Outback Man Seeks Wife

"YOU CAN'T MISS HIM," said a languid female voice from behind her. "He's with the other guys making their way to the starting line. Dark blue shirt, yellow Number 6 on his back." Carrie McNevin turned her blond head. "Your cousin, right?" "Wellsecondcousin!" Carrie felt rather than saw the look of arrogant dismissal on Natasha Cunningham's face. "I've barely spoken to him since he arrived." "Well you've made contact at least," Carrie felt very sorry for the young man who had been treated so badly by his family. She couldn't remember Natasha's cousin herself. Or shethoughtshe couldn't. There was some tiny spark of memory there. But she'd been little more than a toddler when he and his parents had disappeared from their part of the world like a puff of smoke. "It was purely by accident I assure you," Natasha retorted, with familiar derision. There was a moment's respite from this edgy conversation while both young women followed the progress of the entries in the Jimboorie Cup, the main event in Jimboorie's annual two-day bush picnic races. The amateur jockeys, all fine horsemen, expertly brought their mounts under control. The horses, groomed to perfection, looked wonderful Carrie thought, the familiar excitement surging through her veins. She loved these special days when the closely knit but far flung Outback community came together from distances of hundreds of miles to relax and enjoy themselves. Many winged their way aboard their private planes. Others came overland in trucks, buses or their big dusty 4WD's sporting the ubiquitous bull bars. Outsiders joined in as well. City slickers out for the legendary good time to be had in the bush, inveterate race goers and gamblers who came from all over the country to mostly lose their money and salesmen of all kinds mixing with vast-spread station owners and graziers. Picnic race days were a gloriously unique part of Outback Australia. The Jimboorie races weren't as famous as the Alice Springs or the Birdsville races with the towering blood-red sandhills of the Simpson Desert sitting just outside of town. Jimboorie lay further to the north-east, more towards the plains country at the centre of the giant state of Queensland with the surrounding stations running sheep, cattle or both. It was early spring or what passed for spring; September so as to take advantage of the best weather of the year. Today's temperature was 27 degrees C. It was brilliantly fine--no humidity to speak of--but hotter around the bush course, which was located a couple of miles outside the small township of Jimboorie. It boastedthreepubs--what could be sadder than an Outback town with no pub, worse no beer--all full up with visiting guests; a one man police station; a couple of government buildings; a small bush hospital manned by a doctor and two well qualified nurses; a chemist who sold all sorts of things outside of pharmaceuticals; a single room school; a post office that fitted neatly into a corner of the craft shop; a couple of shoe and clothing stores; a huge barn that sold just about everything like a city hyper-dome; the office of the well respected JimboorieBulletin,which appeared monthly and had a wide circulation. The branch office of the Commonwealth Bank had long since been closed down to everyone's disgust, but the town continued to boast a remarkably good Chinese restaurant and a bakehouse famous for the quality of its bread and its mouthwatering steak pies. This afternoon the entire township of less than three thousand--a near boom town in the Outback--was in attendance, including the latest inhabitants, the publicans, Vince and Katie Dougherty's six-month-old identical twins, duly cooed over. The horses, all with thoroughbred blood, were the pride of the competing stations; proud heads bowed, glossy necks arched, tails swishing in nervous anticipation. This was a special day for them, too. They were giving every iWay, Margaret is the author of 'Outback Man Seeks Wife ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373182732 and ISBN 0373182732.