by Mandy Magro
‘Do you ever worry about getting hurt, or worse?’
Dallas shrugged as he began to rock the ropes a little harder. ‘I try not to because it’s out of my hands. Injuries are something I can’t control and they just happen when they’re going to happen. And to be honest, the hard knocks are what drive me on even more—because if you back me into a corner, I like to think I’ll always come out swinging.’
Charlize raised her eyebrows. ‘Good answer. Is it in any way, shape or form cruel to the bulls?’
‘I’ve been waiting for this one—especially considering your opinions on food.’ Dallas deliberately tugged the ropes a little harder, making Charlize’s grip tighten. He was careful not to cause her to fall off, but this line of questioning got his goat up, and he wanted her to feel it.
Charlize fired him an icy stare. ‘Hey, what gives? I almost fell off then.’
Dallas curbed his smile. ‘Almost, but you didn’t.’
‘Does that question bother you?’
He thought for a moment. ‘It pisses me off how some people who have no idea about rodeos always think it’s cruel for the bucking bulls.’
Charlize challenged him with her eyes. ‘Well, humour me then, and explain why it’s not.’
Dallas eased off tugging the ropes. ‘Righto then. For every ninety thousand bulls bucked, there are only four serious injuries, and to put that into perspective, one out of fifteen bull riders are seriously injured. So if there’s any type of cruelty going on, it’s to the human.’
Charlize shrugged. ‘But that’s your choice. You choose to be in the ring.’
‘Fair call.’ Dallas huffed then continued on. ‘But you can’t make a bull buck if they don’t want to—no matter what you do. It’s a natural thing for them to buck, and these guys love preforming as much as we do. As for how they’re looked after, well, they live a much better and longer life than an average bull out in the scrub because they’re fed well, they get vitamin supplements and they’re treated like part of the family. The bulls are worth a hell of a lot of money to the stock contractors, so why wouldn’t they want to take the utmost care of them?’
Charlize smiled. ‘I really like what you’ve just said.’
‘Has it changed your mind about rodeos being cruel?’
‘Let’s just say the jury’s still out on that.’
Dallas stopped swinging the barrel and moved in closer to her. ‘Now can I ask you a few questions?’ He couldn’t help but notice a blush rise on her cheeks as the pulse in her neck quickened. Was it the fact he was treading on her territory, by wanting to ask her questions, or was it something else?
She sat up straight. ‘Okay, shoot.’
‘What made you decide to become a pescetarian?’
‘I love all creatures, great and small, always have. I remember at a young age, maybe six or seven, chewing on a piece of meat and feeling physically sick, but of course I didn’t really understand why then. I was fifteen when I knew becoming a pescetarian was what I needed to do, much to my parents’ exasperation. I don’t believe we’re born natural carnivores, and I find fish and seafood a lot cleaner to eat.’
Dallas leant on the barrel. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You really want to understand it, or are you just being a smart-arse?’
Dallas feigned shock and hurt. ‘Me, a smart-arse?’ He grinned. ‘Seriously, I really want to try and understand it.’
‘Really.’ Charlize’s gaze softened. ‘I’ve haven’t met many men who have wanted to, that’s all.’
‘Well, you’ll soon learn I’m not like most men.’ Dallas rested his chin on his folded hands, waiting for her answer.
Charlize sucked in a breath. ‘Right, here goes—the scientific theory is that natural carnivores have no pores on their skin, so they perspire through the tongue—that’s why dogs and cats pant when they’re hot. On the other hand, plant and fish eaters perspire through pores on their skin since they are searching for food during hot hours, rather than hunting at sunrise and sunset or under the cover of darkness like most carnivores do. Carnivores also have shorter intestinal tracts than plant and fish eaters, so flesh can pass out of their body quickly, whereas herbivores and omnivores have an intestinal tract that is several times longer than their body length.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘The human intestinal tract is about twenty-five feet long so doesn’t that tell you something?’
Dallas was impressed with her knowledge, and it intrigued him. ‘You seem to know what you’re talking about.’
‘And another reason is that I just don’t like the idea of eating land animals’ flesh that can be filled with toxins, uric acid and bacteria. The thought of all that blood just makes my skin crawl.’
