Saturday 9 November 2013

Les Gillespies Gold is my novel for NaNoWriMo

I started this book not long after writing Kundela and have all the chapter plans and plots in place. However I lost my folder with all of the character profiles etc. After deciding I can no longer keep hunting back through the manuscript for small details, I started printing out new sheets. The warm smells and the whirring of the printer had me searching the 'My Documents' folder and I found a header sheet for the binder spine of lost book. A quick search of the bookcase now has found the folder hiding in plain view.

So now I have a plan to bring this story back on track. It's not that I forgot the theme just the detail. Today I only managed thirteen hundred words, but now having found my compass I'm confident the words will fly next week.
Tomorrow I'll post a character sheet of one of the more evil guys in the story.

Cheers,

Terry

Tuesday 8 October 2013

Save Mona


 
This week a friend of mine, Jody D’Arcy, started a new website and named it Save Mona. Her ambition is to save Africa’s rhinos from extinction. I’m sure you will agree this is an honourable goal, a huge challenge, and one we can all take part in.

I’m asking for a moment of your time to make this possible, and with only a couple of clicks of your mouse we can do great things.

Start now with these three simple tasks.

1.   By sharing this e-mail with your contacts and friends you can empower the world to place pressure on the relevant authorities to protect these animals from useless slaughter.

2.   Click on this link to learn more about why the rhino is endangered.


3.   Add your name and comments to the petition to the Chinese Government


I’m sure that you want to know that your grand children will be able to watch these and other endangered animal species thrive in their natural habitat. If you can help by sharing, then more power to your pen.

If you petition the Chinese Government, you have moved the possibility of saving these animals closer, and you can feel good about it.

If you follow and post you comments on the Save Mona website it is almost like being in the field, you are giving the species life. What greater gift is there to give?

Please remember to share with your friends and forward to your contacts.

Ps:     Don’t forget your Facebook and Twitter accounts.

Thank You for your interest,

Yours sincerely,
 
Terry L Probert

Friday 30 August 2013

Feral Utes and Borrowed Boots - Last rewrite

With help from the Wordsmith's in my writing group this is my last posting of my rewriting of this story. I will probably edit and work it again a few times before submitting as an entry in competitions.

In this final draft I have worked on making the dialogue flow better and tryng to keep the action true to the age of the protagonists. Read on and let me know if you like Sarah, Ally, Matt, and Robbo. Even give me an insight into your thoughts about this foursome and their future relationships.

Terry


Feral Utes and Borrowed Boots                   1495 words


The wheel wrenched in her hands and Sarah felt the front of the Toyota dip. Metal screeched against the road, and she caught a glimpse of the front wheel spearing off into the grass. A battle for control began as Jake’s old work truck slewed onto the verge. A tap of the brakes and then a desperate pump of the pedal did nothing, it went to the floor. The handbrake didn’t work, but she tugged on it anyway. Jake had tormented her from when they married until he moved out six months ago, and today she’d hoped for a new start without him. Yet it seemed he controlled her again. Would she never be free?

It wasn’t her first choice to drive to the other side of the city to work, but all other job applications had failed. Now with a rusted out old bomb collapsed on the side of the road, she had missed this opportunity too. Did he have to take everything? Her car, her phone, her money, her dignity. Pride would not allow her to ask her parents for help; ‘he’s no good.’ they’d told her when she ran off with him five years ago.

Cars swept past, no one stopped to help. A carload of louts hung out the windows and jeered, laughing at her as they flew past. She was late, and without a phone she couldn’t let work know she’d broken down. The highway roared with traffic, and when trucks flashed by the pressure of their slipstreams almost blew her over. Flagging them down had no effect. It started to rain and she decided to wait in the car until it stopped.

The drizzle eased, and she tried again. Two B-double semi trailers buzzed past nose to tail. Their wheels whipped slush into a fine mist and drenched her. Spotting her reflection in the glass, Sarah broke down. Her borrowed suit looked ruined, and her hair a mess. Clay had stuck to the heels of her boots. She tried to remove it by rubbing them together, but it only smeared. She yanked the door open, slumped into the seat, and slammed it shut. What could she do? Sarah rested her head and arms on the steering wheel, and her energy drained. Where was Prince Charming when she needed him? Sarah drifted into misery.

