Chapter Twenty-one
Twenty-one
While Amara rushed through to the Stock Squad office—the Batcave, as Bree called it—Porter sauntered into the main muster room.
He aimed for the large table that dominated the space between Tanisha’s workstation, behind the receptionist’s front counter, and the small kitchenette. ‘Any leftovers?’ He nodded at the cake boxes Bree had brought in.
‘Nah, Stone and Craig cleaned out what was left over.’ Tanisha spun around in her high chair, giving him the usual once-over inspection. Mostly it was a wellness check, like a mother, which could be annoying—and at times it was the best thing after a long hard day on the job.
He unclipped his utility belt, threw it over the back of the chair with a thud and sat just as heavily in the chair. He was starving and overtired.
‘You haven’t had a break, have you.’ It wasn’t a question.
Porter shrugged, dragging over his laptop and booted it up. ‘We’re looking for a red, dark red or maroon Ram.’
‘Ooh, that narrows it down.’ Tanisha spun around on her high stool, her nails clacking across the keyboard. ‘Where is your offsider?’
‘In the Batcave.’ His sly grin mirrored Tanisha’s. The nickname was in.
‘You should go home. Get some shut-eye.’
‘Soon.’ He wanted to find that vehicle.
‘How’s Lydia taking it? She’d be devastated that this has happened.’
‘She’s tearing her office apart for more clues.’ But it put Lydia in a tricky position, if her husband was involved. ‘How long has Lydia been married to Red?’
‘High-school sweethearts.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Red went away for a bit, but when he came back, it was just to marry Lydia.’ Tanisha spun back around in her chair, her hand slapped over her heart, with her dangerously long nails catching the overhead lights.
‘It was so romantic. At the time, she was seeing this station owner, while working at the stockyards. But Red won her over in the end.’
‘How long has Lydia been working there?’
‘Lydia started working as a clerk in the stockyards straight out of school. I remember she got her licence not long after and was one of the first girls to buy her own car. She’d be 51 now…’ Tanisha tapped a bright enamel fingernail on her chin. ‘That’d make it 35 years on the job.’
‘A lifetime in the industry…’ Meaning Lydia would know every trick in the book for any dodgy deal that’s ever passed through those yards. ‘Always as a clerk?’
‘Don’t let the title fool you, sweetie. Lydia runs the place. Nothing moves through those yards without her knowing about it.’
‘But…’ He hated to ask, when he really liked Lydia.
‘Lydia just never changed the name from clerk.’ Tanisha brushed off some lint from her uniform.
Probably some cat hair from one of her many pampered felines.
‘Trust me, Lydia is the one who keeps it all running. Some reckon she’s got more power than the stock agents themselves—which Red doesn’t like much. ’
‘But Lydia said she had to contact the manager.’ It had never bothered him before, but it did now, making a mental note to ask her. ‘Who owns the Elsie Creek Stockyards?’
‘I dunno.’
It was rare for Tanisha to not know, as his resource for everything about this town.
‘Come on…’ He playfully nudged the back of her chair.
Tanisha gave a long-suffering but playful sigh, the eye roll just as dramatic. ‘You know, for someone who acts laid-back, you ask an awful lot of questions when you’re curious.’
Porter gave her a crooked grin. ‘Are you saying I’m nosy?’
‘Please. I’ve seen you do a full recon, just to find where someone hid the biscuits.’ She took a sip from her cactus mug—Don’t Be a Prick flashing in faded script. ‘But fine. You want gossip?’
He leaned an elbow on the table. ‘Always. So, who is the manager?’
Tanisha peered around from her high perch to check they were alone.
Then leaned down and lowered her voice like she was sharing some grand conspiracy theory.
‘Well, that’s the good part… Truth is? No one knows who owns it.
The last manager retired, and Lydia’s just kept the wheels turning, like always.
Rumour has it she was offered the lease, but didn’t take it—so as not to offend Red’s delicate manly ego for earning more money and status than him. ’
‘So, there is someone.’
‘Sure. Someone’s gotta be paying the land tax on it.’ Tanisha just smiled, tapping her cactus mug like it held secrets in the tea leaves.
‘Like a silent owner, counting their cash in the corner?’
‘Exactly.’ Tanisha punctuated the word by drawing a diva-worthy exclamation mark in the air. ‘Although some reckon the council’s got a hand in it. Others think the train company. Or it’s buried under one of those dodgy shelf companies with a PO box and a lawyer’s signature.’
Porter frowned. ‘Wouldn’t that show up on a company search?’
‘Not without a legal reason to dig…’
‘Tanisha?’ Elsie Creek may be the kind of place you could bury a secret deep, and no one would ever think to dig it up, but this was Tanisha. ‘Come on…’
‘Fine.’ She huffed. ‘I tried once, nearly gave myself a migraine trying to get a peek at the first trust, but you’ll need a legal team and a crowbar to pry that thing open.’
He leaned back. ‘So, no one actually knows?’
Tanisha grinned. ‘That’s the fun part. We all pretend someone does—but really? I think whoever does own it is having a damn good laugh watching the rest of us guess.’
Porter leaned back in his chair. ‘So, you’re saying Lydia is the boss… without being the boss… because her husband’s got the fragile ego of a damp Weet-Bix?’
Tanisha nearly choked on her tea with laughter spilling out. ‘Don’t say that too loud, sweetie. Red likes to think he runs the joint.’
