Amber gave her hair a final flick, turned away from the mirror, picked up her purse and stepped across to the door. As she stepped outside into the still, humid late afternoon air and closed the door behind her, she wondered if she might have to do something about the jackaroo to ensure their continued anonymity. For the sake of the success of their plans, she hoped it would not be necessary but nevertheless, the thought of silencing the skirt-chasing station roustabout permanently heralded a mildly pleasurable shudder of anticipation.
Tom Press leaned casually against a supporting pillar at one end of the Homestead bar. The Akubra hat was gone and he was freshly showered, dressed in clean denim jeans and plaid western-style shirt. He sported a two-day beard growth that seemed to be the f
