Pat Ritter. Books

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win Rose’s heart and encourage her to return to Brisbane to become his wife. Now he realised it was a wasted trip and shouldn’t have taken any notice of Mrs Henderson’s letter.

Chapter 9

Christmas Day passed, Harry nursed his swollen jaw; his personal pride hurt beyond any description. Les mounted a battle of wits to encourage Harry to forget about women.
Harry’s true feelings for Rose were ‘he loved her’ and felt humiliated by his actions at the hotel. The informal grapevine spread around town and by the time the story reached ‘Hollywood’ it was embellished to the degree, Harry was almost beaten to death by a stranger from the city. He wanted to apologise to Roger for being such a fool but didn’t have the guts to farewell him from the train. He decided to return to droving and get on with his life.
Shortly after New Year he took one thousand sheep along the stock route to Bourke. With Henry they set out at daybreak to start the drive.
Since the night of the confrontation with Roger he hadn’t seen Rose or her parents. Inside he felt ashamed he had behaved in the manner he did and honestly wouldn’t blame Rose if she didn’t want to see him again. Perhaps his brother-in-law was right when he told him ‘to forget about women’. If only he could, his mind constantly filled with visions of Rose - day and night.
Harry crossed the Bourke-Cunnamulla Road and walked the sheep to the open plains south of the town. He stopped to put his quart-pot on at mid-morning. While waiting for the water to boil, he heard the sound of a horse approach. He looked to see a horse and rider stop beside his fire.
‘You want a hand?’ Rose’s voice echoed in the wind.
Harry thought it was a mirage when Rose stood beside him holding the reins of her horse. She dropped the reins and

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fell into his open arms, they kissed and Harry muttered, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Roger’s a bully, he shouldn’t have taken advantage of you, and I don’t know why he came out here – probably to see my mother. I’ve given her a tongue lashing and hopefully it will be the last we’ll see or hear of Roger.’
‘I feel embarrassed.’ Harry muttered in a whisper.
‘Don’t worry about it – we’ll put it behind us and get on with our lives.’
Rose stayed and helped Harry with the remainder of the trip. They returned to Cunnamulla and announced their engagement to be married.
Ted was a proud man while Mrs Henderson swallowed her pride and accepted Harry to be her future son-in-law. His sister Anna was delighted her brother had finally found love and Les handed Harry a beer wishing him all of the best for the future.
The marriage ceremony took place on a Saturday afternoon in the Church of England. Next door at the church hall, the newly wed couple celebrated their wedding breakfast with friends and relatives.
Harry made the usual speech to thank his guests and friends for attending his wedding; quoting it was the best day in his life he met Rose and now she was his bride. They didn’t celebrate for long because early Monday morning the newly weds set off with another thousand sheep to Bourke on their honeymoon.

Those early days on the road placed Harry in heaven floating on cloud nine with Rose constantly by his side. He didn’t think life could get better. By the end of each drive they stayed at his parents-in-law house taking over Rose’s bedroom as their own.
Droving sheep during the year was constant almost one trip leading onto the next. Rose and Harry became a

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formable team and became known throughout the district as the most reliable drovers to get the job done.
Rose emerged from being a horse tailer to a full blown drover in her own right learning her craft from her husband who was second to none in the craft of droving.
Christmas was emerging and they were on their final trip for the year. Droving had been good for them during the year and Harry believed it could go on.
His wages didn’t increase but other drovers were slowly leaving the craft to follow contract mustering or work as a station hand on a surrounding property leaving him with sufficient work to keep his head above water and to do the job he much loved.
Harry wouldn’t hear of droving being lost to the up and coming motor transport, although he’d seen deceased number of drovers taking sheep from Cunnamulla to Bourke.
Beside his sister’s house was a block of land; a half-an-acre. Harry wanted to buy the block and settle down. Over the past twelve months he’d saved enough money to pay cash for the land and now he and Rose were the proud owners of half-an-acre of land in Cunnamulla. He felt proud to be able to provide for his wife and soon would place a house on the land.
Within the next three months he purchased a small cottage, kitchen quarters, from a grazier who had no further use for it and moved it onto his block of ground. With the help of a local builder he soon made a nice cosy home for Rose.
Harry never had a home to call his own and this was the first time, apart from his sister’s home and his parent’s-in-law he had his own house to share with his bride. It was much cosier than his days living in the back of a truck on the road.
In little time he fenced the half-an-acre, built stock yards for his horses and a chook run. While they were on the road

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droving, the house was locked and waited for their return. It was humble beginnings.
Harry’s happiness excelled in his way of life; since his marriage to Rose he knew he was the luckiest man alive. He continued to do what he’d been doing with pride and glory of moving stock to their destination in good condition.
Henry continued to cook and worked with Harry and Rose, now called her the missus.

