PATCHES IN STORY FORM

     That day we all busied ourselves milking cows, driving tractors, cleaning the place up and whatever jobs one generally does around a farm.
     In the afternoon Defoe said to us boys,
"Can any of you lot ride a horse?"
     A couple of the boys raised their hands.
     Defoe said to them,
"Go and catch old Patches over there and saddle him up. You can all take turns riding him, it'll give ya a bit of experience in case ya need it some time."

     Patches was a strong-looking black and white Gelding. one of the boys threw a saddle across him and was trying to do up the cinch.
"Not like that, ya pommy bastard! Go back in the barn and get me a saddle blanket."
     As soon as the boy returned, Defoe placed the saddle blanket over old Patches back. Then he threw the Aussie Stock Saddle on top of the blanket as he said,
"Don't forget to pull the far-side stirrup iron over the saddle cause if ya don't, when ya throw the saddle over him, the stirrup iron will hit him under the guts and that'll spook him and make him kick. This old horse has seen more Pommy bastards than any other horse alive in Australia today. He's not particularly fond of 'em, so watch him cause he's not afraid of kickin' and he doesn't mind biting a piece of Pommy arse now and again."
     Once the saddle was in place, Defoe pulled the cinch up tight.
"Once you've got the cinch up tight, walk him around a bit cause he's a cunning bastard. He'll puff his belly out to make ya believe the cinch is tight and when ya go to mount him, he'll let the air out and then you and the saddle will go arse over head in the dirt, OK? Now, after you've walked him around a bit, if he still keeps his belly puffed out, ya give him him a real good swift kick in the guts, like this." 'BOOT!
     Defoe kicked Patches right in the guts. In turn, Patches kicked up both of his back legs high in the air. Defoe pulled hard on the cinch which tightened up the strap a couple of notches.
"Now you're ready to mount. Watch carefully or you'll get bit on the arse. You always mount from this side and make sure ya hold the far-side rein tight so he can't bite ya. Ya put ya left foot in the stirrup and ya swing ya leg up and over in one easy movement. Like this!"
     Defoe was now looming above us as he sat astride Patches.
"Ya give him a good, firm dig with the heel of ya boot, then away ya go mate!"
     After he'd walked Patches around the yard for a while, he dismounted and said to me,
"Alright Squirt, hop on 'im and have a go."

     I'd only ever ridden a donkey on Blackpool Beach as a kid for sixpence a ride. I took a deep breath and with great determination strode up to Patches, who put his head down as soon as he saw me approach him.
"Grab those reins tight Squirt!", Defoe said to me. "Pull on the far side one until he lifts his head up again."
     As I pulled on the rein, Patches swung his massive head around and tried to bite my bony, little arse.
"Look out squirt!, said Defoe. The mean old bastard will have a piece of ya arse if ya not careful mate."
     This little show made all the boys laugh. Patches knew he was the center of everyones attention. He swung his head around for another go at mi arse.
"That stirrup iron is too long for ya squirt so adjust the strap like this mate. It should only be the length of ya arm, from your fingertips to your underarm. That's good enough mate. I'll do the other side for ya."
     When the stirrup iron was the correct length, Defoe said,
"Git up on him and watch out for the cunning old bastard. He's likely to do anything. You've got to be thinking one step ahead of the old bastard cause if not, he'll take over and run the fucking show on ya!"
     I mounted  Patches just like I'd seen on the cowboy shows. I gave him a couple of good kicks with the heel of mi boots and Patches started to walk around.
"Good on ya squirt.", said Defoe. "That's the idea. He's real hard in the mouth so you've got to ride him and show him who's boss, cause if not, he'll take over and run the fucking show on ya! Oy! Open that gate ya curly-headed pufta so the squirt can go for a ride in the cow paddock."

     Dave opened the gate so Patches and me rode through into the paddock.
'This is a piece of cake', I thought as I watched Cowboy Dick, riding along with one arm down at his side. 'What a great life it is riding the Bush Range in Australia. Maybe I'll get misen a job droving cattle around the Bush now that I can ride a horse.'

     When we reached the bottom of the long paddock, I was still fantasizing misen as a cowboy. I almost pulled out one of mi imaginary six-guns that were slung low at mi hips. Just then Patches turned around totally unexpected and took of back up the back up the paddock at full speed. All I could do was to hang on as mi new bush hat flew off mi head into nowhere. Faster and faster Patches galloped up the paddock. I was shit-scared but at the same time, the excitement of the gallop was amazing.
'Oh no! Now what do I do? 40 yards ahead of me was the barb-wire fence where all the boys stood cheering and ya-hooing.
"Ride the old bastard!", yelled Defoe.
"Ya-hoo!, screamed the boys.

