Page 23 of Rough Stock

‘Did you get the flowers I sent you?’

‘I did…’ He peeked at Izzy, who’d had a weird fascination with his flowers at the hospital and probably remembered not only the women’s names but every bunch.

‘The carnations were lovely.’ Izzy dropped her head, as if ashamed of her previous comments over those flowers.

So she should. He may be a shameless flirt, but he hadn’t slept with all those women who’d sent him flowers. ‘Thanks for the flowers, Ginny. You didn’t need to. It was my fault for not watching my back in the rodeo arena.’

‘What brings you out here then?’

‘I heard someone pinched Wraith.’

‘Bloody mongrel duffers…’ Ginny wiped her mouth as if to rid some foul taste, then narrowed her eyes at Izzy. ‘You the wife?’ Ginny scratched at her baggy shirt, which hung over her blue work pants. They were tucked into black-and-white polka-dotted gumboots, caked with mud and flecked with straw, as if she’d been mucking out the stables. ‘Does she know she married a dog?’

‘Ginny!’ Craig winced, not daring to look at Izzy, who’d huffed with heat.

‘Well, what else can I call you, a tart who can’t keep his fly up?’

‘We’re separated.’ Izzy thankfully saved his hide from Ginny’s lecture. ‘And we’re still friends.’

‘Friends, huh?’ Craig arched an eyebrow at Izzy.

Izzy raised her chin in defiance, or anger over Ginny’s reminder that he was a dog, but that pose meant Izzy was digging in for a fight. ‘Not if you keep picking on me by playing back-seat driver, we’re not.’

‘It’s my ute.’

‘So? At least I can drive.’

‘Don’t tempt me into getting you a driver’s uniform, like a chauffeur.’ After all, she was almost there with her tailored trousers and sexy suspenders.

Izzy scowled, with her voice low. ‘Do you want to walk home?’

The thing was, Izzy would leave him just to prove her point.

Ginny laughed so loudly her jowls wobbled. ‘Sounds like me and my old man.’

‘How is Frank?’ The thought of Ginny’s poor husband drained the fight right out of him.

‘Good. Real good. No more chemo treatments. He’s finally home and back out in the paddocks with the boys. Come on, I’m heading that way now, and maybe you can tell us what happened, coz that federal copper, with all them tatts—’

‘Are you talking about Finn?’

‘Nasty-looking bugger, isn’t he? If I was a crim and had that kinda fella after me, I’d do the Harold Holt and bolt, too.’

‘Finn does give the impression he’d be at home running a cartel.’ Izzy said it so casually it had Craig snorting to stop the belly laugh.

‘Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?’ Ginny screwed her nose up as she nodded.

‘Finn’s not like that.’ No wonder Finn was asking for Craig’s help with the locals.

‘But that Finn fella reckoned you might visit. And I know you’ve always been a bloody good tracker. Maybe you can tell us how they got in.’ Ginny led them towards the old Toyota.

‘Look at that,’ whispered Izzy as she walked beside Craig. ‘It’s like something from a post-apocalyptic zombie movie.’ She pointed to the old Toyota Landcruiser, with the vehicle’s top half sheared clean off. There were no windows, doors, or glass windscreens, but a network of steel rails and mesh that covered the sides, leading to a large mechanical arm on the driver’s side.

‘It’s a bull catcher. They’d need it if they breed rodeo bulls.’

Izzy tilted her head at the vehicle that looked like something straight out of a Mad Max movie set. ‘It’s like the one Charlie had at Elsie Creek Station. The Razorback?’

Again, another mention about Charlie. Only this time it didn’t hurt so much at losing his mentor, not when Izzy’s eyes were so bright, as she inspected the dusty bull catcher like it was a shiny new toy.

---