Page 18 of Rough Stock

‘The owner noticed he was gone this morning. Along with six high-bloodline bull calves and two prized heifers.’ Finn scrolled over the images of Brahman cattle. Each image showed the breed’s proud stance and solid bone structure. Their gleaming pale coats, clear eyes, shiny and moist noses, with alert ears, all clear indications of finely bred stock in prime condition.

‘It’s hard to believe anyone could take him.’ Craig shook his head. ‘Wraith is a top-tier champion bull, worth over two hundred grand, with a bright future. Ginny treats all of her rodeo bulls like kings, especially Wraith.’

‘The bull that almost killed you,’ snapped out Izzy.

‘It was my fault I got hurt. I wasn’t watching my back.’

‘Still, it attacked you. It’s a dangerous animal. If a dog did that in the city, it would—’

‘Stop.’ He held his hand up in her face, effectively getting her attention. She blinked at it a few times.

He then gathered her slender fingers into his hands and gave them a squeeze. ‘It was my fault, Izzy. Not that bull’s fault. He was just doing his job.’ He then faced Finn. ‘But I do know Wraith’s owners would have that bull under constant surveillance.’

‘For a bull?’ Izzy’s eyes were filled with curiosity. ‘I don’t get it.’

Of course she wouldn’t, not when Izzy lived in the city.

‘Sweetheart, that bull is worth a lot of money.’

‘For meat?’

‘Hell, no. He’s rough stock: a specially bred beast used for the rodeos’ rough stock category. And if they’re a good bull, like Wraith, they have a few sources of income while they’re alive.’

‘Really?’ She grabbed another biscuit. It had to be number four.

Izzy must have realised that, pushing the plate towards him while making a sly face as if to saydo something with it.

Craig pushed it closer to Finn, as he explained to Izzy, ‘Wraith would make thousands as a sperm donor.’

‘What?’ She nearly choked on the cookie’s crumbs, taking a hasty gulp of her tea.

All the while, Finn calmly sipped from his teacup and watched their interaction.

‘Finn? You’d know how much Wraith is worth?’

‘He’s insured for just over a quarter of a million.’ Finn placed the cup on the saucer. His big hands made the china cup look so tiny. ‘The two heifers are worth a hundred K each, making the entire haul worth half a million dollars.’

‘Not to mention the money Ginny’s losing out on, especially in the dry season because she’d have Wraith working two jobs.’

‘No way, I never…’ Izzy looked at him with her sweet brown eyes so clear and curious, giving him her undivided attention, the chocolate biscuit forgotten. ‘How?’

‘Well…’ Craig leaned back in his chair to rub his knuckles over his sore leg. ‘A single straw of semen from a prized bull, like Wraith, could sell anywhere between one and three thousand. And that’s not counting the money he’d make for showing up to rodeos. With a bull like Wraith, his owner would not only earn top dollar, but he’d also be one of the few bucking bulls who’d score the rodeo bonus.’

‘What does that mean, rodeo bonus?’

‘You see, the more cunning the bull, the more skilled the riders need to be to take him on. And those kinds of riders are sponsored by some big names, who help promote those kinds of events to draw a bigger crowd.’ Like the charity rodeo he’d attended two weeks ago. ‘A lot of people may back the rodeo riders, but there’s an awful lot of money made on backing the bulls, too.’

Izzy sat back in her seat. ‘I had no idea.’

‘I just got a crash course myself,’ said Finn. ‘It’s why I’m here. I want your help, Craig, to find Wraith, and the other cattle. Unfortunately, we have little time before the trail gets cold. So, it’ll be a crash course for you, too. And our need to find a quarantine station is pressing. Are you interested?’

Eight

‘I don’t think you should do it,’ said Izzy, leaning against the wall of the hospital’s examination room. They’d been talking about Finn’s proposal since yesterday.

‘Only because you don’t want the Stock Squad’s quarantine station to get in the way of selling Dustfire.’ Craig started taking off his T-shirt to prepare for the doctor’s examination. ‘Buck me!’ His stomach clenched, with his shirt stuck on his shoulder.

‘Here.’ She helped him remove his shirt. Now there were no stitches or large patches of white gauze to draw her attention, she struggled to drag her focus away from the ridges and bumps of his very fine torso.

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