Dallas suddenly saw her through different eyes. This woman wasn’t just following a trend. She had her reasons and she truly believed in them. He gave the barrel a tap as he straightened up. ‘Well, Charlize, I can see why you’ve chosen to be one. Not that I could ever cut out meat, but I can appreciate your preference now. Sorry for having a go at you about it at the cafe.’
‘No worries.’ Charlize reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. ‘You know what? I’m starting to think those rumours about you bull riders being egotistical were wrong. You’re actually turning out to be a really likable bloke, Dallas Armstrong.’
Dallas felt a surge of adrenaline pump through him with her touch, and he had to fight the urge to pull her from the barrel, tear off those sexy cowgirl clothes and make love to her right there on the mattress. But instead he smiled and shrugged. ‘We’re not all bad boys out for a wicked time.’ He placed his hand over his heart, grinning mischievously. ‘I swear to God I’m a saint.’
‘Yeah, well, I wouldn’t go that far. I reckon you’ve got a bit of bad boy in you. You’ve just learnt how to control it a bit better than most.’
‘Like the infamous Johnny Cash sang, I walk the line.’ He smirked as he reached up and grabbed her hips. ‘Here, let me help you down so we can go and meet Robo Bull before it gets too hot out in the roundyard.’
Charlize’s stomach grumbled and she laughed at the intensity of it.
‘That thing sounds like it needs feeding,’ Dallas said with a chuckle as he poked her lightly in the belly.
‘I think so.’ She gave her stomach a rub. ‘Is it all right if we head home and have some of that leftover stir-fry before I come face to face with Robo Bull? We don’t want Reg to get all of it.’
‘When it comes to eating, you don’t have to ask me twice.’ He whistled to Levi and Bruce, who’d curled up in the hay bales and gone to sleep. ‘We might have to leave riding Robo, though. I reckon it’ll be too hot by the time we’ve eaten lunch, and I need to trim the horses’ feet up this arvy too, and that’ll take up most of what’s left of the day.
‘Okay, how about tomorrow?’
‘I’ve got to head over to a mate’s place to help him fix a tractor tomorrow. With the photo-shoot Friday and then the big ride and the Rodeo Ball on the weekend, I’m not too sure when we’ll get time again to check Robo out—you need a few hours to get the feel of it.’
‘Oh well, riding on the barrel has been fun anyway. And it’s definitely given me some insight for my article.’ She gently brushed his arm, sending a bolt of something through him. ‘I might pop into town tomorrow to do a few things. Do you think your mum will mind me borrowing her car?’
‘Of course she won’t mind.’ Dallas arched a brow. ‘I thought you and Mum grabbed half the town yesterday though.’
‘Oh ha ha.’ Charlize gave him a light slap on the arm before looking down at her jeans. ‘I’m thinking I might pop into the western store and grab myself a pair of boots, save wearing your mum’s all the time. They’ll be a keepsake I can take home from my trip too.’
‘Good call.’ He gave her a slow, sexy smile. ‘Just think how much wear you’ll get out of a good pair of cowgirl boots back in Sydney—you might start a new fashion craze in your office.’
CHAP
TER
18
Holding a bag containing her new pair of Wrangler jeans, Charlize stood out the front of the Grenfell Record, admiring the quaintness of the shopfront—such a contrast to the high-profile offices of The Insider but appealing all the same. She pushed the door open, smiling when a bell jingled from the doorknob, and then made her way to the deserted front counter. A male voice called out from the back, letting her know he wouldn’t be long.
After seeing the wreck in the shed yesterday, she wanted to find out more about Mick Armstrong’s accident, but she wasn’t about to ask Dallas or Katherine those types of questions, so on instinct she thought to check out the archives here.
A well-dressed grey-haired man stepped through a doorway leading to the desk, his smile wide and welcoming. ‘Hi there, how can I help you?’
‘Hi. I’m Charlize Dawson, from The Insider newspaper.’ Charlize held out her hand, and the man shook it eagerly, his bushy brows almost as high as his receding hairline.
