White Pine
Authors: Caroline Akervik
Tags: #wisconsin, #family, #historical, #lumberjack, #boy, #survive, #14, #northwoods, #white pine, #river rat, #caroline akervik, #sawmill accident, #white pine forest
My Year as a Lumberjack and a River Rat
by Caroline
Akervik
Published by
Fire and Ice
A Yount Adult Imprint of Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
White Pine, Copyright 2014 Caroline
Akervik
ISBN:
978-1-61235-827-7
Names, characters, and incidents
depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of
this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States of
America.
Illustrations by Julie
Schaller
Cover Design by Caroline
Andrus
Table of Contents
WHITE PINE
My Year as a Lumberjack and a River Rat
by Caroline
Akervik
After Sevy Anderson's father breaks his leg
in a sawmill accident, the fourteen-year-old must take his place
with the rough and tumble lumberjacks and river rats who harvest
the white pine forests of Wisconsin. The men of the Northwoods live
hard and on the edge, and Sevy must prove his courage and his worth
in the company of legends.
Will he become the man he so longs
to be?
Will the other men ever accept
him?
And will he even survive his first
winter in the Northwoods?
Dedication
For Andy, Aslan, Charlotte, and Johan.
This story was inspired by our adventures
geocaching one summer not so long ago when you kids were much
smaller. On that particular day, we’d learned that old brick
building we passed so many times on the way to the hockey rink had
actually once been a lumber company office. We talked about the
history of the area and what you’d learned at the Chippewa Valley
Museum during your third grade field trip there. One of you told me
that I should I write a lumberjack story. I wish I‘d managed to get
it done sooner, but children grow more quickly than books (as C.S.
Lewis pointed out). One day, I hope you’ll pick up this little book
and remember our adventures on that long ago, sunshiny day.
Johan, you said there weren’t any books with
your name in it. White Pine aims at correcting that little
oversight.
Andy, without your love and your patience
with my reading, writing and day dreaming, this story and all of
the others wouldn't be possible.
This book is meant for girls and boys, but
especially for those boys who don’t care for fantasy but who want
action and adventure in what they read.
Please excuse any errors or historical
inaccuracies in this book. This is a work of fiction and my goal
was to capture the spirit and the heart of the lumberjack era in
Wisconsin.
Chapter One
~ A Visitor
~
I never planned on working in the pineries.
Ma and Pa agreed that the best thing for all of us Andersen kids
was to go to school, where we could learn to be good Americans.
That was real important to Pa, being the son of immigrants.
Pa said that’s why he’d come here to the
United States from Norway, to make things better for his family.
Like all the other lumberjacks, he worked the pineries in the
winter, ‘cause the logs needed to be cut and ready for the
snowmelt. In the spring, the rivers ran high and could carry the
logs down to the mills in the sawdust cities like Eau Claire, where
we lived. In the summer, Pa worked at the mill just down the road
from the house we rented. He worked real hard so that one day we
could have a farm of our own. Ma and Pa had been talking about it
for so long that it didn’t seem like it would ever happen. And
then, Pa got hurt.
On the morning that I told my teacher, Mr.
Watters, that I was leaving school, I waltzed in there like I was
the president of the United States of America. I didn't even sit at
my desk. I just went right up to the front of the schoolhouse, to
Mr. Watters.
“Today’s my last day, sir.”
He didn’t pay me no mind. He was too busy
looking at what the Nelson twins were doing in the front
row—pounding each other, as usual.
"Boys," he said. "That's quite enough of
that."
They didn't listen. They never did.
I cleared my throat. "Mr. Watters—”
"Take your seat, Sevy,” he cut me off. “Bob
and Will, if I have to come over there.”
"Mr. Watters.” This time, I touched his arm
to get his attention. That stopped him. "I'm leaving school for
good. I'm going to the pineries, taking my Pa’s place.”
He eyeballed me. Mr. Watters was young,
blond, skinny, and kind of a nervous type, but he was a decent
fella. He'd come from out East and he dressed sort of fancy for out
here in Wisconsin, but he wasn't snooty or anything like that.
"You're leaving school?" He said it like I
was planning on killin’ somebody.
“I have to. My Pa can’t work. He broke his
leg.”
Mr. Watters’ brow knit—like he was thinking
hard about this. He pursed his lips. "Now's not the time for this
discussion. Please take your seat, Sevy. Bob, Will, that is quite
enough.”
I’d told him. He just wasn’t listening real
well. So, I walked out. What else could I do? On my way, I winked
at Hugh MacLean, my best friend. His eyes were huge, like he
couldn’t believe what I was doing. Most of the other kids watched
me jealously, no doubt wishing they were the ones doing the walking
out.
