Pat Ritter. Books

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'The Shearer' - Page 44:

‘Let’s give it a go.’ Bluey swung his swag across his shoulder as he stretched his body upright. Joe followed. Moonjaree Creek flowed fast.
‘How’re we going to know how deep it is?’ Bluey asked.
‘Can you swim?’ Joe questioned.
‘Not very well I can dog paddle.’ Bluey admitted.
‘Alright, I’ll go first and you follow. If it gets too deep we’ll turn back, but if I keep going then you’ve got to keep going.’ Joe shouted loud enough for Bluey to understand. Bluey nodded. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ Joe swung his swag over his shoulder and made his way to the edge of the water.
‘I’d reckon it’s about twenty yards across. The water is flowing fast so if it gets higher than your shoulders then start dog padding, okay.’
‘What’s keeping you, let’s go.’ Bluey shouted.
Joe entered the water, the force almost throwing him off balance. He walked slowly with one foot after the other, moving from the edge toward the centre of the creek. He looked behind to see Bluey struggling about two yards behind him, looking pale, his eyes wide open. Rain continued to fall heavily.
Through the force of water and depth of the crossing, it soon reached Joe’s knees. Step by step he continued until he felt the water reach his waist. ‘Is this foolish.’ It was too far to go back and he needed all his strength to force his legs to go forward.
‘How’re you going Bluey?’ Joe twisted his body to look behind to see where Bluey was. Suddenly he stopped in midstream. ‘Look out Bluey! A bloody snake is heading straight for you look out!’ He screamed at the top of his lungs. A mulga snake highly venomous which would kill a man within minutes. Joe threw his swag into the water, pulled his way toward Bluey.
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'The Shearer' - Page 45:

Closer the snake swam toward Bluey, who could now see the snake approach. Joe was ten feet away from Bluey when the snake lunged. His outstretched arms couldn’t stop the reptile from biting into the side of his neck. Bluey screamed, and a feeling of helplessness overcome Joe. His right hand outstretched, reached and grabbed the snake by the tail, pulling it hard to release the grip from Bluey’s neck.
In a rage, Joe swung the snake around his head flicking the length - similar to cracking a whip and the snake’s head left its body to land in the fast flowing water. Bluey paled, ‘I’m going to die,’ holding his swag with one hand and pressing the spot where the snake bit him with the other hand.
‘Come on mate,’ He grabbed Bluey under his arm pits and swam side-stroke to the other side of the creek. Struggling to reach the bank without losing his companion, his strength almost gone, he forced his legs to work through the torrent of water. They reached the other side and Joe pulled Bluey to the safety of the land. They lay side-by-side totally exhausted.
Bluey was dead.
Bloody hell, what do I do now? I’ve never seen a dead person before, particularly one I’ve known. Joe needed to get his act together fast. There was nothing more he could do for Bluey, only try to cover his body with gibbers so the crows wouldn’t pluck his eyes out, nor the dingoes gnaw his body.
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'The Shearer' - Page 46:

For the next couple of hours, Joe laboured hard to collect gibbers and stack them around Bluey’s body to cover it wholly from head to toe. Once he’d accomplished this task he stood, removed his hat, and bowed his head, remembering the first time he’d met Bluey. Yes, they’d competed against one another to be ‘gun’ shearer and it was the first time Bluey had been beaten at this last shed. Joe wished now he could’ve given him the title of ‘gun’ shearer, but couldn’t take it back.
He continued to pile gibbers on top of Bluey’s body until satisfied the body wouldn’t be disturbed until his return from reporting the death to the police in Eulo. When he placed the final gibber in place, the rain stopped and Joe saw a rainbow across the sky and knew Bluey’s spirit was now in its resting place. Many stories he’d heard from aboriginals when their ancestors passed on; their spirit leaves earth to settle in the sky. Bluey would now be at rest and peace.
Throwing Bluey’s swag over his shoulder, he started walking beside Moonjaree Creek toward Eulo. If his estimates were correct he should reach Eulo before dark. He’d only walked about one hundred yards and saw his swag caught in a tree on the side of the bank. After dropping Bluey’s swag on the ground he soon retrieved it sighting to be water damage only.
Reaching Eulo as the sun set in the west, Joe walked to the local police station where Constable Fitzgerald lived in a shack at the rear of the station. He knocked on the front door and heard footsteps approach. The door opened and there stood Constable Fitzgerald, ‘What do you bloody want?’ He snapped.
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'The Shearer' - Page 47:

