Drover's Luck

By Robert Peterson

Interwoven generations of indigenous and colonial culture battle harassment and tropical conditions beginning before the 1939-45 World War days in outback Cloncurry, in north west Queensland. DANIEL PRESCOTT befriends mixed-caste bush child FREDDIE XXXX who survives by stealth alone. Daniel loses his mother to arson and billets in the Vicar’s stables. Promiscuous daughter CHERYL shares Daniel’s bed until the Vicar catches them and Daniel flees town in fright.
Daniel travels east to Julia Creek and romps in a hayshed with DELIA before working on a sheep station. Freddie XXXX tags along with Daniel as his ticket for work and a better life. The boys leave after a fight and meet a drover EDWARD BRENNAN at Richmond who employs them to drive cattle to the railhead at Kajabbi, north of Mount Isa. Daniel enters a bakery where Delia shows Daniel his son ALBERT. Sex education has its ups and downs.
The war left many farm properties vacant and Daniel sees this as a better way to prosper. He brings Delia onto the property. Freddie chooses CHANTELLE, a Chinese woman from several mail-order applicants. His second choice is LINDA – she comes later. Delia’s mother VERONICA cosies up with Edward to make a three-way partnership. An Aboriginal family JACKY and NELLIE Wanum want to live on the property, originally their land. Edward continues droving, Freddie tends the cattle while Danny shears and attends the sheep. Freddie and Chantelle take up residence in an out-station homestead, tell Danny and Ted where to get off and sell half the cattle.
Freddie arrives back without Chantelle once he cannot find work. Daniel and Delia, Ted and Veronica decide to marry. The neighbouring Ferguson farm seems a way to expand. Fred brings Linda to live there.
Daniel takes wife Delia and son Albert to see geologist BART MAUGHAN at Cloncurry. Police sergeant Catchpole notifies him Cheryl is deceased leaving daughter ELIZABETH and cites Daniel as the father. He pains to explain this to negative Delia and takes Elizabeth back to the farm. A governess MERRYL arrives to teach the children and uneducated natives.
The land begins to prune the farm's community until Danny, Delia, Albert and Elizabeth leave for the east coast to begin another side of life growing sugar cane, then a tourist enterprise amongst coconut palms on a beach front. Past enemies continue to plague them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Peterson
• Release date: Jul 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301669608

Robert Peterson

The Author grew up in North Queensland in the wettest town in Australia, as oldest of three boys after his elder sister suspiciously drowned in the Babinda Creek. He achieved an Associate Degree in Agriculture at Gatton Campus of Queensland University. Began serious writing on retirement after joining a local writing club and Writing.com. Accomplished writing awards at school and local shows, wrote agricultural extension and research articles, monthly farm memos and local newspapers over 20 years and collection of sensitive security metadata on a diamond mine. Humour arose as positive energy-challenging dimples of 30plus surgical operations over his life. The Author’s written work is Australian fiction reworked from numerous assumed bush homicides garnered while imbibing over a bar, around a campfire or out fishing on the Great Barrier Reef. The Author’s non-fiction life’s work competes as a Guinness Records tag for life’s stuff-ups, such as riding on a large crocodile, bitten by snakes, a giant eel, a stonefish, tiger sharks, gored and kicked by horses and cattle. The Author presently lives in Mandurah, Western Australia with his wife Glenys.

Book preview

Drover’s Luck

By

Robert Peterson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

100,000 words

PUBLISHED BY

Robert Peterson on Smashwords

ISBN 9781301669608

Drover’s Luck

Copyright@2013 by Robert Peterson

Thank you in advance for downloading the ebook. This work remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. Alteration of content definitely not allowed. If you enjoyed this book, then please encourage your friends to download their own copy.

The author appreciates your support and respect for his property.

Regard most events as fictional accounts of real events in a natural beauty of the Australian bush.

