Embark

By Jocelyn Price

"Embark" is a game little mare who becomes a champion bush racehorse and saves her owner from bankruptcy in the big drought. However her owner is not at all grateful and when Embark ages he treats her badly. This is the story of how a penniless bush battler saves the courageous horse and she repays him with loyalty and a great win.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jocelyn Price
• Release date: Jun 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301759187

Jocelyn Price

CONFESSIONS OF A 76 YEAR OLD GRANDMA!I am Jocelyn, a 76 year old grandmother who lives in outback Queensland. All my life I have lived outside my comfort zone in order to find out all about life and its meaning. Sometimes I have succeeded and sometimes I have not, but every time I have failed in what I have done, I know that I have learned from my mistakes and this has made me a better and more compassionate person. I used to live by the rules, “would have,” “should have” or “could have”, but I’ve given that away and I now dive into Life headfirst! (And I’m loving every minute of it!)I have had many occupations including court typist, Legal Secretary, Disability Carer, English Teacher, cleaner and dishwasher. I have tried many things in my life such as learning Languages. I started learning Languages because my ex-husband told me and everybody else that I was thick as two planks and unable to learn anything! So I set out to prove him wrong! And it worked! And somewhere along the line I developed this great love of learning and I’m still doing it!The other day just for fun I thought about all the things I had started in my life. I want to complete them but imagine my horror when I added it all up and it came to 792 years!!! (How many lifetimes is that?) It scares the shit out of me!So here is my list ..Finish my degree in Modern Languages(French, German, Italian)Finish my study in music – piano, viola, keyboards, Irish FluteBe a full time animal carer. (I would give up everything for this)Teach English to persons of other cultures. (I loved my time in Shanghai)Read all my favourite books over and over again.Do a lot of charity work particularly getting different cultures to mix.Get my black belt in Akido.Work on my spiritual side as I would really love to talk to angels, animals and fairies.Write and publish my book (last one) on religions.Take part in more protest marches for things like women’s rights, animals and the environment. But I don’t really want to be arrested any more. It’s been 7 times already and I guess that’s enough.Keep watching “Bold and the Beautiful” until it ends (and I hope it never ends!)Learn to be spiritual instead of a scatterbrain.I really would like to do a course on the real aboriginal culture.And of course wear “hippie” clothes for the rest of my life.*************************************************************After a lifetime of experiences in various parts of Australia, New Guinea, Afghanistan, Russia, Germany, Pacific Islands, and China, Jocelyn Price now lives in a small town in the outback of Australia.At 75 years of age she was determined to try her hand at writing, but first she had to learn to use a computer – a challenge that ranked right up there with another challenge she had met previously -- coping with a sandstorm in Egypt!Jocelyn writes across varied genres - stories for children, romantic stories set in outback Australia, and non fiction dealing with mental health issues.Jocelyn's books are available in print from www.ebooksoutback.com.au or by emailing her at [e-mail]

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EMBARK

by Jocelyn Price

(from a story by Colin Wurth)

Published by Kylie Reynolds at Smashwords

Copyright 2013

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EMBARK

With a ferocity known only in the Australian Outback, the western sun streamed through the windows of the small hotel. The atmosphere of the bar was quiet, apart from a group of drinkers at one end. They were good natured and friendly towards each other as they happily drank their beers. Apart from them, only two other occupants were sitting in solitary positions opposite each other over the bar.

One of the men looked upon the group with a detached good humour. The other glanced at them occasionally with a serious nature. His gaze then returned to the long, wide and deserted street of the small town baking in the summer heat.

A large man in the group, with his loud booming voice seemed to dominate the others. He shouted out, And I said to this bloke ‘I only paid you a bob a head to shear my sheep last year, because it was a bloody good year. Now this year’s not so good and I’m only going to pay you 10 pence. And that’s final!’ He took a long draught from his glass of beer, and in a self-satisfied voice continued, Then I said, ‘I got another crew coming this afternoon and they’re willing to take my terms. So make up your mind quick, because I want your decision in 10 minutes. If /it’s not on my terms get on yer bikes and be off!’ Then I turned my back on ‘em, and lo and behold! I’d only made it half way back to the house and I hear a voice ‘OK boss, where can we toss our gear?’

The group dissolved in appreciative laughter and the big man looked triumphant. He went on confidently, Bastards didn’t have any options. The thought of a 30 mile walk to town didn’t rest easily with ‘em. He lifted his glass and called out, Another round here, will you, Gracie! The group at the bar all seemed to agree with the speaker. There was one exception; the man sitting on the stool at the end of the bar. His eyes were fixed on some distant point.

Macca McDermott was a man of about 40, with a long weather-beaten face, which was tanned by a life spent in the sun. His piercing blue eyes portrayed his German ancestry, and his lean, muscled frame told of his years of toil in the hard country he called home. For a couple more minutes he listened wearily to the noise of the conversation around him. Stiffly, he rose to his feet and made his way through the swinging door, closest to where his horse was tied up.

