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  She thought about ringing the cops but it was too late, the sound of men, a dog and the truck was gone. They’d find nothing. She should have done it immediately, not waited to see if she could hear or see something. Mentally she slapped herself upside the head. Idiot.

  Closing the curtains, she went back to bed.

  Mozart curled up behind her knees while Missy snuggled into the crook off her neck, their combined purring a comforting sound in the darkness.

  It’d be even more comforting if Moz was beside her in the bed, his strength at her back, his quiet confidence helping to relax her.

  Well, he isn’t, and that’s your fault. So suck it up, princess, and go to sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Sorting through the box of lacy bras, Del admired them. Pretty colours - pinks, whites, blues, lilacs, red, dotted, flowered, patterned, and even better, an array of sizes to suit a variety of sizes - small enough for those women with an A cup, large enough for those with an F. And yes, she nodded approvingly, they were all available in an assortment of sizes from the very slim to the generously plus sized.

  Just what she wanted, something pretty for every woman in town looking for it. It was what made her so successful in the lingerie department.

  Setting out different size piles, she glanced around the shop. Where her father had had the basics, she’d extended to have a variety of sizes in pretty colours and patterns for the variety of women that made up Gully’s Fall. Slowly but surely, her shop was becoming know for the fact that she catered for all sizes and shapes. She’d even had some customers from Ellor’s Loop and further towards the coast. And this morning she’d received several email orders from the on-line website she’d just had set up.

  It wasn’t just women she was catering for, but men of all shapes and sizes as well, and she strove to have a variety of clothing available in different sizes. Not every man was tall, broad shouldered and muscular. Some were lean, some were skinny, some were short and some were plus sized.

  Besides which, she never lost sight of the fact that Gully’s Fall was primarily a farming community, so she ensured she had the everyday work clothes a farming community demanded.

  Louise Hempton had agreed to be the shop’s seamstress for any clothes needing to be altered for customers who couldn’t do their own alterations. Things were looking up.

  Bending down to get the little display hangers from the box, she straightened abruptly at the yelp of a dog. Peering through the open door, she spotted Brand Dawson’s ute parked just outside. He was trying to manhandle a big dog onto the back. Its tail was tucked between its legs.

  Biting her lip, Del watched.

  The dog tried to jump up, missed and staggered.

  “Bloody useless cretin.” Brand gave it shove with his boot.

  The dog whined.

  “What the hell, man?” a new voice queried. “No need to do that.”

  Del paused as Farris, one of the younger local farmhands, appeared.

  Bending down, Farris held his hand out to the dog. “C’mon, fella. It’s all right.”

  Brand shoved him aside. “My dog, areshole. Piss off.” As if to emphasize the point, he aimed another kick at the dog. “Get here, mutt.”

  Scowling, Farris shifted in front of the dog. “Look, just settle down, all right?”

  “Problem?” Pierce appeared.

  “Yeah,” Brand replied. “Farris doesn’t know how to mind his own business.”

  “Maybe we ought to teach him one, then.”

  “Maybe all three of us should.” Cutter moved up behind Farris.

  Crap on a stick. No way could she stand and watch. Shoving open the back door, she stepped outside. “Three against one? Not exactly what I’d call even odds.”

  Pierce scowled at her. “Place is just full of nosey parkers.”

  “You’re right outside my back door, so that makes it my business.”

  Farris held up a hand. “Del, go back inside. I’m fine.”

  Hands on hips, Brand looked her up and down. “I think you’re wanting a piece of a real man, darlin’.”

  “I told you before, you abuse an animal and I’ll make it my business.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “How about I just ring the RSPCA?”

  “Getting your boyfriend to do your dirty work?” Brand sneered.

  “Your dog was in my yard again last night. I told you to keep him controlled or I’d call the rangers.”

  Cutter moved closer, his gaze roving over her. “Seems to me you threaten a lot of things, Del, but I don’t see you carrying it out.”

  “You want to see me carry it out, Cutter? Watch my finger dial in a minute.”

