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Luke Boyd and Don Williams manoeuvred their motorcycles to a stop on the Aningie Station approach road, two hundred metres short of the homestead. In the hot, still, humid air, the twin Fat Boy engines burbled quietly in the distinctive Harley Davidson manner. Boyd and Williams sat astride their respective machines, their legs spread wide with their feet pressed hard against the dusty ground, preventing their bikes from toppling sideways. They looked at the homestead ahead, specifically focusing on the small Mitsubishi sedan parked in front of the building.
Almost like it was a well-rehearsed, coordinated dance movement, both men removed their helmets and sat them on the fuel tank between their legs. Beneath their helmets they wore identical, colourful bandannas wrapped around the low