Education in a youngster’s mind is gained from inclination and resolve combined.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Cloncurry

Chapter 2 Burning memories

Chapter 3 Cheryl

Chapter 4 Delia

Chapter 5 Shearing

Chapter 6 Droving

Chapter 7 Kajabbi baby

Chapter 8 Paradise lost and found

Chapter 9 Gulf country

Chapter 10 Fred and Chantelle

Chapter 11 Fire

Chapter 12 Wedding bells

Chapter 13 Snake eyes

Chapter 14 Albert meets Elizabeth

Chapter 15 The New Farm

Chapter 16 Veronica

Chapter 17 Splitting

Chapter 18 El Arish

Chapter 19 Coconut Cove

Chapter 20 Ghosts from the past

Chapter 21 End to dusty roads

Chapter 1

A school yard circle of cheering students usually grew in dust and gestures to watch a fight, especially a bout that grew in rounds between Julius the rich schoolyard bully and a younger determined puncher wearing dilapidated clothes. Teasing seemed to bring on a madness.

You better get to work, matey, and earn some decent clothes. You always come with holes in your pants, and showing your pecker.

Most kids sucked on lollies handed out by Julius. They cheered in hope of more. All except Daniel. He copped spittle, rolled lolly papers and name calling. The pits.

Keep it up, Mortimer. I will kill you one day. You are okay when your rich daddy's behind you. Whack!

The jarring bullseye hurt him. Brought blood to his Mort's shiner and more oozing from the last slammer yesterday. This Danny kid could sure hit hard.

Danny is a wanker. That brought on several lolly suckers in chorus.

Humiliation by numbers could turn adrenaline off and end the fight - in most children. Danny's face angered, grabbed for Mortimer's throat and reefed him right off his feet. One hand let go a leathery slap. His knee hit down into Mortimer's bread basket. Air came out as a clone from Flintstone's bellow. Crack! Oohh, me ribs is cracked!

Mortimer rolled to toss Danny off. His arm slid up too far behind him and he yelled louder. "I beat you yesterday too, Morts. Leave me alone or I will really hurt you. Dan looked around at his gawkers. Anyone want some more?"

A strong hand reached out to clamp on his ear and waltzed him off to the headmaster's office. It hurt, near tearing his ear right off, almost as much as the six cuts he received. Caning apparently ran off a headmaster's stress.

Stop fighting, Daniel, or we will expel you for good. This the reason bullied kids brought along knives, sheep shears and such. They ended misery for good, until a jail bully came along.

Know-all Julius Mortimer berated 12-year old Daniel Prescott for not wearing properly-ironed clothes to school and often poked his finger into torn jagged holes in Dan’s shirt. Dan felt intimidated, became furious and retaliated. He punched the older boy’s lights out and received a caning for it. Several, in fact. Do not grin, he grimaced. This year's Chinese calendar must be The Year of the Cane.

He did not tell the teacher that Julius had called his mother a slut – whatever that meant. Telling that would take some of the anger out of his reprisals. Teachers were slow to teach the important things of life out bush. Mining town Cloncurry became a lonely existence in the tropical heat of Queensland, unless you drank beer or spirits.

Across North Queensland from Northern Territory to Pacific Ocean... Author.

Julius leered bug-eyed all afternoon. Dan realised he needed to hit harder, hurt more than a leering toffy-nosed brain could stand. Dan belted him more after school finished. Dan felt better until – Julius and his beak-nosed lawyer dad arrived at home to speak with Dan’s mother, Edie. Dan received more punishment, but stuffy Julius could wait. A neighbour stated the Mortimers frequented a Jewish church and she spat. The two boys were constantly at one another. Dan felt he could not win against lawyers up the pecking order to a slut’s pup.

Dan wandered down by a river course, a puddle this time of year, to wait for a yabby to take his bait. This sure beat school, appeasing that hoity-toity teacher Miss Roberts.

Daniel Prescott, sit up straight. How could he be straight when sitting on a chair?

Daniel, stop looking out the window! He did not. Honest.

Daniel, spell ornithorhynchus. He nearly spelt it yesterday, but she made him nervous with her shouting.

