Pat Ritter. Books

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'Click Go The Shears' - Page 46:

Joe tended to weeding using a hoe when he noticed a prisoner working next to him stare. ‘What are you staring at?’ Joe whispered across to the prisoner.
‘We've met before,’ he said and tended to his chore of planting vegetables.
‘Enough talk,’ yelled the guard, ‘get on with your job and keep quiet,’ he roared.
Joe went through a catalogue of faces in his mind to recognise the prisoner working next to him, ah, shit, Billy Wells, I recognise him from the Eulo pub the night Joe almost killed him. He thought. Best thing I can do is hope he doesn’t recognise me or know who I am. Joe kept weeding and ignored the stranger.
Days continued into weeks and weeks into months before Joe and the prisoner he recognised as Billy Wells stood side by side in the exercise yard on a Sunday morning at the prisoner’s gathering. ‘I remember who you are.’ The stranger said to Joe. Joe went to walk away, ‘how’s my horse and saddle?’ The stranger asked. Joe stood eye to eye with the prisoner.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Joe admitted, ‘you’ve got the wrong fellow.’
‘I remember your name, Joe Ryan. I stole your girlfriend’s necklace and ring at the stagecoach hold-up. You took it from me at the Eulo Hotel, remember.’ The stranger grinned showing a front tooth missing.

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‘Sorry mate, like I told you. Never met you before today.’ Joe went to walk away to join his mates when the stranger took hold of his arm and stood face to face.
‘I know you’re Joe Ryan because I asked around, and I remember you and that constable escorting me to Cunnamulla after you punched me to the ground the night in the hotel. Here, have a look, I lost a bloody tooth because of you.’
What the hell am I going to do? If I admit to him I am the person he says I’m in deep trouble and if I admit to being Joe Gibson, I’m still in deep trouble. Joe took the bull by the horns, ‘yeah, I’m Joe Ryan and you are Billy Wells. I recognised you.’
‘Don’t beat around the bush. How’s my horse?’ Billy smiled and put his hand out to shake. ‘How’d you come to be here?’ Billy asked.
‘I got three years for rioting. Your horse is safe in Cunnamulla, my girlfriend Hannah takes care of it. You remember she’s the one you stole the ring and necklace from at the stagecoach hold-up.’ Joe looked Billy directly in his eyes.
‘I shouldn’t worry, you paid me five quid for the horse and saddle. What you did with them is your business. I’m interested what happened to the horse. I had him since a foal.’

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‘Hannah will take good care of him.’ Joe explained. Why did I refer to Hannah as my girlfriend. Never met her. Her sweet voice stays in my mind since the police cells in Cunnamulla. When I get out of this mess I want to return to Cunnamulla. Her voice stayed in his head since the moment she told him how sorry she was about the mess Joe made for him. He remembered her saying he was brave for doing what he’s doing. So much for being brave, more like bloody stupid. ‘How much time did you get?’ Joe asked.
‘Twenty years. Probably life the way it’s going. I’ll be here til I die.’
Joe had no comeback but didn’t want to mix with Billy because he may recognise he’s not the real Joe Ryan. ‘Got to go; no doubt we’ll see one another around.’ Joe went to walk away.
‘Hang on a minute. Why you here? You didn’t hold up a stagecoach. Did you?’ Billy growled.
‘No, I wanted to help my fellow shearers get better wages and conditions. We went on strike and the authorities gathered us up and I’m sent here for three years but only one year, six months, two weeks and fourteen hours to go.’ Joe explained.
‘That was a stupid thing to do. Why’d you want to help someone else?’
‘Because shearers, roustabouts and other workers were receiving a pittance compared to the cocky, who should be in here instead of us, and they robbed us of our dignity and ability to do the job whilst they rode on the sheep’s back to riches.’