The wheel thumped onto the tray, she heard the sound, but it didn’t register.

‘Hello Miss.’ the voice was male. ‘Are you okay?’

She turned to see where it was coming from. ‘Not really, I’ve got a bit of car trouble.'

‘Yeah, I can see that. I was working the tractor at the other end of the field when I saw you stopped here. I guessed you didn’t have a phone when I saw you trying to flag someone down.

‘Supposed to be first day at work, but now I’ve lost it.’ She said.

‘My name’s Matt by the way.’

‘Sorry,’ she shook her head. ‘Hello Matt, I’m Sarah.’

‘Want to call them?’ He held out his phone.

‘No thanks, it’s gone.’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘All I had to do was get there on time.’

‘Look, I’ve called my mate Robbo, he will come out and tow this to his workshop.’ He pointed to the buildings about a mile away. ‘My wife and I live over there, I’ve just called her. She said to come up and dry off in the kitchen. Maybe you can call someone, or if you want to wait until she does the school run, Ally can drive to wherever you want to go.’

‘Thanks’. Sarah said. Prince Charming he might be, but not hers. He had a wife and kids too, but she was glad for his offer.

The farmhouse was warm and homey. With the introductions over Matt kissed Ally and went back to the tractor.

‘Here’s a couple of towels.’ Ally said. ‘Bathroom’s the third door on your right. Pass me your jacket and I’ll give it a brush, it’ll dry on the chair by the fire.’

‘Thanks. I thought I’d be stuck there for hours, either that or I’d have to try and walk back to town.’

‘Not easy in those heels.’

‘No, and I don’t know how I’m going to tell Jo about her suit, I borrowed this outfit for the job.’

‘Go and get yourself cleaned up and I’ll put some coffee on. Anyway, what type of job was it?’ Ally asked.

‘Oh, bookkeeper in Richmond, but it’s history now.’

Sarah looked at the woman in the mirror and wondered if she’d ever see her smile again. The water felt good, and she held her hands in the bowl soaking up the heat. The room was bright and airy. Toys littered the shelf around the bath and the home had a welcoming feel. She sensed that Matt and Ally had made the place special, and she envied their position.

Sarah combed her hair with her fingers and did her best to tidy it. ‘It’ll have to do.’ She smoothed her skirt, and followed the aroma of coffee and warm scones back to the kitchen.

‘You look better.’ Ally smiled and motioned for Sarah to sit at the bench. ‘Do you mind? I have to get this stew on for dinner. It’s not very adventurous but it’s what Matt likes, and the kids will eat it too.’

‘You’re very kind, thanks.’ She cupped her hands around her coffee and looked over the rim to the neat heaps of chopped vegetables. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked for more than one.

‘Not at all, I’m glad of the company. With all the jobs around the farm, I find it hard to get out, other than seeing some of the parents at school. Oh, and I see our friends at football on the weekends. But some girl company during the week is good.’

A friendship seeded, and the day disappeared. At 2.30 they were in Ally’s four wheel drive and heading into town to pick up the children from school.

‘What are you going to do now? Ally asked.

‘I don’t know. This job was it, and now it’s gone. I’ll go back into the grinder again I guess and try to find something, again.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know.’ Sarah said. ‘You know I used to be so confident, I ran the office in my family’s crash repairs where I worked until I got married. We moved here and everything went wrong. I thought I was marrying the man of my dreams. I never expected it to turn into a nightmare. This is probably for the best, I don’t think I could work inside that glass box in the city anyway.’

Ally said nothing more about the job. Too soon they were in the Industrial area and parked in front of Robbo’s workshop.

‘I’ll go in and get him. His place is full of girly calendars and blokes with one track minds. You don’t have to put up with anymore grief today?’

