Thirty-nine
‘Is Ruby okay?’ Harper asked Ryan as she held Mason’s hand inside the vet’s surgery. They were the first to arrive.
Ryan rubbed his eyes, with his hair a mess, and clothes all crumpled. ‘Well …’
‘Did you get any sleep?’
‘I napped.’
‘Here, I brought coffee.’
‘Train station coffee?’
‘It is. Cool playground.’ Sick of watching the clock, she’d remembered Bree telling her that the food van at the train station was a great place for breakfast. It was her excuse to leave the farmhouse early, to emotionally eat pastries, washed down with steaming coffee, and buy out all the shortbread they had. The train station had a playground, where Harper learned there was a playgroup for children Mason’s age, and regular library readings by a woman who wore a ball gown and had a pet water buffalo. That she found hard to believe.
With an hour before the vet’s opened, she hit the feed store again. There, she met the owners, middle-aged twins, who helped her gather a big box of childproof locks and much more from their adjoining hardware store. She also bought dog beds for Ruby, Scout, and Sarge, and some doggy treats, including toys that Mason wanted to play with more than the animals.
Then right on nine o’clock, she knocked on the vet’s glass door.
‘Come this way …’ Ryan led them past his messy reception area to the back of the surgery, where assorted cages held a few dogs, a turtle, a possum, and a wallaby.
‘Is that a crocodile?’
‘A freshie.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘He’s got a bellyache. Ate the wrong thing.’ Ryan opened Ruby’s cage where the labrador lay on her side. An IV was attached to her leg, but her tail wagged. ‘And that’s a good sign.’ He patted Ruby, crouching down beside Mason.
‘Rubee.’ His little fingers were eager to hug his dog.
‘Careful mate, she’s got a sore leg.’
‘Aww …’ His little hands were so tender as he patted the dog.
‘So Ruby is going to be okay?’
‘Well, according to her ACT test for coagulopathy—’
‘Pardon?’
‘It tests the clotting time in the blood. A brown snake’s poison makes the blood so thin it stops clotting. Left untreated, it’s life threatening.’
She gasped, blinking back tears, with her hand on poor Ruby’s soft fur.
‘Ruby has had no adverse reaction to the antivenene, and it has neutralised the toxins. She responded well within the first hour.’
‘So Ruby is going to be okay?’ she asked again.
‘Well, she’s happy to see the boy, showing no signs of paralysis. But she has a bruise on her leg, and with the coagulopathy she’ll need to be kept calm for the next forty-eight hours.’
‘I can do that. If Cap has so many dogs, should he have some antivenene?’
‘It’s not cheap. The treatment runs into the thousands.’
She pulled out her purse. ‘I’ll pay for Ruby’s treatment, and any spare vials for Cap’s dogs.’ She had to sweeten the impact somehow when she told Cap what happened, hopefully avoiding Ryder and Dex.
Ryan raised his eyebrows at her, before shuffling files from one pile to another. ‘There’s a fresh box somewhere. I got a delivery sent to me by mistake. I was going to send it back, but if you want it?’
‘I’ll take it.’ She rarely shopped for anything and held out her card that had been working overtime today.
He opened a cupboard, closed it, then opened another, as more paperwork got shuffled around.
How did Ryan find anything in this office? ‘Do you work here on your own?’
‘I’m looking for a part-time assistant, or an office manager, if you know of one. I was trying to talk the relief cook out at Danbunnan Station into the job, but my mate, Jake, decided to marry her and keep her for himself. Oh, there’s the box.’ Ryan pulled out a small foam box. ‘Are you sure? We’re talking five grand.’
‘How common is snakebite in dogs?’
‘Out here, it’s more common that you think.’
‘I’ll take it. Not that I’d know how to do an IV.’
‘Cap does. He’s done the procedure plenty of times over the radio.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Welcome to station living. I’m the only vet in the region.’ He pointed to the map.
‘That’s bigger than Belgium.’ She studied the map, only now realising Elsie Creek Station was almost a quarter the size of Belgium, the economic nerve centre of Europe and headquarters to NATO, crammed with over eleven million people. While Elsie Creek Station was home to less than a dozen people.
‘Why do they do it? Live out here? It’s so dangerous, and so remote.’
‘This is all new for you?’
‘I’m on holiday.’
‘You’d be surprised at how many come out here for a holiday and never leave.’
‘I have to go back to work.’ That she’d been avoiding.
‘Well, if you ever change your mind, I could do with an office manager.’ He held up some files. ‘Oh, there’s the machine. You can pay me now.’
The machine was dusty, but the paperwork showed he was busy. ‘People don’t pay you?’
‘People pay me what they can. I’ve got a freezer full of steak and fish. Cowboy Craig said I should put a tin at the pub for donations to help those who can’t afford it, and for the wildlife carers.’
‘Well, I can pay in full. Be sure to give yourself a tip.’
‘You’re kidding?’ He arched an eyebrow at her.
‘If politicians can raise funds for voting campaigns, I’m sure you’ll find people willing to donate to your surgery. There’s plenty of ways to do it.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Harper Jamison.’
‘I meant, what do you do for a crust?’
‘I’m an assistant to the …’ She paused at her job title that used to make her feel so proud. But it was on the other side of the world, where none of it mattered over here.
‘Assistant. That makes you an office person. Want a job?’
‘I have one.’ Did she?
‘Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where I am.’ He grinned at the pay machine beeping. ‘My bank is going to love this.’
‘Can we take Ruby home now?’