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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Feb 07, 2015 2:58 pm

Thank you dub for your feedback. Interesting topic. I have this theory about habits or behaviour patterns inherited from one relative to another. Here is the story for today: 'Dynamic OMR Stories' - Story 38:

Travel Used To Be Glamorous

Many moons ago my father worked for Queensland Railways. Yearly he'd been given a free family pass to travel by train anywhere in Queensland. Each year he'd tell us where we'd be travelling, places like The Great Barrier Reef in northern Queensland.
My mind burst with enthusiasm to picture myself viewing The Great Barrier Reef. All the while each year became another promise. We never did travel to The Great Barrier Reef nor any other place. We remained home to spend my vacations dreaming about one day journeying to those far away places. His excuse 'we can't afford holidays this year. Perhaps next year.' Next year same excuse.
Travel was expensive and glamorous. Stories related from the more fortunate friends who travelled with their parents told their stories of adventure seeing different things in their travels. Myself, all I could do was dream and perhaps one day visit these glamorous places my friends spoke about if and when I could afford to.
Also, I lived in a bubble. My life with my family. Attend school, return home, commit to chores, bathe, go to bed and in the morning repeat the same as the day before. The only glamorous travel I'd done was in my head. Studying Social Studies enlightened my knowledge of far away places, too far from my home to ever realise a dream to visit. They grew in my mind so much I would one day visit these glamorous places.
After I completed school and commenced work my boss often told me to travel the world. He'd travelled the seas joining the merchant navy. His story stirred enthusiasm in me to try and travel to visit the places he mentioned. Alas, after completing my apprenticeship I travelled to western Queensland to work on a property.
Dyvenor Downs became my home. Wide open spaces, gum trees almost reaching the sky, a place I thought in all my dreams became a dream of visiting and working on a property. Clear open space for miles, different places, like Dyvenor Lakes. A salt water lake. In my studies early explorers knew of a inland sea. Perhaps they were looking for Dyvenor Lake which contained sufficient water to fill more than a thousand swimming pools.
My first view of a black swan almost took my breath away. Aborigines worked on this property and on a Sunday afternoon I went with an aboriginal friend to steal swan eggs from their nests. We gathered a dozen eggs from different nests. Before we boiled them, we placed them into a bucket of water to find how many were rotten. If they rose to the top, they were rotten. Ones on the bottom were eatable. Boiled and eaten almost immediately. The taste delicious and rich, twice the size of an ordinary chook egg.
People should pay to see this wonderland, I often told the others who worked with me. A team of fifty workers ranging from Manager, Overseer, Stockmen, Ringers and Station Hands. A variety of workers to operate one million acres of lush green Mitchell grasses and mulga scrub. A paradise in south-western Queensland unknown to the many visitors who didn't know the place existed.
I wanted to share with the world my discovery of outback Queensland with kangaroos, wild pigs, flocks of galahs in flight. Silence of bush surroundings. If one could bottle this stress free environment and sell across the globe, one would make a fortune.
Fancy living in a stress free environment, no traffic, no worries only rising in the morning to a glorious sunrise to go to bed at night with a wondrous sunset. Perfect in everyway. Out in the middle of nowhere, no telephones, communication of any type only the telephone exchange from the local post office forty kilometres west of the property. I wanted to shout my findings to the world.
I needed to wait another forty years before this portion of south-western Queensland to be discovered as glamorous, once the grey brigade rolled out across Australia to seek their own searches of places to visit. Now this portion of Australia has been discovered I'm pleased because although travel used to be glamorous, this portion of Australia needs all the visitors they can receive to boost tourism for their economy to keep small country towns in the west survive.
Word count: 727
IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE OF THESE STORIES CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/501597.

