Page 71 of Rough Stock

‘He’s here.’ Amara pointed to the small jet landing on the runway. It wasn’t long, and the door opened, with a flight attendant leading the way down the stairs.

Descending from the jet, the Federal Agriculture Commissioner was a formidable figure dressed in a suit that fitted his tall frame perfectly. His air of quiet authority matched his sharp gaze as he assessed the surroundings with practised ease.

A much younger man followed him, holding a tablet like Amara did for taking notes. It had to be the assistant.

‘That’s a tailored suit.’ Of course, Izzy was busy taking in the details, to no doubt obsess over later. It’s what she did.

The commissioner nodded at his assistant who dashed for the airport’s small office, then spotted Finn, waved, and smiled as he moved with confidence across the tarmac. His cufflinks caught the sun as he glanced at his watch, then held out his hand to Finn.

‘Good to see you, Finn…’ They greeted each other like a father and son, where hands were shaken with pats on the back.

‘Come meet the team.’ Finn led the commissioner to where the odd Stock Squad waited.

‘Here he comes. Places, people. In a line.’ Amara snapped her back straight, adjusting her police hat, her tie, and then her woollen blazer. In the thick skirt and stockings that also made up her southern police uniform, Amara had to be sweltering.

‘Everyone, this is Andrew Bannon. The man who helped create the Stock Squad. Our boss.’

‘Told you it was the big daddy,’ muttered Stone under his breath.

‘I thought I’d take this chance to meet you, and to give you your Federal Stock Squad identification, if I may.’

‘Yes, sir. It would be an honour, sir,’ snapped out Amara with straight back in perfect military style.

Desperate to stop giggling, Stone went red in the face. Izzy doing the same.

Finn scowled at them, an obvious order to behave, as he approached the ragtag group that made up the Stock Squad. ‘This is Constable Amara Montrose of the South Australian Police. She handles all our paperwork to ensure nothing slips through the cracks.’

‘Sir.’ Amara whipped up a hand in salute.

‘No need to be so formal with me. A handshake will do, constable. Congratulations on all the hard work. Finn speaks very highly of you.’ The commissioner shook Amara’s hand and passed her a new federal ID in a special leather flip case. ‘Welcome to the Stock Squad.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Amara’s eyes sparkled, as her lips twitched to hide her smile.

‘This is Stone Kipp, our pilot and cold stock specialist.’

‘Cold stock?’

‘Fancy term for crocodile wrangler.’ Of course, Stone had to drop his job in the conversation and watch his audience’s eyes pop.

‘I’d love a tour one day, when I have the time.’

‘I’m sure we can arrange something.’ Stone shook the commissioner’s hand.

Amara mouthed,sirat him.

‘Sir,’ Stone spluttered out as an afterthought.

Finn rolled his eyes as Stone grinned widely, showing off his federal badge.

‘And this is Craig Callahan, our quarantine station manager at Dustfire. Craig is also a senior stock inspector and local rodeo champion. His experience helped us with the recent rough stock case.’

‘Finn told me you talked down a bull from charging you. The one that put you in the hospital from a rodeo accident?’ The commissioner arched his eyebrows as he handed Craig his new badge.

‘Me and Wraith are great mates now.’ With the bull finally out of quarantine, Wraith was happy, being spoiled at home with Ginny and her family. Even though Craig may have retired from participating as a rodeo rider, he hadn’t lost his love for the sport, with lots of orders forWraith Bull Ropesto keep him busy. With only a few more weeks of physio for his leg he’d be clear for duty with the Stock Squad. He was done travelling away from home to manage musters, not when he had Izzy at home, and a quarantine station to manage.

‘Good to hear.’

Finn then said, ‘This is—’

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