Daniel, how many times must I implore you not to pick your nose? An old itch in a new place. This would all be but a memory in ten years time, according to his mother.

Write out twenty times, I shall not fall asleep in class! Boring.

Water in this dry place came a lottery. Creeks seldom ran from sporadic rains and storms. Water tanks only held so much and contaminated by dying rats and birds, road dust and heat evaporation. Wells often did not find good water. Outback bore supplies held levels of salts that surfaced boiling hot. Certain minerals scored above safe health levels. No water - life suffered like the local fauna and explorers gone to graves, perhaps waiting yet to be found.

Burke and Wills were the first Europeans to ride through the area. Cloncurry River was named by Burke after his cousin Lady Elizabeth Cloncurry. The town took the river's name shortly after. Cloncurry was better known for the Mary Kathleen Uranium Mine part way toward Mount Isa mined by Rio Tinto from 1958 until 1984.

He kicked the dust as he watched for any sign of a drunk's discarded bank notes flying in swirls in the street. Good luck with that. Shifted his braces for comfort or showing off an imaginary chest. Shady trees had their leaves lowered to half mast in this heat of afternoon, several descending into dust, horse dung and garbage, gradually deteriorating into tree roots to become next year's fresh new leaf regeneration. If indeed the tree lived or cut down for firewood, railway sleepers or building.

He watched as a stressed horse tied outside a hotel, tongue out and panting from heat exhaustion, no feed or water, whinnied giddy eyed and collapsed. Its final death rattle of expelled air sent shivers up Dan's spine. It took only moments for an alert crow (was there another type) to land upon it and peck at unresponsive eyeballs then its tongue, a mangy dog to bite its rump and begin chewing.

A butcher quickly shooed the wildlife, fetched his knives and drew a dray close by to haul it away for another's dinner. Dogs fought over yards of sausaged entrails and a discarded bloodied lung. Dan gulped. No one came out of the boozer to shift other horses to shade. Too drunk perhaps to mount their horse.

Dan almost jaywalked into a prim new mine manager's wife strutting in high-cut floral blazes under a parasol. He copped a shove plus a whispered curse that no real lady would stoop to say. Her whippet dog acted a graffiti maniac as it tagged every second shopfront. White ants fell out of one acid deluge obviously in pain, and pissed off for sure. The crow spotted them too. Amen. Pick on the little guy.

A baby lay dead as a dinosaur egg in a street corner where buggy tracks moved around. Dan moved toward it until... yep, it was a part-stuffed doll crushed and tagged with camel droppings - by its smell of rotten acacia branches and herbs. He left it there - dolls not his passion, yet.

All Dan wanted to do was survive the week until he could relax at home, or wander bush tracks. Youngsters could not wait to become an adult, and then bitched about the condition forever.

Daniel’s mother Edie went off again to the pub for Friday night's social drink or two with the cashed-up lads. Edie ran a boarding house to support the two of them, after Dan’s father left. Edie always left Dan with clearing tables, the washing up, sweeping floors and feeding her animals. Dan turned a box radio up and listened to music, his favourite Goon Show and the Village Glee Club.

Dan said goodnight to his father’s photograph before bed, and truly missed the dad he never knew. Boarding men around spoke of snakes, crocodiles, trapping rabbits and foxes, shooting dingoes and other exciting tales. They also told tales of beautiful women and buckjumping rodeos, card games for real money and hunting buffaloes in swamps. It seemed more swank than watching Tarzan at the flicks.

Cloncurry grew up a busy town today. Dan dodged to the other sidewalk as a fellow staggered out of a pool hall clutching a busted nose and spitting blood. Looked as though he did a whoopsie in his pants as well. Two fellows wrestled out through the hotel batwings and threw wild punches at each other. Two dogs raced among them snapping at protruding limbs and soft parts, drawing squeals from the fighting crew and louder giggles from the females. Dan collected the tip of an umbrella from an ageing madam when he walked into her path. She sure knew the words that hurt a kid. He used a two finger salute and ran laughing for his life. Still better than school hours, multiplied to infinity using a logarithm divided by two - he thought that was what the teacher said.

