‘We’ll keep it right, don’t worry.’ Ant flipped a tea towel over his shoulder and squared up. ‘So, what’ll it be, fellas? A punch or a pint? I’ll just let you know, one of them comes with a lifetime ban.’
‘Jeez, man, we didn’t start it.’ The shearer Hamish had decked rubbed his chin as one of his mates dragged him to his feet. ‘We’ve been putting our hard-earned on your bar all afternoon.’
‘Yep,’ Ant said imperturbably. ‘And Hamish here is a local. You’re all country boys. Reckon you can work out for yourself who’s going to win any barney in here.’
Pierce reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. ‘Or we can all have a drink and calm down.’
Ant pointed a thick finger at one of the men. ‘But you’re out, no matter what. You don’t blindside a man in my pub then get another drink.’
‘We’ll go across the road, then,’ the guy huffed, massaging his knuckles. Hamish assumed he was the guy who’d gone for the thigh kick and wild punch.
‘I can guarantee you won’t get a drink there either,’ Ant said. ‘Dan, give Lynn a bell at the Overland, mate.’
The bartender nodded and picked up the phone.
There was a brief conference between the shearers, no more than a couple of ‘what ya reckons?’, and as quickly as it had started, the argument was over, the fight defused. The banned shearer and one of his mates banged out of the door, and the rest crowded toward the bar.
From the corner of his eye, Hamish made out Jack’s sister, Sam, hustling Tara from the bar area to the dining room. His instinct was to follow, but he knew it would be poor form not to have a drink with the shearers, so he accepted the pint the bartender pulled at Ant’s nod andpressed the tea towel full of ice cubes Dan handed him against his cheek.
‘Bloody women, man,’ one of the shearers confided cheerfully as he elbowed in alongside Hamish at the bar. ‘Root of all evil, right?’
‘It’s the whole rooting thing that causes the problem,’ one of the others said, then guffawed.
Hamish drained the last of the foam as Pierce’s eye met his. The older guy tipped his head toward the lounge. As Hamish made to leave, Pierce slid into his spot, talking far more loudly than he’d usually do. ‘So the rain screwed you guys for a few days or have you got a dry shed to move on to tomorrow?’
Hamish internalised his grin. Pierce knew nothing about farming, but was intent on causing a distraction so Hamish could get into the adjacent room to check on Tara. He touched two fingers to his eyebrow in a salute to Ant and shot Jack a wink. Looked like his mate was going to be late for dinner at his mother-in-law’s, but it was bloody lucky he’d hung around. Hamish knew he could have got a few decent punches in, but his left arm wouldn’t have been good for a full-on blue.
Justin and Indi almost walked into him as he made his escape. Justin looked around suspiciously. ‘Air’s thick enough to cut with a knife. What’s going on?’
‘Just a scuffle. Where were you when we needed a brick shithouse to stand behind us, Juz?’ Hamish said. The cabinetmaker dwarfed him and every other man in the room.
‘Sharna’s in town for a couple of nights. We were catching up at the diner before she heads out to her folks,’ Justin replied, as though he actually did owe an explanation for his absence.
‘That flame’s never going to die down, is it?’ Hamish teased. It didn’t matter that Sharna was married; Justin was steadfast in his first love. ‘But does she know you’re here with Indi?’
‘Indi’s just a mate,’ Justin said staunchly.
‘Ta ever so,’ Indi cut in dryly, though her eyes danced.
‘Come on, Indi, you know I didn’t mean—’
‘I’m out of here.’ Hamish interrupted Juz’s justification. ‘But Pierce is buying a round for the house, so I suggest you get in on that.’ He hiked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the bar.
The dining room was far quieter than the front bar. There was a good reason for that: the Settler’s was infamous for its deep-fried, greasy menu and, on a Saturday night, anyone wanting a decent feed would be across the road at the Overland.
Samantha sat with Tara in the furthest corner of the room, her fleecy jacket draped around the younger woman. She looked up as Hamish approached, a frown contracting her brow. He’d thought maybe she was the person to lay his concerns about Tara on, but now he wondered. Sam had had enough shit go down in the last couple of years to deserve a break from any worry.
‘Ready to make tracks, Tara?’ he said in a hearty tone. If he could get her home, they could keep this mess quiet. Finding out she’d been shit-faced wouldn’t go down well with her folks or her brother.
‘She’s with you, Hamish?’ Sam sounded doubtful.
‘Sure is. You knew I’d have to give in sometime,’ he added with an offhand laugh.
‘I’m not getting any sense out of her.’
Tara was slumped, eyes open, but leaning against Sam. Hamish took a seat on the other side, putting his arm aroundTara’s shoulder and pulling her upright under the guise of giving her a hug. ‘Guess we celebrated a little too much. We’re heading back to mine now.’
Sam pinched her lips together, then nodded. ‘Use the back door, Ham. And you’ve got my number if you need me?’
