pub conversations at fitzroy crossing

Rodney, an Aboriginal cattle ringer, proudly told me about his son’s bull-riding.

“He’ll be big in the rodeo one day.

He’ll earn good money. Maybe help me out.”

Rodney then rubs the memory of his hands. His fingers are bent and gnarled, and there are irregular bony lumps in palm. I ask him how he worked on the land with hands that had been repeatedly fractured.

“Just had to do it.

Wish I could get some money because I can’t work that well now.”

We chatted about the importance of family, then he shook my hand weakly as we parted.