  His eyes gleamed coldly. “Might want to rethink that.”

  “Oh really? Then maybe you want to rethink having cars and dogs around at all hours of the night. What are you doing over at Pierce’s anyway? I heard you last night.”

  Those cold eyes narrowed. “Did you just?”

  “Yeah, I did.” She looked at Pierce. “I don’t know what shit you’re into, Pierce, but-”

  He started forward furiously. “You need a lesson in manners.”

  Farris thrust himself in front of her. “Back off!”

  “Hey!” Dee’s voice cut through the tension. “What the hell, man? You threatening my cousin and friend?”

  Cutter’s expression was distinctly unfriendly. “This isn’t your business, Miller.”

  “Now its three against three.” Dee ranged up alongside Farris. “That evens the odds a little.”

  “For God’s sake,” Farris growled. “Will you women go inside?”

  “And leave this to the men.” Ian from the furniture shop came up on Farris’s other side.

  “Nosey bastards get their beaks broken.” Brand glared at the grey-haired, lanky furniture shop owner.

  “Real men don’t beat up on women.” Ian’s gaze dropped to the shivering dog. “Or animals.”

  Del looked at the dog as it limped behind Brand. It didn’t know which way to go, obviously scared of its master and equally as scared to leave him. A dog remained loyal even when the owner mistreated it. Damn it. Shame the dog didn’t just bite his bloody leg off. She’d cheer it on.

  As she looked closer, she saw the partially healed cut on the hind leg. A jagged tear carelessly attended to, it didn’t look good. “Has he been to a vet, Brand?”

  “Doesn’t need a vet.”

  “It’s not healing well.”

  His nostrils flared, fury on his face. “I’m warning you, Miller.”

  Farris frowned at the dog. “He looks like he’s been fighting.”

  “I’ve heard dogs snarling at your place, Pierce.” Del grimaced. “Have they been fighting?”

  Pierce flushed, started forward, but Cutter grabbed his arm. “Hold up.”

  “Goddamn, nosey bitch-”

  “Watch who you’re calling names.” Farris started forward, fully intending to meet him head-on.

  Not wanting it to escalate into a full-on fight, Del grabbed Farris’s arm, quickly placing herself in front of him.

  “Out of the way, Del.” Angry, Farris tried to side-step her. “I’ll take care of this coward.”

  “He’s not worth it.” She glanced at Dee.

  Her cousin stood there, calmly thumbing in a number on her mobile phone. “Think it might be time to call in reinforcements.”

  Cutter dragged Pierce back. “Get the bloody dog and go.”

  Pierce turned, grabbed for the dog. It ducked and whined.

  Shit. No way did Del want to see the poor thing go with the men, she was certain it was going to pay for drawing attention to itself. “That dog needs a vet.”

  Before Brand could reply, Cutter glared at him. “Go.”

  “Seeing you as you hate that dog so much,” Ian said suddenly, “why don’t you just leave it here?”

  Brand sneered. “What? You gonna pay for medical costs and shit?”

  “Yeah, I ju
st might.” Jaw stuck out, Ian glared at him. “Someone should look after the poor little bastard.”

  Dee raised the mobile to her ear. “Hi, Dee Miller here. Yeah. Listen, we kind of have a situa-”

  In a lightening move, Cutter grabbed the mobile from her hand.

  Farris grabbed Dee, which just showed how well he knew her, because Dee was aiming for her phone back. “Give that back, you horse-faced shithead!” She lunged forward.

  Swearing, Farris hauled her back. “Damn it, Dee! Stop!”

  The dog whined.

  This was not going well but Del stood her ground, keeping her gaze on the men.

  Brand’s expression grew ugly. “Always knew you Millers’ were trouble. You really need a lesson.”

  Ian stepped forward, one arm out in front of Del. “Enough with the threats. Just bloody go, and you can leave the dog here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Brand’s expression grew uglier. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll ring the RSPCA myself.”

  “That’s dog stealing. I could have you charged.”

