White Pine (8 page)

It may sound peculiar, but I felt like
singing again. Things were finally beginning to work out for me. I
was managing to do my job and help my family out. Pa and Ma would
be proud of me. For a few minutes, my world was fine.

Bart turned old, swaybacked Cy down a narrow
logging trail where the ground was a little sloped. We were in the
thick of the woods where hundred-foot-tall pine reached for the
sky. There wasn’t much but snow on the ground between the trees. It
was shady and cold amongst the giant trees, which blocked out the
warming sunlight. The trail dipped slightly and just beyond it, I
could see Mr. Walker’s flea bitten pair, Bob and Sammy, hitched up
to a load that a crew was piling high with logs. Another teamster
worked a pair of logging horses to cross-haul logs up the skid
poles and onto the load using a single chain. They were working on
a third row of logs and the bottom two rows of logs had already
been secured with the chain wrappers. Fabien Roget worked as the
top loader, using his peavey to adjust the logs as they came
up.

It all happened right before my eyes. First
thing, the sled they were loading sorta eased a little sideways. I
saw Sammy shift a little and then Bob snorted. I watched Fabien
raise his arms up, as if balancing himself. Next, I heard the
scraping of the runners slipping on the iced trail, a trail that
had no straw on it.

Mr. Walker shouted as the sled began a
sideways slide down the slope. “Haw!” he yelled at his team. “Haw,
boys! Haw!”

“Holy smokes!” I watched in horror as it
appeared that whole log-filled load was about to spill right over.
A couple of fellas jumped out of the way. The other team of horses
jumped around.

“Haw! Get on boys!”

Urged on by Mr. Walker, Bob and Sammy fought
the shifting weight of the sled.

In the commotion, I’d lost sight of Roget.
But now, I saw him. Somehow, he’d gotten down off the load and
around in front of that slowly slipping sled. He stood there where
that whole load could come right down on him. With his peavey, he
hooked a log from that third row, tugged it down, and thrust one
end down onto the frozen ground. Then, he tugged a few more down,
bracing the load. With the weight lightened and those logs bracing
against the sideways slide, the sled stopped. It was canted
sideways and Bob and Sammy were off the trail hip deep in snow and
jittery, but all right. Mr. Walker spoke softly, calming them
down.

“Merde
!” Exploded into the silence.
“
Merde!
” Roget continued on in French, gesturing with his
hands at the ground, shouting at everyone and no one in
particular.“
Paille
,” he said. “Where is the straw?”

“There’s no straw on this hill,” Walker
observed.

Cy chose that moment to toss his head, and
bells tinkled merrily through the woods. Roget, Walker, and all of
the other men on that crew looked right over at me.

That’s when it hit me and my heart sank into
the giant gaping hole that opened in my stomach. This was one of
the small logging trails that I hadn’t gotten around to putting
straw on the night before, and I hadn’t remembered to warn Mr.
Walker that morning.

Chapter Seven

~ Punishment ~

The Push sent for me after supper. He was
waiting for me at Dob O’Dwyer’s office. Roget and Mr. Lynch were
there, too. I had never been so scared in my life. Was I gonna get
fired? Was Mr. Lynch gonna wup me for putting his team in danger?
Or was Roget gonna kill me and get the whole business done
with?

Mr. Daly spoke first, “Sevy, there could have
been a serious accident today.”

I nodded.

“Men and horses could have been hurt or
killed because you weren’t responsible. You understand that,
boy?”

I nodded again, swallowing the enormous lump
in my throat. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. I
noticed I was looking down at the floor. I made myself look up
again ‘cause my Pa always said to look a man in the eye, even when
you’ve done wrong.

“I... I’m real sorry, Mr. Lynch. I meant to
tell Mr. Walker that I didn’t get straw on those last couple
trails. I was so tired.”

Moving like greased lightning, Roget grabbed
me by the front of my shirt. “You think that being sorry is
enough?” He let go of me and I fell back. He waved his hands about,
real worked up. “You think now that everything is all right? I told
you before, Joe, this is no place for a school boy.”

“Let’s be clear, Fabien, no one got hurt,”
the Push stated.

Roget spat on the floor in disgust. “The
Northwoods is no place for a boy.” Shaking his head, he went over
to the mantle and leaned up against it, staring down into the
flames.

“Sevy,” Dob spoke up calmly from his seat
behind the desk. “An accident was avoided, but barely. On a logging
team, each man has to rely on the others to do their jobs. If
someone doesn’t, well, then a fellow can get hurt. Or worse.”

“It was so late and I was...” I shut my trap
when I saw the Push raise his hand.

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he said.
“Excuses don’t do anyone any good when a man gets hurt or killed
because of a mistake. Sorry don’t feed his family.”

“No excuses,” I repeated softly. I set my jaw
and nodded my head. All three men were staring at me and I knew
that what I said next really mattered, so I thought for a minute.
“You’re right. I don’t have any excuses. I made a mistake, plain
and simple. But it won’t happen again. I mean I can’t promise I
won’t ever make a mistake again. But I can tell you I won’t make
this one. I’m learning more each day. I...” My voice trailed off as
I watched an unspoken communication passed between Dob and the
Push.

“The problem ain’t that you didn’t get all
the trails iced, you know, boy,” Mr. Walker said. “I wouldna gotten
‘em all done myself. But you gotta let the other men on your team
know the score, so no one gets hurt.”

“Yes sir.”

“Send this boy home to his mama,” Roget said.
“He will be glad for it. I hear him crying into his pillow a
night.”

