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“Stacey was junior champion ten years ago. Rod, my late husband, thought she had what it takes to compete in the nationals, even the international race scene. But—” Leonie paused.
“What?” I looked between them. “Why’d you stop racing?”
Stacey glared at her mother. “There was a bushfire ten years ago. We lost Dad in the fire and I … had an accident. That stopped everything.”
Fuck.
Stacey had mentioned an accident on my first day at work. I’d thought she meant a car accident but maybe she was hurt in the fire, too.
The warm room suddenly felt cold, despite the wood stove pumping out heat. Both women were silent. Stacey abruptly stood up, taking her cup to the sink. Leonie looked both frustrated and sad.
“I’ve kept you both up after a long day.” I set down my teacup. “I’ll let you both get to bed.”
Leonie winced as she stood. Stacey immediately went to her side.
“Mrs Turner, are you okay?” I moved towards Leonie, but she waved both of us off.
“I’m fine. Really. Stomach still delicate. Nothing that rest won’t solve. Oh, I haven’t fed the dogs or the chooks yet. And there’s more sheep in the lower paddock that need feed.”
“Let me or Ryan do that,” Stacey implored. “Wait, did you say he’s sick too?”
Leonie nodded.
“I can help feeding the animals,” I said.
Both women sized me up. I had the feeling the city doctor was falling short of expectations for farm work.
“An extra set of hands would be helpful?” I added.
“Sure,” Stacey finally agreed. “I’ll just go change out of my uniform after I get Mum to bed.”
I said goodnight and made myself useful by washing up the teacups, setting the last saucer on the dish drainer when Stacey appeared in jeans, a vest, work shirt and boots.
“We’ll make a farmer out of you, Dr Cain.” She placed a torch in my hands.
“Lead on, Farmer Stacey.”
We walked to the sheds, pointing out the shearers’ quarters, stables, dog kennels and ‘Chookydoon’; an elaborate chicken coop.
“We’ll do the chooks last. We need to get sheep feed loaded up for Tom and feed the dogs.”
The shed had three sides sheeted with corrugated iron and was open at the front. Several small animals scurried away as our torch lights scanned the area. Feed, baled hay and lucerne were stored at one end. At the other end of the shed, was a tarp-covered car, farm machinery, and boxes and crates stacked on top of each other.
“Before I make you load up feed.” Stacey headed to the covered car instead of the bags of pellets and lucerne bales. “Thought you’d like to see this.”
The tarp fell away in a dust cloud. In the light of her torch was a hot pink and purple Camaro with her Firebird graphic and flames on the doors.
“I drove this in the junior championships.”
I grinned, running a finger over the decal,Turner’s Racing makes my heart race.
“What would it take to get her up and running again?”
“Probably a complete engine overhaul,” Stacey sighed. “Mice and rats have likely eaten out the electrics. It’s impossible to keep them out in a shed like this and we’ve got an outbreak at the moment.”
“Speaking of outbreaks, I think we have a gastro outbreak in the region.”
“Yeah, we’ve had a spike in appointments.” She frowned, leaning against her car. “We could do some posts on the Ballydoon and Stanmore community pages about washing hands and being aware of the symptoms.”
