DAZE OF OUR LIVES

By

Bruce M. Roberts

&

Paul W. Mathews

Copyright 2016 Bruce M. Roberts & Paul W. Mathews

Published in Australia in 2016 by Warrior Publishers at Smashwords

Trantran83@hotmail.com

Copyright © 2016 by Paul Mathews and Bruce Roberts

ISBN 9781311726292

The moral right of the author/s has been asserted.

This work is fiction. All characters, events and places in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, have been altered and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to any place, event or thing is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher or author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

FICTION

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

The Prodigal Son

Chapter Two

The Big Win

Chapter Three

Death Comes Close

Chapter Four

Kidnapped !

Chapter Five

Ben Goes Abroad

Chapter Six

The Winning Streak

Chapter Seven

Damsels in Distress

Glossary of Terms

About Bruce Roberts

Other books by Bruce Roberts

About Paul Mathews

Other books by Paul Mathews

About Warrior Publishers

Why Warrior ?

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank Rose Ann Rivera in the Philippines for painstakingly retyping the PDF version of this book into a Word document.

Chapter One

THE PRODIGAL SON

It was a beautiful summer’s morning. A blanket of dew lay over the grass as Ben rolled to a halt in his FJ Holden.

The sun was just showing its head over the Pacific, and the world was slowly coming awake. A rooster could be heard at Casen’s farm, and the aroma of fresh tea wafted from the kitchen of the house. Ben climbed out of the car and surveyed the home he had returned to after a trip of several thousand miles. He took a deep breath of the eucalyptus-laden air and smiled to himself.

Standing five-foot-six, with green eyes and long brown hair, Ben Coady was an average sort of fellow. Dressed in a pair of ragged blue jeans, an orange T-shirt and a pair of thongs, he was the perfect picture of Youth. Even though he was twenty seven years old, Ben still liked to think of himself as a teenager.

He trotted to the front door of the house and stepped inside. Walking through to the kitchen he saw the bustling figure of his mother at the stove: she was concentrating on whipping a dish of pancake mixture, with her back to the door.

G’ day there, mum, owyagoin’ ? he greeted, crossing to a chair and seating himself.

Ben ! his mother cried, as she dropped the pancake pastry and rushed across to drag him out of the chair and hug him tightly. Where have you been all this time, my little lost son? she asked anxiously.

After being released from his mother’s grip, Ben sat on the table to get his breath; then he went on to tell her: Remember last year when I said I was going to hitch a ride into Forster ? His mother nodded and he continued: Well, I got a lift after waiting half an hour and the guy said he was going to Darwin, so off I went.

You’ve been in Darwin all this time ? she asked him.

No, not really. After a week I, ah, or, gee, I don’t know how to admit this, mum, but I got a job on a cattle station for two months, he mumbled.

Oh, my poor precious son, having to work for his money, she moaned.

Yes, but after doing eight years in prison I was able to handle the jeers and ridicule I got, Ben told her. From McArthur River I moved across to the Brooms, where I got a, ugh, a job, on a pearling lugger.

Really ? Did you find any nice pearls ? his mum asked.

No, I didn’t. But my boss did come across a lovely pearl the size of a teaspoon. He brought it out to show me one day.

Wasn’t that nice of him. And what happened to it ? she asked him.

Well, I leaned overboard to wash it, when the boat suddenly lurched and I dropped it into the ocean, he replied. The boss said I was a very naughty boy and I couldn’t work for him anymore.

Dear oh dear. Look, I have to clean up this mess, his mum said, pointing at the pancake mixture, so what if you tell us the rest of your story over breakfast ?

That’s cool. I’ll go and check on my vegetable patch, then have a wash, he replied. By the way, are Keith and Jenny up yet ?

No, not yet, I’ll wake them in a minute, she answered.

Ben headed toward to his marijuana patch at the back of the house. Seeing that the plants were fully grown he ripped one out and laid it in the sun to dry for future use. Then he sat down amidst the patch, running his hands through the leaves and ogling at the dope. He lit up an Alpine and sat smoking till his mother called him twenty minutes later. He cruised inside and went to the bathroom where he found his brother shaving.

Greetings little bro ! And where the hell have you been? It seems like a pretty long Saturday night for you, Keith enquired.

Oh, I’ve been here and there. Mainly there, Ben told him.

I see, I thought it must have been a flaming good movie, stated Keith.

"You could say that. What’s for brekkie ?

The usual: pancakes and tea. Keith grabbed Ben’s arm and steered him to his bedroom. Thought you’d like an early morning drink, he said, pulling a bottle of Port from under the bed.

Where’d you score that? Ben wanted to know.

Knocked it off the old man last night. He’ll never miss it.

Is he still hitting the piss bad like he was? asked Ben.

Passing the bottle to him, Keith said: He’s hitting the brown Muscat now. He stole this Port from the club last night.

Ben took a deep swig, belched, and said. This bottle sure is getting ‘round.

C’mon, we’d better have a bite while we got the chance. Keith gulped half the bottle and they strolled out to the kitchen where breakfast was on the table. They found mum and their sister already eating.

Well, said Jenny, the prodigal son returns home after a night on the town.

I’ll tell you all about it in a minute, said Ben as he retrieved two meals from the oven. He gave one to Keith, then he sat down. Keith grabbed his and started eating, while Ben only picked at his.

What’s the matter, ain’t you hungry ? asked his mother.

Yeah, It’s just that I’m worried about dad, said Ben.

I wouldn’t waste the brain-power on him, gurgled Jenny through a mouthful of tea.

It’s just that I’m worried he might come out and drink all the tea on us, Ben replied.

Then you’ve got no worries big brother, dad wouldn’t even know what a pot of tea looks like.

Ben shook his head sadly and thought about the strange family he had. His mother was a kindly grey-haired old soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly. She would go out of her way to help her family. Keith was a strange nut to crack. He was twenty-nine, and had plenty of free time to get even blonde hair at the beach. He liked to smoke a bit of dope and only lived for the perfect wave and many peaceful things.

But Jenny was different. Instead of playing with dolls she played with guns. She was an Athletics champion, and at fourteen was the most active girl in the Great Lakes Shire.

Then of course there was old Dad. His entire life was devoted to finding that Golden Flagon at the end of the rainbow. He seemed to be pissed twice a week: four days for the first time, and three days for the next.

‘This is my family,’ thought Ben imperturbably. ‘Well, it takes all kinds.’

Where is dad anyway ? he asked.

He’s still in bed nursing a hangover and a flagon, supplied Mum.

Oh. This tea isn’t bad. What brand is it? he then wanted to know.

I’m not quite sure. I found some tea plants growing at the back of the house. It makes a nice cuppa, his mother replied.

I’m sure it does. I can taste that full tea flavor, all forty-three seeds of it, said Ben, aiming a smirk at Keith.

Tell us more about your travels, begged Mum.

Well, after I left Broome, I coasted down to Perth, where the job-shop gave me some work at a place called Hayden. I was driving the Combine one day, planting wheat seeds, when they ran out. I still had twelve acres to plant so I went to the boss. He told me to grab a few more bags and finish the sowing. So, to make a long story short, I found out that night I’d grabbed barley instead of wheat. Now the boss has plenty of barley-corn growing where there should be weaties. He paused here to light a smoke, then continued: "He asked me to leave, so I did. After Hayden I hoofed it to Adelaide where I got another you-know-what. This time I was driving truck-loads of chooks for a processing firm. All was going well till one day