Broken Dreams Read Online Free

broke, he lowered my bail right down to two lousy bucks, and finally offered to pay my way out of jail himself. He was pretty disgusted when I told him to keep his money and lock me up again—to tell the truth, I couldn’t face the long cold walk back home. The Sarge just toed me up the arse and sent me on my way.
    In the next few weeks, I rode a young horse around town to quieten it down for its owner and get it used to traffic. For this simple job I was given another horse for myself, a little brown gelding I named “Four X”.
    A month or so passed without incident. Until twelve o’clock one night, when Bodge Burns, Adrian Finlay and myself were sitting outside the cafe, drinking stubbies. I got up to go around to the back of the cafe to have a leak. When I came back, I was just in time to see the two of them getting into a white car.
    â€œWait for me, you pair of bastards!” I sang out to my mates. And that was when I heard a familiar voice call out: “Grab that other bugger, too.” Too late I realised that I should have stayed at the back of the cafe—and the next moment I came face to face with the police sergeant. I decided to take off, and was lucky that I could run a bit. I streaked off down a dark alley. Bodge and Adrian were driven home in the police car.
    A few weeks later, my horse Four X saved me from being locked up. I was riding my horse home from the pub, blind drunk, when I heard the police car come up behind me and stop. A policeman grabbed me off my horse and put me in the car. Since I had only one block to go before I got home, the other policeman said he would lead the horse home. But Four X was tired and didn’t lead well at the best of times. I used Four X as a kids’ pony, so he was also a bit spoilt. Now he found a sweet patch of grass, and that was where he decided to stay. He was bailing up the long arm of the law, refusing to move. Thesecond policeman let me out of the car and legged me back on my horse, and Four X and I were escorted home together.
    At sixteen, I guess you could say I was very immature. I thought everything I did was always right, and could see no wrong in my wild ways. I enjoyed a drink and a fight. I refused to listen to anyone to take a single piece of advice. I had another trip to jail and seemed to be staring at a spell in Boggo Road when I got older. One of the Mitchell policemen, Mort Faddy, told me that if I didn’t shout him a beer when I turned eighteen, in return for all the trouble I’d caused him already, he’d lock me up for sure. We shook hands on it—he wasn’t a bad bloke.
    This was the time when my Uncle John, usually known as JD, came into my life. I took a liking to him the first time I saw him, and willingly agreed to go out into the bush to give him a hand with some young horses. I was glad to have the chance to get out out of town for a while, for I’d certainly got myself into a fair bit of strife in a very short time.
    So my uncle and I split the scene for a while. He took me to a place called the Womals, a few hours by car from Mitchell. We collected a mob of unbroken horses from some stations close to the Womals, and transported them to our camp. In the following weeks I was in for a shock or two. I came out to the Womals as a cocky sixteen-year-old, thinking I would be able to ride most of the horses for sure. A week later I was walking around wondering if I could ride any horse at all. Some of those horses at the Womals taught me a few lessons I’ve never forgotten. JD had educated a few other cocky kids. He knew I wasn’t a bad kid if I was treated right, so he’d decided to take me under his wing as his offsider. I sure had a lot to learn, but he was willing to give me a chance.
    The first day we ran the mob of unbroken horses into the yard we’d rigged up and threw a rope over the headof a big chestnut gelding. After two days, the big gelding had been handled and