  Cutter growled. “Brand-”

  Quick as a flash, Del lunged forward, grabbed the mobile from his hand and started thumbing in the cop shop number. When Cutter started forward, she looked up and hissed, “You touch me, you touch this phone, and I’ll have you up for assault. You hear me?”

  Furious, Cutter stopped.

  “I’ll get it,” Pierce growled.

  “Don’t be bloody stupid.” Cutter glared at her. “Stop.”

  Del’s thumb hovered over the ‘talk’ button. “Are you three going or am I pressing this button, then pressing charges?”

  For several seconds it was a stand-off. For the first time Del became aware of her pounding heart. The three men were furious, Pierce and Brand openly so, Cutter with a more quiet, deadly fury. This could not end well if they decided to turn violent.

  But she wasn’t leaving her friends or cousin. Wasn’t going to give ground, not when it came to her beliefs and morals. If that meant she might get roughed up, well, so be it. She’d cry about it later when no one could see her - except Dee, because Dee was, well, Dee, and would no doubt be in the same predicament.

  Chin up, heart pounding, hand fisting over the mobile, she waited.

  There came the distant sound of a police siren.

  Cursing, Cutter swung back to the ute. “Get in the car.”

  Brand reached for the dog, which shook and whined, crawling on its belly towards him.

  “Not the dog,” Ian said sharply.

  “It’s my-” Brand began heatedly.

  “Leave it,” Cutter barked out.

  “Leave it?” Astonished, Brand whirled around.

  “It’s useless, you know that.” Cutter started the engine. “Now get in or you’re on your own. And I swear to God, you say anything…”

  Pierce didn’t hesitate, jumping into the front seat and sliding along, leaving room for Brand.

  Brand hesitated.

  The dog whined again.

  Ian stared Brand down.

  The ute started moving.

  Swearing, Brand ran for the ute, getting in. Looking out the window as he slammed the door, he yelled, “That bloody mutt is yours, Ian, and good riddance! You keep it, you control it, and you pay for it! I ever see it near my place I’ll shoot it! You hear? And you-” He pointed at Del but his words were lost as the ute lurched forward, tyres digging in the blue metal.

  As the police siren grew louder from the street, the ute swung out onto the opposite side street, fish-tailed, righted itself and drove off.

  The small group looked at each other.

  Farris scowled. “Scum.”

  Shaking his head, Ian looked at the dog staring after the ute. It took a limp forward, bewildered at being left behind. When it started to limp after the ute, Ian called to it.

  It didn’t know what to do, looking in the direction the ute had disappeared to Ian and back again.

  Voices sounded in the shop behind them, Phil and Maggie, two of the local cops, spilling out the back door of the newsagency.

  Whining, the dog dropped to its belly.

  Ian carefully approached it, talking softly.

  Heart still pounding a little, Del handed the mobile to Dee. “Here.”

  “Hells bells, I’ll need to buy a new one.”

  “Why?”

  “Can’t fumigate it after that moron had his hands on it.”

  “Yep, throw it.”

  “What’s going on?” Phil demanded. “We got some kind of half-arsed phone call that got cut off.”

  “Is ‘half-arsed’ the technical term?” Dee asked.

  Arms folded, Del grinned, relaxing a little.

  “It came from you.” Ignoring her comment, Phil looked at the small group. “What’s going on?”

  Ian stroked the cringing dog’s head. “A little disagreement over this pooch.”

  Phil and Maggie looked at the dog.

  “The dog?” Maggie queried. “You’re disagreeing over a dog?”

  “Not us,” Del said. “We had the disagreement with Pierce Harding, Brand Dawson and Cutter.”

  Phil and Maggie exchanged glances.

  “Where are they now?” Maggie asked.

  “Took off when they heard you coming.” Ian scratched the dog gently behind its ears. “Typical cowards.”

  “Which direction?” Phil was already thumbing the radio on his shoulder.

  “That way.” Dee pointed. “Follow the skid marks, you can’t miss them.”

  Turning around, Phil walked a short distance away, talking quietly into the radio.