An age passed as she sat there, and occasionally she noticed a heavy thumb and forefinger prise the venetian blinds apart. It unsettled her, and Sarah knew they had to be talking about her, about how hopeless she was.

Ally and a man in his thirties emerged from the darkness. His hands slapped at the dust on the front of his jeans, and his tee shirt showed that he worked out. It was strange, but he was the only panel shop bloke she’d seen with polished boots. His dark hair neatly cropped and had a hint of curl. In this light he looked a bit like Hugh Jackman and unlike any of the crashies she’d ever met before. Sarah slid out of her seat to meet him.

‘Hello I’m Robbo, Ally’s brother.’ He said extending his right hand, she took it. His grip was firm, and yet his touch was warm and gentle. ‘I can’t do much with your car today, in fact it’s probably better off going to the wreckers, for what you’d spend on fixing it.’

‘That good eh?’

‘Sorry.’ He screwed his face up, and then smiled. ‘Ally tells me you’re a bookkeeper.’

Sarah liked the way his nose wrinkled at the bridge when he grinned. ‘Yeah, but what’s that got to do with fixing my car? Are you offering me a job?’

‘Maybe, I’m up to my ears in it. Bookkeeping I mean, and I’ve been looking for someone to manage it for a while now. I just haven’t advertised. Anyway, could you be tempted?

Sarah felt her shoulders lift and her posture straighten. She suppressed a smile. ‘When would I start?’

‘I’m going home soon. I can drop you off, and pick you up at seven thirty tomorrow morning. How’s that for a deal?’

Sarah looked down, don’t be hasty make him wait a bit. A minute passed, she held her hand out... He took it. ‘Deal.’ She said.

Sunday 18 August 2013

Feral Utes and Borrowed Boots (even the title has had a rewrite)

Over the past few days I have reworked this story again to address a few of the comments of my friends in the writing group.

Although I have worked a bit on the punctuation I need to put in more work there. It is a weakness and I'll read it aloud in front of a mirror to see if I can perfect it.

Points I tried to address:

  • Relevance of the title to the story
  • Kitchen aromas
  • Address tense changes
  • Introducing Matt
  • Simplifying the language
  • Correct the spelling
I  hope this rewrite has made the story easier to read, please let me know your opinions.


Feral Utes and Borrowed Boots                  1495 words

The wheel wrenched in her hands, and Sarah felt the front of the Toyota dip. Metal screeched against the road, and she caught a glimpse of the front wheel spearing off into the grass. A battle for control began as Jake’s old work truck slewed onto the verge. A tap of the brakes and then a desperate pump of the pedal did nothing, it went to the floor. The handbrake didn’t work, but she tugged on it anyway. Jake had tormented her from when they married until he moved out six months ago, and today she’d hoped for a new start without him. Yet it seemed he controlled her again. Would she never be free?

It wasn’t her first choice to drive to the other side of the city to work, but all other job applications had failed. Now with a rusted out old bomb collapsed on the side of the road, she had missed this opportunity too. Did he have to take everything? Her car, her phone, her money, her dignity. Pride would not allow her to ask her parents for help; ‘he’s no good.’ they’d told her when she ran off with him five years ago.

Cars swept past, no one stopped to help. A carload of louts hung out the windows and jeered, laughing at her as they flew past. She was late, and without a phone she couldn’t let work know she’d broken down. The highway roared with traffic, and when trucks flashed by the pressure of their slipstreams almost blew her over. Flagging them down had no effect. It started to rain and she decided to wait in the car until it stopped.

The drizzle eased, and she tried again. Two B-double semi trailers buzzed past nose to tail. Their wheels whipped slush into a fine mist and drenched her. Spotting her reflection in the glass, Sarah broke down. Her borrowed suit looked ruined, and her hair a mess. Clay had stuck to the heels of her boots. She tried to remove it by rubbing them together, but it only smeared. She yanked the door open, slumped into the seat, and slammed the door. What could she do? Sarah rested her head and arms on the steering wheel, and her energy drained away. Where was Prince Charming when she needed him? Sarah drifted into misery.

 

The wheel thumped onto the tray, she heard the sound, but it didn’t register.