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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Fri Feb 20, 2015 1:38 am

Thank you for your concern in my absence. My old internet provider broke down and now I'm with a new provider. Thank you for your patience and concern and will continue posting a page daily of my latest novel. Here is an extract to keep you reading until new page tomorrow: 'Click Go The Shears' - "Click Go the Shears" is a traditional Australian folk song. The song details a day's work for a sheep shearer in the days before machine shears. The enduring popularity of this song reflects the traditional role that the wool industry has played in Australian life. The song describes the various roles in the shearing shed, including the "ringer", the "boss of the board", the "colonial experience man" and the "tar boy". After the day's shearing, the "old shearer" takes his cheque and heads to the local pub for a drinking session.
The tune is an adaptation of the American Civil War song "Ring The Bell, Watchman" by Henry Clay Work and the first verse follows closely, in parody, Work's lyrics as well.
The second verse in the original 19th century song is as follows:
Click goes his shears; click, click, click.
Wide are the blows, and his hand is moving quick,
The ringer looks round, for he lost it by a blow,
And he curses that old shearer with the bare belled ewe.
The usual chorus of the song is as follows:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied yoe
In June 2013 it was discovered that a version of the song was first published in 1891 in the regional Victorian newspaper the Bacchus Marsh Express under the title "The Bare Belled Ewe" and the tune given as "Ring the Bell Watchman." It was next published in 1946 as a traditional song "collected and arranged" by Reverend Dr. Percy Jones, a professor of music. The lyrics vary widely; "bare-bellied yoe" (yoe is a dialect word for ewe) is often "bare-bellied joe" or even "blue-bellied ewe". The last line in the verse about the "colonial experience" man "smelling like a whore" is often bowdlerised to "smelling like a sewer" or completely rewritten. (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopaedia).
This book is a continuation from ‘The Shearer’ published by this author 2014.
TO READ MORE ABOUT PAT RITTER – AUTHOR: CLICK ONTO WEBSITE http://www.patritter.com.au.
Chapter 1

‘What have you done?’ Hannah shouted when Joe told his story. He’d changed identity to now become Joe Gibson instead of Joe Ryan as she’d known him. The real Joe Gibson changed clothes with him to take his place when police came to arrest him for inciting the shearers to go on strike. The real Joe Gibson arrested as Joe Ryan and the real Joe Ryan changed his identity to now become Joe Gibson. Hannah couldn't believe his words.
‘This may sound confusing to both of you but I’m now Joe Gibson. Not Joe Ryan. We changed clothes and he took my place. They were going to arrest me. I’d never see you again if I went to prison.’ Joe pleaded.
‘What happened to Joe. The other Joe – I mean.’ Hannah asked, confused, her temper slowly subsided, breathing slower to try and understand his story.
‘Constable Fitzgerald arrested him.’ Joe explained.
‘You can’t change your name. Just like that!’ Ma shocked to hear what Joe had done.
‘Do you want me to go to prison? He gave me his papers and everything I need to change to his name.’ His voice raised. He reached inside his coat, extracted papers and placed them on the kitchen table.
‘He’s a brave man to go in your place. A brave man indeed.’ Ma quoted. ‘This is not right. You can’t be someone you’re not. What happens if something goes wrong? You can’t stay here. I don’t want police coming around here. I can’t lie to them or anyone else.’ She answered sternly. Her face set in stone.
‘I’ll go then. What about you Hannah. Do you want me to go?’
‘I still love you. It’s not your ring any longer. Is it? You’ve changed Joe! I tried to see you at the camp when you were on strike and each time turned away not knowing how you were or if still alive. Honestly Joe, I don’t know!’ She sobbed.
Joe moved to her and placed his arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry. I will not bother either of you again. You keep the ring as a token of our love. I’ll move on.’
‘What about the other Joe. He’s in jail and no doubt will go to prison because of you and what you’ve done.’ Ma expressed in a stern angry voice. Disappointment covered her face. ‘I think it’s a good thing you leave Joe,’ her voice quivered. She stood and left the kitchen.
‘Here is your ring Joe,’ Hannah unclipped the necklace and handed both the necklace and ring to him. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’ She sobbed, turned and walked away.
Joe scooped the papers from the kitchen table, gathered his things and left. He decided to cool down and think about the consequences of what his friend did. Relief washed over him knowing he wasn’t going to prison for he believed in his heart he did the right thing by his fellow shearers. Something needed to be done to make work conditions better and improve wages. Although ‘The Great Shearers Strike of 1891’ failed, it would go down in Australian history as an event to change conditions for his fellow shearers, he thought walking from Ma’s home.
His mind recalled the previous five months. Each moment thinking of different ways to convince his fellow shearers to keep going with their fight for justice. Alas, in the end even Joe gave up. Then his best mate Joe Gibson visited him in his tent to say the police were on their way to arrest him.
Joe Gibson decided to change identity and go in his place. They switched clothes and Joe Gibson handed Joe Ryan his identity papers and told him from that moment on he would be Joe Gibson and not Joe Ryan. Shortly afterwards he left the tent and arrested by Constable Fitzgerald, the police officer assigned to arrest Joe Ryan.
What should he do? Go to the police station and tell them they have the wrong person? Or do as Joe, his mate, wanted and get on with his life. His possessions consisted of swag, billy, two shillings, identification papers, and a membership card for the Non-Shearers Union in the name of Joe Gibson.
Instead of walking west to Eulo Joe headed north, I want to reach Barcaldine and carry on the work to give shearers improved working conditions and wages. His mind focused on these ideals. Camping on the bank of the Warrego River at the six mile, he undressed, jumped into the muddy brown coloured water to wash. After shaving his beard, he dressed in clean clothes.
Food was next. He’d survived in the bush more times than he cared to remember, snaring a rabbit, skinning and baking it over an open fire, fishing to catch a feed from the river. He’d do it again. He needed work, shearing. After unrolling his swag near a huge box tree he lay down and soon his mind drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day.