He guessed all this could wait for a few more weeks when he grew large enough to fight the drunks that talked to themselves in Swahili - his mum's words.

A stone plopped into a stagnant pond near Dan's fishing pole. Crows never became that constipated as he sought who threw it. He whirled around and stared into fathomed eyes of a tall skinny Aboriginal lad about his age. Careful here, Danny boy. This one looks the type to pluck a chicken, buck a horse and truck knew whatever.

What did you do that for, you bugger? You scared all the fish away from my bait! Daniel’s eyes tightened as he shouted at the boy holding a warped spear shaft. That was my dinner. I will now have to eat the bloody dry bread and lard that me mum dished out. Dan frowned and waved hands about to mimic an inebriated lunatic, or two mudlarks fighting to the death – his mum entertained many of those. He mumbled on about spending hours to catch his dinner and this smart Alec ruining his day. Miss Roberts never taught that type of language, nor did Dan write it in class. He sat down on a tree root and ouched.

At leas' yo' hab yo' dinner, man. The new boy remained wary while he stared at the chance of food. He wondered if he could outrun the white boy. I ab 'ad nuthin' ta eat all day. That seemed a long time, since he did not eat last night as well. Not every tree exposed bush tucker of berries, witchetty grubs or juicy goanna. Yuck!

Shucks, mate, you can have my sandwich, but shut your flamin' gob and stop scaring the yabbies - please. That spear looked sharp. Sit over there away from my line too. What’s your name, buddy? Dan handed over his slice of dried bread with warm lard dripping off it, and shushed a blowfly that buzzed to annoyance. It laid crawlies on the slice, but that added weight to much-needed protein. Bit of give and take. There was no way this visitor would drop that lot. His long grubby fingers held it surrounded.

The fishing pole bucked against a branch it leaned on. Dan reacted accordingly, yanked on the improvised length of river gum stick and a yellow-bellied bream flicked onto the muddy bank. A woolly dog ran down the bank and barked wildly at the wriggler. Dan held the fish up and proudly grinned at his intruder. Have you got a match, mate?

Me name is Fred - callin' me Freddie, if ya wan'. Fred looked longingly at the fat fish and his tummy thundered a perceptible turn. Gaps in his teeth showed where bread specks lay awaiting a feisty tongue to wipe them down the hatch.

A sweating horse in need of a good feed clopped along the roadway pulling a buggy worse for wear and its driver swishing his whip about. Dan gained a few more swear words for his end of year speech to the teacher. She looked like she knew about them already. Dan acted jealous she had a boyfriend who worked in a haberdashery and smelt all grand. Probably gum leaves crushed up an all, Dan mouthed.

What is your last name, Freddie? Dan pulled out his father’s old scout knife and yanked open a tarnished blade. He could ride to the next town on its bluntness, almost, although he nicked himself and rehearsed those words from the buggy man. Did not stop the bleeding.

Don' right know 'bout dat. Dey call me farder, Fergus XXXX, so I s'pose dat is me las' name. Dan smiled away a laugh and gutted the fish so he could use its innards for his next bait. A conservationist. Castlemaine XXXX frosted a new Queensland beer out, and the social rage in pubs around outback Queensland. The lad looked about the colour of a beer bottle, or caramel chocolate at the store. Hell, beer was the reason for living in the heat out in Cloncurry. Work, or a bushranger's gun ensued the way to get at it.

Do you go to school, Fred? That name does not sound right somehow. What do they call your mother? The fish gut squelched in his fingers when he placed it onto his primitive hook. He looked at the shop walkway to where a teenage filly strolled provocatively in one of those psychedelic mini-skirts. Dan pushed his liver-greased hands behind his back and smiled. She waved and giggled at the attempt. No embarrassment there, Danny. Write her down for a future ask to the matinee, a back seat beauty - if he dreamed. He grunted as his manhood constricted butt muscles at the sight. Uggghhhwah. Nice thoughtie - naughty, naughty.

