The Stock Squad had been stationed in Elsie Creek for nine months now, and Finn still had no furniture—just a crate and a set of large speakers for the record player sitting beside a pile of records stashed in the corner.
The bedroom only held a bed, while his clothes sat in piles around a simple duffel bag.At least it had an air conditioner.
Seeing inside someone’s house really gave you an insight into that person’s mind.And this, for Finn, was only temporary.
Which made this posting only temporary for Amara, too.
It was no secret the Stock Squad was on a trial run, but Finn had never said when the clock would run out.Surely they’d earned their shot at a permanent post by now.
Which meant it was the wrong time to buy a horse.
‘There you go, Finn.Nighty-night.’Porter rolled Finn onto the bed.
Amara took off Finn’s boots.‘Goodnight, sir.’
Back in the kitchen, she found Porter peering inside the massive silver fridge that held only beer and bread.
‘Not much, huh?’
‘Sure it is.It’s your average stockman’s staples.’Porter closed the fridge door.‘I’ve seen worse.Cowboy Craig used to have stuff growing in his pickle jars.’
From the near-empty cupboard, she pulled out a packet of painkillers and placed them next to a water bottle on the kitchen counter for Finn to find in the morning.
Porter paused in the doorway, the spotlights outside catching the lines of his uniform—broad shoulders, powerful arms, and that steady stance she was starting to rely on more than she should.
She’d never realised how built he was.
And she really didn’t need to notice that now.Or ever.
‘Are you driving Finn’s car back to the pub, or do you want me to take you?’
Her boss was right—shedidneed to do something for herself.
So, she left Finn’s car keys on the kitchen counter.‘Porter, can I ask you a question?’
Four
The police ute’s chunky tyres crunched over the gravel, chewing up the driveway beneath them.Then back on the road, heading for town.
Porter flicked on the bank of spotlights that were as bright as a hundred high-powered camera flashes, lighting up the road.Even with all that light, he still warily scanned for wandering Brahman, or the odd water buffalo at night.With no other cars on the road, he had to stay sharp as the wildlife wasn’t exactly trained in road safety
‘What was your question, Montrose?’It was rare for Constable Amara Montrose to have conversations, especially not in the police station where she’d just refill her coffee, ask where the photocopy paper was, and go back to her big office, the old boardroom that was now home to the Federal Stock Squad.
‘Do you know of anyone renting a room, or a house with a stable?’Amara wriggled in the passenger seat.
Hold on a second—she’d just squirmed.
It was enough for Porter to arch an eyebrow at her.What would make the expressionless, serious-as-hell policewoman squirm?‘For who?’
‘Me.’
‘Why?Getting sick of the pub?’She’d been living there ever since Finn and Amara had rocked up to start the Stock Squad.
‘I-I…’ She paused, staring out the window.
It only made him slow down the car.
‘Why are you slowing down?’
