White Pine (3 page)

“Your pa is a good man.” Mr. Whiteside looked
like he was about say something else, but Hugh interrupted him.

“Hey Sevy, come take a look at these
peaveys.” Hugh held up the tool of the river pigs, who herded the
logs harvested in the winter down the rivers in the spring. The
long handle was smooth and finished and there was a metal spike and
a hook at the end for moving the logs. A picture flashed into my
head of me, poised on a thick log using my peavey to break up a log
jam in front of an awed audience. River rats were the daring heroes
of the lumber industry. They risked life and limb herding the logs
through frigid waters and over treacherous rapids. But then the
reality that I wasn’t sure that I had the money for the peavey as
well as the other gear had me putting it back regretfully.

“No sir, I don’t need it.”

Mr. Whiteside took the peavey and handed it
to me. “Take it, young Andersen. It’s on the house. A while back,
your father did some woodworking for me and gave me a real fair
rate. Take the peavey. I hope it brings you some good luck. You
Andersens are due for some.”

I nodded my head, a little choked up. It sure
did seem like us Andersens had been gettin’ a raw deal lately.

I paid for the lot, waited while Mr.
Whiteside wrapped it up for us, then we headed out.

“Like you need any more luck.” Hugh snorted.
“No more school. You get to be a lumberjack this winter and
Whiteside gave you a peavey.” He wielded it in the air, striking
the sign for the apothecary’s shop we passed by.

“Hey. Watch what you’re doing.” For a moment,
I thought about how my pa’s face was pinched with pain and my ma’s
with worry. That didn’t feel too lucky. I shook my head.

“Yup.” Hugh gave me a cheeky grin. “Hey,
wait. Clancy’s Sweets Emporium is down there.”

“I want to stop somewhere else first.” We
continued down the street, past a tailor, a music store, and a
grocer’s. The day was progressing, and the sawdust covered street
was filled with horses and conveyances of all kinds, drays, moving
vans, and an ice wagon. One carriage had a particularly
fine-looking matched pair of bays.

“Randall Park,” Hugh and I said at the same
time. A fancy looking team like that had to come from the
neighborhood where the wealthy folk lived, the homes of the mill
owners and lumber barons.

Even though I was nervous about where I was
going, and I had a very specific place in mind, I couldn’t help
smiling at Hugh, shaking my head. He just didn’t let things bother
him. He was always along for the ride, no matter where it took
us.

We turned a corner, headed a few blocks up a
smaller street, and were met with the acrid odor of burning horse
hooves. I paused outside of a barn that adjoined a small, white
house.

“Oh, I see,” Hugh muttered. “You think she’s
here?”

The street sign read “Jaeger-Farrier.”
Wrinkling my nose against the stink, I poked my head inside the
opened door. The clash of metal on metal erupted from the back of
the shop.

“Mr. Jaeger. Mr. Jaeger,” I called. But there
was no response. Clearly, he couldn’t hear me over his work. I took
a step in. It was hot and smoky inside, even with the door
open.

Mr. Jaeger, a thick set, bald, stocky fellow
was shoeing a Percheron. And holding the horse was the very person
I’d come to see, a girl with a thick braid of dark blond hair.

“Hel-lo,” I called out. Still they didn’t
hear me.

Using some long clamps, Mr. Jaegar pulled the
red hot shoe out of the fire and pressed it onto the horse’s hoof.
The hoof sizzled. Smoke rose up around them.

Hugh picked that moment to try to push past
me through the door. Not thinking, I pushed back. Somehow our legs
got tangled up. I pulled one way. He jerked the other. Then we were
both face down on the ground.

That got the Jaegers’ attention. Big Mr.
Jaeger turned his head to the side and spit, then eyed us
suspiciously. Adelaide Jaegar stared at us. Both Hugh and I
scrambled to our feet and I felt the blush creeping up my cheeks.
Thankfully, we hadn’t spooked the Perchie.

“Was ist los
?” Jaeger spoke in his
native German first, then, seeing who it was, asked, “What do you
want?”

I dusted the dirt, hay and straw off my
clothes. Then, I picked up my packages, which were, thankfully,
wrapped. Hugh still had the peavey, which he had somehow managed
not to stab me with when we fell.