At the end of one trip in mid-year 1952 Rose declared she was pregnant; this was her second pregnancy, unfortunately six months earlier she lost a child through a miscarriage. Harry was determined Rose would have this child. He wanted her to stay at home instead of joining him on the road.
‘I’m coming with you.’ Rose demanded, ‘what am I going to do on my own.’ She pleaded.
‘Why can’t you stay with your mother while I’m away and she can look after you?’ Harry protested. He knew he was losing the fight and Rose demanded to stay with him on the road.
‘I won’t ride; I’ll be good and help Henry with the cooking.’ Rose’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Alright, but if anything happens I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Nothing will happen – I’ll make certain.’
A fortnight before Christmas 1952 Harry and Rose became parents to a beautiful girl they named Claire born on the 14th December at Cunnamulla Base Hospital.
Harry was over the moon with happiness; his love for Rose glowed within him but to have a daughter as beautiful as her mother was a love he never imagined he could ever experience.
His sister Anna had by this time borne five children, four boys and one girl. Harry loved his nephews and nieces but it wasn’t the same love as the love he had for his own daughter.

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Rose insisted she and Claire join Harry and Henry on future droving trips. Harry knew it was of no use ignoring Rose’s pleas and she and Claire joined Harry and Henry on the road. Since the introduction of road transport lesser drovers were seen between Cunnamulla and Bourke.
Stock and Station Agents confirmed to Harry he would always have work because he was dependable and reliable and was in the highest bracket in the district for a person of his craft.
Whilst Harry noticed less and less drovers taking sheep from Cunnamulla to Bourke he regularly each month had a mob of at least one thousand.
As the year grew near to the end Rose suffered another miscarriage. Harry was gravely concerned; his life working on the road, taking his family, living out of the back of a truck through the blazing heat of summer and freezing westerly winds in the winter worried him enough he wanted Rose and Claire to be at home at their own small house in Cunnamulla.
Each time he raised the issue Rose shot him down in flames of disagreement telling him it wasn’t his fault she had another miscarriage or his fault she lived on the road. It was her decision to be with her husband through trick and thin.
Eventually in the following year Rose fell pregnant and this time another daughter was born. They named her Louise. Claire was now two years old and followed her father everywhere like his shadow. If he stopped, Claire bumped into him. He’d pick her up in his strong brown arms and toss her high in the sky causing her to her childish giggle. She was a beauty and Harry knew she had him screwed around his little finger.
‘I love you Daddy.’ Claire would say in her child like voice and giggle.
‘And I love you too Bub.’ Harry echoed.

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Rose was pregnant again and this time Harry demanded she stay in town with their children.
It was on one of his return trips when Rose was almost at the end of her pregnancy.
‘You’ll have to take me to hospital, Harry. I think the baby is coming.’ It was two o’clock in the morning.
‘Okay…I’ll drop Claire and Louise off at your mothers and take you.’ He stammered.
Harry woke Claire and Louise from their sleep putting on their dressing gowns. Rubbing sleep from her eyes Claire said, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Mummy’s going to the hospital and I’m taking you to your grandmother’s house, come on Louise.’
He ushered his daughters and pregnant wife to the car and dropped his daughters off at his parents-in-law’s home after explaining to his mother-in-law what happened.
‘They’re right here, Harry. You look after your wife and baby.’ His mother-in-law echoed. Over time they made amends in their relationship and were now getting along like a house on fire.
He continued to the hospital.
Rose was ushered into the delivery room and within an hour gave birth to a boy. Harry’s chest grew two-fold after hearing he fathered a son. At last a son, he thought, to teach him everything he knows about droving.
The doctor wanted to talk with Harry.
‘I’m sorry to tell you Harry but your son hasn’t got long to live. It was a difficult pregnancy and his lungs haven’t developed. We’re doing all we can but I don’t hold much hope for his chance of survival.’
Harry felt his world crumble in on top of him. How could this happen? His only son had a short time to live, he couldn’t believe it.
Rose was crying and holding their son when Harry entered the ward. Curtains were drawn around the bed and when Rose looked at Harry all she muttered in a soft voice,

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‘I’m sorry Harry.’ He placed his arms around her shaking shoulders and looked at their son who was wrapped in a blue coloured rug.
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.