‘That depends on the stables.’
‘Eh?’Typical.She hadn’t set foot past the gate and had already written her inspection report.
‘I’ve allocated two to three days to prepare and stock up provisions.’
Porter gave a slow nod.‘Right.Because nothing says welcome home like colour-coded feed bins for organic hay, to match the laminated checklists, and the time needed to create the perfect playlist to really settle the inner beast.’
She huffed, wiping off some imaginary dust from her impeccably ironed shirt.‘Craig will be bringing him in his horse truck, and the vet will visit him in the stockyards.And Brodie promised to keep him close.’
‘Brodie’s a good kid.He’ll baby that horse, you watch.’
‘Were you at the auctions?’
‘Yep.’And he’d seen her laser focus when her horse stepped into the auction arena.By then, most of the crowd had shifted to the pub for the festivities, or the office to collect their livestock.And that grey, it was one of the last through on a long day of swirling dust, smelly cattle and horse flies.
Only a few onlookers leaned over the rails to watch Amara hesitate in her bid for it.He could tell she wanted it.Craig and Finn had been standing beside her and one of them must have said something, because she finally put in a bid.
The only bid.
But when the auctioneer dropped the hammer and yelled,Sold,Amara’s smile shone brighter than anything he’d ever seen.Damn, she shone like a star.But not at him—at a horse that needed a home.
‘Stable’s this way…’ Porter walked towards the shed.‘It’s got yards and stuff.’
‘You don’t have horses?’
‘Nope.Don’t know how to ride them either, but I can drive.Will my bikes and buggy be an issue for this horse?’He shoved the stable doors open, allowing the sunlight to highlight his car trailer that sat dead centre, piled with gear like someone had packed in the dark during a cyclone—quad bike, fuel drums, a few spare tyres, and a dirt bike laid sideways like a cherry on top.
Tarps and tie-downs did their best to keep it all civil, yet somewhere beneath the mess, his favourite toy was hiding among this museum of mischief and motor oil, all mashed together.
‘Is all that stuff yours—or did a bush mechanic throw a tantrum and leave his toys behind?’Amara wrinkled her nose like the place had personally offended her.
What was wrong with the smell of oil and fuel?That was the scent of freedom for Porter.‘I like to go hunting and fishing on my days off.’As if the mechanical pile-up of his fuel-powered toys wasn’t obvious enough.
And because he had to poke the pony-club princess he said, ‘It’s called a hobby.You know, for fun.You should try it sometime.’
‘You hunt for what?Bunny rabbits and wallabies.’
Look out, there might be a personality under all that starch.‘Ferals.My mate Luke and I just cleared out the wild pigs ripping up Stone’s fence line.’
‘Stone doesn’t keep livestock.’
‘Stone is trying to protect the crocodiles and water birds in his billabongs for Romy to film her documentary.Sadly, the pigs are making a mess of the waterways.They’re a dangerous pest out here.’
‘Wouldn’t the buffaloes be worse?’
‘Buffaloes are lawnmowers.But pigs?They’re feral, fast, and full of attitude—they’ll eat the mower, the grass, and the bloke pushing it, then charge you for fun.They’re worse than crocodiles.’
‘You don’t like them.Not with that tone.’She wandered around the shed with that sneer as if afraid of dust or something.‘Where do you keep your guns?’
‘Why?Do you want to inspect the gun safe, Constable?’
She scowled at him over her shoulder.‘I think we have a bigger issue with these things.I’m sure this lot breaks at least three dozen local bylaws?’She gestured at the quad, the dirt bike, and his favourite toy tucked under the tarp like it hated sunshine—the beast that wrote its own rules.
Porter fought the urge to roll his eyes, tempted to repark her over-priced Freelander by a pig trough—just to see her reaction.
But then he let out a sigh, heavy with the weight of knowing he’d have to compromise.
Tanisha, the station’s receptionist, had warned him already.Loudly.And repeatedly.That a horse as fancy as the one Amara had bought wasn’t a stockhorse.It wouldn’t be used to noisy quad bikes, bull catchers, and muster choppers like a stockhorse on a station would be.
