Pat Ritter. Books

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'The Drover' - Page 38:

The aged Bedford Truck needed a service before the trip; his horses needed shoes; and saddles repaired. This was a trip he wanted everything to be perfect, not because he wanted to impress Rose, but to show he was capable of organising and droving this amount of sheep. To date it was his greatest challenge to organise and complete this trip. Along the way he would get to know Ted and get another chance to know Rose better.
All was prepared, horses shod, truck filled with fuel, gear checked a hundred times, and a permit and waybill to move five thousand sheep from Cunnamulla to Bourke.

‘Head em out,’ roared Harry at the top of his voice whistling one of his dogs to ‘get around’. The scene was from a John Wayne movie with the leading star sitting high in the saddle riding a chestnut horse with four white socks.
Harry loved John Wayne movies and wanted to copy his favourite film star whenever he could. This wasn’t the wild west of America but the outback of southwest Queensland.
Daybreak shined across the horizon, the smell of bluebush seeped through Harry’s nostrils, he hated the smell – it was musky. He loved this time of the morning when the kookaburras’ ed; a fresh breeze broke across the soft air, life couldn’t be better.
‘Move em out Rose,’ he called in a commanding voice to show he was Boss Drover. She sits a horse well, brushed through his mind.
Henry left earlier in the truck to set camp up at six mile on the Warrego River. His day was to sight a good campsite near the river, unload swags; dress a killer, one sheep per week was allowed for meat to the drover and his camp, gather firewood; set out camp ovens and make a holding pen for the sheep. Six miles was on the southern boundary of the town common.

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Leaving the sheep yards, they spread across the open plain to follow the stock route which at parts stretched half a kilometre across, either side was local property owners.
One of the roles of Boss Drover is to contact the property owners to advise them if they crossed through their property to have the owner or worker escort them. Harry knew most of the owners and it wasn’t necessary to accompany Harry because they knew he did the right thing and not mix his stock with theirs; also ensure all gates were closed after entering or leaving each property.
By mid-morning the stock were nearing the main highway from Cunnamulla to Bourke. To cross the main highway, the police were called to stop traffic, five thousand sheep were a large number and to save any from being injured, the local Sergeant made certain they all crossed the highway and were on their way to Bourke.
At this stage everything was going well, thought Harry, Ted knows what he’s doing and doesn’t have to be told. Rose possesses knowledge of patience and tails the sheep using a sheep dog, the dog ran up and down at the back of the mob to keep them together.
Once they crossed the highway it was free going, the sheep panned out across the open plain and nibbled on the short grasses – slow as we go, thought Harry, he was happy with the drove so far. The sheep settled.
It was early morning and time to stop to have morning smoko and a break, perhaps a couple of hours particularly with the sun high in the sky.
He stepped from his horse under the shade of a huge gum tree, swung the reins across the neck of the horse, unbuckled the saddle; unfastened the bridle, strapped on a pair of dinner camp hobbles on the fore legs and let the horse loose to graze.
‘Have a break’, he called to Ted and Rose waving his arm to join him. He collected small sticks to make a fire. Before they dismounted Harry had his quart pot filled with water

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heating near the fire’s edge, ‘let em graze and settle,’ he told the others. After letting their horses loose they joined Harry at the fire.
‘Pull up a stump and have a break…we’ll let them settle for a couple of hours in the heat and move them to camp later.’ Harry told his companions.
Ted and Rose lay their saddles and bridles on the ground under the huge gum tree; filled their quart pots with water from the canvas waterbag, water is important in the bush – you can never have enough, each carried a canvas waterbag filled with water strapped to their saddles. After filling their quart pots with water, they placed them next to the fire to heat the water to make their tea.
‘How’re you coping so far, Rose?’ Harry asked.
‘Is this all we do all day?’ she replied.
‘Droving is a slow business but when there is feed along the stock routes like it is now, it’s a good time to pass the day, don’t you think?’ Harry told her.
‘Have you always been a drover, Harry?’ She inquired.
‘Since I was 13 – me Dad was a drover and his Dad before him, our family always drove cattle or sheep. I have two brothers who are drovers and a couple of sisters married to drovers, you could say it’s in our blood.’
‘How do you know the sheep won’t go far?’ She wanted to know.
‘Sheep are like humans – they follow a leader and the dogs keep them in check.’ Harry told her.
‘How’s your tea, Ted?’ Harry asked.
‘Wonderful, you know this is like a holiday…a working holiday.’ He replied in his quiet drawl.
‘Mighten be much of a holiday if we get rain. Those storm clouds up there,’ Harry nodded to the sky, ‘it’s hot enough for rain, only hope it rains at night when we’re asleep – I love sleeping when it’s raining.’
‘How far have we got before we camp for the night?’ Rose asked.

