To Be a Logger Page 3

  And the well with the electric pump … When the hillside slid, it broke the pipes and the well got covered up. Something got into it like diesel oil, and the water wasn’t good any more. There was always the rain barrel at the side of the house. And down the road, across the highway by the store, there was a good spring, so water had to be carried after that in two big five-gallon cans.

  When Mom talked about moving out, Dad began to talk about building a new house. For a long time now, he had been bringing in secondhand lumber in the pick-up. The Forest Service tore down a couple of old homesteads and Dad bought some of the used lumber and hauled it in. He bought used plumbing fixtures and dumped them in the yard around the house, too, along with old tires, window sash, broken wheels, piles of old rope, cans of paint, and other useful things. Dad had a plan of his own, all right. Other loggers in the area had salvaged used materials and were planning to build some day.

  “What’s all the junk for?” Mom asked. “You goin’ in the junk business, Joe?”

  Dad said, “Now you know, Nellie, I’m goin’ to build us a nice new house …”

  “Out of all that rotten lumber?” Mom laughed.

  Dad said, “It’s good wood.”

  “It’ll take twice as long to pull the old nails out and get it in shape,” Mom insisted.

  “The boy can do that,” said Dad, looking at Joel and grinning.

  Each time, after a rain, when the house slid a foot or so, and a few dishes got knocked off the table, Mom complained and wanted to move.

  Dad just said quietly, “We’ll move when I get the new house built.”

  He really meant it, Joel could see that.

  Mom would begin again, “How can you ever build a house when you can’t pound a nail in straight?”

  Dad did not like it. So he stomped out of the house, picking up his axe.

  “Come on, Joel,” he called in a loud voice.

  He strode off up the hill like a great giant, with the three dogs barking at his heels. Joel took his axe and went along. He chopped, too, and helped pile up the brush.

  No, you couldn’t change Dad, Joel knew that. Even Mom with all her complaints never made a dent. Dad was what he was, a logger, and he’d never be anything else.

  In June the rains stopped and a dry spell set in. The house stopped sliding halfway to the creek. A little willow tree held it.

  Chapter Three

  THE RATTLER

  “Don’t you want to go, Joel?” asked Mom.

  Joel hated town as much as he loved the woods.

  “I won’t ever go again,” he said, “less’n you drag me.”

  “Don’t go if you don’t want to,” said Mom.

  “How about you, Jinx?” asked Sandy.

  “Don’t go, Jinx,” said Joel. “Nothin’ but smelly old stores …”

  Mom and Sandy were going to town. It was fifty miles to Medford, all the way over a mountain and down on the other side.

  Dad had a job again. He was hook-tender for the Johnson Logging Company. This was the kind of job he liked. He engineered the logging after he laid out the show. He told the crew what logs to bring to what place and saw that they did what they were told. He was making good wages and had had two paydays, so now Mom had money to spend. She and Sandy had a long list of things to buy.

  “W’ell go to a show too,” said Sandy.

  Jinx looked at Joel and said, “No, I think I’ll stay here. Too much trouble to put a dress on.”

  Dad was strict. He would not let the girls go to town in shorts, even if the weather was hot. Sandy said he was old-fashioned. But the girls had to mind.

  Joel and Jinx had plans of their own. With Dad away in the woods and Mom and Sandy gone to town, they could do what they pleased. But first they had to drive the cows up to the mountain range, where they would stay for the summer. The range was land that Dad had leased from the Forest Service. Dad had given the children their orders the day before. If he told them to do something, they knew they had to do it or there would be trouble.

  As soon as Mom and Sandy left in the car, Joel brought the horses out. The horses were old and decrepit. Dollie was seventeen years old and Star was twenty-one. They were so old they were terribly slow.

  “Come on, Jinx, let’s get going!” cried Joel.

  “First I got to feed my pet trout,” said Jinx.

  She had bread and stale cake in her hands. She started running down the woods road.

  “Where you going?” called Joel.

  No answer, so he waited till she came back.

  “They’re still there,” she said. “Under the culvert. They were hungry and glad to see me. I knocked some spiders off for them to eat, too.”

  “Well, come on,” said Joel.

  “They’re rainbow trout, Joel, all colors of the rainbow,” said Jinx.

  “Come on, let’s go!” cried Joel.

  “Wait till I feed my banties,” said Jinx, running to a pen near the woodpile.

  “Gosh sakes!” cried Joel. “When we ever gonna get started?”

  Jinx was raising a batch of baby banties. They had to be kept in a wire pen raised off the ground, so the coons and skunks would not get them. She also had a banty rooster and two hens that ran loose. The rooster’s name was Rusty. They were Golden Seabrights. The rooster’s feathers were black and gold. He had a double comb that was bright red.