‘Hello Miss.’ it was a male voice. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Not really, I’ve got a bit of car trouble.' She said, turning to see where it was coming from.

‘Yeah, I can see that. I was working the tractor at the other end of the field, when I saw you stopped here. I thought you couldn’t have had a phone when you out in the rain. Name’s Matt by the way.’

‘My first day at work, but it’s gone now.’ She said. ‘Sorry, hello Matt, I’m Sarah.’

‘Do you want to call them?’ He held out his phone.

‘No thanks, it’s gone. All I had to do was get there on time.’

‘I’ve given my mate Robbo a call, one of his blokes will come out and get this lot off the road.’ He pointed to the buildings about a mile away. ‘My wife and I live in the house over there, I’ve just called her. She said you should come up and dry off in the kitchen. Maybe you can call someone, or if you want to wait until she does the school run, Ally can drive to wherever you want to go.’

‘Thanks’. Sarah said. Prince Charming he might be, but not hers. He had a wife and kids too, but she was glad for his offer.

The farmhouse was warm and homey. With the introductions over Matt kissed Ally and went back to the tractor.

‘Here’s a couple of towels. Bathroom’s the third door on your right. If you pass me your jacket, I’ll give it a brush and hang over the chair by the fire.’

‘Thanks. I thought I’d be stuck there for hours, either that or I’d have to try and walk back to town.’

‘Not easy in those heels.’

‘No, and I don’t know how I’m going to tell Jo about her suit, I borrowed this outfit for the job.’

‘Go and get yourself cleaned up and I’ll put some coffee on. Anyway, what type of job was it?’ Ally asked.

‘Oh, bookkeeper in Richmond, but it’s history now.’

 

Sarah looked at the woman in the mirror and wondered if she’d ever see her smile again. The warm water felt good, and she held her hands in the bowl soaking up the heat. The bathroom was bright and airy. Toys littered the shelf around the bath and the home had a welcoming feel. She could sense that Matt and Ally had made the place special, and she envied their position.

Sarah combed her hair with her fingers and did her best to tidy it. ‘It’ll have to do.’ She smoothed her skirt, and followed the aroma of coffee and warm scones back to the kitchen.

‘You look better.’ Ally smiled and motioned for Sarah to sit at the bench. ‘Do you mind? I have to get this stew on for dinner. Not very adventurous cooking, but it’s what Matt likes, and the kids will eat it too.’

‘You’re very kind, thanks.’ Steam rose from the cups on the counter. Sarah looked over the rim of her coffee to the coloured heaps of chopped vegetables. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked for more than one.

‘Not at all, I’m glad of the company. With all the jobs around the farm, I find it hard to get out, other than seeing some of the parents at school. Oh, and I see our friends at football on the weekends. But some girl company during the week is good.’

A friendship seeded, and the day disappeared. At 2.30 they were in Ally’s four wheel drive and heading into town to pick up the children from school.

‘What are you going to do now? Ally asked.

‘I don’t know, this job was it, and now it’s gone. I’ll go back into the grinder again I guess and try to find something again.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know.’ Sarah said. ‘You know I used to be so confident, I ran the office in my family’s crash repairs where I worked until we got married. We moved here and everything went wrong. I thought I was marrying the man of my dreams. I never expected it to be a nightmare. This is probably for the best, I don’t think I could work inside a glass box in the city anyway.’

 

Ally said nothing more about the job. Too soon they were in the Industrial area and parked in front of Robbo’s workshop.

‘I’ll go in and get him. His place is full of girly calendars and blokes with one track minds. You don’t have to put up with anymore of that kind of grief today?’

An age passed as she sat there, and occasionally she noticed a heavy thumb and forefinger prise the venetian blinds apart. It unsettled her, and Sarah knew they had to be talking about her, about how hopeless she was.

Ally and a man in his thirties emerged from the darkness. His hands slapped at the dust on the front of his jeans, and his tee shirt showed that he worked out. It was strange, but he was the only bloke who worked in a panel shop she’d ever seen with polished work boots. His neatly cropped hair was dark, and she thought he looked a bit like Hugh Jackman in the face. He was unlike any of the panel beaters she’d ever met before, and Sarah slid out of her seat to meet him.

