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Pat Ritter. Books


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Mystery Tour

Postby mzawf » Wed Jul 12, 2017 5:07 pm

Hi Pat :duke
:thanks for your continued support and all the contribution made :clap greatly appreciated! :thunbsup Great to have you back, from the Mystery Tour :glasses betting you've had a lovely time :heart Post :shock: Post :-D stating you were away until the 11th, (Going on a ) it piques the interest :scratc "Tell us a Little :shutit or tell us all" :getsmiley
Pat Ritter Books clocking up 61,361 hits to date.'Ellie and Me' T5-Travels' is soon to join the mzawf index (Mary is keen to have her own forum) :applause :notworthy :notworthy Cobber since 2011 we haven't had the pleasure of welcoming 'on board' anybody new :yes 'Ellie and Me' T5-Travels' started her blog last November has clocked 15,000. Soon to be off travelling again in her campervan, touring the English countryside with her doggie friend Ellie. (pen paper and camera on hand).
:aok TO PURCHASE THE DROVER by Pat Ritter Click on >>>SmashWords Image 4,339,913 veiws :mz:Health & Happiness

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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Wed Jul 12, 2017 11:30 pm

Thank you so much mzawf. We loved the Mystery Tour to North Queensland stayed at Cobbold gorge. More Information >>>Cobbold gorge Absolutely wonderful place to visit and stay. Now to the page for today. Before I do thank you all for your support.
'The Drover' - Page 18:

Chapter 3

‘What was your day like Harry?’ His father asked him after they settled around the camp fire.
‘Yeah, okay – didn’t have too much trouble.’ He replied not wanting to give much away. It was kind of him to ask.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll go through McIntyre paddock; and follow the bore drain to the end. We’ll camp on the boundary near McIntyre Creek. There should be plenty of good feed and water. Charley Robinson, he’s the boundary rider should be there about.’
Charley Robinson was employed by the property for running the out-station McIntyre. He lived with his wife and his children in a boundary rider’s hut. The hut, the size of a large shed with only a couple of bedrooms; kitchen and outside toilet and laundry.
His job, to ride the boundary fence and mend any broken wire caused by kangaroos or emus; and to clear the bore drain, to allow the water to flow, so sheep didn’t die of thirst. Yearly, he helped with the muster of sheep for shearing, lamb marking and mulesing.
Mulesing was necessary because sheep would get fly-blown or fly-strike during the hot summer months. When the sheep was a lamb, about two months old, being castrated and earmarked, the operator used a pair of hand shears to cut the skin of the lamb, from each back hock; slice the skin down through to the buttock. The operator applied a powder to the open wound to help it heal.
By removing this skin, wool didn’t grow and therefore piss and dung wouldn’t stick to the wool to attract the fly. It was developed in 1927 to reduce fly-strike on the animal.
‘Wait a minute, aren’t I the Boss Drover with my mob. Shouldn’t I be making the decisions on where we’re going?’ Harry made a statement to his father.
‘Yeah…well you’re still a bit wet behind the ears, son, before you go making these decisions. Anyway where did you think you bloody well would go then?’ His father wasn’t used to being told about droving. He’d been droving most of his life and knew the craft inside out and back to front.
‘I had an idea, that’s all.’ Harry replied solemnly. He was taking the bit between his teeth to speak back to his father this way.
‘Were you going to tell me before we headed off tomorrow?’
‘Yeah – just before we left, at breakfast.’
‘Okay then as long as we are both going in the same direction – that’s all.’
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Thu Jul 13, 2017 11:14 pm

Thank you dub. Here is the page for today: 'The Drover' - Page 19:

‘Where did you think we were going?’ Harry asked.
‘Through Dyvenor – join the Bulloo River then onto Toompine to Quilpie and finish off through Adavale and to Wakes Lagoon. Does that suit you?’ Anger began to seep into his mind, his hands felt moist; his heart beat faster. He didn’t want to get angry because what was the point way out in the bush. Let the boy have his say – how can he learn if he doesn’t make a few mistakes.
‘Yeah – that’s about right.’ Harry wasn’t certain how his father worked out where to go. His knowledge was listening to others because he couldn’t read a map and only knew where the stock routes were by following the signs which he found difficult to understand and read.
‘If that’s all then we’d better get some sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow. Good night Harry.’