Hannah and Ma sat across from each other at the kitchen table having breakfast, ‘Ma, this is terrible what happened yesterday. I never want Joe under this same roof again because he can’t be trusted.’
‘I agree,’ Ma spoke between eating. ‘I should go and speak to Sergeant Gray about what happened. They can’t lock up the wrong person.’
‘I’ll go Ma. I’d like to meet this person whose given his life for Joe. He must be truly brave.’
Hannah dressed after clearing the dishes and walked to the police station. Sergeant Gray stood behind the desk. ‘Good morning Hannah. You here to say goodbye to your boyfriend.’
‘If I may Sergeant. I’d like to speak with him.’ Hannah smiled.
‘Come this way. We’re taking him to Charleville where he’ll be escorted to Rockhampton to stand trial with the other leaders who caused the strike.’
Hannah followed the sergeant to a building at the rear of the police station. ‘I’ll allow you to speak with him on the veranda, not in the cell. Can’t allow him to be released. Don’t be too long. I’ll give you ten minutes to say your goodbyes.’ Sergeant Gray unlocked the veranda door to allow Hannah to walk along to the cell containing the prisoner.
‘Hello. Are you there Joe?’ Hannah whispered. She didn’t want to speak loud because she didn’t want any other person listening to their conversation.
‘Who’s there?’ A voice echoed from inside the cell.
‘Hannah. Hannah Young. Joe told me what you did. I wanted to tell you how brave and courageous you are.’
‘Is Joe alright?’
‘He’s gone. I couldn’t live with a person who allowed his best friend to do what you’ve done.’
‘I did it for you and Joe.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the way he always spoke about you both, wanted to get married and settle down. I did it for each of you.’ He repeated, sadness in his voice.
‘You are a brave person. What’s going to happen to you?’
‘Go to gaol. I’m not afraid. Never done anything like this in my life before. I wanted to help you and Joe.’
‘It didn’t help. I can’t be with a person I don't trust.’
‘Too late for that now. I’ll be right. Don’t worry.
‘I feel guilty this has happened to you.’
‘No. I’m the guilty one taking Joe’s place. You leave now because they’re coming to get me soon to go to Charleville. Thank you for coming. You're like Joe described.’
‘Isn’t there anything I can do? This is not right.’ Hannah pleaded.
‘Forget about me and get on with your life.’
‘Sorry for everything to turn out this way. Bye.’
No reply came from inside the cell. Hannah called to Sergeant Gray who opened the veranda door for her to leave.
‘Sergeant?’ Joe called from inside his cell.
‘Yes Joe.’ Sergeant Gray answered.
‘Would you give Hannah my horse and saddle while I’m away?’ He asked.
‘I can do that.’ Sergeant Gray replied.
‘Thank you Joe, I’ll take good care of your horse and saddle. They will be waiting for you when you return.’ Hannah replied with a smile in her voice.