The big loud man watched him with slyness. He turned to Macca, with a tone of authority and a hint of malice and said, Leaving us, Macca?

Macca nodded with polite grace. The big man continued, I’ll be passing you shortly then. His tone dripped with superiority and sarcasm.

Macca looked at him calmly with a knowing grin. Whatever ya say, Len. He pushed through the swinging doors, untied his horse and swung easily into the saddle. His horse plied its way through the unchanging landscape of stunted gidgee trees. The last rays of the sun were throwing their long shadows. The air was cooling ever so slightly. Macca’s thoughts were of Len Craven, his next door neighbour. He was the large, noisy man in the bar he had just left. Macca had never liked the man since they became neighbours nearly 10 years ago. His property consisted of large sprawling rich square miles of land. On the other hand, Macca had his struggling acres. What a contrast between them! Their beliefs and values became a widening gap as the years rolled on. Their enmity towards each other was evident, but not violent. More often than not, it took the form of sly digs and innuendos by Len. On the other hand, Macca was not a vindictive man at all.

A mob of wild horses bolted momentarily in front of him. This caused Macca to focus again on Len, and the old mare he had in his home paddock. He had treated this animal with the same care as his other animals. If Len’s animals were of no further value, his concern dropped to zero. He could still hear Len’s voice saying about the horse, She won’t foal. She’s barren. I’ll have to feed her to the dogs shortly. Only gets me stallions merry when she comes in season! These words horrified Macca who was a lover of all animals, especially this one. The mare he talked about was Len Craven’s saviour in the big drought 6 years previously. The country then was gripped by one of the worst droughts ever on record. All around the stock were dying in their thousands, and those that weren’t, were too sick to travel. It was 2 years of utter despair and a lot of graziers walked off their properties. Some even took more drastic action with their animals by shooting them.

But Len Craven had a racing mare called, Embark and when the drought began to hit hard, she began to win. Firstly, she won at small country race meetings. As the drought intensified, so did the will of the little mare, Embark. She began to win races in the larger centres and the welcome cheques grew bigger and bigger. Before too long she was given to a top city trainer. She continued winning . This provided a buffer for the big, loud-mouthed man against the drought. The money from the horse’s winnings enabled him to sink more bores on his property for the precious underground water as well as buying lifesaving feed for his animals. In fact Embark was keeping his farm and hopes alive. She now raced only in the country’s top races. Still the iron willed little mare won, to the great relief of all the community, but no more than the boastful loud big Len Craven. I could see the potential the first time I saw her, he was often heard to say.

Macca’s thoughts took a sardonic twist. He had sold the mare unwillingly to Len Craven. Macca only had a small property and he had been hit hardest by the drought. Without any cash he had been forced into the deal just to survive. He could have kicked himself now! He remembered his words to Len just as if it were yesterday. She’ll win a few races for you if she’s handled right.

Although Len was boastful and self-opinionated, he knew of Macca’s wisdom and skill with horses. He was also not averse to turn Macca’s advice to his own advantage. The mare was now winning him a sizeable income at a period when his neighbours could neither afford their properties, nor had the will to continue. So the mare Embark was now not only keeping him afloat, but allowing him to profit at others’ misfortunes.

Finally Embark was entered for one of the country’s biggest races. The big, loud man, his family and friends ventured to the far off southern states in style. They heard the familiar words of the course broadcaster announce, And it’s ‘Embark’ flying down the track! She’s streaking ahead! And ‘Embark’ wins!

That night far away from the parties and glitter of the winners, in the north, the dark, heavy clouds kept their promise and it rained for 2 solid weeks. The parched countryside embraced its moist relief. It was green as far as the eye could see.

The miles passed quickly for Macca with his thoughts of the recent past. Now he could see from a slight rise in the land, his small home surrounded by lush, green fruit trees, with the ever present lazy plumes of smoke rising from the never ending expanse of the unchanging country. He paused for a moment. Both he and his horse surveyed the familiar surroundings. He gently urged his horse forward. Both horse and man realised that the long ride was nearly over, and that food and rest were near. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the fruit trees that shaded the long verandah. Macca sat down and drank slowly from a jug of his favourite drink - a mixture of fruit juices. His wife watched him in silence and waited for him to recover a little from his trip.

She was a woman in her mid thirties, built strongly, tall and with an upright carriage. Her face was a mixture of kindness and strength of spirit. This strength of spirit shone through her dark eyes and made them glow intensely.

The silence was peaceful between husband and wife. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves, and the lasts cries of a flock of galahs somewhere in the distance, welcoming the cool of the night. The scene was suddenly broken by the excited words of a young boy. Hey, Dad! Look at these little beauties I got for ya tea! He appeared