     The fence now loomed dangerously close and my fantasies were long gone. All of a sudden Patches applied the horses brakes and I saw misen flying through the air, headlong over the fence. The next thing I remember was Defoe, pulling me up onto mi feet. The back of mi head had a throbbing, dull ache in it and mi arse felt like someone had just kicked it with a size 10 boot.
"Jesus bloody Christ mate! What the fuck are ya playing at? You're supposed to stop when the horse stops! You'll bloody well hurt ya self getting off a horse that way! Now git back up on the old bastard and try it again."
"I don't think I'm cut out for riding horses, Mr. Defoe.", I said.
"Fucking bullshit lad. You'll make a fucking good jockey if ya stop eating. Now git back on him cause if ya don't, you'll end up scared of horses and if ya scared of horses, ya rooted for Bush life."
    Someone caught Patches and handed me the reins. Defoe gave me a leg up.
"Now watch the old bastard. he thinks he's got it all over ya now."
    Defoe was absolutely right cause as soon as we went through the gate into the paddock, Patches refused to go anywhere.
"Give the rotten old bastard a decent kick in the guts.", yelled Defoe.
     The heel of mi boots made contact with Patches sides. He didn't take a liking to this command so he decided to buck. Up on his hind legs he stood. He went down again and at the same time he kicked his back legs high in the air.
"Ya-hoo!", yelled some of the boys.
"Ride him cowboy!", yelled another boy.
"Show the bastard what you're made of Pommy!", yelled Defoe.
     I gave Patches another good command. Up and down he went, kicking and bucking for all his worth. Mi arse and knees were now feeling pain as Patches continued to try to hurl me to the ground again.
"Make the bastard go down the paddock!", said Defoe.
     By sheer will power, I got Patches to walk forwards and down the paddock again, only this time there were no cowboy fantasies playing around in mi head, only a dull, throbbing ache.
     When we got to the bottom of the paddock, I was one step ahead of Patches. I now knew what Defoe was trying to teach me. Instead of letting Patches run the show, I held the rein in tight so he could not have his head. After a few seconds, I said to Patches, in mi broad Yorkshire accent,
"OK Patches, you fuckin old bastard! This time I'm runnin' the fucking show! Now move, you Aussie bastard! Yahhhh!!!"
     Patches needed no command from my boot heel but I gave him one anyway just to let him know who was the boss. Off we went at full gallop. I gave him another good heel and for good measure I gave him a hefty slap on his arse with mi right hand. 'Yah!' I yelled at the top of mi voice as Patches thundered back up the long paddock.

     We passed mi new Bush hat and for a split second I thought I might lean down and snatch it from the ground like a Russian Cossack but dismissed the thought at once. "Yah!!!!, up the paddock we galloped. The barb-wire fence was now getting closer. As we got about 10 feet away from it, Patches applied the brakes but this time, I leaned back in the saddle and pulled on the left-hand rein with me feet stuck out at the front.
     Patches didn't like this at all. He gave a few good bucks to show his disapproval  but Dafoe yelled,
"You've got it all over him now Squirt. Ride him back here so one of these other puftas can show off his horsemanship!"

     As I dismounted, Patches swung his head around to bite mi arse and gave me a look of disapproval. Defoe said,
"Good on ya mate. We'll make a fuckin' good Bushman out of you yet Squirt. Where ya from in England Mate?"
"I'm from Yorkshire, Mr. Defoe."
"Well, in that case mate, I'll just call ya 'Yorky' from now on and you can call me 'Bill'. We can do away with that Mr. Defoe bullshit, cause you've earned it lad. Now ya can lean on the fence and watch Patches give that ugly, little bastard Maurice a good fucking workout.
"Come here Maurice, you little pufta. Up ya fucking go mate. Show us what ya made of!"

     I really felt a lot of love in mi heart for Bill Defoe now. It felt very strange at first to call him 'Bill', but before long, I started to feel what it was like to be called a man. Bill Defoe taught me to face fear and not to shrink away from it.  The lessons I learned from this hard man served me well throughout mi Bush life. There we many hard lessons yet to come, unbeknownst to me, but his brand of love, I still carry in mi heart.