Page 6 of Jillaroo from Jacaranda

‘Well, if and when you ever are, I’m all ears – literally.’ With a goofy grin, Jasper pointed to his impressively massive earlobes. ‘The size of these buggers makes me a damn good listener.’ He laughed like a hyena.

Ty couldn’t help but laugh too. Jasper could always be counted on to lighten the mood.

‘Righto, I better get a shift on. My ride is up soon.’ Like a cage fighter, Jasper danced on the spot as he cracked his knuckles. ‘Let’s bloody well show ’em how it’s done, Parker.’

Ty grinned as he watched Jasper saunter away, but his mind quickly went back to what had just transpired. And it pissed him off, no end. When was he ever going to see the light at the end of this dark tunnel? He’d made such headway with his therapist the past eighteen months, but here he was again, reliving the explosion that had killed his father and three of his comrades in graphic detail, all because of a damn song.

Bloody triggers.

Trying to steady the tremor in his hands, he strode over to his gear bag and retrieved a can of Red Bull. Opening it, he wandered back into the darkness of night as he downed the whole lot. Post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD for short, was his daily rival, and his ongoing exhaustion was the by-product. The soldier in him, although wounded and battle-scarred, was what got him out of bed every morning. Survival instincts were part of his DNA. Breeding superior livestock and bull riding got him through the day, but he’d been living on the edge for so long, he was tired of balancing. He needed some sort of out, so he could get on with his life in some sort of peace.

In his twenty-eight years, he’d endured two lives, one as a true-blue countryman who bred and rode bulls, the other as an infantry officer in the Australian army. The first was his passion, the latter was what had taken almost everything from him – his free-spiritedness, his wife and his ability to withstand most things life threw at him. The role of an infanteer was to seek out the enemy, to kill or capture them, to seize and hold ground, repel attack, by day or by night, regardless of season, weather or terrain. A role that demanded a high level of physical and mental toughness – something he no longer had in spades. Well, not in his opinion, anyway.

The role of a bull rider was to beat the enemy against all odds. For Ty, the defining difference was it was him and him alone at war with the bull. It didn’t matter if he died trying because he didn’t have his father, or fellow comrades, relying on him to win the battle. And this was what made every second of going head-to-head with an untameable one-tonne beast worth every drop of blood, sweat and tears.

Taking a moment to draw a deep breath, he shook his anxieties off – he needed his wits about him if he was going to outsmart the bull about to be beneath him. Turning on his heel, he focused back on his task at hand. With the barrel racing, roping and saddle bronc over and the bull riding now in full swing, the crowd was at fever pitch, and after years of their undying support, he owed his fans a ripping ride.

The vibe behind the scenes was all business. Riders methodically checked their gear, mentally prepared, and got taped up. His boot tips at 180 degrees, Ty got back to bull-riding business and did his squats before rising to finish off his stretches, ignoring the hustle and bustle going on around him. Flexibility was the key to lasting the eight seconds. Riding bulls was all about mindset – go out there with a clear head, or you were asking for a world of trouble.

Giving a quick tap to the championship buckle he’d won last year, he made sure his chaps were buckled up before pulling on his protective vest. As he zipped up his gear bag, his phone chimed to the tune of ‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’ by the legendary Hank Williams, his ex-wife’s personalised ringtone. He was tempted to ignore it, but she’d only keep calling until he answered. Stubborn persistence ran in her genes, as did the impulse to cheat – her mother had done the same to her father. His mates had warned him about Kelly Williams; he should have damn well listened

Plucking his mobile from the depths of his bag, he pushed it to his ear. ‘Hey Kelly, what’s up?’ They still had unfinished business – he owed her sixty-five big ones after a very unfair court battle – and he had another twenty-eight days to come up with the money.

‘You’re what’s up, Ty Parker,’ she huffed. ‘Couldn’t you have dropped this divorce paperwork off to me, like any other decent person would have, instead of posting it? I’m literally twenty minutes down the road, you know.’

‘Yeah, I know, Kelly. Shacking up with my cousin makes it a cinch to know where you call home now,’ he said drily. ‘Just sign it, Kelly, and send it back to me, so we can put all this behind us.’

‘I’ll sign it once you finally give me what I’m entitled to.’ Her voice had risen to a nasally high-pitched squeal. ‘I want my cut of that stupid property you put all our savings into.’

‘They were my savings, Kelly, not yours.’ He gritted his teeth and held his breath – he didn’t need to get worked up over this right now. ‘It was money I had before I met you.’

‘Whatever, Ty. I was your wife for two years, so I’m legally entitled to some of it, as you bloody well know.’

Despite the fact she’d never worked a day in her life, and he’d supported her from day dot. ‘Oh yeah, I know. And like I’ve already told you, you will get your cut in twenty-eight days.’

‘I want my cut now!’ she squealed. ‘I have bills to pay.’

He bit back swear words. ‘You can’t draw blood from a stone, Kelly.’ He ached to add, ‘Go and get a damn job,’ but knew it was a waste of his breath.

Kelly huffed a breath so forcefully, he swore she could have blown him over through the phone. ‘Why don’t you just sell the place instead of sending yourself broke?’

Ty was stomping to and fro now. ‘Because I don’t want to.’ He knew he might have to, if he didn’t find the funds. Legally, after the twenty-eight-day cut-off, he didn’t have a leg to stand on – the courts could sell it out beneath him. But he’d put too much of himself into the place to let it go now.

‘You sound like an insubordinate child, Ty.’ Every word was icy. ‘Just cut your losses and pay me out. I deserve something out of this mess we called a marriage.’

And there it was, the nastiness he’d grown accustomed to since catching her and his cousin going at it, in his house, in their marital bed. Kelly was a typical narcissist; she’d made him loathe her, and now she was the victim because he did. ‘If you’re looking for an argument, I’m not going to give it to you.’

‘You’re the one who causes arguments, Ty,’ she fired back.

Only because I won’t give you exactly what you want as soon as you stomp your feet. Well, not anymore, anyway. He knew better than to say something so true out loud.

‘Ty, are you even listening to me?’

That’s all he’d ever done, listen to her complain, manipulate and lie her way through their five and a half years together. Leaning a shoulder against the railing of the stock holding yard, he cleared the anger from his throat. ‘You’ll have your money within twenty-eight days. I’ve got to go.’ And with that, he hung up.

Sweet Jesus, how in the hell was he going to make ends meet when he gave her every penny to his name? And that was if he could somehow scrounge the last thirty-five thousand he needed. The court case had cost him eighty thousand dollars alone, leaving him with hardly anything to get himself out of this goddamn mess.

He straightened up. As his grandfather would have said, Where there’s a will there’s a way, my boy. And he was going to damn well find a way. Kelly Williams was not going to ruin him.