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‘Bloody hell mate, I only held up a stagecoach and robbed people of their money and I got twenty years!’
‘Constable Fitzgerald told me you were here and I might bump into you.’
‘How is Constable Fitzgerald? You remember we stopped on the way into Cunnamulla that morning you and he escorted me. He boiled us a billy of tea and gave us his scones he’d baked that morning. He’s one of the good coppers, pity they aren’t all like him.’ Billy explained.
Joe thought back to his conversation he had with Constable Fitzgerald on their way to Charleville about the scones being his mother’s recipe, ‘he used his mother’s recipe’.
‘That’s right, I remember when you asked for it and he said it wouldn’t be a secret any longer if he told you. Good copper Constable Fitzgerald.’
Joe and Billy often spoke about their past when meeting each Sunday at the exercise yard. Should he tell Billy the truth about his identity, passed through his thoughts when he was about to be released. Joe never realised how quickly the time passed, three years appeared to go quicker than he thought. At their final meeting Joe said to Billy, ‘I’ll be getting out of this hole in a couple of days.’

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‘You lucky bugger. Probably will die here.’
‘I want to tell you something, and I don’t want you to tell anyone else.’
‘Like you’re not Joe Ryan. You were in the bar at Eulo Queen that night but it was your mate who punched me and escorted me to Cunnamulla with Constable Fitzgerald the following morning.’ Billy admitted with a slight smile.
‘What gave it away?’
‘Your eyes, the other fellow had blue eyes and youse are green. Eyes don’t change and I thought you were different when you first came in here.’
‘I’ve done my time and now time to leave and get on with my life,’ Joe finished.
‘You want to tell me how you came here in place of Joe Ryan. If I remember I think your name is Gibson.’ Billy questioned.
‘Yes it is. I swapped places with the real Joe Ryan after the strike finished because the police were coming to arrest him. Never in my wildest imagination I’d end up in this hell hole.’
‘Why did you do it, sounds bloody stupid to me, but obviously not to you?’
‘At the time I thought I was doing the right thing by Joe and Hannah, but after I was locked up Hannah came to see me and wanted me to tell the police I was Joe Gibson and not Joe Ryan. I told her to ‘get on with her life’ and asked her to take care of the horse and saddle.
‘Smart girl by the sound of things, either you’re bloody stupid or courageous. I think the latter would suffice. Great to meet you. This girl Hannah, she sounds a wonderful girl. Make certain you catch up with her.’ Billy finished.
‘I intend to.’ They shook hands. Billy was the only person to know the truth about changing identities, ‘your secret is safe with me,’ were his parting words.

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Chapter 6

Joe rolled his swag. A wagon drawn by a horse with a cage holding a man in shackles off in the distance. He recognised Constable Fitzgerald in the driver’s seat. In the cage, his friend Joe Gibson, who’d taken his place only a couple of days before, his head bowed. I should be there instead of Joe. Too late now. He continued rolling his swag.
When the wagon past from sight Joe walked along the track leading to Nardoo Station where he hoped to join a shearing shed. Late in the afternoon he arrived at the front gate and sighted sheep in the yards behind the shearing shed.
‘G’day mate. How're you going?’ He shouted to the first person he sighted. A tall stranger slowly strolled toward him, ‘Joe Gibson, pleased to meet ya.’ Joe jutted his hand out to the stranger in warm bush welcome.
‘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.

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‘Yeah, just arrived, how long have they been shearing here?’ Joe asked between pushing food into his mouth.
‘Only started today, low on shearers, you’re not one of those bloody union shearers, are you?’
‘No mate. Got my papers right here if you want them.’ Joe put his hand into his pocket to retrieve the papers.
‘Don’t worry, as long as you’re not one of those bloody union shearers. Since they went on strike we’ve had nothing but trouble, no work and when there is work, not enough men to do it. Everyone was out on strike.’ He kept on cleaning, wiped the table.
‘I’m here to work. Boss said to start in the morning.’
‘Breakfast at six.’
Joe finished his pannikin of tea, stood and said. ‘Didn’t catch your name?’
‘That’s because I didn’t give it.’
Joe left the kitchen and walked to spread his swag on the veranda, sighted a young lad walking toward the quarters, ‘how ya going? I’m Joe Gibson, a shearer.’ Joe extended his hand to shake the young lad’s hand as a sign of greeting.
‘Pleased to meet ya. Harold Reardon’
‘You related to Jack Reardon?’