Mr. Watters came to our house that night. Us
Andersens were just setting down for supper. Mrs. Engelstad, one of
my ma’s lady friends from church, had made kroppkakor for us. Folks
had been bringing us grub all week, since Pa got hurt. Kroppkakor
was one of my favorite suppers. I always put the butter thick on
the dumplings. And nothing tasted better than when you bit through
them to the salt pork.
Ma had already brought Pa his dinner in the
bedroom and the rest of us had just sat down at the table when
someone knocked at the door. We looked around at each other. No one
generally came by at supper time.
"Are you going to make me get up on my broken
leg?" Pa growled from the other room.
I glanced at my ma, who just shook her head.
She looked tired, worried, too. She sighed, wiped her hands on her
apron and went to the door. The rest of us, me, Peter, my brother,
and my little sister, Marta, just stayed where we were, sitting on
the benches at the table.
When she opened the door, we saw Mr. Watters
standing there. He held his hat in his hands. "Mrs. Andersen?"
"Yes."
He glanced in at us. “I apologize for
interrupting your supper, but could I get a word? There's a matter
I need to discuss with you."
"Sevy," Ma turned a sharp eye on me. "Have
you been causing trouble at school?"
"No, Ma."
"No, he hasn’t,” Mr. Watters agreed. He
looked nervous and I didn’t blame him none for that. Ma was a tall
woman, a good head and shoulders taller than Mr. Watters, and she
had a way about her that didn't brook no nonsense. "But there is a
matter of some concern that arose today."
"Come in, Mr. Watters." Ma stepped to the
side.
"Who’s out there?" Pa demanded, his voice
thick and angry. Maybe he'd been drinking some of the whiskey that
Ma had tucked away for special occasions. Don't get me wrong, Pa
wasn’t a drunk. But he was hurting in a serious way with his leg
all busted up as it was.
"School teacher, Gus. There ain't no trouble.
Or there better not be," Ma spoke the last part direct to me.
I just shook my head. What could I say? Ma
usually smiled and laughed a lot, but since Pa had broke his leg
just a few days before, she'd been troubled. She’d been growling at
us kids near as much as Pa.
"Please take a seat, Mr. Watters," she
directed him to the wooden bench by nine-year-old Marta. "Have you
had your supper yet?"
Us kids listened close at that. We all wanted
as much kroppkakor as possible. We didn’t much like the idea of
sharing.
"Thank you. I haven't, but—"
"Peter, get another a plate."
Watters waved a hand. "That won't be
necessary. I’ll be here for just a few minutes. It’s about Sevy.
Today, he informed me that he will not be returning to school."
I saw the muscle clench in the corner of Ma’s
jaw. She picked up her fork real careful, put a piece of dumpling
in her mouth and chewed it slow. Still, she didn't look up at Mr.
Watters.
I knew she didn’t like me leaving school one
bit. I’d heard her arguing with Pa over it every night, and he
didn’t like it none, either. But there didn’t seem to be any way
around it.
“Pa broke his leg at the mill. A big log
rolled on him. Now Sevy has to go to the pineries instead.” Peter
spit it all out in a rush. He always talked too much without
thinking.
“Peter,” I scolded. Mr. Watters had no right
knowing our family business.
"Is this true?" Watter questioned with a
disapproving frown.
Ma looked him right in the eye. "Mr. Watters,
we always tell our children that schooling is real important, so
that they can do something with their lives. But then this accident
happened." She paused, leaned forward and spoke softly. "We're
hopin that Gus, my husband Gustav, will be on his feet by
summer."
"But why does the boy have to sit out the
vast majority of the school year? Sevy has a fine mind and he’s a
talented writer. He could go far with his education.”
I blushed at the praise. Mr. Watters had
never said anything nice about me like that before.
Ma answered, "Gus works in the mill in the
summer and fall and in the pineries in the winter."
"I still don't understand. How does this
impact your son’s education?"
Figured he wouldn’t. We’d all heard that
Watters came from a wealthy family somewhere out east.
"Sevy has to work, so we don't have to move
to the poor house," Marta piped up.
“Children, that’s enough,” Ma corrected.
"Yeah, hush," I said, giving my little sister
the evil eye. "You shouldn’t talk like that in front of folk who
ain't family."
Mr. Watters wasn't a fool, and he looked at
all of us seated around the table. He nodded slowly. "Hmm, yes." He
cleared his throat. “Well then, Sevy, I’ll look forward to seeing
you next fall. This has been a pleasant visit, but I must be on my
way. Marta and Peter, I'll see you in school tomorrow. Mrs.
Andersen, thank you for your hospitality.”
