Chapter 41
Forty-one
Finn leaned against the open doorway, hands deep in the pockets of yesterday’s jeans. Before him, pale but alert, Lydia was propped up slightly in the hospital bed.
Nearby sat Brodie. Curled up like a border collie in the chair, one arm flopped across his middle. The many colours of his bruises highlighted by the fluorescent lights.
‘Well, it’s about time you showed up.’ Lydia even smiled.
‘Been busy.’ Finn dragged the chair to the other side of the bed to watch over the pair. Sitting slowly, every joint in his spine groaned like a stockwhip uncoiling after a long day’s muster. He rested his arms on his knees, worried he’d never get up again.
‘Go on, I want an update. We both deserve to know,’ she demanded.
‘Well, deemed flight risks, bail was refused and Red and Bob are being transported to Darwin prison this afternoon.’ They were only waiting on medical clearance to move Red’s arse.
‘So Red’s…’ Brodie swallowed.
‘Fine. Just a bunch of stitches.’ Pity he never got to give them to Red himself.
Brodie’s whole body sagged with relief.
Lydia squeezed his hand. Then asked Finn, ‘The charges?’
‘It’s close to eighty charges and counting, just on stock theft alone.’ That raised some eyebrows.
‘And the rest?’
‘Vehicle theft, fraud, assault, deadly intent with use of a vehicle, domestic violence and murder.’
Lydia’s eyes flared wider. ‘But I’m—’
‘Of Sawyer Dixby.’
‘The missing overseer? Seery?’
Finn nodded. Thanks to the tag-team interrogation of Taryn playing good cop, while Finn glared from the open doorway, Bob spilled first, and fast.
According to the gospel of Bob, he was going to rescue his cousin from Porter and Craig, who were closing in on Seery during that manhunt across Dixby Downs in the Hellhound.
After what Seery had done to Porter and Amara, he would have gone for attempted murder, assaulting police officers and everything else they could think of for what that prick had done to his team members.
Except Red knew that Seery would talk. Without a doubt.
So when Seery thought he was getting help, Red had picked the spot that even Bob never saw—the bulldust pit of death.
Red shot out the tyre of the quad bike, causing Seery to lose control.
When the bike hit the bulldust and sank hard, pinning him beneath it, Red refused to let Bob out of the passenger seat to help his cousin.
Instead, he slammed his fist into Bob, warned him he’d kill him too, and drove off, leaving Seery to drown in the dust.
‘Do you want to see him?’ Finn asked Lydia.
‘I’d rather get a restraining order and frame it above the kettle.’ Lydia gave a short huff over the man she’d once promised to grow old with. She straightened out her sheets, fussing over them like she did for others, but now it was her turn. ‘I loved him, you know.’
Finn looked up, while young Brodie winced as if feeling her pain.
‘And he loved me. But he didn’t love all of me. Red didn’t like that I was smart. That I could run numbers faster, and read a beast better, than half the agents on the books.’
‘Is that why you only called yourself a clerk? And not the boss lady? Because we all know you’re a lot smarter than you let on.’
She gave a sly shrug. ‘My fault, really. I let Red think I was smaller than I was. Didn’t want to shame the man by outranking him in the eyes of his mates. You know, every few years the stockyard’s lease is offered to me, I’ve always said no.’
‘Who owns the stockyards?’ Somebody had to be making money on the place. And Finn knew Tanisha and Porter would love to know. ‘I know it’s a trust.’
‘Um…’ Lydia hesitated.
‘God, does,’ replied Brodie.
‘You’re not old enough to know the publican,’ scolded Lydia.
The kid grinned. ‘I’m not allowed in the front bar of her pub, either. But I do know Samantha owns the place. She just doesn’t tell anyone. Let’s them all think it’s Lydia, who doesn’t tell anyone, and so Red acts like he does.’ Brodie grimaced. ‘Sorry, Lydia. For the crack over Red.’
But she shooed it away.
‘I’ve never seen Samantha near the place,’ mumbled Finn.
‘She doesn’t visit,’ said Lydia. ‘I go and see her at the pub if I have an issue. Other than that, Samantha never interferes. She’s the perfect business partner, really.’
‘But she does visit.’ Brodie grinned like he was sitting on the secret of the century. ‘All the time.’
‘When?’
‘Samantha brings me over a hot meal, some sweets from the kitchen, and a few scratched soda cans she reckons she can’t sell in the pub. But there’s nothing wrong with ‘em.’
‘When?’
‘Late at night, on Train Days. When the yards are full of stock, we’ll sit on the rails, chat, and eat.
That’s how I know. She asks me about the stock numbers.
And she’s real good with numbers. Samantha even taught me a trick or two on workin’ stuff out in my head. ’ Brodie tapped the side of his temple.