“Afternoon, Mr. J-Jaeger,” I stuttered.
“Adelaide.”

She had some soot on her face and a piece of
straw in her hair, but when she smiled at me, it was like seeing an
angel. Now, ordinarily, I would never have had the nerve to do what
I was about to do, but I didn’t know when I’d be back in Eau
Claire, and I wasn’t going to waste this chance.

“You boys are needing something?” Jaeger
asked. Mr. Jaegar had a deep voice and a definite accent but he
spoke English well, as did his daughter.

“We were just doing some shopping,” Hugh
explained grandly, like it was something we did every day, “saw the
smoke and decided to stop in.”

I glared at him and shook my head.

Adelaide rattled something off in German and
I only caught the word “
Schule
.” Jaeger grunted and turned
back to his work.

Standing there, my arms full of packages, I
felt foolish. I hadn’t really thought this out. I had just wanted
to see her once before I left.

“Let’s go.” Hugh elbowed me.

“No.”

“The candy store.” He wiggled his eyebrows
expressively.

“In a minute.”

He groaned but still I didn’t move.

“Well, are you going to talk to her?”

But I wasn’t paying any attention to him. My
eyes were on Adelaide. Now that her Pa’s back was turned and he was
bent over with a horse’s hoof in his huge hands, she shyly met my
glance. My heart pounded.

“I’m leaving Eau Claire. I’m going up to a
logging camp near Siren,” I said it loud enough so that she could
hear me— the most words I’d ever said to her.

She nodded, just looking at me.

“Well, goodbye then.”

“
Auf wiedersehen
, Sevy.
Goodbye.”

There was nothing else to say, so I turned
and headed out of that barn, walking tall.
She’d spoken to
me.

“What was that all about?” Hugh demanded once
we were outside. “You got a shine in your eye for the blacksmith’s
daughter?” When I didn’t respond, he was quiet for a moment,
mulling things over. Then, he went on, “If you like her, then why’d
you up and leave like that? You could of talked her up some more.
You aren’t going to see her again until summer.”

He was right. I wouldn’t see her again for
months. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so smart anymore. But it had taken
all my nerve just to walk into that barn and say “hello.” I hadn’t
really thought the whole thing out. Adelaide probably thought I was
some kind of fool.

“Come on, Sevy.” Hugh took mercy on me by
letting it drop. “Let’s go get some taffy and a root beer.” He took
off down the sidewalk.

Feeling kind of downhearted, I followed
him.

* * * *

I was busy that night, getting ready to leave
early the next morning. Though it was just October, early days for
the log camps, there was work to be had for those who were willing
to help set up. While packing my bag and doing some final chores,
my head was going in ten different directions. Peter and Marta were
all worked up, too, so it was hard to get them to go to bed in the
little room that we three shared.

I was ready to turn in when Pa said, “Sevy,
come sit with your ma and me for a while.”

Pa and Ma were sitting by the fire. Ma was
doing some mending by the light of an oil lamp. Pa was sitting up
in the chair he’d carved.

The two spoke softly to each other in
Norwegian, which they did when they didn’t want us kids to
understand what they were saying. Over the years, Ma had picked up
Norwegian from Pa. Peter, Marta, and I knew some Norwegian, but
since our folks wanted us to be real Americans they spoke to us
almost always in English.

“Sit down, Sevy,” Pa directed. “These past
few weeks, you’ve done a man’s work for this family.”

“Yes sir.” Had I packed everything I’d need?
Had Adelaide thought at all about me since I’d seen her that
afternoon?

“Ja
, life is not easy at a logging
camp. But for you it will only be for this one winter. Then, you
will come back to Eau Claire and go to school,” Pa said it like he
was trying to convince himself of the truth of his words.

“Yup.” I nodded.

Then, he was quiet for a moment. Pa was a
proud man and I knew sending me to work in his place was real hard
on him. If he could have worked with his busted leg, he would have.
I shifted on my seat, my mind, wandering. Maybe I’d write Hugh a
letter from the camp. He’d like getting a real letter. “How often
does the mail get picked up at camp?”

“Uff da
, Sevy. This isn’t a game. Are
you listening to me?”

“Yes, Pa. Sure am.”