Hannah didn’t know when Joe would return, if ever. She'd certainly take good care of his horse and saddle. Her memory flashed back to bushranger Billy Wells who held up the stagecoach north of Cunnamulla. At the time she was a passenger on the Cobb & Co stagecoach. Mr John Shirley another passenger whose occupation District Inspector for schools sat across from her. Mr Shirley not only saved her life also through his generosity offered her a position as assistant teacher at Cunnamulla State School.
She remembered Billy Wells, riding the same horse now belonging to Joe. Those blue eyes continued to pierce her soul. He wanted her necklace and ring from around her neck which Joe gave to her to show his love. Joe identified the necklace and ring the moment Billy Wells introduced himself at the Eulo Queen Hotel. Joe fought Billy Wells to retrieve Hannah's property.
Once the police arrived and arrested Billy Wells, Joe escorted the prisoner with the police to Cunnamulla. On the journey Joe purchased the horse and saddle for five quid from Billy Wells. She laughed at the thought, thinking about the present circumstances. She must’ve been a fool.
‘Miss Young, I’ll get you to sign for the release of the horse and saddle.’ Sergeant Gray's voice broke into her thoughts when she realised where she was.
‘Yes sergeant. Where do I sign?’
He handed her a nib and pen, ‘sign here please?’
Hannah signed at the spot.
‘I’ll show you where your horse is and here is the saddle and bridle.’ Sergeant Gray lifted the saddle from the floor, ‘I’ll carry them to your horse. Are you right to saddle the horse?’
‘I think I can handle the task. Thank you sergeant. Look after Joe.’
‘We will. Sorry about this.’
Hannah followed Sergeant Gray to the police paddock at the rear of the police station. ‘Hi boy, let’s get you out of there and take you home.’ Hannah placed the bridle over the horse’s head, slide the steel bit into the horse's mouth, fastened the chin strap, and folded the reins over her forearm. She lifted the saddle onto the back of the horse, secured the surcingle, and led him from the paddock. Normally she would’ve ridden him only for her dress. Wasn’t ladylike to ride a horse in the type of dress she wore.
‘Ma, come outside.’ She called when she led the horse around to the rear of the house.
‘Isn’t this Joe’s horse?’ Ma questioned frowning.
‘Yes. I went and spoke to Joe at the cells in the police station. I only heard his voice; he sounds a lovely person, quiet, solemn and sincere. He told Sergeant Gray to give me the horse and saddle.’
‘Did you tell Sergeant Gray about the right Joe Ryan?’
‘No – he’s not afraid to go to gaol and wants me to get on with my life. I told him Joe left.’
‘Isn’t this a right ole mess? You go to the police station to save an innocent man and return with a horse. I’m going to write to your grandmother to tell her the whole story. Might be a good idea for you to ride and tell your parents about Joe, in case he tries to get a job shearing on their property.’
‘I will Ma as soon I eat.’ Hannah attended to her horse and placed him in the paddock behind Ma’s house. She carried the saddle and bridle inside and placed them on the floor in the corner of the spare room used for bathing.
Ma went to her bedroom, gathered parchment, pen, nib and ink, sat on her bed and began to write her sister a letter:
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192.