  “Pierce was mistreating the dog.” Hands in the pockets of his work jeans, Farris scowled. “I had something to say about it, he didn’t like it.”

  “Did anyone get hit?’ Maggie asked.

  “Nah. Lot of posturing, lot of threats, but nothing else.”

  Phil’s gaze swept over the rest of them. “And you’re all here because…?”

  “Back-up,” Del said immediately.

  Farris frowned at her. “You shouldn’t have come out of the shop, Del.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t going to watch both a dog and a friend get hurt.”

  “And I’d never have forgiven myself if you’d got hurt.”

  “Neither of us got hurt.”

  Farris switched his gaze to Dee. “You shouldn’t have come out, either.”

  “Damn fool women.” Ian straightened, the dog belly crawling to lay at his feet. “But they’re Millers’, so what can you expect? Hard-headed and opinionated.”

  “Gosh, thanks,” Dee said.

  “Ryder will ream you a new one when he hears.”

  “Ryder can kiss my fat arse,” was her standard reply.

  Ian glanced at Del. “Don’t know what you’re grinning for, you have Moz to face.”

  “He’s not my boss.”

  Farris looked at Ian. “Thanks for coming out to help, man. That was decent of you.”

  “Like the girls said, I wasn’t going to see a friend hurt.” His gaze dropped to the dog. “Or an animal.”

  “Squabble later.” Maggie had a pen and notepad in her hands. “What about these threats?”

  Farris shrugged. “Brand threatened to shoot the dog if he saw him near his property.”

  “Arsehole,” Del muttered.

  “Brand happen to mention if he had anymore dogs?” Maggie waited, pen poised.

  Farris scratched his head. “Not that I can remember.”

  “Anything at all about dogs?”

  Del looked at her curiously, but before she could ask anything Phil was back. The next few minutes was spent relating what had happened and then Phil and Maggie left to find the three men and have a word to them.

  “Guess they won’t be charged.” Dee scowled.

  “For what?” Farris shoved a hand through his hair. “They didn’t hit us, we didn’t get into an actual fight.”

  “Pierce aimed a kick at the dog,” D
ee pointed out.

  “He’ll just get a warning, maybe a visit from Moz.” Farris stroked his jaw with a small grin. “Mind you, getting a visit from Moz would make most men shit their pants.”

  Oh crap. Moz would not be happy to know that she had been involved in this, either.

  To divert herself from that sudden unsettling train of thought, Del looked at the dog. “What are you going to do with him, Ian?”

  “Take him to the vet.”

  “You’re keeping him?”

  “Hey, you heard Brand, he’s mine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, he really said that.”

  “Smart arse. I meant, you’re really going to keep him?”

  “Why not?” Ian shrugged. “He’ll be good company in the shop and at home. Gets kind of lonely since Martha passed away.”

  His wife had died over a year ago. Everyone knew Ian had loved her, missed her, and had buried himself in work. The dog would be good for him. He’d be good for the dog. At least one good thing had come out of the whole ugly situation.

  Dee glanced at her wrist watch. “Well, now the fun is over, time to go back to work.”

  “I’m going to take this boy to the vet.” Ian clicked his fingers at the dog and strode back to his shop.

  Del, Dee and Farris watched as the dog hesitatingly got to his feet and started following Ian, so uncertain it was heart wrenching.

  “Come on, boy,” Ian called.

  The dog took a last look in the direction his previous master had disappeared then trotted after Ian, tail down, looking like he expected a blow any second.

  Farris slung his arms around Dee and Del’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, girls, but I’d have handled it, you know.”

  “We know,” Del said.

  “I haven’t had a fight for awhile,” Dee drawled. “Figured I’d see if I still had it in me.”

  “Kind of like a test run?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You tell that to Ryder,” Farris said. “I doubt it’s going to make a difference.”

  Del grinned.

  “And you.” Farris shook his head at her. “I think you better go to church and make confession before Moz comes looking for you.”

  “I’m not Catholic.”