Page 27 of Rough Stock

‘Can you bring the bull catcher down, Ginny?’ Izzy held on to Craig, to help keep his balance. It sucked.

‘I’ll be right back. Then we’ll take you home for a cuppa. Got some fresh sausage rolls for smoko. And if you’re gonna look for Wraith, I’ll pack you his favourite treat.’

‘What do you give a bull? Chocolate? Gummy bears? Biscuits?’

‘Are you hungry, Izzy?’ Craig arched an eyebrow at her as he stood, hugging his sore ribs, while balancing on the dumb crutch.

‘I’m just wondering. I know dogs like liver treats, and cats like fish treats or catnip. What do you give a bucking bull?’

‘I bake these special oat-bran treats for my bulls. They love ‘em. The secret is in my homemade molasses made from mangoes. The neighbour gives us his seconds in mangoes so I can bottle up a big batch. Wraith loves his mango oat treats so much, he’d break down fences just to rest his chin on my kitchen windowsill, giving me these big sookie eyes, begging me to give him one when I pull them outta the oven.’ Again, Ginny sighed, the sadness making her eyes droop as she looked over her land.

‘We’ll get him back.’ Craig didn’t know how, but he’d try.

Ginny patted his hand sharing a soft motherly smile. ‘Well, in that case, I’d better give you a bag to keep in the ute, so when you see my boy, he’ll behave. I’ll get the bull catcher. Sit tight.’

‘Sounds good.’ Craig tried to smile, but it ended up a grimace from the pain in his ribs and the throb in his leg, as Ginny raced to the bull catcher sitting on top of the small hill.

‘You’re not doing so good, are you?’

He could never hide it from Izzy. ‘I’m not going home yet.’ He was over being stuck indoors. Being outside again, feeling the sun on his skin, smelling the earthy grasses, reminded him of that. He forced himself to stand taller, hugging his ribs with one hand while balancing on the crutch with the other.

Trying to take his mind off his pain, he scrutinised the paddocks below that held only a specialised kind of stock. It was the perfect balance of grazing stock for space. Not too big, not too small. And perfectly manageable. ‘I could do something like this.’

‘What? Stand in a paddock on one leg like a dorky stork wearing a cowboy hat?’

He didn’t mean to chuckle, but it took his mind off the pain.

‘Better?’

‘Yeah.’ Still using the excuse to sling an arm over her shoulders for support, they hobbled back to meet the vehicle.

With her soft hair against his check, Izzy smelled so sweet with that honeyed scent that was uniquely hers. Plus, she was the perfect height for him to tuck her into his side and walk with the same gait as Ginny drove towards them.

‘It may seem stupid, and I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know what I’m doing with Finn’s job, but I want to help Ginny and her family find their livestock.’ But he was also doing it for the bull that put him on his arse.

‘I know you do.’ With his arm around her shoulders, Izzy tenderly patted his hand. ‘But I also know you want to rescue that bull, too.’

‘Does that mean you’ll help me?’ Because Izzy’s skills would be priceless in an investigation, considering he’d never done it before. Izzy would know what to ask, but she’d also be a walking memory bank of information, someone he could debate with for hours on end looking at various unlikely but possible ways to steal a prized bull like Wraith, as well as come up ideas for how to find him. ‘Please, Izzy?’ He lowered his head, giving her his best suck-up smile yet.

She sighed heavily, while rolling her eyes. ‘I’m already playing the part of your designated driver.’

Yes, she was in.

‘I’ll do it, but only for your sake, not for Finn’s.’

Whoa. What did she have against Finn?

Ten

‘Oh, lordy. Didn’t you hit the jackpot with this pretty lady, Craig. C’mere, luv, and give us a hug.’ Lydia bundled Izzy up into a hug, it was like meeting someone’s mother, who smelled of lavender, leather and sunshine.

‘Come inside the office, luv. I’ve just put on a fresh pot of coffee.’ Lydia led the way into the cool, air-conditioned office. ‘Coffee, Izzy?’

‘No, thank you.’ Even if it smelled divine, it was only mid-morning and she didn’t want to risk it.

‘I will, thanks, Lydia.’ Craig dropped into the guest chair on the opposite side of Lydia’s large desk, covered in paperwork and colour-coded trays. Along the wall ran a low bench filled with shelves, a stack of empty clipboards pinned across the top, while large filing cabinets stood like silent sentinels behind her workspace.

‘What is this place?’ The squat building sat before the sheds, while overlooking the empty stockyards, where a silent windmill loomed above a large water tank nestled beside the town’s train line.

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