Before daylight broke the next morning Harry had taken down the brake and let the sheep go in the direction of McIntyre paddock. He’d finished his breakfast which Snowy cooked, chops and gravy with a hot pannikin of black tea filled his stomach.
Whistling his dogs Davey joined him, ‘where’re we off to today Boss?’ Davey asked.
‘We’ll try and reach McIntyre and camp the night at the top paddock.’ He answered. He felt good when Davey called him ‘Boss’.
‘We’ll get on with it then. I’ll go out on the wing.’
‘Okay, I’ll keep behind. See ya around smoko time.’
The sheep spread across the Mitchell grass plains. Slowly they filled their stomachs with the rich protein of the grass which grew like lucerne growing on the Darling Downs. Harry had never seen lucerne growing on the Downs because he’d never travelled further east than St George, but he promised himself one day, he would go further than St George to see what everyone talked about.
PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Fri Jul 14, 2017 11:11 pm

'The Drover' - Page 20:

‘What’re you going to do – come with us all of the way or head back to the homestead?’ Harry asked Snowy when he stopped for lunch.
‘I don’t know. There haven’t been too many dog tracks around the water holes so if you’ll have me, I’ll carry on doing what I’m doing – is that alright?’ He asked Harry.
‘Right by me, you’d better let the old man know? You know what he’s like when I make a decision and he doesn’t know about it.’
‘I’ll let him know. It’ll be good to see some country north of this place. I’ve been here a long time.’ Snowy finished.
In the distance Harry saw dust from a horse and rider. Wonder who he is? Harry thought when the horse and rider came closer.
Horse and rider stayed clear of the mob and came up to where Harry was at the camp.
‘Hi there, Charley Robinson’s the name – you must be Harry Williams, I’m boundary rider here on McIntyre, g’day Snowy – how ya going you ole bugger?’ The male rider called out.
He climbed down from his horse and shook hands with Harry and Snowy, ‘pleased to meet you and good to see you – you ole bugger. How’re the dogs treating ya?’ He said in his western drawl.
‘Ya going to have a bite to eat?’ Harry asked.
‘I wouldn’t mind – the missus made me lunch so I can share a cup of tea with ya, if that’s okay.’
‘Get it out of the billy on the fire – I’m not ya missus.’ Snowy scorned.
Charley was a thin man, in his early forties, his face worn by the sun and wind. It was his tenth year working on the property as boundary rider on the out-station McIntyre. He was a happy man with a loving family and content with his station in life.
‘So you’re camping the night Harry?’ Charley asked.
PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Jul 15, 2017 10:59 pm

'The Drover' - Page 21:

‘Yeah, we thought in the top paddock near McIntyre Creek. It’s got plenty of feed and the creek’s running with plenty of water.’ Harry echoed.
‘How old are you Harry? Aren’t you a bit young to be droving?’ Charley wanted to know.
‘I turned 17 the other day and me Dad’s with me. He’s got half the mob and I’ve got the other half. We keep them separated and use the same camp at night.’ He told Charley. Harry thought it was none of his business. He was sticking his nose in where it’s wasn’t wanted.
‘I’ll get back to the mob. Nice meeting you Charley.’