She be dead. She fel' sleepin' wen I am a baby and neber woked up, accordin' to me c'uzin. Freddie scoffed that sandwich down faster than a mining union strike. Dan supposed having a Scottish father, maybe from Glasgow, Aboriginal relatives, and no schooling to speak of could dent a fellow's communication. His mother was likely a tribal Mitakoodi woman yet his height resembled a Kalkadoon warrior from the west. Both are recognised for a huge source of trade in white ochre for ceremonies, and stone axes from basalt cliffs traded throughout the Channel Country and beyond.

They call me Dan, by the way, Fred. Never had no dark people talk to me before. Do you have a match or not? Flies found the fish bait as Dan swiped at the brutes. Thank Heaven that he refrained from wiping his face, or more flies would be thereabouts thick as bees chasing honey in spring.

That fish is about cooked, Fred. Have half if you are hungry. Fred quickly appeared at the fire and licked his lips. That sandwich stirred hunger pains and his belly growled a protest howler. A budding six-pack showed signs of interior unrest and a dry fart erupted.

It brought on another fish bite.

Now we have two fish for our dinner. We are living like kings, Freddie. Skipping school today turned out a hoot. Dan turned to see if the passing sheila noticed his big catch. A true provider that girls fought over - in books.

Dan became smart enough to stop off at the livery stable to wash his pungent mud off, as he usually did before returning home. Edie would belt him for appearing grubby and accurately guess he skipped school yet again. He would pretend to do homework tonight and write a note for the teacher saying he had the trots - or this time, maybe a boil on his butt. Maybe not, if his teacher slapped the spot to find truth. Dan already achieved a better education than most of the adults who migrated to around here.

Edie heard the door squeak and spotted the dog's tail wag. There you are, Danny, take this washing and ironing down to the hotel for me please, and do not drop it like last week. I nearly lost the work and I have to do it for nothing this week. Edie busied with the roast vegies for dinner to notice mud streaks on the back of Dan’s muscled legs. A roast here in the tropical heat could be beef, sheep or possibly kangaroo, wild pig, rabbit or possum. A butcher is an illusionist to survive outback and can tell a kangaroo tale or two.

Danny copped a roasting most days of his miserable life.

Aw hell, Ma, I have homework to do. Can I take it tomorrow morning when I go off to school? Dan began collecting the two baskets anyway, but it sounded so right to make out he accepted his education with an indubitable passion.

Please hurry, young man. I want the firewood chopped and wood chips to light the copper for my boarders to wash with. Can’t have stinking folks to the table for supper, now can we?

"Yes, Mother Dear. That would never do." He silently said to himself that she could not have men in her bed, unless they washed and smelt a healthier aroma. Folks never washed unless she badgered them – like Dan. Carbolic soap ponged anyway and coal tar stunk worse than runny dags on a sheep - almost.

Edie worked hard to put dinner on their table. The men came paid up, and eager to spend their money on a woman. Cloncurry became the new airport for the Royal Flying Doctor Service north of town beside the race course. Visitors preferred to eat and sleep with safety. The railway line from Townsville stopped its westerly drive here. Cloncurry was the main drop-off for supplies to the mines and stations further west. In time, the State would extend the line to Mount Isa and Camooweal near the Northern Territory border.

Edie gained money left to her from England and she owned a major share in the house. She acquired boarding money, undeclared cash from business dealings with the male guests and built on more rooms. She could eventually hire a cook to help keep house, allowing her to sleep in after a hard night’s work. Dan accepted his mother’s lifestyle. Was there another?

Daniel strolled along dusty streets today, looking for empty bottles and other collectables to trade. Pocket money jingled a good thing to have in pockets when a new drink or chewy hit town. He actually bought two new pairs of shorts: tan ones so not to show up the dust about. The old ones came too tight about his guliwackers. Giggling girls knew too much. Dogs still sniffed his crotch like before. Now he needed bigger boots to match the old bare feet he knew.