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‘Ah, we’re about half-way, Henry should have camp set up by now.’ Harry answered.
‘What do we have for dinner, Harry?’ Rose asked.
‘According to Henry – goanna; porcupine, rabbit, snake.’ Harry started to tell her.
‘That’s enough – he wouldn’t cook that for dinner would he?’ Rose abruptly interrupted.
‘You don’t know what Henry’s cooking, kangaroo might be on the menu – he’s aboriginal – you know.’ Harry answered.
‘Doesn’t he cook anything we might like to eat?’ Rose answered.
‘I don’t know; it all depends on road kill – or he might shoot some on the way to the camp; you’ll have to ask him when we get there.’ Harry informed Rose; Ted looked across to Harry giving a slight wink and a nod of his head.
‘Do you want a sandwich – my sister made these this morning before we left,’ He handed each a sandwich.
‘Any more questions Rose – I’m about to have a kip.’ Harry asked.
‘No – I’ll think of some, don’t worry.’ She answered.
‘I bet you will.’ Harry answered under his breathe, lay down and rested his head against his saddle, covered his face with his hat in a couple of seconds was heard snoring.

The sun was high in the sky when Harry awoke, ‘alright you two we’re off.’ He stood, brushed dirt onto the fire completely distinguishing it.
His horse was nearby; he walked over with a bridle swung across his forearm quietly spoke to the animal as if it was an old long lost friend. He placed the bridle over the horse’s head, inserted the steel bit in its mouth and fastened the cheek straps. After he removed the dinner camp hobbles the horse followed Harry to the huge gum tree; he saddled him and swung into the seat.

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‘If you’re going to be the horse tailer Rose, you’d better get a wriggle on, the storm is coming.’ He called to her.
‘Since when have I been the horse tailer?’ She asked in astonishment.
‘Since I said - you’re the horse tailer.’
Rose caught her horse and in no time threw the saddle on its back and mounted in a graceful motion. She sits a horse well, Harry thought, she’s too much of a city rider but over time she might change, his thoughts were grandeur and thought no more about Roger, but he will need to talk to her about him. She was beautiful.
The sheep had moved about a mile down the stock route; Harry rode out wide to near the front. Sheep are stupid animals, he thought whilst riding around the mob to lead them off into the direction of the Warrego River.
Henry should have the brake set by the time they arrived at the camp, he had about two miles to go and the sheep were going well for a mob of five thousand, flashed through his mind.
There are always one or two in the mob that want to break away from the mob and go their own way – a bit like people, Harry mused. He whistled one of the dogs to get around the breakaway sheep and put them back into the mob. It was as if the dog had a remote control hooked to it’s collar and did exactly as Harry wanted. Each dog was trained to perfection, Harry knew if they weren’t up to the task they wouldn’t live to go on another trip.
A slight breeze flickered and Harry knew if he didn’t have the sheep in camp in another hour, rain would scatter them to kingdom come. Urging them forward and toward the river he saw Henry walking toward him in the far distance.
Henry pointed in the direction of where he’d made the night camp; rolled out the wire-netting to house the sheep. Dark storm clouds formed and wind started to blow, the sweet smell of rain hovered in the atmosphere – it was coming closer.

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‘Get round em Spike,’ he shouted to his favourite sheep dog. At the sound of his master’s voice the dog barked and pushed the lead sheep toward the opening to the brake.
Rose and Ted followed Harry’s orders and finally the last of the sheep followed the others in. Henry fastened the final panel.
‘They’ll be right till morning for a drink Henry,’ Harry called out, ‘it’s going to piss down raining in a minute; you got the camp set up.’
‘Sure have Boss, I’ll finish here and see you over there.’ Harry knew he could depend on Henry to do the right thing and his decision to have Henry as camp cook was the right one to make.
The three rode across to the camp, Henry had parked the truck near to the creek bank, spread a tarpaulin from branches of the tree over the crate of the truck.
The wind built to a hard blow and by the time the three riders let their horses go and settled into the camp, rain began to fall, ‘how’s that for luck, we made it in time,’ Harry pronounced, ‘now to eat, what have you got for us Henry, we’re had a hard day.’
‘Just like you said Boss, a bit of kangaroo, goanna; porcupine, rabbit, snake, it’s cooking in the camp ovens.’ Henry drawled with a small smile on his face showing clean white teeth.
‘Are you serious?’ Rose proclaimed.
‘Wait till you taste it, the flavours are delicious.’ Henry said.
The rain poured onto the tarpaulin. Henry had positioned a pole to allow the water to run from the centre onto the ground.
‘It won’t rain for long – it’s only a sun shower, see the rainbow, wonder if there’s gold at the end of it.’ Harry questioned.
‘You don’t believe in that stuff – do you?’ Rose asked.

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‘My peoples know all about rainbows – it’s our Dreamtime,’ Henry said, ‘Boss, I’ll throw a line in to catch some fish for breakfast.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Rose said.
The rain stopped, Henry and Rose walked to the river’s edge carrying a bamboo rod each, a fishing line extended from the top of the rod and half way down the line a cork and at the end of the line a fishing hook. Henry took scrimps from a bucket; and threaded one on the hook before throwing the line into the water. When he set up camp he’d caught a handful of scrimps in a four gallon drum with holes in the bottom and a bone fastened to the inside of the drum.
‘I’ve never fished this way before.’ Rose said.
‘Normally I spear them but this time I’ll use a rod and cork.’ Henry replied. Rose didn’t know whether to believe Henry about his way of life but for this time she was willing to go along with what he told her.