  “Did you put rouge on it?” asked Joel.

  “Of course not,” said Jinx. “Isn’t he beautiful? You can hear him crow a mile away.”

  She fixed some mash for the baby chicks and threw some grain on the ground. Then she started for the house.

  “Aw, come on!” begged Joel. “Where you goin’ now?”

  “To get us some food,” said Jinx. “You don’t want to starve, do you?”

  She came out with a paper bag. In it were sandwiches of jelly and peanut butter, a banana, and a candy bar. At last she was ready to go.

  They climbed on the horses and rounded up the cows in the barnyard. There were eighteen of them and they all had names. Jinx knew every cow by name and rattled them off as they rode along.

  “Red, Holly, Mandy, Butterball, Cricket … Open that gate, there, Joel! Watch out, Baldy’s goin’ the wrong way … Bun and Dot and Grumpy and Spotty and Crooked Face … Oh, I wish this horse would move …”

  It was a hard job getting the cows to go up the mountain where they were supposed to go. Ringo, the cow-dog, was a big help, chasing them and nipping their heels. Rex ran back and forth, too. But the horses were slow and liked to stop and nibble grass. Coaxing and scolding and even slapping would not move them until they felt like going.

  “I’m gonna get me a mustang!” said Jinx.

  “Where?” asked Joel.

  “From Wyoming,” said Jinx. “They’re only forty dollars and I’m saving my money. That’s why I didn’t want to go to town with Mom and Sandy today. I don’t want to spend a penny. I’ll get me a mustang—they’re wild two-year-olds. They can gallop fast as lightning!”

  “Who told you about them?” asked Joel.

  “I saw an ad in the Medford paper,” said Jinx. “It told all about the wild horses in Big Horn Canyon out in Wyoming.”

  “That’s a long ways off,” said Joel. “How would you get it here?”

  Jinx had it all figured out.

  “Dad would have to go after it with his pick-up,” she said. “First, he’d have to rent a horse-trailer, though.”

  “It would be wild,” said Joel. “Who would break it for you?”

  “I’d break it myself,” said Jinx. “I’ve read a lot of Westerns and I know just how it’s done. There was an article in the Farm Journal, too: ‘How to Break a Mustang in Half an Hour.’ You put him in a cattle chute where there’s scarcely room for him to move, then throw a saddle on him and cinch it up and let him kick as much as he can. He’ll tame right down.”

  Joel laughed.

  “Sounds easy,” he said. “I hate these old nags. If Dad wou
ld get me a Yamaha motorcycle, I could come up here in half the time. They can go in rough places where horses can’t walk.”

  “I’m gettin’ saddle sore,” said Jinx, “sittin’ on this saddle so long.”

  When the children reached the range, they turned the cows in. They got off the horses and let them graze. Jinx and Joel wandered into the woods. It was cool and shady there under the big trees. They found a log and sat down to eat their lunch. They each had a sandwich, divided the banana, and Jinx ate the candy bar herself. Joel took his knife out of his pocket and began whittling twigs.

  “I’d like to live in the woods all the time,” he said. “I’d like to build me a cabin and shoot bear and deer to eat, and cook on a campfire like the Indians did.”

  “Live up here in the woods all by yourself?” asked Jinx.

  “Yes,” said Joel. “Once a year I’d go down to the store and buy matches and coffee and sugar …”

  “You’d go cuckoo the way Old Indian John did,” said Jinx.

  “But I’d be happy … Sh! I hear something!”

  “What is it, a bear?” asked Jinx.

  “No, a bear’s big and clumsy and makes a lot of noise,” said Joel. “I’ve only seen one bear and it was dead—the one that Jed Allen shot and brought to River Bend gas station.”

  “When I was little, I thought I saw two bears up the road,” said Jinx. “Till Dad told me they were Bentons’ hound dogs.”

  “Sh! I hear the noise again!” said Joel.

  The children listened. Above the chirping of the birds, a rustling noise could be heard. Joel looked on all sides, on the ground and in bushes and trees. Then he saw it—a porcupine up on the branch of a pine tree. The animal had puffed himself out to twice his normal size. His quills stuck straight out from his body. He lashed his tail back and forth angrily.

  “Don’t go near him!” cried Jinx. “He’ll throw his quills at you!”

  “No, he won’t,” said Joel. “Gimme a stick. Porcupines don’t throw their quills, you ought to know that.”

  Joel waved his stick.

  “Wish he’d stop eating that tree. Porkies damage good trees that we want to log. They eat bark, acres of it.”

