After downing five or six cans of beer as he drove along a remote highway in the Northern Territory's Barkly Tablelands, Rodney Barnes did something he shouldn't have.

Something which would soon see him facing an Alice Springs magistrate and a stint behind bars.

It was 1998 when Barnes, clutching a loaded .22 semiautomatic rifle, approached two road maintenance contractors working at Brunette Downs Station.

"F***ing white c***s, get off my land," he yelled, waving the gun erratically.

He charged at one contractor with the gun cocked, a bullet in the breech, and aimed at the man's torso. He then yelled and discharged the bullet into the atmosphere.

It's now more than 20 years on.

Rodney Barnes wants to raise his grandchildren on country.

Mr Barnes, who received a largely suspended sentence for terrorising the outback maintenance workers, is still fighting, and it's all over this same patch of land.

Now 61, he's been trying for decades to convince the world of what he claims is his rightful connection to country on one of Australia's richest cattle runs, Brunette Downs — a sprawling station not far from the Queensland border.

It's where he wants to raise his grandchildren up proper, away from the troubles of nearby Tennant Creek.

"It's my land, my country, it's through my mother, and grandmother and so on," he says now.

"That's where I want to be, I want to go out now.

"I'm not getting any younger and I want my grandchildren to start growing up there — my children missed that opportunity."

Horses run wild around Rodney Barnes's Brunette Downs campsite. ( Supplied: Rodney Barnes )

But it's not so simple.

And Mr Barnes himself may be adding to the complexity.

While the Northern Land Council has confirmed Barnes's place as a native title holder of the Kalkalkuwaja clan, which would give him fair claim to live on this country, Barnes denies being a part of this group, instead aligning himself with the Janba Gurdalanji people, which the Federal Court in 2011 determined have no legal rights over the area.

Despite this ruling — and a previous ruling — Barnes remains stubbornly persistent.

A mob of cattle on the Barkly Tableland, where the vast Brunette Downs Station is one of Australia's richest. ( ABC Rural: ABC Rural )

He claims wrongs have been perpetuated against him; he says he's had his property trashed, been sworn at by police and has in the past even been divebombed by a mustering plane.

"They'd come down very low, it was scary to see this little plane make a noise like that, and come and swoop on my house," he says.

Some allegations have been proven true: in 2013, a court awarded Barnes $3,500 after a police officer was found to have sworn at him in Tennant Creek, breaching the Racial Discrimination Act.

But there's always two sides to a story.

He currently has a valid trespass notice hanging over his head for allegedly encroaching on pastoral property at Brunette Downs outside the boundaries of any native title rights.

There's also the issue of the rifle, in 1998, and a chain of misdemeanours before it.

The firm in charge of Brunette Downs, Australian Agricultural Company (AAco), has been dealing with Barnes for years.

Brisbane-based company secretary Bruce Bennett acknowledges the never-ending stoush and says: "AAco has at all times sought to respect Mr Barnes's right to exercise his native title rights and interests in accordance with the law."

Rodney Barnes says his campsite at Brunette Downs has been trashed numerous times.

"As a general rule, native title rights and interests and pastoral operations co-exist and AAco welcomes … native title holders exercising native title rights … in accordance with the law," Mr Bennett wrote in a statement.

Police say the issue is "a civil matter between the individual and the pastoral management".

On Mr Barnes's claims of harassment, Mr Bennett says that: "No specific allegations have been put to AACo and so AACo is unable to respond … in any detail."

Regardless of what's gone down, there's every chance that Mr Barnes will continue toing and froing from Brunette Downs, where he can camp under the stars, with or without disturbances.

"We just want to live there and do our thing — we will cooperate and show that we're not in your way, but this is our land, and this is land rights law," he says.

Whether he's right or wrong, Mr Barnes's ongoing barney paints a bigger issue, one of the difficulties which often exist between pastoral landowners and Aboriginal countrymen who have, or claim to have, native title rights to live within their fences.

Rodney Barnes wants his grandkids to grow up away from the troubles of Tennant Creek. ( Supplied )

NT Cattlemen's Association chief executive Ashley Manicaros has listed native title as one of the biggest challenges facing his shareholders going into 2019.

The complexities of native title and delays in their settlements can hit the economy as potential buyers walk away, he says, uneasy of investing before a land claim decision is finalised.

"There needs to be greater certainty," Manicaros says.

"Ever investor seeks certainty … there are current court cases in relation to native title and uncertainty around that, particularly around consent agreements and the taking of resources.

"So, everyone is sort of standing back and waiting to see what happens moving forward.

"In the meantime, it's having an impact on investment."

There's also issues of people like Mr Barnes, who demand rights even though the legal structures set up to deal with such issues, like land councils or the court of law, can't easily determine an outcome.

"They can't stop me from going there … I'm suffering and I want to go back to my country," he says.

Deep in Territory cattle country, where sweat and blood have been shed by tough men and women for centuries, wars will continue to arise.

One expects they'll also continue to weather them like any other storm which blows their way.