Page 3 of Stockman's Stowaway

‘I like to avoid the post office.’ Porter clicked his pen and scribbled down some notes. ‘Where did you find the bankbook?’

‘Inside Harry’s old car. I also found his favourite footy guernsey and the family branding iron. Things my brother treasured.’

‘Why would Harry go missing? And again, I’ll ask, why hadn’t you reported this sooner?’

Charlie dropped his head, shuffling his boots’ thick Cuban heels in the red dirt. ‘Coz of the murder.’

‘What murder?’ Porter leaned in closer.

Charlie gave a sad sigh. ‘Someone accused my brother of murder. But Harry didn’t do it. Harry’s not like that. And if he’d done a runner, why leave his most precious items in his car and stash it in the Stoneys? And—’

‘Okay, okay.’ Porter held up his hand. ‘Look, mate, how about giving me an approximate date of Harry’s disappearance?’

‘Around the time Harry made his last bank deposit.’ Charlie pointed at the ancient bankbook Porter held.

‘Back in November 1962?’

‘Yeah, that’s right. It happened just before that big wet buggered up Christmas, but it broke the drought, for sure. Does this mean you’ll take a gecko’s gander at it, mate?’ Charlie’s eyes lit up with hope.

‘I can’t promise anything, Charlie. But if you leave this bankbook with me, I’ll do some research. How’s that?’

‘You’re a champion, mate. Thank you.’ Charlie shook the officer’s hand vigorously. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of this to Bree. I wouldn’t wanna worry the girl.’ The sly old stockman winked, as he hoisted the heavy cattle brands back over his shoulder.

‘Oh, man.’ Cap dropped his head, hoping Bree didn’t bite his head off, too.

‘Right, my business is done. I’ll be dropping these brands off and havin’ a coldie in the pub.’ Charlie sauntered off.

‘We can’t be long, Charlie. I’ve got the dogs with me.’ Cap tapped the mesh cage that covered the entire back of his old Tojo. Today, only half of his muster dogs had come for the trip into town. Now lazing around the large sacks of dog food he’d just picked up, enjoying the breezy shade.

‘Before you go, Cap?’ Porter removed his sunglasses to peer at the cattle dogs resting in the back cage. ‘I have a favour to ask. A big one.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, it’s about this dog I found on a wallaby track in the middle of nowhere. I think she fell out the back of a ute, or something. She was in pretty rough shape, and I’ve spent thousands on her vet bills just to get her well again.’ Porter shared a sad smile. ‘But she’s a working dog, I can see it. And you being who you are, I’m hoping you might…’

The air became still, no birds flew, not even a car cruised down the town’s main street to distract them. Did he really need another dog?

‘Please? Just take a look at her.’

Cap sighed. ‘Like you said to Charlie, I can’t promise anything.’ Not when he had yet to talk to his brothers about his plans for the muster dogs on Elsie Creek Station.

‘Thanks, Cap, I appreciate it. I’ll bring her out to the station. You’ll fall in love with her, with just one look. You wait and see.’

‘You know I could never turn away a stray.’ It was a soft spot that was sending him broke.

‘So I’ve heard.’ Porter nodded, yet there was no sign of the easy-going smile that he normally wore, as he tapped the brim of his police cap before driving away.

It seemed like giving up that dog had to be tough for Porter, so it must be for a reason. Cap already had a few rescue dogs living it up at the station, so what did one more matter. Right?

Cap shook his head as he turned to face his muster dogs. Some were strays he’d found; some had been rescued from the bullet. Funny thing was, after the time he’d spent training them, he could now sell those same dogs back to those farmers as brilliant muster dogs—if he wanted to. ‘Well, it looks like we may have a new addition to the pack. Watch the Tojo, I’ll be back in five if I can drag Charlie out of the pub.’

And then he’d front his brothers and tell them his plans.

Two

Mia Dixon cowered behind the dilapidated stables, her heart hammering in her throat. Sweat stung her eyes as her cheek thumped with raging hot pain. Using the sleeve of her crusty work shirt, she wiped away the blood from her nose.

She’d spotted the police van and had wanted to cry out for help. But she just couldn’t risk it. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot, desperately trying to control her trembling.

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