Page 22 of Stockman's Sandstorm

Bree lowered her cutlery onto her plate and leaned back in her chair. ‘Now what is someone like you doing out here?’

‘I’ve been asking myself that same question.’ Harper stabbed at the lettuce that was so crunchy, the red onion peppery, mixed with a lush dressing. She’d be content to act like a goat, and munch on the food in this yard all day.

But Bree waited for an answer.

‘I needed a break. I just didn’t expect this kind of a break or that I’d end up here.’ Harper waved her empty fork at the garden bed, where Mason was happily playing in the dirt. ‘Is that dirt safe for him to eat?’

‘Trust me, they don’t eat it for long.’ Bree giggled at Mason, spitting it out, then wiping his mouth, creating a clown-like mask complete with a massive smile.

She’d never seen the boy so happy. Or Ruby, furiously digging a hole into the rich soil, showering Mason with dirt where his laughter echoed around them as if it was the best game on the planet.

‘He’s getting so dirty?’

‘Well then, Mason will fit right in with the rest of the Riggs brothers.’ Bree smiled at Mason, but then turned in her chair to face Harper. Her undivided attention was unnerving. ‘You were saying how you ended up out here?’

Harper dabbed at the crumbs left on her plate.

Yet, Bree’s silent treatment made her want to talk. ‘Sadly, due to Belgium’s homegrown terrorism and violent extremists, I’ve been living under a level-four terrorist alert for five years now.’

‘In Belgium?’ Bree arched her eyebrow. ‘Home of chocolate and waffles.’

‘The Australian Government constantly issues travel warnings for those visiting Belgium. And Brussels is headquarters to NATO, that is sixteen minutes away from the Australian Embassy.’

‘So, with you working for an ambassador—’

‘It makes us targets.’ She tried to make her shrug casual, but there was nothing casual about this topic. ‘All embassy staff are told the day they start that they are targets for terrorism. And we had a scare, a big one. My work colleagues were killed by a car bomb—the car I was supposed to climb into.’ Harper stared at her hands, so raw from cleaning. ‘The blast blew me out of my favourite shoes, ruining them.’

‘And you?’

‘I, um, was slammed into the side of the building and ended up with six stitches in my head, and a severe concussion.’ She still had a bald spot where the medical team had shaved her head, and she dropped her head to show Bree the scar. She’d never showed her war wounds to anyone before.

Honestly, she hadn’t been the same since she woke up from that bomb blast, living under a thick cloud of brain fog. She needed to talk about something else. ‘Ugh, what I’d give for a decent shampoo and conditioner. I ran out. I doubt the hairdressers in town would stock my brand.’

‘I haven’t bought shampoo in years.’

‘So, how …’ She pointed at Bree’s impressive mop of healthy red hair.

‘I make my own. I have a friend who makes organic soap that is positively to die for, I could just eat it.’

‘So you make things?’

‘Is that weird?’

‘All I use my hands for is to shuffle papers or reply to emails. But now they’re …’ She held up her poor, sore, dried out, bleached fingers.

‘Here …’ Bree reached over to the side and pulled out a small tube. ‘I swear by this hand cream.’

‘You make this too?’ Harper sniffed at the bottle, dabbing a small blob onto the back of her hand, and proceeded to rub it in. The cool relief was instant.

‘No. But I do stock up. Living on a remote cattle station, you learn to make do with things, and to stock up or become self-sufficient. You have to, especially when Leviathan Creek cuts off the road to town in the wet season.’

‘I can’t imagine this place in the rainy season.’

‘It’s pretty. And then, my friend, this place is one long summer holiday where you can sip on a jug of gin, while wallowing in an ice bath to watch the rain fall.’ Bree waved to the left of the paved area, where a long tin tub sat before the wide-screen TV with a superb view of the countryside.

‘You have a pool?’ Harper sat taller, thinking of Mason.

‘Don’t worry, the tub is empty.’ Bree nodded at Mason obsessed with digging another hole in the dirt. ‘Actually, it’s a cattle trough. But I own a brilliant ice machine and love my freezers that allow me to indulge in ice baths while I’m watching the ice hockey. You should come over.’

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