‘Oh wow, hi Charlize. I’m Harold Gungsteen. What’s a big smoke journo like you doing at the Grenfell Record? You’re not looking for a job are you, because if you are, you’ve got it.’ He laughed loudly, infectiously, enticing a giggle from Charlize.
She shook her head. ‘Um, not exactly, but thank you.’
He smiled warmly. ‘Well that’s a damn shame because I want to retire someday soon and there’s nobody interested in taking over my place as yet. And I don’t want to just shut the place down—Grenfell needs a local newspaper. Who wouldn’t want to do such a rewarding job, huh?’ He shook his head as though a little perplexed that nobody had snapped the job up. ‘So tell me, what is it I can do for you then?’
‘I was hoping to have a look through your archives. I’m here to write an article on Dallas Armstrong and his bull riding, but I’m doing a bit of research on the area too while I’m here, just to add to the story.’
‘Oh yes, I heard something about Dallas being interviewed, and also about the calendar he and a few of the local lads want to do. News travels fast round these parts.’ Harold lifted part of the counter upwards, to make a pathway for Charlize. ‘I’d be honoured to help you out in any way I can. Come on through to the back.’
Charlize stepped through. ‘Thank you, I really appreciate it.’ She followed him into an office that resembled a miniature of the workspace at The Insider, and then into a back room with floor to ceiling shelves, all of them impeccably labelled by date. She was very impressed with the organisation.
He waved his arms towards all the old newspapers. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’m on a deadline for the printers and my two other staff are out on stories, so I best get back to it.’ He made his way out the door. ‘Take your time, and just give me a shout if you need any help with anything.’
‘Okay, thank you.’
Using her trained eye, Charlize took less than five minutes to find the exact newspaper she was looking for. And bam, the front-page headline hit her like lightning to her chest.
RODEO CHAMPION DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT
She read on…
Local bull-riding hero, Mick Armstrong, has died in a single vehicle car crash. At eleven-thirty Friday morning police were called to the scene where Mr Armstrong had careened over the side of Kennedy Mountain. The lack of skid marks initially baffled police, but after a thorough investigation, power-steering fluid was discovered in the brake system. After questioning his family, they learnt that Mr Armstrong had been servicing his Commodore earlier that morning and they believe he has accidently put the wrong fluid into the system, a mistake that has sadly led to his death. The Grenfell community will sorely miss him, as will his fans. Our thoughts are with his wife and son at this heartbreaking time.
As hard as it was to stay in journo mode, Charlize pulled out her notebook and began jotting down notes. It was devastating to learn that such a simple mechanical mistake could take a much-loved man’s life so tragically. Satisfied with what she had found out, she took a few moments to gather herself as she placed the newspaper back where it was archived. Then grabbing her handbag and shopping bag, she made her way out.
Harold looked up from where he was busy laying out the newspaper for the printer. Charlize knew the process well. ‘That’s was quick. I hope you found what you were looking for?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She quickly glanced at her watch, feigning hurriedness, hoping he wouldn’t ask her exactly what she had found. She didn’t want it to get back to Dallas and Katherine; they might think she was snooping behind their backs. Which she kind of was, but for good reason—not wanting to upset them with hard questions about Mick’s accident. ‘I better get a move on. I have another appointment to get to.’ She flashed him a huge smile. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Harold.’
‘Likewise, Charlize, call in anytime. And if you ever want to get away from the big smoke—’ he gave her a cheeky smile ‘—there’ll be a job here waiting for you.’
She couldn’t help but laugh. He was a very sweet man. ‘Thanks, Harold. I’ll keep it in mind.’
***
Dallas emerged from underneath the tractor, his face covered in black soot. ‘How long has it been since you’ve serviced this thing, Will?’
Opening a brown paper bag, his mate took a bite from his sausage roll and shrugged. ‘I dunno—’ he mumbled through a mouthful ‘—maybe a couple of months?’
Dallas pulled a whatever face. ‘Yeah right …’ Dropping the shifter beside him, he stood. ‘Where’s mine, bugalugs? I’m starving.’
‘Oh shit, you wanted one? I wish I’d known that …’ Will tried to act serious but failed miserably.
Dallas playfully jabbed him in the ribs. ‘Come on, pass it over.’
