Page 71 of Stockman's Showdown

Sunshine streamed through the back window silhouetting the bulky body-building frame of the OIC, Elsie Creek’s Detective Senior Sergeant Marcus Moore, seated behind his large desk. ‘Hey, Ryder, this is a surprise.’

Ryder closed the door and shook hands with Marcus. ‘Brought you something.’ He dug around in his carry bag to pull out a bottle of bourbon.

‘Jeez, you did not just put that on my desk.’ Marcus didn’t touch it, only raising his eyebrows at the bottle.

It was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Red Dog Saloon. It was one of the smoothest whiskies Ryder had ever tasted. ‘One day I’ll have a bourbon room, and I’d keep a case of that in there.’ He slid it closer across the desk.

Still not touching it, the senior sergeant sat heavily in his large director’s chair on the other side of the desk covered in paperwork. ‘I know it’s not my birthday. So, what’s going on?’

‘Well…’ Ryder sat in the guest chair, producing his still images as he explained all about Leo’s operation, ending his debriefing with the confession about his own surveillance cameras set in the heart of his neighbour’s property.

‘Oi, that’s illegal, mate,’ said the no-nonsense cop, wearing a scowl.

‘I’m well aware. But I also know you don’t have the equipment, and you’d be stuck under red tape, too. And the real reason I’m telling you this quietly is…’

Marcus arched an eyebrow. ‘Go on.’

‘Leo has deep pockets with lots of cash to splash with a lot of contacts. He had a mining official in the government send us a fake letter demanding access to our water. He’s got his dodgy lawyers on retainer, and we don’t know who else he has on his payroll. We must keep this in-house as much as possible. I can’t risk someone tipping Leo off, when we both know how small the Territory is at times. Look, Leo may come across as a smooth-talking businessman, but he’s not.’

‘Tell that to the local mother’s group who love him for the donation he made to the school pool.’

‘Do you trust Leo?’

‘Nope. He’s too smooth for my books.’

‘But he’s smart. Leo has always been ten steps ahead of us. But not this time. This time we have him.’

‘Any idea when Leo is going to start harvesting that crop?’ Marcus tapped on the images showing Leo’s dope field.

‘Dex reckons it’ll be less than two weeks.’

‘And what are you and your brothers going to do in that time?’ Marcus leaned back in his director’s chair, like Dex rocked on his chair’s back legs.

‘Besides protecting our property, we’re all taking turns to watch Leo’s outfit.’

‘Are you saying you have your neighbour under full surveillance?’

‘That prick has been doing it to us, long before we even met him. Did you know he had one of his cronies strongarm Charlie, trying to get him to sign off on the caretaker’s caveat before we bought the station?’

‘He what?’ Marcus sat forward in his chair.

‘The only reason they stopped was because Bree shot one of them in the arse. Nothing beats a redhead with a temper who is very protective over her family.’ He shook his head, admiring her for that. When he shouldn’t. But Bree had no fear when it came to protecting her family.

‘She what?’ Marcus slammed his fists down on his desk, his voice rising as he leaned over the desk and scowled at Ryder. ‘What sort of hillbilly, redneck outfit are you running out there?’

As Marcus ranted about the many laws they’d broken, Ryder dragged out the second bottle of bourbon from his carry bag. This one was the Limited Edition Single Barrel bottle of Jacks.

The two bottles of high-end bourbon on Marcus’s desk reminded Ryder of something Bree had said to him just yesterday while eating cupcakes: that she was open to bribery and corruption. But Marcus was different—not the corruption part, but a little gentle bribery… maybe. Still, he was someone Ryder had come to respect deeply, both as an officer of the law and as a friend.

‘I’m sorry to put you in this position, Marcus, but…’

‘Go on, spill it all, so I can really spit the dummy and start working on my ulcer.’

‘There are some old shotguns at the station, too.’ Even if Bree would give him an earful, he did promise Marcus he’d share any news.

Marcus sat back heavily in his chair, the scowl still there. ‘Let me guess, you’ve found Price’s illegal gun stash. How many?’

He shrugged, while trying to do his best to protect Bree. ‘Will anyone get into trouble if I surrender those guns?’ Bree may have asked about the need to surrender those unregistered shotguns earlier, but when it came to actually handing them over, he guessed it’d take some convincing. Knowing Bree, she’d argue her case for finders keepers instead.

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