“Go easy, Gus. The boy has a lot on his
mind.” Ma looked up from her sewing. Her eyes were bright and
teary. She always was one to cry, at sad or happy occasions.

“Sevy, listen close because you’ll be on your
own from tomorrow on,” Pa continued. “You’ll have to act like a man
even though you’re a boy and your life has been soft until
now.”

“Soft?” I bristled. While he’d been layin’ in
bed, I’d been bustin’ my rump doin’ his work and my work, too. “I
do chores and you said yourself that I’ve worked hard since the
accident.”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he growled. Pa may have
been restricted to his chair but he was still a bear of a man with
dark eyes that could pin you down.

I squirmed on the wooden bench.

“Your ma and I have wanted to make things
better for you than they were for us. I know this house ain’t much,
and it ain’t our own. But we were getting closer to having our own
land. If only this hadn’t happened.” He gestured to his leg. “I
wouldn’t let you go north if there were any other way.” He looked
away from me.

“Pa, I know that.” Sure, one day, we’d have a
farm of our own. We’d all heard it so many times and the truth was
that something always got in the way of us saving the money we
needed. One of us kids would get sick or Pa would have to send
money back to Norway for his father’s funeral. Still, I knew we
were better off than a lot of the other folks who lived in Shaw
town. We always had enough to eat and a roof over our heads.

“I left Norway when I was just a little older
than you are today. Pappa, your grandfather, was a
husmand
,
which meant he rented the land he worked and the cottage we lived
in. But he could never work hard enough to buy something of his
own, and he saw that would never change. So, he told me to leave.
He gave me what money he could and then I left Pappa, Mamma, my
brother, my sisters, and my country. I worked my way to Hamburg,
Germany and from there to New York. I took a steamboat up the
Hudson River to Albany, a canal boat to Buffalo, and then a sailing
ship to Chicago because I’d heard there was work to be had there.
It was in Chicago that I met your mother.”

The way Ma was now looking at Pa smoothed
away all of the worries and troubles on her face. In the firelight,
she looked younger, a lot like Marta.

“I know, Pa. I know. She was working as a
seamstress.” We kids had heard this story about a hundred
times.

“My parents had come to this country together
when I was a little girl. My father died right after they arrived
in Chicago,” Ma said. “Morsa, my mother and your grandmother, was a
seamstress, and she made a living for us in Chicago. But she always
talked about us having a farm of our own one day. It was what my
father had always dreamed of, what brought him to this country. But
it wasn’t possible when it was only the two of us.” Her voice sort
of quivered. “Morsa died a year before I met your father.”

I didn’t want to hear more. I had things to
do. Besides I knew all of these old stories and none mattered to
the new life starting tomorrow.

“The night before I left, your grandfather,
Anders,” Pa continued, “called me to him. He said, ‘I won’t be
there to tell you what to do or how to act. But remember to treat
everyone else as you would want to be treated, be honest, work
hard, and the rest will take care of itself.’”

Fighting to stifle a yawn, I jumped when a
big, warm, callused hand clamped down on my arm. “Be a man that
other people can count on.”

“All right, Pa.”

Ma said, “Come here, Sevy. You take good care
of yourself. Be careful.”

I could tell Ma was near crying. She set her
mending down and held out her arms. Now I ain’t a little guy any
more, but I went right into Ma’s arms and I held her tight.

“Sevy, come here.” Now it was Pa calling to
me

I turned and hesitated for a second, I
couldn’t remember when Pa and I had last hugged. When I pulled back
from him, I could see that his eyes were suspiciously bright as
well.

“G’night Pa and Ma,” I said, and my voice
cracked. But I didn’t care. Up to this point, it hadn’t seemed
real. Leaving school and telling everyone I was going away had been
fun. But now I was going to have to pay the fiddler. I was leaving
the next morning for a lumber camp far from home and from my
family. I’d never even spent single night away from my ma and my
brother and sister. Now I was staring down the nose at a winter
working in the woods with a bunch of fellas I’d never met.

It was tough falling asleep that night. I was
too worked up. And so, I listened to my parents talk until late. I
didn’t really even pay attention to what they were saying. I just
wanted to hear the sounds of their voices.