Page 18 of Stockman's Stowaway

Bree crouched down to the dog. ‘Hello, Willow. You can stay here until Cap comes in from the paddocks. They’re fixing the drafting yards out the back.’

Porter dragged out a box from his vehicle’s front seat. ‘Here’s Willow’s gear.’

‘That’s a lot of gear for a stray dog.’ Charlie started poking through the box.

‘I wanted to keep her.’ Porter leaned down and patted the dog.

‘Your working hours won’t let you keep her?’

‘I was thinking about letting her stay in the car with me while on patrol. But that’s a lot of hours sitting inside when Willow is an outside dog. I’d go jogging with her in the morning, and then after work I’d let her run alongside the car. I clocked her doing fifty clicks once, and she still had steam to run. But she’s a working dog.’

‘Of course she is. Look at her build.’ Charlie pointed at the dog. ‘She’s made for speed and agility and the way them eyes move, she’s a smart cookie, for sure.’

‘Not wrong there. Once Willow recovered from her injuries, she worked out how to open the cupboard for the dog food. Then she destroyed my yard, my garage, and my couch from boredom. Willow needs to run, she needs to live on a station and not in a police house.’

The police officer looked so sad to see her go.

‘You be good, Willow.’ Porter tenderly patted the dog, nodded at Charlie and Bree, adjusted his hat and climbed into his police car and drove away.

Charlie went around the back as Bree, carrying the box, led the dog inside. She unclipped the lead and left the dog by the shut front door, while she rummaged around at the sink. ‘Know anything about kelpies, Mia?’

‘My dad had them on the family sheep farm.’

‘Good. You can babysit this one until Cap comes back.’

‘What do I do?’

‘Just chill. Both of you.’ Bree put a water bowl down by the door. ‘I’ll be in the smithy’s shed if you need me.’ Bree slipped on her leather apron, plucked a skullcap from the hat rack and began tucking her curls away. ‘Oh, and her name is Willow. Use the lead when you take her outside for toilet breaks.’

And just like that Mia was left with a dog.

The dog tucked her tail between her legs and trembled as if cold. Just like Mia was only yesterday.

‘It’s okay, Willow.’

Willow’s ears twitched at her name. Her moist nose wrinkled as she sniffed at the air.

‘Did someone hurt you, too?’ Mia sat on the floor with her back pressed against the cool stone wall. She felt safe there, keeping a watch on both the front and back doors.

Willow sniffed around the room for an escape, drank some water, then did another lap of the room. Finally, her soft dainty paws whispered quietly over the slate floor to sit beside Mia, her back to the corner wall, her eyes on both the front and back door, as well.

‘Hello, Willow.’

The dog sniffed at her.

‘Nice to meet you.’ Mia gave her a gentle smile that grew when she could pat Willow’s soft fur. Then when the dog curled up alongside her leg, the warmth was soothing. Hidden from the world that normally ignored her, she finally felt safe.

Eight

Cap knocked on the door of the caretaker’s cottage. The faded red paint blended well with the small squares of colour that made up the stained-glass windows. ‘Mia? You in?’

Even though it had been a few days since Porter had dropped off the dog, Cap had agreed with Bree that Mia might need a companion, having unexpectedly found one in Willow, that he’d put off collecting the dog.

He also hadn’t seen Mia since he’d brought her home. Yet he’d been dying to check up on her, even though he knew she was in good hands with Bree watching over her.

The wooden door opened, and it was a smiling Mia. Wow! Her eyes, a gorgeous honey-hazel colour, widened as he locked gazes with her. It was enough to have his heart hammering in his chest.

But then his eyes roamed over the rest of her delicate features. The angry-red swelling was gone, but the bruising was a horrific purply-blue.

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