‘Hate to disturb you Constable, but I’m Joe Ryan. My mate, Bluey Simpson, got bitten by a snake when we crossed Moonjaree Creek this morning. He died. I covered his body with gibbers. I’m here to report his death,’ Joe stammered. He didn’t like police, they made him nervous. Only time he’d known them was when he was locked in the police cells.
‘No good worrying about it now. Are you staying the night?’ Constable Fitzgerald asked, his voice much lower and warmer tone.
‘Yeah, I’ll book into the Eulo Queen.’
‘Be here at daybreak. You can show me where you left your mate. I’ll have the buggy ready to leave when the sun rises.’
‘Can I leave his swag here with you? It’s all he owned.’ Joe asked, lifting Bluey’s swag from his shoulder.
‘Put it in here,’ Constable Fitzgerald pointed to a spot inside. Joe followed the Constable’s instruction.
‘See you in the morning.’ Joe turned and left the police shack to walk to the hotel. He’d heard rumours about Isabel Gray, the publican known as Eulo Queen who owned the hotel, plus other rumours she’d been married three times, dealt in sly-grog, and a gambler and opal trader. When the bar doors swung open a voice above the crowded bar, ‘What’re you doing here Joe? Where’s Bluey?’
The owner of the voice Graham Johnson, a shearer who’d worked at Kahmoo Station, ‘Sorry mate, Bluey’s dead, bitten by a snake when we crossed the Moonjaree Creek this morning,’ Joe explained.
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'The Shearer' - Page 48:

A hush came across the bar; silence, ‘What’d you mean Bluey’s dead?’ Graham exploded, looking Joe directly in the eye.
‘I reported his death to the Constable. We’re leaving daylight tomorrow to recover his body.’ Joe explained.
Graham moved beside Joe and put his hand on his shoulder, ‘How you going mate?’
‘It was terrible. Nothing I could do. When a bloody mulga latched onto his neck I was about ten feet away. The water was flowing fast and the rain pelting down in bucket loads. I grabbed the bastard by its tail and swung it above my head cracked its head off. Dragged Bluey to the side of the bank but he died.’
A stockman sitting at the bar next to Joe and Graham said, ‘Yeah, know what you mean mate. Out the back of Winnigin Station there was a mad bugger working there who’d gallop his horse after a mulga snake, lean down from his saddle, grab the snake by the end of its tail, swing it around like a whip and crack its head off. One day he missed the tail and the snake leaped up and grabbed him by his cheek. Dead before he hit the ground. They’re dangerous buggers. Good on ya Joe – give the man a bloody beer will you Isabel?’
Isabel poured a beer into a tumbler, wandered over to where Joe stood and placed it in front of him, ‘Here you are precious, and have a drink on the house.’ She smiled and returned to her spot on a stool behind the bar.
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'The Shearer' - Page 49:

Joe picked the drink up and with one gulp finished it and asked for another. When Isabel came to collect the tumbler, he asked, ‘you wouldn’t have a room for the night, would you?’
‘Sorry precious, we’re full to the brim. How about you throw your swag on the back veranda?’
‘Thanks, I’m much obliged. How much do you want for this beer?’ Joe asked.
‘It’s on the house. When you’re ready take yourself and your swag out the back.’ Joe swallowed his beer, lifted his swag onto his shoulder and bid everyone a good night. When he walked onto the back veranda he threw his swag onto the floor, unrolled it, lay down with his boots on and was soon asleep.
Before daylight the next morning, Joe stood at the front of the police station ready to go with Constable Fitzgerald. True to his word, the police officer sat on a buggy hitched to a brown gelding. ‘You ready?’ The Constable called to Joe who nodded.
He threw his swag in the back of the buggy and jumped up onto the front seat beside the Constable who gave the horse a giddy-up and they were on their way. Nothing was said between the two.
‘Follow the bank, down that way.’ Joe indicated after they’d travelled almost ten miles south of Eulo.
‘Where were you two going?’ Constable Fitzgerald asked.
‘Tilbooroo Station’ for shearing, we’re supposed to be there tonight to start tomorrow.’
‘You should be there tonight. After we dig up your mate I’ll need to take him into Cunnamulla Hospital to have a post mortem done. I’ll get your particulars before you leave. If you walk fast you’ll make the station by late afternoon, about ten miles across country.’
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'The Shearer' - Page 50:

‘Is this all you want me for?’ Joe scratched his head and looked puzzled.
‘Yeah – what did you think? Did you think I was going to arrest you for murder?’ The Constable joked.
‘Ah – thanks – not far now, see the pile of gibbers over there?’ Joe pointed relieved.
‘Yeah – giddy up old boy.’ He urged his horse into a trot and headed toward the pile of gibbers.
They removed the gibbers from around Bluey: he looked as if he’d been asleep rather than dead, his arms folded across his chest, face pale.
‘Come on, you take his legs and I’ll take his shoulders. He should be stiff from rigor mortis,’ Constable Fitzgerald bent down.
Joe placed his arms around Bluey’s stiff legs whilst the Constable held Bluey’s shoulders. ‘One, two, three – lift’, the Constable shouted and both men lifted Bluey to carry him to the rear of the buggy. They covered him completely from head to toe with canvas, tied ropes in places to secure the body so it wouldn’t roll from the buggy.
Constable Fitzgerald said, ‘You want a cuppa before you leave?’ Joe nodded.
Joe built a fire to heat the water for the billy. The Constable prepared their cuppa. They sat on a log after they’d filled their mugs with tea.
‘Have you ever seen a dead body, before, apart from Bluey?’ Constable Fitzgerald asked, as he sipped his tea.
‘Ah… no – Bluey is the first.’
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