From the edge of her vision, she caught Porter watching her—but she didn’t look his way.
Instead, she rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin.She wasn’t going to explain it to him, because this was her job.And Lot 728 was now simply stolen livestock.
Surprisingly, Porter let out a low whistle like a pressure cooker releasing steam, while rubbing the back of his neck.‘Quarter of a million for a polo horse?That’s wild.’
Craig leaned in as he plucked up a small meat pie and drowned it in sauce.‘Mate, the right bloodline of any livestock is worth more than a house deposit.’
‘As the master brand maker,’ Porter asked, ‘I’m sure you’d have a theory, Bree.How long ago do you think they rebranded that horse?’
‘Just under four months.The healing pattern’s too fresh.It takes a year for the hair to fully grow back, and then the original markings wouldn’t be as visible.’
Craig blew out a breath.‘Damn, that means someone sat on a quarter of a million-dollar horse for months before moving him.Who does that?’
Finn, who’d spent most of his time slouched over his desk these past two weeks, fighting one hangover or another, straightened in his chair, with some of the old sharpness returning.‘Good work, team.We now have some answers and a few leads to follow.’His voice had more weight now.More Finn.
And that gave Amara hope.
‘Is this the part where I ask what everyone’s thinking?’Bree pointed to the big screen displaying the Queensland Police stolen horse report.‘How does a pedigree polo horse, from a high-end breeding farm in Warwick, end up in a Northern Territory livestock auction, with a fake cattle brand burned over the top?’
‘None of it adds up,’ muttered Stone, crossing his arms over his chest.‘You’re a livestock inspector, Craig, aren’t there processes that a beast goes through before it gets into the livestock auctions?’
Cowboy Craig fiddled with his wide-brimmed hat, checking over the brim and the lining as part of his thought process before addressing the room.‘Here’s the thing—before an animal even sets a hoof in the sale yards, it’s gotta pass a stack of checks.First off, there’s the vendor declaration—that lists everything from vaccinations to past treatments, right down to the bloody tick baths.Then you’ve got the National Livestock Identification System (NLIS) scan, where the microchip’s supposed to match up with the branding and paperwork.Not to mention the pre-sale inspection, where a vet or auction rep checks for signs of disease, injury, or tampering.If an animal’s brand doesn’t match the papers, or if the microchip’s off, or if there’s even a whiff of something dodgy, it doesn’t go up for sale.No way in hell.And I know Lydia runs a tight ship in those stockyards.If the paperwork even looks funny, she won’t let it through.’He shook his head, the worry deepening.
‘So how did a high-value horse like that slip through every single checkpoint to get sold at an auction?’Porter asked.
‘I dunno.’Craig shook his head with disgust.‘Because it even got past me.’
‘How?’Bree asked, as if in disbelief.
‘I saw the brand, sure.But I figured the scarring was from a botched job or some old injury—common enough out bush.And look…’ Craig pointed to the image enlarged on the screen.‘Second brands happen all the time with ownership transfers.Especially when the paperwork checks out.’
‘That’s true.’Bree again, gave Craig a nod, this time one of support.
Craig turned to Amara.‘I know I went over that horse and the papers thoroughly, because I wanted you to have him.I could see how much it meant to you.’
‘I know you did.We both did.’Amara gave him a soft smile.
Craig let out a breath, loaded with guilt he didn’t need to carry.Yet, he faced her, in front of everyone, with his hat pressed tight to his chest.‘I’m sorry, Amara.I should’ve seen it.’
Porter and Stone both patted Craig’s shoulders, as if to help brush off the guilt Craig must have been feeling.Craig was a good stock inspector, and that horse got past him, too.
‘It’s not your fault, Craig.’She flicked him a small smile—he’d only been trying to help.‘I had custody of Lot 728 for almost a week before I noticed it.You wouldn’t believe how much hair I brushed off that horse.With the winter coat, and half the Territory’s dirt stuck to him, the brand was half-hidden.’She could come up with all the excuses, but it got past her, too.What sort of Stock Squad officer was she?
‘Right…’ Finn’s palms slapped the tabletop, effectively snapping everyone out of their sullen mood.‘Constable, let’s go to the stockyard.’
‘I’ll go,’ volunteered Craig, slapping his hat back on.
‘No.You’re too close to Lydia on this one.Sorry, mate.How about you and Stone do a quick sweep of the roadhouses and truck stops for information?’
‘We’ll take the chopper,’ said Stone.
‘You have Porter at your disposal,’ said Marcus, the station’s OIC, who had arms on him like a bodybuilder.‘Tanisha, too.’
‘Thanks, we appreciate it.’Finn started to move.‘The constable and I will—’
‘No, you don’t.’Bree tugged on Finn’s hand.‘You’re going to stay and sit right beside me and let me watch you drink that ridiculously big cup of coffee.Porter and Amara can go.’Bree loaded up a plate, then handed the boxes of food to Marcus, before nudging the plate closer to Finn, like she was preparing to force-feed him.‘Shut the door on your way out, you mob.’
Amara frowned.How dare that woman tell Finn—and everyone else—what to do?
