Chapter 17
Seventeen
The Elsie Creek Police Station was a frenzy of paperwork, with Tanisha at her post behind the reception counter, Sarge was holed up in his office, and the Stock Squad were tucked away in the boardroom.
At the large muster table, Porter sat at his laptop, scanning reports, now well into pulling a double shift, the glow of the screen burning into his tired eyes.
‘Got anything yet, Porter?’ Stone, the Stock Squad’s pilot and part-time crocodile wrangler, strolled in for what had to be his umpteenth cup of coffee.
‘Nah.’ Porter didn’t look up. ‘You?’
‘I’m seeing double.’ Stone blew out a breath. ‘I don’t know cattle brands from hieroglyphics, mate, but I can read the family traits in the skin of a crocodile. And poor Romy, all she’s seeing is red—red sand, red soils, red roads from her drone footage.’
‘How’s Amara?’ He was worried about her.
Stone leaned against the counter, rubbing his thumb along the rim of his mug. ‘The Duchess is playing it tough. Like always.’
Porter wiped away his frown as he pushed his chair back and approached the cocky pilot. ‘Do me a favour, Stone… lay off the Duchess for a bit. The name.’
Stone raised a brow. ‘I’m not heartless.’
‘I’m agreeing with Porter.’ Tanisha spun around on her tall stool and wagged a highly polished, dangerously long fingernail. ‘You can be such a schoolyard bully, Stone. Is that because your charm doesn’t work on her? Hmm.’
Stone shrugged. Less said the better.
After all, Tanisha was the mother hen of this station house. Porter had felt the sting of the Aboriginal woman’s lectures enough times to know not to bite back, and had warned Stone to not go there.
But this was Stone…
A muscle in Stone’s jaw twitched, as if the battle to keep his lip zipped was failing. ‘I was only doing it to soften Amara up. I know she’s got a fun streak under all that armour.’
‘How about I poke at your armour too, Stone?’
‘Just for the record, only the Stock Squad can call her Duchess.’ The protective tone in Stone’s voice had Tanisha pull back on her tongue-lashing, to even curl her nails under.
But Porter wasn’t convinced. ‘Why do it? When you’re meant to be building team spirit, not driving a wedge through it with nicknames.’
Stone started to speak—
But Porter cut him off. ‘I get that nicknaming people is the Aussie way of life, mate. It’s just some people don’t…’ He glanced back to Tanisha for her tact.
‘Some take time to adapt. Like Porter. Everyone knows he’s a senior constable, but they all call him Policeman Porter. You have stopped trying to correct everyone, haven’t you?’
Porter shrugged. Honestly, fighting that nickname was like fighting the gush of a flash flood in the wet season. Impossible to fight, when all you could do was just sit along the banks and let it run its course before attempting to cross.
‘Although you’d think a kid from a sheep station would have thicker skin than that with nicknames,’ mumbled Tanisha, spinning back around to face her console. ‘I’d be proud of the nickname Duchess. Although, my friend, the fabulous Felix calls me Queen.’
‘It’s not said out of malice,’ said Stone defensively. ‘Amara is like a little sister to me. If anyone dared to piss her off…’ He sighed as his gaze flicked down the hall towards the Stock Squad’s office. ‘All right, I’ll ease up.’
‘Thanks, mate.’ Porter patted Stone’s shoulder.
Only for Stone to narrow his eyes at Porter ‘Why? What’s it got to do with you?’
The tone was enough for Tanisha to spin back around and give them her full attention. She hated to miss out on the gossip. ‘Ooh, do tell.’
Before Porter could respond, the station’s automatic doors slid open, and a set of boots scuffed against the tiles. But more importantly, it came with the smell of food.
‘Hello, Pebbles. Do they really let you play pretend policeman behind that counter? Or are you there to pinch their cheap coffee?’ One hand on her hip, the other holding food, the red-headed blacksmith with attitude was in the building!
‘brEE!’ cried out Porter, Tanisha, and Stone.
Finally, the cavalry had arrived.