Page 86 of Stockman's Stowaway

‘Officer, that dog is mine.’

Porter adjusted his police cap, his expression calm while he spoke with a deep formality, ‘Can you prove ownership of the animal, sir?’

‘I brought her up from Adelaide. The breeder owns a sheep station, and I paid eight hundred for that kelpie.’ Leo scrolled through his phone. ‘I can call him up and I’ll email you the details.’

‘Do you have any breeding papers, or microchip details?’

‘Who’s got a microchip wand out here?’

‘The vet does, some stock inspectors have them, and I carry one in the police van to use whenever I pick up strays. So, I’ll ask again, can you prove the dog is yours?’

‘And I said I’ll email you the papers.’ Leo looked bored talking to Porter. ‘I’ll have to search my office first.’

‘Giving you enough time to create a set of dog papers over the internet,’ called out Bree from the side. ‘Want me to show you my internet qualifications as a brain surgeon, before I offer you a full lobotomy?’

Ryder grabbed her arm to hold her back. ‘Bree, let the police deal with this.’

Again, Bree shook him off, stepping towards Leo. ‘You can’t have the dog. She’s not yours.’

‘It’s my dog. She stole it from me. And I detest anyone stealing my stuff.’ Leo’s dark eyes, along with his tone, made Mia shiver with fear. Gavin may have scared her, but Leo was terrifying.

Their raised voices, and the police presence, had drawn a crowd. There was no way Mia could scoot past them with Willow. They were trapped.

‘Here’s an idea…’ Bree became eerily calm, while effectively blocking Leo from getting anywhere near Mia and Willow. ‘Why don’t we ask the dog who her owner is?’

Leo stepped back, arching an eyebrow as if coolly calculating Bree’s next move.

‘That’s a good idea.’ Ryder stood beside her. Now both were protecting Mia and Willow. ‘What do you say, officer?’

‘What’s going on, Porter?’ A large police officer, with the arms of a bodybuilder, entered the tent. He wore two pistols strapped into his chest holsters the same way the Riggs brothers wore their radio harnesses. This was a cop who meant business. ‘Back up, you lot. Give us some space.’

The crowd did, but only a few steps; they weren’t going anywhere, killing any hope of Mia sneaking past them.

‘Sarge, it seems we have a dispute over the dog’s ownership. The kelpie.’ Porter pointed to Willow.

‘I can prove she’s mine. I’ve got the papers, and I can call the breeder for photos. Porsche? Porsche, come here, girl.’ But the dog only cowered from Leo, with her tail tucked under as she hid behind Mia.

‘Don’t dog breeders usually have a way to identify them, like the cattle?’ The beefy sergeant pointed to Bree’s cattle brand display.

‘The local vet told me they’ll either have a microchip or a tattoo, some both, but puppy farms don’t like to have any id,’ said Porter. ‘Sarge—’

‘I know, Porter.’ The Sergeant held up his hand to silence the younger officer as he looked at the dog. The man was as big as Ryder in the shoulders, both sharing an expressionless nod of strangers.

‘Porsche is mine. She cost me twelve hundred.’

‘You said eight hundred a minute ago,’ said Bree.

‘I didn’t include transport costs.’

‘So, you can’t count, is what you’re saying? Or are you making that up, too?’

‘Bree.’ This time the Sergeant glared at her.

She shrugged. ‘I’m just making an observation, Detective Senior Sergeant Moore.’

Finally, Mia found her voice. ‘I know Willow has been microchipped and…’

Porter, who had Willow microchipped, slyly shook his head at Mia to stop.

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