Re: Pat Ritter. Books
Posted: Sun Apr 12, 2015 10:18 pm
'Click Go The Shears':
‘John Cartwright. Pleased to meet you.’ They shook hands. ‘Where’re you heading?’
‘I’m working my way north. I’m a shearer looking for work.’ Joe told the stranger.
‘You’re not one of those bloody shearers who went on strike. Are you?’
‘No. I’ve got papers to show I’m not in the union,’ Joe took the papers from his pocket and handed them to the stranger. ‘What do you do here?’
‘Own the place, I don’t want any of those union shearers on the place,’ his eyes scanned the papers, refolded them and returned them to Joe. ‘Drop your swag over in the shearing quarters, go to the cook and tell him to give you a feed and start 7.30 sharp in the morning. Welcome Joe Gibson, pleased to have you on board.’ The stranger walked away.
Instantly Joe felt strange going under a different name because he was used to his own name, thank goodness that part is over, I’ve got to remember I’m now Joe Gibson and not Joe Ryan. He continued onto the shearer’s quarters, dropped his swag on the veranda and walked to the kitchen area. A huge man wearing a white stained apron stood in front of the stove. ‘I’m Joe Gibson, the boss told me to come to the kitchen to get a feed. Where are the others?’
‘Take a seat, there’s only a couple of us since those bludgers went on strike’. He spoke with a soft voice directed Joe to a seat at the end of the table. ‘Here is some stew, cooked this afternoon, get your ing gear around this lot.’ The cook placed a plate of food in front of Joe, ‘make your own tea,’ he pointed to the kettle on the stove. ‘You a shearer?’ He asked.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192
‘John Cartwright. Pleased to meet you.’ They shook hands. ‘Where’re you heading?’
‘I’m working my way north. I’m a shearer looking for work.’ Joe told the stranger.
‘You’re not one of those bloody shearers who went on strike. Are you?’
‘No. I’ve got papers to show I’m not in the union,’ Joe took the papers from his pocket and handed them to the stranger. ‘What do you do here?’
‘Own the place, I don’t want any of those union shearers on the place,’ his eyes scanned the papers, refolded them and returned them to Joe. ‘Drop your swag over in the shearing quarters, go to the cook and tell him to give you a feed and start 7.30 sharp in the morning. Welcome Joe Gibson, pleased to have you on board.’ The stranger walked away.
Instantly Joe felt strange going under a different name because he was used to his own name, thank goodness that part is over, I’ve got to remember I’m now Joe Gibson and not Joe Ryan. He continued onto the shearer’s quarters, dropped his swag on the veranda and walked to the kitchen area. A huge man wearing a white stained apron stood in front of the stove. ‘I’m Joe Gibson, the boss told me to come to the kitchen to get a feed. Where are the others?’
‘Take a seat, there’s only a couple of us since those bludgers went on strike’. He spoke with a soft voice directed Joe to a seat at the end of the table. ‘Here is some stew, cooked this afternoon, get your ing gear around this lot.’ The cook placed a plate of food in front of Joe, ‘make your own tea,’ he pointed to the kettle on the stove. ‘You a shearer?’ He asked.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192