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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Feb 21, 2015 12:58 am

Thank you dub - great to be back: here is the page for today: 'Click Go The Shears'

My Dearest Sister Gloria,

I sincerely hope this letter finds you and George in good health. I think of you both often, praise the Lord how we were bought together at Christmas Dinner after many years of separation.
Hannah is doing well as a trainee school teacher and learning from Miss Wallace. With further training she should become a fully qualified teacher in three years.
People are flocking to live in Cunnamulla daily with children attending the local school. Hannah will make a fine teacher when her time finishes.
There is important news I need to tell you about Joe and Hannah. You no doubt know about ‘The Great Shearers Strike’ we’ve had here in Cunnamulla which finished yesterday. Joe was the leader of the men who set up a camp on the outskirts of this town.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192.

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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Feb 21, 2015 10:46 pm

'Click Go The Shears' -

Yesterday Joe came home after the police closed the camp. Whilst in the camp he changed identity with another shearer named John Gibson, so our Joe is no longer Joe Ryan. He is Joe Gibson. I can’t believe what he’s done!
Gloria, I had to tell him to leave. My conscious wouldn’t allow me to let him sleep under the same roof when he isn’t who he said he is. He left Hannah and me behind and I don’t care where he’s gone. I’m most disappointed in him, Gloria.
The guy who Joe changed identity was arrested as Joe Ryan and charged with inciting men to strike. I wanted to go to the police and explain the story but Hannah went instead.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Feb 22, 2015 10:10 pm

'Click Go The Shears':

She returned with Joe’s horse and saddle to explain she spoke to the person using the name Joe Ryan who told her ‘to get on with her life’. He gave her the horse and saddle to take care of whilst he is in prison.
Gloria, I can’t understand why Joe would do what he’s done to another human being, honestly! Since he arrived to live in Cunnamulla I treated him as if he was my son. Now he’s another person. I’m most disappointed.
Hannah is riding to tell her parents about Joe and give them the news so if he tries to get a job on their property to send him on his way. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.
That’s all the news for now.
Your Loving Sister
Margaret.

Ma finished the letter, folded it and placed it into an envelope. She addressed the envelope to her sister’s address in Brisbane. Picking up her cape she called to Hannah to tell her she was posting her letter at the post office and wouldn’t be long.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192.

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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Feb 23, 2015 10:25 pm

'Click Go The Shears':

When she walked up the steps of the post office a police wagon drove past with a man shackled by his arms and legs. Ma glanced at the man with his head down looking at the floor of the wagon this must be the person who took Joe’s place. Ma bowed her head in respect to this person, whispered a small prayer and wished him a safe journey and hoped he wouldn’t suffer too much at the hands of the authorities.

Chapter 2

Hannah rode across the rickety old wooden bridge crossing the Warrego River on her way to visit her parents property. A cool breeze brushed against her face. She smiled, I’m pleased Joe loaned me his horse. I can catch up with my riding. Relief eased her mind to understand the events of the past days and shook her head in disbelief. I could stay a couple of days because I’m on holidays and it’d be great to help Pa. Her mind returned to when she first met Joe Ryan working as a shearer on her parent’s property. Five years rushed by quickly. She should now be married but under the circumstances pleased she didn’t marry Joe. I would’ve been in a worse position in my life than I am now. She pondered.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192.

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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Tue Feb 24, 2015 9:48 pm

'Click Go The Shears':

She did love Joe from the first moment she set eyes on him seated on the top step at the rear of the shearer’s quarters. I should’ve taken Pa’s advice, ‘not to mix with the hired help’. Joe was different. When he cut the belly of the sheep I thought Pa would sack him on the spot. She laughed at the memory of seeing blood and her father’s face. Thinking about the present circumstances perhaps would've been a good thing.
She rode on until she sighted the broken sign ‘Kahmoo Station’, it’s about time the sign was fixed and urged her horse to a canter. ‘Not far now boy. Remember the last time you were here?’ She remembered the first Christmas Dinner she enjoyed with Joe and her family. Ma and her Nana realised they were long lost sisters separated at birth.
Her mind drifted to the moment sighting her Nana’s birthmark of a heart on the back of her left hand. What a glorious moment it was when Nana and Ma realised their birthright. She smiled at the memory. Then Joe wanted to be a leader of the newly formed ‘Queensland Shearer’s Union’. I think it was about this time I lost him. Now I have. I can’t believe what he’d gone and done, taken another person’s identity. Shame!
‘Hello mother.’ Hannah shouted reining her horse to a stop.
‘Hannah. What a lovely surprise. What are you doing with Joe’s horse?’
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK PLEASE CLICK ONTO THIS LINK: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497192.

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