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Pat Ritter. Books


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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Sep 09, 2017 10:26 pm

'The Drover' - Page 76:

The child slightly opened his small mouth and stopped breathing. A radiant glow formed around his small face.
‘Help us please, someone help us.’ Harry called to the doctor and nurses.
They rushed to the bedside but the child had breathed his final breath. He was dead.
Harry tried to console Rose but he didn’t know what to do only look at his dead boy still wrapped inside the blue rug. His mind filled with sorry or hate, he didn’t know which one. Why! Kept going through his mind, why him.

The funeral service was held in the same church Harry and Rose wed. At the alter lay the small white coffin, no larger than a shoe box.
The Minister prayed for the family to see them through this horrible ordeal. The congregation in the church overflowed with parishioners.
Before the church service the baby was baptised Harold Clarence Williams, named after his father. Harry wanted to have a final look at his son before they closed the small coffin.
Tears filled his eyes, sorrow tugged at his soul. He removed the ring his parents had given him on his seventeenth birthday. He placed the ring onto the chest of his dead son and whispered, ‘I give you this ring with all of my love – I love you, son’. He closed the lid of the coffin.
At the cemetery Harry lowered the small white shoe box coffin into the grave with the use of thin ropes to steady the coffin to the bottom of the grave. Words were spoken by the Minister however Harry or Rose did not hear them. Each was in shock and disbelief.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Sep 10, 2017 10:37 pm

'The Drover' - Page 77:
Harry’s brother Mick attended the funeral with his wife Liz and their 12 month old daughter. They returned to Harry’s house for the wake to provide support for both Harry and Rose.
Mick camped in the cattle yards across the road from Harry’s house. They wanted a couple of days to give Harry time to mourn the loss of his son before he went to speak with him.
On the third day Mick walked over to Harry’s home.
Harry was seated on a chair in the front yard, ‘how’re ya going mate?’ It was a stupid question to ask and he wasn’t looking for an answer.
‘Not so good, Mick, thanks for coming.’ Harry mumbled.
‘When do you reckon you can get back to work?’ Mick asked Harry, wanting him to move on from his loss and start life again.
‘I don’t know – why?’ Harry replied.
‘Liz and I are going out to muster some horses on Mount Alfred. There’re supposed to be about 300 hundred head out there and I want a hand. We’ll split the difference if you’re up to it.’
‘I got no trips for awhile so I suppose I can lend you a hand. Horses will be a bit different from looking at the arse-end of sheep all day.’
‘Is that a yes?’ Mick asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll clear it with Rose first but I’m sure we can do it. It’ll be good to get back into the swing of things again.’
Harry asked Rose - she agreed and they arranged to go with Mick and Liz to muster the horses.
IMPORTANT NOTICE: I'LL BE ABSENT UNTIL FRIDAY 15TH SEPTEMBER 2017.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Thu Sep 14, 2017 11:35 pm

'The Drover' - Page 78:

Chapter 10

Mick and Liz with their daughter Dianne travelled in their truck with a couple of dogs and three horses. Harry, Rose and the girls journeyed in their truck also had a couple of dogs; two horses plus Claire’s pony Paddy. Mick led the way and Harry followed.
They journeyed out to the township of Eulo, crossed the Paroo River and travelled north. The first night they made camp on the banks of the Paroo River.
Liz prepared the meal for both families. She was worried about Rose. Up until this time she’d only met Rose on one occasion and thought at the time how beautiful the woman was compared to the women in this part of the country, particularly her raven black hair giving her the beauty.
This time Rose didn’t want to help or look after the children. She grieved her son, as what would be expected, but in a camp everyone, especially the women folk pitch in to help rather than sit back to be waited upon.
Harry noticed Rose’s withdrawal. She wasn’t the bubbly, beautiful woman he’d married. Her hair was a mess, tangled and unruly; she hadn’t bathed for a number of days. She sat around the camp with a blank look on her face; Harry didn’t know what to do. Thank goodness Liz was there to keep everything in order like cook and take care of the children.
That night Harry dreamed of ‘little Harry’ and wondered why he died. He wasn’t a doctor. Reason ‘why’ filled his dreams, he couldn’t read or write so there was no way to find the answer to his dreams. He’d need to put it to the back of his mind and get on with the job at hand. His concern was Rose or moreso her health and the way she looked after herself.
If the children did anything – it needed be anything wrong, she’d bellow at them. She was angry and hurt and he didn’t know what to do. Perhaps Mick may know or Liz might have a chat with her, he thought.
He needed to understand what was going on in his wife’s mind and each moment she became worse instead of improving.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Sep 16, 2017 12:27 am

'The Drover' - Page 79:
Breaking camp the next morning both trucks journeyed along the dirt track beside the Paroo River. After a break for lunch, late in the afternoon they reached the boundary of Mount Alfred property where Harry and Mick were going to trap brumbies and drove them back to Cunnamulla to sell.
Mount Alfred property didn’t have a homestead or anyone working on the property. It had been let go because the owners didn’t want to spend money on improvements.
The boundary fences were good in parts but mainly the property carried wild goats and brumby horses. Station horses had been let loose to breed into mobs. The Paroo River didn’t flow through the property and water was mainly in lagoons or gullies.
Mick or Harry didn’t know how many brumbies were on the property but after their muster they’d have an idea of how many they would capture, drive to Cunnamulla and sell.
After making camp inside of the property near a gully holding water, Mick and Harry worked on a plan on how to trap the brumbies.
‘What about we go for a ride tomorrow and look over the place.’ Harry asked Mick.
‘I’ve never been here before and from the gibber country here about hopefully there’ll be some brumbies somewhere.’ Mick muttered in between rolling a smoke.
‘How big is this place – do you know?’ Harry asked.
‘About half a million acres – I’ve been told, could be more – I don’t really know.’ Mick replied.
‘All right then – you’re right, tomorrow we take the horses and see where we need to go – have a look for water and see where they camp. We might have to build a holding yard to hold them.’ Harry shared with his brother.
‘It’s not going to be easy. Do you think you’ll be up to it with Rose the way she is?’ Mick questioned.
‘Oh Jesus I hope so Mick. I don’t know what to do. She’s so withdrawn, I can’t even make her comb her hair nor have a bathe. I’m almost at the end of my tether.’ Harry wanted his brother to wave a magic wand to make things the way they were.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Sep 16, 2017 11:22 pm