Walking to the smoko table parked up against the shed wall, Will grabbed a matching brown paper bag from the depths of his backpack, along with a squeeze pack of tomato sauce, and tossed it in Dallas’s direction.
Dallas lurched forward and caught it. His mouth watered at the smell of the tasty morsel inside. ‘Cheers, mate.’ Peeling back the paper, he quickly squeezed the sauce on top and took a bite, groaning in pleasure.
Will pulled up a camp chair that looked as though it had seen better days. ‘So tell me, what’s the journo from Sydney like? Is she cute? Is she single? Does she want to marry a sexy young farmer and live happily ever after?’
Dallas chuckled at his best mate’s questions. He pulled up a seat opposite him at the table. ‘The journo has a name, Will. It’s Charlize. And yes, she is nice. She’s not bad looking. No, she’s not single, she’s married. And I doubt she’s going to leave her husband for you.’ He took a swig from his water bottle, smirking as he did.
Will pulled a pretend disappointed face. ‘And here I was thinking I might meet the girl of my dreams.’
‘Oh get out. You think every woman is the girl of your dreams, until you’ve been with them for a month and you get sick of them.’
‘Oi, fair play. I’ve got feelings you know.’
‘Ah ha.’
His sausage roll finished, Will cracked open a can of Coke, then passed one to Dallas. ‘You’re not just saying all that to keep her for yourself, are you?’
Dallas felt a twinge in his belly at the thought of having Charlize to himself. He tried to cover up any sign of his keenness for her by playfully frowning. ‘Nah, why would I? I told you she’s not available.’
Will pointed at him, his eyes wide. ‘Holy shit, you like her.’
Dallas cracked open his can. ‘No I don’t.’
‘Oh come on, Dallas, I’ve known you since we were in nappies and I can tell when you’re lying. You like this chick.’
Dallas shrugged. ‘So what if I do? Nothing’s going to come of it. Beside the fact that she’s married, she’s a city chick, and from my experience, they’re nothing but trouble.’
‘Come on, they’re not all trouble.’ Will leant forwards. ‘Take some advice from me. Never say never, especially when it comes to what the he
art wants.’
‘Holy shit, Will, that’s deep for you. Don’t go going all Doctor Phil on me now.’
‘Yeah, well, I just want to see you happy, that’s all. And if that means you gotta win a married woman’s heart over, and then smuggle her out to the country till she gets used to a life away from the big smoke, then so be it.’ He grinned triumphantly as he sat back and folded his arms across his chest.
Dallas eyed Will quizzically. ‘It’s really that simple to you when it comes to women, isn’t it?’
‘Yup.’
‘Yeah well, it’s not for me. The next chick I set my heart on, I want it to be for good and I want her to feel the same way.’ Not comfortable with revealing just how much he did like Charlize, Dallas stood. ‘Anyways, I better get back to it or I’ll be here til tomorrow trying to fix this thing.’
Will stood too. ‘You want me to stay and give you a hand?’
Dallas shook his head as he threw his arm around Will’s shoulder. ‘No offense, but you’re not that mechanically minded. I reckon I’d be more constructive without you.’
Will grinned as he nodded. ‘Yeah, well, I can’t be good at everything I suppose.’
***
Carefully parking the Statesman in the carport at the side of the homestead, Charlize grabbed her handbag and shopping bags from the floor and climbed out. She decided to head for the back door, fewer stairs to climb and a quicker route to the fridge so she could unload the two bags of food she’d brought. Passing Reg’s cottage, she spotted him kneeling down in the garden, tending to the multitude of pink, yellow and red roses that lined the little white picket fence. They were the biggest, most beautiful roses she’d ever seen.
She stopped and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. ‘Hi Reg, they are some very impressive flowers.’
Reg looked over his shoulder. ‘Oh hi, Charlize. If you think they look impressive—’ he snipped one off with his secateurs ‘—just wait until you see how beautiful they smell.’
Charlize smiled gratefully as he reached out and passed it to her. She gently pressed it to her nose and breathed in deep. The petals felt like the finest of silk. He was right; they smelt amazing. ‘Wow, just wow,’ she said before taking another big sniff.