Page 38 - Homestead By Ann Newhouse

When I made my way to the medical hall to collect my earnings, I met Josh. “Hi Ned, how are you doing after your first drive,” he asked tipping his hat.
“I’m feeling a bit saddle sore,” I replied smiling and rubbing my rear end.
“Are you fit to help repair the large barn roof? We need another pair of hands.” He pointed towards a barn at the edge of the pass 500 yards away.
“Sure, I’ll follow you over. Just going to see about my wages.”
I made my way over the rough cobbles to the medical hall. Sofie and Johanna were busy giving their reports to the visiting doctors, of the month’s treatments to the regular patients and of their progress and medications. I waited in line behind Mitch who was also there to collect his earnings. We chatted and I reminding him to keep our previous conversation to himself, until I could call on him for further discussions.
I was Happy with my bundle of notes, my earnings from the drive. I also settled on a reasonable rent for the single cabin. It still left me with enough for food and beer. Anything extra I would earn in the week would be a bonus. I intended to try and save for any future plans. I still had concerns about my ability to work and live in the Homestead under John Tirrell’s rules and constant watch.
One evening, a couple of weeks later, we completed the barn roof. The sun was going down and the moon peeping through the patchy clouds. Mitch and Josh had joined me for supper. I had finally got the hang of eating in the restaurant. It was everyman for himself, except when a lady was involved. They had special calls and, in some cases, hand signs for various dishes, which I hadn’t quite mastered yet. The lads told me to ‘moo’ loudly, or slap my rump if you wanted a steak (this was necessary on account of the noise) and holler or show your fingers, to show amount of people eating . . .in this case three. It could be a risky business if you got it wrong. It can end up in a brawl, or ‘high spirits’; that’s what the lads called it.
Believe it or not, steak was the main preference from the menu, and it was one the cheapest. As well as selling stock at the markets, The Homestead slaughtered some of their own cattle and most of the other meats required for the restaurant, along with home grown vegetables and some fruit. Everyone in the community would play their part. The women would take the wool in shearing season and weave mats, rugs, and clothes. Sometimes they would sell it at the monthly town market, along with wooden crafts, eggs and cakes. This gave the women the rare chance to go into