A blush of shame rose in my cheeks. Roget had
to be lying, I assured myself. I wasn’t ever loud enough that the
other fellas could hear me, was I?

I looked at each of them in turn, but there
was no softening of their expressions. Logging was a serious
business. For a few seconds, no one said a thing and I figured that
I was a goner.

Finally, Dob spoke. “Gentlemen, it seems a
bit extreme to me to fire Sevy over a mistake which didn’t have any
consequences,” he observed as he drew on his pipe. “We are all too
worked up about something that just didn’t happen.”

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of
cure.” Mr. Walker offered me an apologetic glance. “My horses could
have been hurt.”

“Still, there was no real resulting loss. I
do the books here,” Dob continued. “In real money, the boy cost the
company a half day’s work from Fabien, Christian, and the other
members of their team. I’m talking about the time it took to
straighten up the mess. The way that I see it is that the most fair
way of handling the entire situation is to dock Sevy’s pay to make
up for the lost work. I think we should give him another chance,
Mike.” Dob was on my side, though I didn’t know why or how.

The Push and I eyeballed each other. I didn’t
let myself look down though I shook in my boots.

Mr. Lynch looked away first. He exhaled
slowly, running his fingers through his hair. “You understand,
Sevy, that being part of a logging team means being responsible for
every other man, no matter if you are sick or tired or both. You
got that?”

Hardly daring to breathe, I nodded. “I do. I
understand.”

“You mean to keep this schoolboy then?” Roget
demanded, disbelief thickening his accent.

“This isn’t up to you, Fabien,” Dob
responded.

“Nor to you, old man.” Fabien sneered. “You
aren’t in the woods with this child.”

“No, it ain’t up to either of you,” Mr. Lynch
said. “This is my job. Settle yourself, Fabien. All right, Sevy.
We’ll dock your pay. But one more mistake and you’re on the first
supply sled out of here. You hear me? We can’t afford no more.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.” I
exhaled in relief. I wasn’t gonna get fired.

“You are all fools,” Roget snarled. “I will
not work with a child. Put me on another team, boss, or I
quit.”

“Fabien, I won’t tolerate any man threatening
me.” The two men squared off, like they was gonna fight. I’d seen
other fellas my own age do the same before tusselin’, but it was
different when the fellas were big and thick with muscle. “You’ll
work where I tell you to work. And no more fool talk about
quitting.”

“He is a boy. He has no place here. Send him
home to his mama.”

“That’s enough, Roget.” The Push’s tone was
ominous, but Roget was too worked up to care.

“You keep this boy or keep Roget, the best
lumberjack in the Northwoods.” Roget shoved a thumb into his
chest.

“Don’t talk like a fool, Roget. You know no
one will pay you what you get at this here camp.”

Roget spun on his heel and stomped out,
muttering in French. On the way out, he slammed the door.

Dob calmly adjusted his spectacles.

“I don’t mean to make him quit,” I said,
knowing there really was no choice between an experienced woodsman
and a wet-behind-the-ears boy. “I’m not ready to take the long
walk, but I won’t make another mistake like that one. I’ve
learned.”

The Push held up his hand. “Fabien won’t
quit. That Frenchman threatens quitting at least twice every
season... Still, it’d be a good idea to switch you to another
team.”

“Since Grant broke his arm, those Swedish
boys have been short handed,” Dob offered. “They won’t care who you
send them.”

I ignored the insult, too scared and
desperate to stay on.

The Push nodded. “That’s what we’ll do then.
Take care of it, Dob. I’ll go talk to that bull-headed Frenchman.”
Then, the Push headed out, too. I was left alone with Dob.

He peered at me through his spectacles, one
bushy eyebrow cocked. “Don’t let me down, Sevy.”

“I won’t, Mr. O’Dwyer. I promise you, I
won’t. And thanks.”

“Roget doesn’t like you and the Push is going
to be keeping an eagle eye on you. You have your fate in your own
hands. Don’t make another mistake. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.” I headed out of that shack feeling
relieved and worried as all get out. I wanted desperately to talk
with someone about what had happened, but I wouldn’t. I was too
embarrassed. I decided I wouldn’t even write about it in my letters
home. Excuses and apologies weren’t worth the paper they were
written on. If I got fired, we would have to go through our savings
to pay for just livin’. The money Pa’d saved up to buy us a farm
gone once again. It was all up to me. I felt like I carried the
weight of the world on my two shoulders.

Chapter Eight

~ Frost Bit ~

After the “incident,” the days flew past in a
blur of working, eating, and sleeping. Determined to prove my
worth, I worked harder than I ever had in my life. The crew I was
with was headed up by two Swedish brothers, Olaf and Johannes
Jensson. Big, blond, burly fellas, they went by Ole and Johan. They
didn’t say a whole lot, but they also didn’t give me any grief.
They were just glad to have an extra pair of hands out in the
woods.

Christmas came and went and wasn’t like any
other Christmas I’d known. I didn’t even realize it was Christmas
Eve until midway through the morning. We got to head in early that
day and we had Christmas Day off. But I would have preferred to
have worked as usual. Sitting around camp, I felt like the
loneliest person in the whole world. Mr. Walker and Dob invited me
to play cards with them back at the bunkhouse, but I didn’t have
the heart for it. I missed my ma and pa, and Marta and Peter. I
missed Christmas treats and presents. I missed all of it; I was
homesick, real homesick. And for once I wasn’t the only one. There
were some other sorrowful-looking jacks wandering the camp,
thinking about their kinfolk who were far away. Harold put together
a special dinner for us, but it all tasted like sawdust to me.