'The Drover' - Page 80:

After breakfast the next morning Harry saddled his horse to ride with Mick in search of tracks near water holes and look at the lie of the land. It was mainly rocky country with some Mitchell grass on the flats with gidgee, mulga and gum trees.
‘Can I come too Daddy?’ Claire dragged on her father’s trousers. ‘I’ll be good – I’m almost eight year old and can ride Paddy real good – can I – can I?’ She pleaded.
‘Not this time Bub. See those goats – the little ones, you muster them.’ This was a job for the men and long days in the saddle were the order of the day. Harry thought it would be fun for his daughter to chase the small kid goats.
Earlier that morning he’d sighted a small mob of goats led by a Billy and a few nannies with kid goats. She’d have fun mustering them, Harry pictured in his minds eye.
Before he left camp he went to say good-bye to Rose.
‘How’re you feeling love?’ He whispered beside her ear and gave her a peek on the cheek. She looked awful to Harry who had never seen his wife look this way in all of their days since they’d met. She must be feeling it hard, he thought as he drew away from her.
‘How the bloody hell do you think I feel – losing my one and only son, out here in the heat and flies and you taking off for the day and leaving me to suffer alone. How do you think I feel?’ She exploded.
‘We’ve got to find these horses and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. It’s a big place and today we want to go and have a look around the water holes. We shouldn’t be too long.’ He tried to explain.
‘Go on – get out of here, go and look for your precious horses and leave me alone.’ Rose exploded. Harry thought about staying but declined because he had a job to do and Mick couldn’t do it by himself.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Sep 17, 2017 8:43 pm

'The Drover' - Page 81:

‘See you when I get back.’ He finished and walked away.
Taking sufficient food and water for their day’s ride Mick and Harry rode away from the camp toward the northern end of the property.
‘We’ll head north because it’ll give us a better view of the land from up there on top of the hill.’ Harry instructed.
The two men rode silently until Mick joked, ‘remember when we were young and broke those dozen horses in for the old man. Boy, did they buck. We took them saddle and all into the swamp and let them buck themselves out first.’
‘Hope we don’t have to do it here. It took us a month of Sundays to get our gear clean. It was fun back in those days. We’re a bit older and wiser don’t you think?’ Harry replied.
‘Yeah, but it was fun.’ Mick remembered and had a small chuckle.
They continued until the sun was high in the sky.
‘What about we have a break for lunch.’ Harry beckoned.
They let their horses’ lose while Harry built a fire and soon had the quart pot boiling for their tea. Each sat on a log discussing how they were going to muster the brumbies.

Back at the camp Claire pestered her mother to let her ride Paddy to muster kid goats.
‘No – I’ve already lost one child. I’m not losing another.’ Her mother growled.
Claire didn’t want to upset her mother and didn’t know why she was angry most of the time. She tried to play with Louise but Louise wanted to play in the back of the truck.
She didn’t want to play Cowboys and Indians or hide and seek or any other game away from the camp.
Claire wanted to be with her father. She wanted to grow up exactly like him, tough, hard worker, great father and a good provider for the family. She dreamed of one day herself becoming a drover, having sheep or cattle on the road taking them from place to place.
Claire decided to visit her Aunt Liz at her truck.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Sep 18, 2017 10:24 pm

'The Drover' - Page 82:

‘Aunt Liz,’ Claire directed the question at her aunt, ‘do you know why Mummy is so angry all of the time. I can’t do anything to please her.’
‘She’s sad child. You’ve got to be patient with her for awhile and she will get better.’
‘How long will it take?’
‘I don’t know – but until she is back to her old self again we’re all got to be kind to her.’
‘Thank you Aunt Liz. I will be kind to her.’
Claire returned to the camp and saw her mother lying on a shearers stretcher reading a book, ‘can I do anything for you Mummy?’ Claire asked her mother.
‘Just get out of my sight – go and play but leave me alone.’ She scorned.
Claire’s face screwed into a mystified shape wondering why her mother was so cruel and angry with her. She didn’t do anything to hurt her. She went away from the camp to sit under a mulga bush to keep out of the way.

On top of a hill Harry and Mick had a bird’s eye view of most of the property. Each looked from this site to see any horses. Far in the distance on the flat Harry pointed, ‘there they are, look at them gallop, must be a hundred or so.’
‘Yeah, look at the big black leading them. It’d be the stallion of the mob. They’re heading toward those two hills in among the mulga.’ Mick shared with Harry.
‘Okay, from here, our camp is south about a couple of miles, they’re gone in a north-westerly direction, it’d be about two mile from our camp. What’d think?’ Harry asked Mick.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right. We’ll need to get back; at least we know where they are. What say we move our camp up towards those hills and get closer so we can keep an eye on them to see where they go and what they’ll do.’ Mick replied.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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