Good day to you, young Daniel Prescott. How are you today? Do you want to earn pocket money for Christmas? The store manager, Charlesworth Orwell Grimes, always seemed busy and knew Dan well. Dan returned empty bottles - dead soldiers, for refunds to trade for lollies, marbles and cap guns.

The two had an agreement. Dan could trade bottles, so long as he did not raid the loaded crates of empties to sell them to the store for a second time. Dan managed the stacking and washing of the bottles before collection by the breweries and cordial factory, as a trade-off. Dan thought honestly as the next boy of his age and only recycled the odd bottle. His education began paying off. Lucky he still had all his fingers so he counted to ten.

Charlie Grimes, middle aged and stalwart from sampling his wares for quality control, stood with one leg perched on the hitching rail and wiped strong hands on his work apron. His moustache curled at the ends from twirling knuckled digits while adding up the charge for his groceries. Dan sauntered over slowly, an astute businessperson waiting to see if the price would become bullish. Charles always needed help and Dan was a solid worker – for a growing lad.

How can I be of service, Mister Grimes? I finished stacking the crates of bottles for you. It comes to four shillings and eight pence ha’penny. Dan put his hands in his pockets, and poked out his chest the same as adults accomplished. It looked silly without a decent gut to go with the motion. Charlie's hairy gut protruded around his belly button when he wiped his hands. A sort of reserve in there for poorer days it seemed.

I counted them too, young Dan. You still need to attend school for several years yet. I work it out at three shillings and tuppence exactly. Do not spoil our friendship, Daniel. We have a business relationship, and you must earn what you do for me. I have faith in you, but I can employ another. Men here will work for that much and do it in half the time. Your mother is a good customer and I want to help when I can. Dan stuffed up any chance of a price increase with that huge blunder and wondered if Grimes also visited his mother at night.

Sorry, Mister Grimes, I must have counted the ones I washed yesterday. He went fishing yesterday and never came into town. He felt a Goofy, the cartoon character he saw in comics and the Saturday matinee. He must read more about Scrooge the duck. Pulling at his left ear lobe soothed his embarrassment until he saw how much dirt accumulated there.

I have groceries to deliver and you could do it after school. Police, doctors and schoolteachers cannot come into town when they are busy, so they ask me to deliver their goods. I will pay you a flat rate for each delivery and you can keep any tips they hand you. Let me say, threepence a basket, how does that sound? Grimes would add the extra onto the bill. If Dan remained polite and trusted, he should make good money every week.

Do you have a cart that I can use, Mister Grimes? I could deliver the goods quicker in this heat and be good for both of us. Dan longed to make enough money to make a four-wheeler to race down the hillsides. The creek out west of town had a few washouts for apprentices, and plenty of sharp rocks to remember his youth by.

"The Smithy, Mister Grange, can make a trolley with bicycle wheels for me. I will take a penny a load from your pay, and you can have it as your own, when you have earned the amount it costs me." Grimes had become rich by endeavour and craft. He would arrange a trolley to deliver the goods and Daniel would pay for it. Dan would be richer by delivering more orders and more time to chop his mother's wood and kindling. Groan.

That would be super, Mister Grimes. When can I start? Dan also had in mind having to cut enough of that firewood in a week for his mum, so he could fulfil the deliveries. The lay about dog grew too old to harness up for a delivery. Harnessed goats buggered off when a dog chased them down the street or they spied green vegetables in someone's garden. He once had the goat over a fence munching watermelon and an upturned borrowed cart with a wheel still spinning on the roadside of that fence while he stopped to play marbles. He lost on both contests. He felt his ache behind as he remembered the day that wooly jumper crashed out.