Porter smirked. ‘Sure he does. And I’m secretly the Queen of England.’
Tanisha chuckled, but he didn’t follow her into it.
Because the more he thought about it, the less funny it seemed.
Porter had always respected Lydia—hard not to. She ran those stockyards like clockwork, especially on Train Days, which the town depended on for the business.
But finding out Lydia downplayed her role just to keep her husband’s pride intact, that hit differently.
He’d never had much to do with Red. The man wasn’t like the other stock agents, who were always up for a yarn, especially when he’d be cruising along the dirt roads as part of his patrols.
But not Red—he didn’t do the usual back-and-forth about weather or road conditions. Just in and out. And all business. Like he couldn’t be bothered with the bloke behind the badge.
Porter frowned. ‘But with that much time in the game, Lydia’s either part of the system or too deep in it to fight back?’ Especially if her husband was involved.
Tanisha jumped off her perch, slid into the chair beside him and patted his hand.
‘Trust me on this, Porter. Lydia is as honest as they come. Her pet hate is having people steal stock and she takes her job very seriously. She’s also the mother of those yards, and every stockman, station owner, through to truck drivers will all say the same thing.
You saw the lengths she went to to help Brodie, to keep him safe from his parents. ’
‘I do. I saw Brodie earlier.’
‘How’s he doing? Have the scars healed from all those cigarette burns?’
‘Yeah. He’s happy. Just… he’s—’
‘Go on.’
‘He doesn’t want Lydia to get into trouble.’ Porter exhaled slowly.
And Brodie adored the woman who’d saved him.
Porter remembered the day they’d met Brodie, for all the wrong reasons any kid should meet a policeman.
But he’d seen the genuine care Lydia had given Brodie, offering once to give him a place to stay, and had enquired about being his foster parent, too.
Porter had high hopes for that kid finding a decent home—but it never happened.
Because Red had said no.
It was like a thread being pulled, connecting the pieces. It wasn’t just the job title at the stockyards that Lydia had downplayed—it was a pattern.
Lydia had been making herself smaller to keep the peace with her husband.
‘Why, what’s worrying that poor young man, not that he hasn’t been through enough already?’ Tanisha asked.
‘Brodie mentioned Red.’ Porter rubbed the back of his neck, the strain of the double shift heavy on his shoulders. ‘I’ve only met Red a few times. You?’
‘Craig would know him better.’
‘Come on, Tanisha. You know everything and everyone in this town.’
‘Do not.’
‘Do too. Go on, what’s your opinion on Red? I’ll make you a coffee. Shout you a cocktail.’
‘I’m off cocktails for a bit.’ She patted her stomach with mock solemnity. ‘Felix and I are on a break.’
Porter snorted. ‘That’ll last until Friday. You two can’t go three days without something rimmed in sugar with enough alcohol to set on fire.’
She grinned. ‘My Friday knock-off cocktails are sacred, young man.’
Porter snorted. ‘Didn’t realise cocktail hour came with commandments like some religious holiday.’
Tanisha paused, her tone softening. ‘But I do know Red loves Lydia. And Lydia loves Red. He’s just a big man with a woolly red beard—and she’s the woman who somehow makes him dance.
And they do love each other. Red dotes on Lydia in that old-fashioned, head-over-heels, will-do-anything-she-asks kind of way.
You know, the type of man who’d build a verandah just so she had somewhere to drink her tea in the shade. ’
Tanisha sighed like she was mid-chapter in one of her paperback romances. ‘It’s the kind of love I’d dog-ear and reread every chance I got.’
‘What, no cowboys in that fantasy?’
She winked. ‘I said love story, not wish list.’
‘And there were no kids to this Lydia and Red romance?’
Again, another dramatic sigh, and another sip of her cactus mug.
‘No. I know Lydia would have dearly loved some. Which is why she was so willing to take in Brodie. Not many people would’ve scooped up that kid, covered in muck and hay, hiding in the back sheds, to feed him, clothe him, and take care of him like she did. ’
‘So why didn’t Lydia let Brodie live with her and Red? They had the room, and Lydia was keen to foster him. And with Red on the road all the time, wouldn’t Red be happy to have someone keeping Lydia company?’ Porter knew the answer already, he just needed confirmation.
‘You’d think, eh?’ Tanisha inspected her glossy nails, some with shiny diamantes, others with patterns.
‘And…’ He gently nudged her chair again.
‘Red said no. But you said Brodie’s happy in the shed.’
‘Yeah. It’s all set up nicely for him. I gave him my old camp bed, and the camp cooker to boil the billy for himself. Which reminds me to go through my jeans and see if I can find him an old pair or three. The ones he has are worn through and hanging off him.’
Tanisha patted his shoulder tenderly. ‘You’re a good man, Logan Porter.’
‘Shh, stop annoying me. I’ve got work to do.’ He rose from the table, refilled her cactus cup, and set it down beside Tanisha with a wink. ‘Let’s see if we can’t find that Ram, huh?’
The front doors slid open, and Cowboy Craig and Stone strolled inside.
‘Did you find anything?’
‘Maybe. Is the Bossman still in?’ Stone didn’t stop, with Craig behind him as they pushed open the security door and headed down the corridor, heading for the Batcave.
For Amara’s sake, he hoped they had.