With the mob bedded down for the night in the brake Harry sat with the others around the camp fire. They’d progressed well for the first couple of days with little or no mishaps.
‘Davey, what’d you do before you worked here?’ Harry wanted to know.
‘Trained a horse, that’s what I did.’ Davey shared.
‘What type of horse?’ Harry asked inquisitively.
His knowledge of training horses was to make sure they were fed each day and worked hard.
‘Thoroughbred horse – race horse, you know those ones that run round a racetrack.’
‘How’d go – did you win any races?’
‘Yeah – I had a mare named Silver Wattle, a grey four year old that won a couple of races in Quilpie.’
‘What happened to your training?’
‘I run out of money.’
‘Didn’t your horse win races?’
‘Oh yeah – but the cost of racing is dear. When I first got the mare she wasn’t much good, but I knew she had potential. Her back hocks hit each time she got into a hard gallop.’
‘How did you fix it?’
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Jul 16, 2017 11:17 pm

'The Drover' - Page 22:

‘I found an old saucepan down on the rubbish dump and cut a spoon shape from the base; welded it on the inside of the hind racing plate. I forged from an old mill rod, the same shape as the racing plate, raised one end and nothing on the opposite end, like a bevel. I made one for each shoe and nailed them to her hind hooves. This forced her hocks apart. It was like having a medicine shoe if you had a crook foot. Anyway it worked and she didn’t knock her hocks and she ran like the wind and won.’
‘I’ve never heard of doing that. It’s great to know. Would you go back to training race horses?’
‘Not now – you never know where your next quid is coming from. It’s too risky.’

Finally they reached the northern boundary of Dyvenor Downs property and continued their journey on the stock route to Toompine along the Bulloo River.
Across the open plains grew rich Mitchell grass, gidgee, box, mulga and gum trees. The musical sound of the kookaburras and galahs broke the monetary of the drove with the far off sound of the crow.
Toompine is a one horse town or better still a one hotel town with a menagerie of different animals such as donkeys; emus; wild camels and every other animal that survived Norah’s Ark.
The one good thing was the hotel. It was the only hotel in the wilderness of the west.
‘Ya reckon we could have a beer Harry?’ Snowy asked at the camp fire that night. ‘The hotel’s just over there?’
‘Sorry Snowy. No grog in the camp. I’m too young to drink and you’re too old to get drunk and wake up in the morning with a headache; we don’t get our cooking done.’ This was the first firm decision Harry made whilst Boss Drover.
They were camped about a quarter of a mile from the pub and being this close was too much for Snowy not to go and have a beer. He wasn’t an alcoholic but after hot days and cold nights he needed something to quench his thirst.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Jul 17, 2017 11:09 pm

'The Drover' - Page 23:

When everyone was asleep he stole from his swag and crept across the ground to the open plain. Lights shone from the hotel windows and voices, he heard, sounded like fun.
To his surprise when he graced the bar of the hotel standing beside him was Malcolm.
‘What’re you doing here?’ Snowy asked.
‘Ya didn’t think I was going to miss out on an opportunity like this, did ya.’ His hand held a glass of cold beer about to be placed to his lips.
‘What about the Boss if he finds out.’
‘Are you going to tell him? We’ll be back before you know it. I’m only having a couple but the taste is too good. Hurry up or you’ll miss out.’
Both men drank glass after glass of beer until the barman shouted, ‘last drink gentlemen.’
‘We’d better have one for the road and get back to camp before we’re missed.’ Malcolm confided in Snowy.

Breakfast the next morning wasn’t cooked as well as previous mornings. The cook felt seedy.
‘What’s wrong with the breakfast Snowy? It tastes like crap.’ Harry shouted at Snowy and almost threw his plate at him.
‘I’m not feeling well this morning. Must be a bug.’ He replied.
‘Malcolm must have caught the same bug because he looks crook and seedy too.’
Harry knew what’d happened. He woke to see each one steal away from the camp the night before. He couldn’t do anything about it because Snowy was there as a volunteer cook and Malcolm was his father’s problem. His first lesson in droving was about to take place.
A stock route is two chains wide, the size of two cricket pitches placed length on length. Stock routes are designated for drovers to follow with their stock so they don’t need to go through a property. If they enter a property they need to go to the owner to seek their permission and have someone accompany them while they cross in case the drover takes a sheep by mistake. It was a common saying in the bush to invite your neighbour over for a meal to eat their own meat.
PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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