Page 31 of Rough Stock

‘Finn looks like he should run a drug cartel, not a federal stock squad,’ said Izzy with a grin, while Craig rolled his eyes.

‘Yeah, that.’ Lydia giggled at the term.

‘You can call me, Lydia. Anytime.’ Craig gave that winning white-toothed smile the ladies loved.

But after so many years, Izzy was immune to that smile and rolled her eyes at the flirt in the cowboy hat.

‘Almost forgot…’ Lydia slapped the desktop as she got to her feet. She then opened a metal cupboard, unleashing a strong leather smell, like an old-fashioned shoemaker’s store. ‘I have a present for you, Craig.’ Lydia was like a diamond jeweller showing off a priceless bracelet in her collection, except it was a black leather vest.

Craig winced through the pain to stand from the low chair. ‘That’s not my rodeo vest? Is it?’

‘I patched it up for you.’

There was a dark patch on the ribs, obviously where the bull’s horns had punched through, given it was the same spot where Izzy had changed Craig’s chest bandages.

It was Craig’s champion rodeo rider’s black leather vest. Well-worn and scuffed from countless rides, with patches and logos of sponsors sewn across the chest. Covering the back was the white patch with the black number ‘1’. It was Craig’s ranking as a champion rodeo rider.

First place!

That was huge.

Back when they were dating, Craig’s patch number was in the hundreds. He’d worked hard for that ranking, devotedly following the rodeo circuit, getting whatever work was available to him, just so he could ride. No wonder he was struggling to let it go.

‘How did you get this?’ Craig’s voice was rough, as if biting through the pain.

‘After they cut it off to stop the bleeding in your chest—’

Izzy gasped as her stomach rolled with horror. Her hand went straight to his back as if to soothe them both.

‘Young Brodie gathered up the pieces for me. I took it home, cleaned it, then fixed it up for you.’ She held it out to Craig.

He faltered, as if refusing to touch his rodeo vest, that he used to be so proud of. He then gingerly held the vest as if it was made of hot steel that had somehow rendered him speechless.

Was Craig going to have some PTSD aftershocks from this?

‘Your stitching is exquisite, Lydia.’ Izzy sucked at small talk, but she had to do something to take the focus off Craig so he could have a moment.

‘Do you do leatherwork?’ Izzy leaned toward the open cupboard, where the rich scent of leather rose from a vast selection of belts and whips. She’d once interviewed a dominatrix over a sex scandal involving a politician, that Lydia’s collection reminded her of the Dungeon Mistress’s stash of assorted S&M tools. In the name of research, Izzy had learned so much about sex toys that day.

‘It’s a hobby.’ Lydia pulled out an entire rack of leather belts. ‘I’m always fixing belts or hatbands for the boys.’

‘Sorry, I don’t wear belts.’ Izzy slid her thumb under her trouser braces and gave them a well-practised flick. ‘I used to suffer with heat rash so badly and could never get comfortable wearing a belt.’

‘Those braces do look sharp on you. I could make you some leather ones, if you like?’

‘Really? The X-back braces?’ Izzy liked how they kept her posture in check, especially when sitting at a desk for hours. She had all her trousers and work skirts tailored for that type of brace.

‘Sure. Let me get my tape measure.’

While Lydia rummaged through the drawers of her desk, Izzy softly stroked Craig’s shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’

Craig cleared his throat, his eyes on the vest. ‘What do I owe you for this, Lydia?’

‘Hush now, luv, it’s a get-well prezzie. I’m just sorry it happened.’ Lydia approached Izzy with her tape measure. ‘You know, my father used to wear trouser braces, too.’

‘Did he?’

‘He was quite partial to the Y-back braces. Used to wear them to church on Sundays, then in the build-up coz he’d get heat rash from his belts, too. You know, the pub’s yardie, Billy, he wears the X-back braces just like you do, and he’s got his fancy fedora to match.’

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