Chapter 4
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?’
‘So I can pull over.’
‘What for?’
‘To continue this conversation.’
‘So you can shred it into a story that would entertain this town for a month.’
He slammed on the brakes, the ute sliding to a stop in the dirt. ‘Where the hell did that come from? When I’m the one doing you a favour, helping you take your drunken boss home—’
‘Finn is not normally like this.’
‘I know. Obviously, something’s triggered him recently. Got any ideas what?’
Amara slumped back into her seat. ‘I wish I knew, so I could help him.’
‘You don’t have to babysit your boss, Montrose. Finn’s big enough and ugly enough to look after himself.’
‘And we can all see how Finn’s doing a stellar job at that at the moment.’
‘I’m not judging the bloke. I’m just concerned that’s all.’ He then pointed at her. ‘Because you’re the one picking up the pieces for him. And if I know Finn, he wouldn’t like it—which makes me think he doesn’t realise it.’
‘Again, you’re right.’
Deadset! It was enough to raise both eyebrows at her.
‘Where’s the smart-arse comeback?’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Aren’t you going to shove a phone in my face and ask me to repeat that so you can record it?’
‘I’m not Stone. And you should tell him to lay off.’ He put the car into gear, again the gravel crunched under the tyres.
‘It’s not your battle.’
‘It’s not yours either.’ But she was sure as hell taking it out on him.
What was this? Pick on Porter Day?
‘Look, you’re part of a small team, yeah—but that doesn’t mean you should have to cop it. You deserve to be treated with respect in the workplace. Especially out here.’ It’s what Porter’s boss had taught him. And as an outback cop, with limited resources, teamwork played a big part of their job.
Her jaw dropped just for a second. Before she slammed it shut, as her spine straightened, tugging on her seatbelt as if preparing for battle. Amara was always on duty, with her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun.
The only thing she wasn’t able to disguise or button up were those plump pillow lips. Deadset, no woman should be allowed to have a set of lips like Constable Montrose. It was downright illegal.
‘I can’t believe you’re repeating the HR speech. Or that you remembered it.’ Her picky eyes glanced over his crumpled shirt, making it clear she thought he’d fail a uniform inspection.
‘You mean that lecture where I learned the art of sleeping with my eyes open?’ He gave a lazy shoulder shrug as he steered them back towards town.
‘But to answer your question, I know of a room to rent. Clean. Cheap. Comes with a no-dickheads-allowed policy, in a totally judgement-free zone.’ He side-glanced at Little Miss Judgey, who Stone called Duchess. ‘Although I doubt it’d pass your level of judginess.’
‘That’s not a word. And I’m not judgemental.’
He chuckled.
‘I’m not.’
‘You’re picky. Snooty. Toffee-nosed—’
‘I am none of those things.’ She raised her chin like a Duchess looking down at some squatters. Him. The blue-collared peasant in the driver’s seat.
‘I just have high standards.’
‘Nothing wrong with that.’
Instantly she doused her inner fire with a few fast blinks to show surprise.
Ooh, she must be tired if she was letting her shields down like that. She almost looked human.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Her tone was challenging—a nice change from her defensive one.
‘Everyone has standards, some higher than others. You… just judge.’
‘I do not.’
He tossed his thumb in the direction they’d just come from. ‘You were judging Finn’s place.’
‘And you weren’t?’
‘That’s a bachelor’s pad. It’s not the first house I’ve seen with an engine in the living room.’ Which made him wonder how much experience she actually had as a South Australian Police Constable.
Not that he was knocking her skills—hell, he’d copped a few hard lessons on the job himself—but Amara had landed a sweet gig transferring into the Federal Stock Squad. She must have more going for her than flawless filing skills.
‘Like I said, the food in the fridge was a stockman’s staple. That’s basically bread, beer, and some dead horse. You do know what that is—’
‘Tomato sauce!’ She scowled at him, her armour of police perfection cracking.
‘So you’d know that’s enough to whack a chunk of roadkill on the barbie and call it a sanga?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘English, Porter. You are a policeman—allegedly.’
‘I’m not a cop 24/7, Montrose. And in this town, I’ve seen dirt bikes, quads and outboard motors occupying lounge rooms. Then there’s the countless kitchen tables covered in all sorts from saddles to chainsaws.’
‘Coz it’s a bloke thing to do.’ She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
Deadset, he was gonna have a cardiac arrest if she started pouting with those pillowy lips of hers.
‘I suppose you have some vehicle in your living room, too?’ With that hoity-toity tone of hers, no wonder Stone called her Duchess.
‘No. I have a couch. In fact, I’ve just bought a new one.’ He was looking forward to lounging back on it after this shift.
‘Why did you get a new couch?’
‘The dog chewed it up while I was at work one day.’ He sighed heavily, his eyes on the road. ‘Willow.’ He still missed that dog. ‘She was this pretty kelpie. I’d spent a fortune on vet fees fixing her up, too.’
‘Why?’
‘I found Willow on this wallaby track in the middle of nowhere, coming back from a hunting trip for ferals. She was barely alive. I had to fight off the large scavenger birds to save her.’ Damn, broke his heart too.
But when he’d heard that slight whimper, it filled him with hope.
He’d broken speed records to get that dog to the vet that day.
‘Do you still have her? You said was.’
‘Willow is living her best life as a muster dog at Elsie Creek Station with one of the Riggs brothers. She placed in the top six in the local muster dog trials this year.’ Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, he smiled with pride.
‘It was her first trial, too. I’m betting she’ll win it in a year or two. ’
‘You didn’t keep her?’
‘Couldn’t.’
‘Because she chewed up your couch?’
‘Trust me, Willow did not enjoy being cooped up in a house all day. She needs to run.’ The dog still remembered him—greeting him with a big grin as she jumped up to his chest for that cuddle every time he visited Elsie Creek Station. ‘She’s not a pet, Duchess. She’s a working dog.’
Amara frowned.
‘You don’t like being called Duchess, do you?’
She shrugged, but the hurt flickered in her eyes, like a kid copping it in the schoolyard and pretending it didn’t sting.
The thing was, Stone wasn’t being cruel. He’d defend Amara in a heartbeat—he just had a knack for playing the annoying big brother. Porter recognised it, because he had the same warped sense of humour, too.
‘Hey? Why does Stone call you that?’
‘Because he’s a prick.’
Porter laughed.
Surprisingly, she laughed with him. And she had such a sweet smile that was rare—but beautiful.
So beautiful in fact, it made him give in, hoping that this didn’t bite him on the arse later. ‘The place I mentioned, it’s mine. And it has a stable.’