‘You’ve always been good with numbers.’
‘Thanks to Samantha.’
‘Are you saying the publican gives you private maths lessons?’ Finn arched an eyebrow at the kid, who he knew was getting tips from Izzy to help him read and write. But this?
‘Yeah.’ Again, Brodie nodded, with that cheesy grin shining under his bruises.
‘Samantha scratches the figures out in the yard’s dirt like some schoolteacher—just prettier.
Only she explains it all in beer and bush stuff.
Like how many jerry cans you need to fuel a road train from town to Darwin.
Or how many litres fit in a water tank for a couple hundred head?
Or how to work out the time and distance on a roll of barbed wire to fence a yard.
That sort of maths. Stuff I can see and use. ’
‘Where? When?’ demanded Lydia.
‘All under the floodlights with the cattle watchin’ on, while I’m scoffin’ tucker like a crow on the rail on Train Days.’
‘Is that why you’ll hold back on some of your maths assignments?’
‘Only the tough ones, coz Samantha helps me understand them.’
Finn wiped away the grin. ‘Damn, Brodie. Don’t let the other stockmen hear that—they’ll either get jealous, or they’ll all be lining up for maths lessons in the bulldust from God herself.’
Brodie then leaned closer, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret with Lydia.
‘I know Samantha doesn’t like to interfere.
But she told me that as the boss you can make it bigger, hire more staff.
You’ve been doing it for thirty-five years, and that you’re doing a great job.
And if God is saying that, I’m agreeing. ’
Lydia lay back, sinking into her pillow, and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘She’s a clever young woman, that one, and I don’t think she’s even made thirty, you know…’
‘She’s not that old, is she?’ Brodie’s nose wrinkled.
Finn shrugged. ‘I was brought up to never ask a lady’s age.’
‘Good response.’ Lydia nodded. ‘Samantha first offered me the lease over six years ago, when the old manager retired, and every year since. But I always said no…’
‘Because you didn’t think you could? When we can all see you’re doing it now,’ said Brodie.
‘Because…’ Lydia paused.
‘Of Red,’ said Finn, blunt as ever.
She dropped her head, eyes closed. ‘Samantha was very clear on that, said it had to be in my name only, not Red’s. Like she knew…’
When she opened her eyes again, they were clearer than Finn had seen in weeks.
‘But here I am, at fifty-one,’ she said, lifting her chin.
‘And Samantha is right. I am the manager, and I’m hiring more staff.
That if I want to take a holiday, I will.
If I want to spend two weeks making leather belts, I will.
And if I want to create a workshop in my back shed at home, and paint the kitchen yellow, while blasting Dolly Parton while I do it, I will. ’
Brodie gave her a pained side glance. ‘Dolly who?’
‘Behave, you.’ Lydia playfully swatted at him.
‘And when we leave here, you’re gonna pack your bag and move in home with me, young man.
Just like we always talked about. I can finally give you that spare room so you can be with family.
And you’ve always been like a son to me.
So I’m giving you a home, Brodie Cross. Because I’ve got no one else, just you… ’
Brodie sat back, his eyes wide and glassy. ‘What’s the catch?’
Finn nodded at the kid for asking, it’s what he’d do, because things rarely came for free. Especially after what he’d just been through with his mentor.
‘You’re not going back into the yards, not while I’m running them.’
‘But it’s my job.’ Brodie winced through the pain as he sat higher in his chair.
‘Not anymore. You’re getting promoted.’ She reached over, even if she flinched, to grab his good hand, like a queen giving out royal decrees. ‘You’ve got a head for numbers. You smashed that word puzzle book of Finn’s in record time.’
‘Really?’ Finn raised his eyebrows at the kid.
Brodie shrugged, holding up the book, covered in doodles.
‘I’ll have to get you a new one, then.’ And for the right reasons, too.
‘Brodie might be busy, because he’ll be learning the family business. You’re not that kid in the gutter anymore, Brodie. So no more ripped jeans and boots with the soles hanging off. You deserve better. You always have. And I’m sorry I let Red stop me from doing anything sooner.’
‘It’s okay, I didn’t mind the yards.’
‘You’ll still be at the yards, my boy, but learning the office, working your way to running the auctions, which I know you’ll be good at. And I know you love the auctions. There’s a lot more to the place than shovelling dung all day, and it’s time you take that next step.’
The grin on Brodie’s face said it all. The kid was speechless, with his eyes glistening like all of his Christmases had come at once.
And for an uneducated kid like Brodie, who never thought he’d get far in life, beyond being a low-hand in the stockyards, he deserved it.
But then Lydia turned to Finn, and the fire in her eyes hadn’t faded.
Was it too late to bolt for the door?