‘Hello I’m Robbo, Ally’s brother.’ He said extending his right hand, she took it. His grip was firm and warm, and yet his touch was gentle. ‘I can’t do much with your car today, in fact it’s probably better off going to the wreckers, for what you’d spend on fixing it.’

‘That good eh?’

‘Sorry.’ He screwed his face up, and then smiled. ‘Ally tells me you’re a bookkeeper.’

Sarah liked the way his nose wrinkled at the bridge when he grinned. ‘Yeah, but what’s that got to do with fixing my car? Are you offering me a job?’

‘Maybe, I’m up to my ears in it. Bookkeeping I mean, and I’ve been looking for someone to manage it for a while now. I just haven’t advertised. Anyway, could you be tempted?

Sarah twisted a length of hair around her fingers and smiled. ‘When can I start?’

‘I’m about to go home, I can drop you off now and pick you up at seven thirty tomorrow morning. Do we have a deal?’

Sarah put her hand out, he took it. ‘Deal.’

Thursday 25 July 2013

How writing groups can help to improve your writing.

Yesterday I was welcomed back to my local writing group and it was good to get back among a group of friends with like minded goals. Wordsmiths of Melton is a critiquing group, and each member is given the opportunity to put forward a short story, poem, or a chapter from a longer work for comment and advice.
 
It was great to see how their novels had developed while I was away. I was pleased to be able to catch up with the adventures of the settlers in Les's novel: Redemption. this is science fantasy about Earth's colonisation of  the planet Arena. Caitlin has progressed well with her novel: The Adventures of Incredible Man. Her writing takes me back to the numerous comics I had as a kid. Back then I loved reading about Superman and the many other heroes that spawned in the pre television era.

Writing groups are usually small, about six to ten participants and everyone is at different stages of writing and have various skill strengths. That variation propels us forward.
 
To demonstrate how our group works, I thought that I would post the first draft of the story I put up for critique this week. Bearing in mind this was the very first hastily written draft I threw it into the mix to attract as many comments as I could.

Over the next few weeks you will be able to watch the story develop as I will re-draft the piece. Guided by my colleagues comments I hope to demonstrate how their critiques have helped to improve the piece:
 
Here is the first rough draft of the story I offered for critique.


Work boots and feral utes                


The wheel wrenched in her hands and Sarah felt the front of the Falcon dip. Metal screeched against the road and she caught a glimpse of the front wheel spearing off into the grass. A battle for control began as Jake’s old work ute slewed onto the verge. A tap of the brakes and then a desperate pump of the pedal did nothing it went to the floor. The handbrake didn’t work but she tugged on it anyway, nothing. Jake had tormented her from the time they married and finally today hope of a new start without him, and yet it seemed he controlled her again. Would she never be free?

A new beginning, all she had to do was get to the interview on time. Well that’s what the lady on reception said anyway. It wasn’t her first choice to drive to the other side of the city to work but other job applications had failed. Now with a rusted bombed out old ute collapsed on the side of the road she had missed this opportunity as well. Did he have to take everything? Her car, her phone, her money, her dignity. She couldn’t ask her parents, they told her he was no good when she ran off with him three years ago.

Cars swept past, no one stopping to help. A carload of louts jeered as they flew past at speed. She was late and without a phone she had no method of letting them know she’d broken down. The highway roared with traffic and as trucks flashed by their wind nearly blew her over. Waving them down had no effect and now it started to rain. Sarah would sit in the car and wait it out before trying to hail someone down again.

The drizzle subsided and she tried again. Two B-double semi trailers buzzed past, nose to tail their wheels whipping slush into a fine mist, drenching her. Catching a glimpse of her image in the window Sarah broke down. Her lovely suit looked ruined, shoes covered in mud and her hair a mess. She yanked the door open breaking a nail and slumped into the seat, slamming the door in anger. What could she do? She rested her head and arms on the steering wheel, her energy drained away.

