White Pine Read Free Page A

like my Pa.”
    “Who’s your father, boy?” Mr. Whiteside
asked.
    “Gustav Andersen,” I said. “He’s one of the
best sawyers in these parts.”
    “Gus Andersen? I heard tell that your father
was hurt in an accident at the mill.”
    “Broke his leg bad. But Doc Foster says he
should get better. The leg’s set. Now he just has to give it time.”
I’d heard Ma and Pa talking late at night when they thought we were
sleeping. I knew that they were worried Pa’s leg might not heal
right. If he was lame or worse, he would have a hard time going
back to lumberjacking.
    “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