because,’ Emery said, passing between them to pick up another piece of cut-up branch, ‘Windale is a property run completely by women. It’s hard enough to get respect as a woman in the agricultural industry, so Nova doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about what we’re about.’

‘The last thing we need is the poncy Mr Bartholomew Granger petitioning to get the station shut down by saying Nova’s running a brothel.’ Indy shuddered at the idea of the beady-eyed, chauvinistic man labelling them something that, without the intervention of Nova, they very likely could’ve become.

Mara scoffed and slung a heavier log into her arms. ‘If Nova didn’t want everyone to think we were all hussies, then she shouldn’t have picked us up off the streets.’

Emery and Indy shared another look before Indy picked up the chainsaw.

The painful memories of her own time bouncing between foster homes was always there, the image of Bonnie’s face with it, her pale skin and black frizzy hair floating around her face, eyes closed.

Indy’s stomach muscles clenched. It so easily could’ve been Indy.

Nova had saved her. There was no two ways about it. Indy owed her everything.

She glanced at Mara. Short, arms and legs like twigs, piercings everywhere they shouldn’t be, and, underneath her black skull cap, roughly cut, dyed-black hair with a couple of inches of mousy brown regrowth.

A walking reminder of Bonnie. Indy had noticed their similarities the moment she’d seen Mara sulking in the front seat of Nova’s ute, refusing to get out.

Indy wanted her to turn around and leave just as much as Mara did.

But Windale Mountain was a place for second chances and if Nova thought the girl needed one, deserved one even, then it wasn’t up for debate. Nova hadn’t been wrong yet.

Indy adjusted her sunglasses and reached for her earmuffs. ‘Mara.’

The young girl rolled a heavy log into the tray with a loud clang. ‘What?’

‘This is a good gig. You do right by Nova and she’ll do right by you. Don’t stuff it up.’

Indy didn’t wait for her reply, just shoved the earmuffs on and pulled the rip cord, satisfied when the machine shuddered as the motor caught.

Holding something so dangerous in her hands made her feel powerful.

This chainsaw could cut through the thickest trunk or a lot worse if she slipped or got distracted.

But the trust Nova had in her? The sixteen-year-old screw-up turned farmhand?

It was the most powerful feeling she’d ever had.