‘Hello Miss.’ a male voice said. ‘Are you okay?’

Sarah had drifted off. Turning to see where the voice was coming from she noticed his eyes. ‘Not really, I’ve got a bit of car trouble.’

‘Yeah, I can see that.’ The wheel landed with a thump on the ute’s tray. ‘I was working the other end of the paddock when I saw you parked here. I reckoned you couldn’t have a phone when you were out in the rain. Name’s Matt by the way.’

‘My first day at work, but I reckon that’s gone now.’ She said. ‘Sorry, hello Matt, I’m Sarah.’

‘Look I’ve given my mate Robbo a call and one of his blokes will come out in the truck and get this off the road. Ally, my wife and I live in the house over there. Come on, I called her on the CB and she said you should come up and dry off in the kitchen. Then she’ll drive you to where you want to go when she does the school run.’

Bummer, a wife and kids too, the thought rumbled around in Sarah’s mind, but she was glad of his offer. ‘Thanks’. She said.

‘What type of job were you going to?’ Ally asked as they drove to the workshop where the ute was waiting.

‘Oh a only bookkeeping job in Richmond, but it will be well gone by now.’

Ally didn’t say anything more about the job, and they nattered about nothing and everything as the car wound through the Industrial area to where the workshop was.

‘I’ll go in and bring him out. His place is full of leery calendars and blokes with one track minds, and I reckon you could do without any more of that today?’

It seemed like an age then from the darkness Sarah saw Ally walk out accompanied by a man in his thirties, jeans, white muscle tee shirt and steel capped boots. His hair neatly cropped and a bit like Hugh Jackman in the face she thought. Nothing like any of the mechanics she’d met before.

‘I’m Robbo Ally’s brother, I can’t do much with your car today, in fact it’s probably better off going to the wreckers for what you’d spend on fixing it.’

‘That good eh?’

‘Sorry, Ally tells me you’ve missed your first day at work and you’re a book keeper.’

‘Yeah but I don’t understand.’

‘You could help me out. I’m up to my ears in it. Bookkeeping I mean, and I’ve been looking for someone to keep it up for a while now. I just haven’t advertised. Anyway, would you be interested?
Robbo waited on her answer.

Wordsmith's general comments:

Things to work on:
  • Improve the grammar with sentence structure
  • Title is great but requires capitals
  • Was she going for an interview or a job? Requires an explanation in the writing.
  • What was it she couldn't ask her parents for?
  • The CB why wouldn't he use a phone?
  • Ally needs to be somewhere, the reader can get confused here.
  • It would be unlikely for some one in this situation to 'drop off' , suggest a rework of the sentence.
  • Sarah says 'Yeah but I don't understand?' what is it she doesn't understand. needs expanding.
  • How does she now they are steel capped boots.
  • The ending is unresolved.
Things that worked:
  • Realistic dialogue, I liked it a lot
  • This has all of the elemnts of a romance except there is not enough of it.
  • Overall I liked the story, I think you are a bit of a romantic at heart.
  • I really enjoyed the fell of the story, the pain,despair hopelessness, making wrong life choices. The way it kicks you when you're down, then gives you a second chance.
  • I liked the concept of the story, the thought f everything going wrong and then hope revealing itself. The opening paragraph got me in.
  • You could feel her frustration in the opening, being controlled and hemmed in. The characters portrayed good country people who are friendly and helpful so they came across as real. The story moved welladding variety to each setting and person.
  • Great opening paragraph. You introduce character and internal conflict against a background of external conflict. Lots of great verbs and a real sense of actiongoing on here.
Overall our members liked the context of the story but felt it required some fleshing out in some areas and more clarification in others.
During the next couple of weeks I will rewrite the piece and put it before the group again to see how they view it a second time. I will keep you posted with the developments.



Friday 19 July 2013

Toby Farrier helps Harry Potter celebrate his birthday

A new initiative by Caitlin Henderson of the Wordsmiths of Melton is campaigning to hold a write-in at the new Melton Library on Wednesday 31st of July.  As this coincides with Harry Potter's birthday it should encourage all aspiring novelists and story tellers to attend. Caitlin has posted the event on Facebook and the numbers of interested writers are growing.

