Tiger Williams follow on Part 2.

I am very happy about the acceptance of my first attempt in the big bad world of publishing.  The figure for the US market reaching 138 for August is most encouraging.

I am editing the follow on now, but do not have an exact date of when it will reach Amazon.

I hope that the theme of the folow on, with many of the same characters, and a number of new ones, is as well accepted as the first.

“G'Day, I'm Rick Little, I have asked around, and was told that Rosemore was a good place to work.”

“G'Day, Rick, you don't remember me do you?” The tallish healthy looking bloke asked.

“You look familiar...But...”

“Steve Williams...droving together...seems a long time ago.”

“Yeah, now I remember, Steve, how' ya' going, Steve, mate?” Rick took the liberty of calling him mate. “You were heading for Isis Downs for work, last time I spoke to you, right?”

“Yeah! I was there for a while, and now I am here. Things are pretty good...been a lot of water under the bridge since those days, hey Rick?”

“You're not kidding...So, what do you reckon, any work on this place?”

“I reckon we could use another good stockman, and if you have improved from the droving days you would be a right bloke to have.” Steve said.

“Are you the boss here, Steve?”

“One of three, Rick, but you will see how it works in a short time.”

Rosemore was in the throws of weeding out a couple of the long timers that had taken to treat the place like a holiday camp. Steve and Alan, Alan Baker the big bosses son, had talked about this little problem for some time now.

There was no thought of sacking all these old fellas as a couple had put in many good years, in drought, flood, brushfires and good times. So, now that a handy stockman, young and fit was available, the old blokes could be given duties around the homestead, if that is what they wanted, or they could move on, the options were open.

“You can settle in over night, and go out with Alan and me tomorrow to muster the back paddock for drenching. Worms have been bad this year, what with the rain and the good growth.” Steve spoke like the true station owner, or at least manager.

“Thank's Steve, I reckon I'll fit in,” and then, “Bye the way you used to own Freda, didn't you?”

“Yeah, good old Freda, gone three years now. I have one of her pups, bright dog, clever with the sheep, just like her mum...I'll tell you what, come over to the house,” and Steve pointed to the home of he and his darling Lindy, “Meet the missus and the young bloke and have a feed and a bit of a chat, if you want to.”

Yeah, thanks, that will be great.”

Rick Little settles into the Rosemore Clan.