White Pine Read Free

ham hocks. His chest was broad and his legs, thick, and he
stood with them wide apart. His shirt was a bright and bold red,
and he carried himself with confidence. My father would have said
that he was a man who was comfortable in his own skin. I knew that
I was looking at a real woodsman, a lumberjack.
    “I’m headed up north,” I remarked. “You can
run into all sorts of wild animals in the woods. This here knife
might come in handy.”
    “You gonna gut a black bear with that knife,
boy? Or maybe a badger?” He laughed out loud, baring big, white
teeth. He had one of those deep laughs that seemed to echo through
the cluttered store.
    I looked around, worried that other people
would hear how he was poking fun at me.
    “Hey, Augie, this boy, he is something.” The
newcomer was a Quebecois, French Canadian. My pa had had several
fellas from those parts to supper over the years, so I recognized
the accent.
    I saw that Mr. Whiteside was chuckling,
too.
    “You never can be too careful,” I
mumbled.
    Hugh rolled his eyes.
    “A black bear is more afraid of you than you
are of him,” the French Canadian continued. Then, he reached over
and, without a by-your-leave, took that blade right out of my hand.
“And badgers...” He gave an expressive shrug. “They are fierce. If
you are close enough to a badger to touch it with a knife, it had
better be dead or in a trap.”
    “I was looking at that knife.”
    The laughter went from his face just like
that, and he looked at me hard. “Are you buying it?”
    “Uh, no. I mean, I don’t know.”
    “Augie, throw the blade in with my other
things.”
    “What I meant was I hadn’t decided,” I
protested. I didn’t like this fella coming in and running me
over.
    “I am doing you a favor,” the man responded.
“Now you will not cut yourself.” He ran a finger across his throat
demonstratively. “I will pick it all up in the morning, Augie. You
have it ready?”
    “Yes, it’ll all be ready, Fabien.”
    “Well then, À bientôt . I have plans
for this evening, so do not be expecting me early.” He clapped Mr.
Whiteside on the back, and, without another glance at me, strode
out of the store, whistling.
    “Do you know who that was?” Hugh’s eyes were
wide with admiration.
    “Fabien Roget,” Whiteside said. “Some say
he’s the best riverman on the Chippewa.”
    “Yeah, well maybe I’ll be a river rat, too,
come spring,” I announced, lifting my chin high. That Roget might
be bigger and older, but that didn’t make him a better man than
me.
    Augie chuckled, clearly dismissing that
possibility.
    “Could I see that knife again?” I asked. It
was such a fine looking blade, new, without a nick in it. Of
course, we’d never had one like it. I would be nice just once to
have something shining and new that I didn't really need. I could
just see myself as a lumberjack, working the pines, with that
trusty knife strapped to my side.
    Mr. Whiteside shook his head. “No. You heard
him – Mr. Roget’s buying this one. If you’re interested in a knife,
I can show you some others.”
    I shook my head. “Nah.” The truth was I
didn’t have the money for any knife. In a way, Roget had let me off
the hook. I mighta bought it had he not come in. The money that I
earned this winter would be going to my family. But, I promised
myself, if I had any left over, I would come right back here and
buy myself a knife just like Roget’s.
    Mr. Whiteside began to add up my purchases.
“It should be quite a winter for logging. I’ve heard talk that the
lumber companies are gonna try and send a couple-million yards of
board feet down the Chippewa this spring. Wouldn’t that be
something?”
    I tried to make my response sound like I was
in the know. “I don’t know if Half Moon or Dell’s Pond can hold
that much timber.”
    “Which outfit will you be working for again,
young man?”
    “The Daniel Shaw Lumber Company,” I said it
proudly, well-respected outfit it was. “Just