These sessions will be open to everyone and are not part of the formalised Wordsmith meetings, more a coming together of like minded people to share a space to let their creative energies flow. At present we are planning to meet at the library at 9.00 am laptops in hand and write solidly through until 5.00 pm. It is important you bring everything you will need for the day. Breaks will be scheduled for morning tea and lunch.

It is hoped this will create a motivational atmosphere and everyone is encouraged to discuss and share the things that are troubling them about their writing. (Ending everyone's writing block.)

This may be the push I need to finish the re-writes of Toby Farrier.

We anticipate that everyone who participants should derive a sense of fellowship and achievement by the end of the day.

Heres the link to the event: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/events/1397559150460544/1397644353785357/?notif_t=plan_mall_activity
 

Wednesday 17 July 2013

The knife, the ear, and the bar


The barman’s finger traced invisible circles around Thursday’s date printed on the front of today’s paper. He stared at the back of the tourist studying the notice board. A man of average height, in his mid to late sixties, he walked with limp and a ragged scar ran down his cheek. Sam had seen many tourists in his bar, but this one had an air of mystery about him and it gave Sam the shivers.

‘What’s with the ear?’ the drawl sounded American but Sam couldn’t be sure.

‘It’s from one of Joe Gillespie’s heifers, somebody shot and clay-panned it out near Pauper’s Corner about six months ago.’

‘Where?’ the stranger asked, tapping the section map.

Sam left the bar and stood in front of the yellowing chart, he swept his hand along the Hammond road. ‘This is all Joe’s country here.’ He studied the roads for a while and jabbed his finger at the intersection of two tracks. ‘And this is Pauper’s Corner.’

‘Clay-panned eh?’ The tourist said taking a long look at the map. He drained his glass, and paid Sam for cigarettes. He turned on his heel, led his shadow into the street, and disappeared into the early afternoon.

Sam, on his own again leaned on his elbow and flipped the paper over to the sports pages, but his mind was elsewhere. He gazed at the pocketknife pinning the cow’s ear to the frame of the notice board and his mind drifted to the night months ago when Joe stabbed it there.

It was about six o’clock on a Friday, he remembered because it was happy hour and all of the regulars had made it in for their free drinks. The place was full, old Wally’s shearing team had been in since three and were becoming rowdy.

He’d just put a schooner in front of Spider when he heard a bull bar crash into the high kerb in front of the Hotel. Through the open door, he saw the driver’s door flick open. Joe Gillespie he was out of his seat before the Toyota stopped shuddering. His face glowed red with anger, the eyes wide and piercing. It only took Joe two steps to lunge from the four-wheel drive and breast the bar.

Holding the heifer’s lifeless head by the ear, he slapped it onto the bar in front of Sam. Gunk splattered those closest and the bar hushed with amazement, Joe had their attention.

‘This is the third cow I’ve lost in twelve months and someone in here probably knows the thieving pricks who’ve been taking them. Well get the message out people, I have had a gut full and if anybody takes another one it will be their head I put on the bar.’

He drew a pocketknife from the pouch on his belt and sliced off the ear. The identity tag stayed with it. Showing the room, he said. ‘This is a reminder to your mates to leave my stock alone.’

He held the ear against the white frame and slammed the blade through the ear splitting soft timber. Joe studied the crowd, holding eye contact with everyone in the room when a lone voice broke the silence.

‘Ease up Grandad. It’s just a bloody cow for Christ sakes.’ The ginger headed young roustabout giggled. A gutful booze to fuelled his courage.

Joe’s grabbed him by the throat, his right hand lifting the smartarse from his stool. Joe dropped him backside first on top of the wet bar. The crowd had stepped further away when Joe pressed his nose on that of the offender and whispered. ‘But you see fella, this was no ordinary cow...It was my cow.’

Sam smiled at the theatre of his memory and returned to the paper.