This is my story. Do not look for accuracy here: people from the bush set more stock in spinning a good yarn rather than getting caught up in facts.I was born near the great meandering river. The old Wiradjuri called it the Wambool. These days it is called the Macquarie River. The river turns in great lazy circles on the plains. It floods some years and then slows to a trickle joining deep waterholes in others. I have always lived close to the River. Even today, the stream that runs through my farm near to Orange is part of its headwaters.My story is about two very different families. Clan Edmonstone were adventurers. The Bootles were shy bush folk. While both lived in one of the great bends of the River and had many common interests, the families had very little to do with one another. I cannot remember my grandfathers meeting, but I remember them both clearly: the gentle bushman Ernest, Grandfather Bootle, and the enterprising Howard, Grandfather Edmonstone. And there is me as well, looking pensive.
