Broken Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

eat them all out,” Geoff replied.
    Crocs! Shit, I’d forgotten all about crocs being in the Territory. In Mitchell, the nearest thing to a crocodile would be a goanna. Lying on those rocks, I wasn’t sure if I should risk swimming back to the other side of the river. Geoff had put the fear of God into me. I guess a real hero like me shouldn’t mention my two kilometre jog upstream to the safety of shallow water. The crocs would have to wait a while if they planned to eat this Murry.
    Two days later the muster was under way, with the cattle being rounded up by helicopter. The Auvergne cattle sighted men only twice a year. They were wild and toey. When a muster was completed, the blokes would have to pull down the portable yards they set up. These were made out of steel panels—they needed to be extra strong because some of those cattle were really wild, charging at men and the panels alike.
    We’d give each mob some time to cool off after being rounded up before drafting began. Drafting took one or two days, depending on how many the helicopter had managed to muster. We branded the calves and put them back with their mothers. Bulls, bullocks and mad cattle were sent to the meatworks. All weaners were tailed out—they soon settled down to feed instead of running away.
    At sixteen, I had no experience with such wild cattle. You learn from your mistakes. One day, as we were drafting a mob, I was working the dividing gate for thecattle being sent to the meatworks. Leaning on the gate, I was laughing at this mad bullock that kept charging my mate. My back was turned towards the cattle in the yard. All of a sudden this other big bullock charged at me. I don’t know what made me turn round, but I did—and just caught a glimpse of him coming straight towards me. I side-stepped, just in time and the bullock crashed into the gate right where I’d been standing. I might have needed a new pair of pants after that. I stood there, shaking. Two hours later I was still shaking.
    After about three weeks, Greg and another stockman quit the job. We were being paid $100 a week minus tax. We started work at seven each morning and finished when the job was done, sometimes early, sometimes late. After each muster we had a few days off, and every Friday night there was a barbecue at the station, which was good. I liked the job—it brought me new experiences. To tell the truth, it was a job that turned boys into men.
    While I was at Auvergne I rode a grey horse that was a bit of an outlaw; whenever I got on his back he would buck high and hard. But rough as that grey horse was, I never had any trouble staying in the saddle. At sixteen, I proved that I could ride a horse. I had matured over the past months, and the time I spent with my uncle had finally paid off.
    I stuck this job out for a few more months. I’m not real sure why I left it in the end. But I had a girlfriend back in Mitchell, and at times I felt a bit homesick. Auvergne was in the middle of nowhere ... no grog, no women. So one weekend, when we were going to Katherine for the rodeo, I packed up my gear and put it in the car. I stayed in a motel at Katherine, and two days later caught the bus and came back to Queensland. I really liked the Northern Territory, though, and afterwards I was sorry I’d left. I always swore I would return there when I was a bit older, a bit tougher and a bit wiser.

5
    At the end of the long journey home, I was more than happy when the bus stopped at Mitchell. I stepped off it and walked home. The first thing I did was to get my faithful horse, Four X. I jogged six kilometres out to the place where he was being kept, caught him and rode him back into town.
    That Sunday was the last round of the football. I got a game that weekend, playing second row for the under-eighteen Mitchell Magpies. I played in the following six games, and we found ourselves in the grand final. I had never thought about playing in a