Commitment

Part 57

She glanced over her shoulder, braced and turned around, "Good afternoon Mr Cardozo." She was not expecting him here. She dusted off her arms, trying to shake off the mud that now caked her sleeves. "Mad? Yup." She replied somewhat cryptically. She couldn't afford the emotional energy, not when most of her energy was taken up running the farm and doing just enough medical work to keep the place afloat.

He looked back at the pen. Then turned around, "You're serious! Regan! For fuck sakes! You are selling?" He narrowed his eyes at her. Even she must realise she'd be better off, by keeping the sheep, shear the sheep and get twice profits. But she looked determined.

"Yes. Not that it's any of your business." She told him bluntly. He looked well, she thought as she took inventory. And his clothes shouted quality. Guess paying ten times more than she paid him obviously has rewards. He could afford those labels.

"It never was." He retorted even as his eyes drank her in. She looked tired. She'd lost weight. Not that she had much to shed in the first place. Her cheek bones were more prominent. There was tiredness in her eyes. But none of that explained why she was selling what could be an asset. "You're being bloody stupid! You know that."

She braced, straightened her shoulders and banked her glare. "Thank you for your unsolicited opinion, Mr Cardozo." She brushed at the mud on her jeans, knew that she probably presented a far from attractive sight. "If you'll excuse me."

"In my opinion," he said bluntly, "if you sheared them then sold them, you'd double your profits." He told her, with clear exasperation in his voice.

"True." She said frankly. But she knew that would be true, only if she didn't have to find, and pay, for accommodation for a shearing team and the shearing team's fees. If the sheep were not shorn, she would have problems with the sheep. Wild sheep shed their wool every year on their own, but most domesticated sheep are breeds that do not lose their wool. Her sheep wouldn't enjoy wearing a wool coat during summer. But would encourage parasites.

He ran his fingers through his hair, rolled his eyes, "This is a mistake. I took you through the implications about keeping or selling, when exactly, the outcomes from each option. And the best option was to shear and then sell or keep them. I told you that, before I left!" He'd worked hard to help her establish her farm, and here she was, dismantling it in instalments.

"As I said, thank you for your unsolicited opinion." She huffed, knowing that he probably saw her with her sheep and the fact she could not handle her sheep in the holding yard without help. "Now, if you'll..."

He interrupted with frustration, "You are cutting off your nose to spite your face. What is the matter with you? You are throwing money away." That face now showed signs of exhaustion. He wanted to re-load up the sheep and return them to her farm before she compounded her mistake. What was she thinking? This is actual profit that she is giving away. What is the matter with this woman?

Regan ignored that statement. She turned to stride off, then hesitated, having decided that she ought to take the opportunity to talk to him. Why was she doing this to herself, prolonging the agony. "By the way, you're looking well." She hadn't seen him in weeks, had heard, snippets, when she went into town, and knew that he was doing well at his new place. The owner was really happy with his work and people respected Gray. But she expected that. He was good at what he did. A natural leader, a man of vision and had the skills and experience to do well. He knew what needed to be done and got on with doing it, without any fuss. "Life at the new place must suit you." She said calmly.

"It suits all of us." He replied quietly, and then couldn't help but snipe, given he was angry about the fact she was selling the sheep and that she had ignored his advice. He was sure she was not following his advice on her farm.

"Good to hear that." She said quietly.

"Do you know why, it suits us?" Fury coated his statement, "Because we aren't being ripped off." He looked at her sheep, then turned to watch her closely to see if she had taken umbrage at his challenge. She had that smile pinned to her lips. He grated, "If you'd told me you wanted to sell, I could have saved you the trouble of coming to market. As miser, you could have saved you paying out the auctions fees."

She ignored his insinuation. "Well, I am here now. With the sheep."

"I did a bloody good job with your sheep." He jammed his hands into his pockets. "I am sure Barry would offer you a fair price."

"Barry?"

"Yes, my employer, remember, Caro's cousin's in-laws."

"Well your employer can still offer. You are here. If he is here, he can buy. Or you can bid for my sheep for your employer," She replied with a sigh that he didn't understand, and she straightened up and said, "I'll consider it alongside the others that I get."

"If you get any." He glanced over at the sheep. They looked well enough. A bit straggly, but they looked good. They all had good coats of wool. Heaps of profit over there! What the hell was she doing, bringing them to an auction? He looked over at her and wondered if she didn't understand the profit. He was sure he had explained it in detail before he left. Best to shear them then sell, or shear and keep them. Instead she opted for selling them with a full coat!

Regan shrugged her shoulders. "As you said, sheep ready to be shorn, a win-win for the buyer." She folded her arms and noticed that she was caked with dirt having to pen her sheep earlier.

"Exactly. My advice was shear and sell, or shear and keep them. Not sell them with a full coat!"

"You told me that before. Do you have another point to make?" She rubbed at the marks on her shirt sleeves and realised it made it worse. A bit like this conversation with Gray, she thought.

"You are pouring your profit down the drain. That is my bloody point!" He rubbed the back of his neck and said again, "Are you in trouble? What the hell are you doing here, Regan?"

"I am here to sell my sheep." She snapped.

He narrowed his eyes at her sarcasm, "Not just stubborn, a stubborn fool!"

With one last attempt to dust off the mud, she nodded at him, "Again, thank you for your unsolicited opinion." He glared at her. She kept her smile on her lips, "Nice seeing you again Mr Cardozo. Please remember, you can bid for my sheep for your employer!" She glanced over at the stalls, "By the way, I think your girlfriend is waiting for you. She does not look happy. Excuse me." She turned and calmly walked away.

He ran his fingers through his head and laced his fingers behind his head and watched her walk away, murmuring, "She's not my girlfriend."