Oh Daniel, I noticed chewing gum missing in the mornings and no money in the till. Please do not steal from me. Danny looked down at his shadow, his chest tightened as he realised his mistake. He would wait until the day’s takings began, before sampling any more products. Schooling never allowed for the real life goings on. Theft etiquette was not in the school curriculum, so Daniel had to graft it by stealth. Practise always had a sad moment, like seeing how quick Dan retracted a finger from a set mouse trap. That fingernail took months to grow out.

Dan delivered those house orders on time each week before their butter melted, as he met the important people in the town. He saw how they lived, how they dressed, their accented speech, and he became accustomed to their mannerisms. The doctor always came abrupt, a tacky tipper, and never paid any attention to Dan. No free consultations there for a kid on part-time work. Those giggling nurses always handed him a chocolate and he received a threepenny piece once a week. He needed to grow a bit to ask for more. The butcher gave him extra sausages. The dog loved them. The baker left out a sweet bun. He ate that himself.

Old Misses Brinsmead's scary niece happened to be present on occasion and threatened to tar and polish his nether regions. That buggy could sure hoon around corners, scatter hot dogs and drop donuts.

The police sergeant smiled and said hello. Dan thought that was payment enough and quickly left before they could book him for overwidth, worn treads or no identification plate. Everyone knew a way with humour from a straight face to help their day at Dan's expense.

Dan developed a smarter mind when he found customers gave him extra food and money when he smiled and helped carry their goods inside. He became a charming lad who encountered the fillies of the rich and famous. The vicar’s daughter smiled, and winked at him when he blushed. Cheryl grew an attractive female who spoke to him at school, poked her hips in that provocative way, and said hello with her lowered husky voice. The vicar was not so sociable, and hurried him off the premises before any devilry occurred. Dan never went to church anyway. He had no time for any business that cost him money, without the promise of reward.

Dan delivered groceries to the house where clever Julius lived. His dad was the local solicitor and Dan dreaded the jibes he constantly received. How long could the next pugilism wait, Dan thought? Daniel took lessons on boxing from a police officer, Sergeant Stan Catchpole. Edie thought it might give Dan character, and a better defence as he trudged the streets to manhood. He loved the adrenaline rush from wearing padded gloves, while learning to skip rope and lift weights to improve his balance and strength.

Look out, Julius; even your entrusted dad may not save you from a well-earned thumping. Dan would say into his mirror. His new hairstyle, plastered with Brylcreem, shone in the sunlight, as he began to carry his chin a little higher as he walked the streets in his bare-footed work boots.

Edie welcomed the extra money that Danny brought into the house. He made sure she received half of his earnings from Mister Grieves. Dan kept the tipping money, as he rightly believed he deserved it. An ambition of taking young Cheryl to the pictures invaded his nightly dreams. Denise came second, sometimes Priscilla.

Daniel knew that kookaburras laughed and crows swore but after that, he was mystified about love. Maybe he could talk to the good doctor, one day. If he screwed around, he guessed he would have to see the doctor anyway, if what his mates maintained was gospel.

Julius left towards the coast at Townsville when his father ran for parliament. Delivering parcels to the lazy rich helped Dan grow into a business recruit in a boy’s suit.

Daniel never saw much of Freddie until years later. Fred troubled over racist remarks and little employment as he trudged the ranges to find his future.

Dan completed his deliveries, and processed goods into smaller lots for sale. He was master of the bottle return depot, and knew all the tricks that kids conjured up. It was Karma in a way. The penny was now in his other pocket, yet Grimes congratulated Dan on his effort.

Dan used a graphite stick to tag all the bottles. Dan could identify the culpability when children, and shifty adults, brought in bottles that were already recycled. He was not everyone’s friend, but he did command respect from both the public and Mister Grimes.

Chapter 2

Dan woke to screams from his mother Edie’s bedroom on Saturday night. A huge inebriated man had slapped the woman several times and blood streamed from her nose. Dan did not know if Edie originally invited the man into her room, or he was trespassing, but Dan took one look at his mother cowering in the corner, clicked back both hammers and aimed his dad’s loaded shotgun at the man. Each looked at Dan in a