  A cloud passed over and the sun faded away. Suddenly the woods looked dark and dismal. There was a shadow behind every tree and a wild animal in every pile of brush, according to Jinx.

  “Glory! Let’s get outa here!” she cried, starting to run. “I don’t want to meet a bear.”

  “No bears to be scared of, I told you,” said Joel.

  But Jinx was still running. At the edge of the woods she tripped and fell. Joel ran to help her. She was all tangled up in blackberry briars. Her long loose hair was caught in the vines. She twisted and turned, but only got tangled up worse than ever.

  “Blackberries!” cried Joel. “Why didn’t we bring a bucket?”

  He began to pick them and stuff them into his mouth. They were sweet and delicious, as only wild Oregon blackberries can be.

  “Help! Help! Get me outa here!” called Jinx.

  The more she struggled, the more tangled up she became. Joel ran over to look at her.

  “Guess you fell in head first,” he said. “Your hair’s got caught and it’s holding you tight.” He pulled his knife from his pocket. “Wait! I’ll cut it off!”

  “Ouch!” screamed Jinx. “Let me loose! What you doin’?”

  Joel cut again and again. At last he got his sister loose. He took her hand and pulled her out of the brambles. She was covered with scratches and blackberry juice.

  “Look where you’re goin’ next time,” warned Joel.

  Jinx got to her feet and ate blackberries. Once she glanced down into the briars. Long strands of yellow hair lay there, a tangled mass.

  “I never did like long hair anyhow,” she said, tossing her head. “It’s cooler in summer if it’s short.”

  They went to the range and found the horses. Then they took off down the hill.

  When they came back to the house, everything was quiet. They could hear the dogs barking in the distance. They had probably treed a coon or a skunk. No one was around. Mom and Sandy had not come back from town yet. Dad would not be home till late. The children sat on the doorstep and rested.

  A rooster crowed loudly.

  “That’s Rusty, my Golden Seabright!” cried Jinx. “Don’t you just love to hear him crow?”

  “Hope this house don’t slide any more,” said Joel. “If it does, we’ll land in the creek.”

  “We’ll move in the new house Dad’s going to build,” said Jinx.

  “Dad’ll never get a new house built,” said Joel.

  Jinx stared at him. “How do you know?”

  “I just know, that’s all,” said Joel. “Dad’s too busy loggin’. He’ll never take time off from loggin’ to build a house. Come on, we’d better get some of that house wood in, so Mom can cook supper when she gets back.”

  Joel pointed to a pile of wood on the grass. Dad had dumped it from the pick-up. The wheelbarrow stood beside it.

  “Dad said for us to get it in,” said Joel.

  “I don’t feel like hauling in wood,” said Jinx. “I’m tired. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  She ran into the kitchen and came out with a package of peanut cookies. She offered one to Joel and took two herself. The children sat on the step and munched cookies.

  “See that big bird flyin’ up there?” asked Joel, with his mouth full. “That’s a red-tail hawk. Bet it’s after digger-squirrels. I’ll go in and get my gun.” But he did not move.

  Joel had a .22 rifle, but he did not use it often. He liked the animals in the woods and did not want to kill them. But he knew all about the rifle. At the age of six, Dad had taught him how to handle, clean, load, and fire it.

  He went to the woodpile and began piling sticks in the wheelbarrow.

  “Might as well get some wood in,” he said, “or Dad will bawl me out when he gets home.”

  “Yes, you’d better,” said Jinx, “if you don’t want a good licking.”

  She went on munching cookies. She did not offer to help.

  Joel bent over to pick up a chunky log and then jumped back. He heard a rattle, a nerve-tingling rattle. His face went white and he shook as if he had a chill.

  “Snake! Snake!” he screamed, as soon as he could say the words. “It’s a buzz-tail!”

  Jinx jumped to her feet, frightened. She began to dance a jig.

  “Where? Where? What’ll I do?”

  “Go climb a tree!” called Joel. “That’s the safest place.”

  “There are no trees to climb,” said Jinx. “Dad cut ’em all down.”

  “Bring me my gun!” called Joel.

  “I can’t! I’m scared! I’ll drop it!” screamed Jinx.

  Joel ran to the back steps, keeping his eye on the snake. Beside the banties’ chicken pen, there was an old camper, where Dad stored oil and gas cans, paint cans, tools, and other things. Joel saw the snake go under a board under the chicken pen. Round the house came the banty hens and rooster. They were very tame and Rusty crowed loudly. The hawk flew down overhead, making a shadow cross the yard.

  “There’s gopher hole under there,” said Joel. “The snake’s gone under the board to eat gophers.”

  Jinx stood there screaming, “He’ll eat my banties!”

  “Be quiet!” cried Joel. “I’ll get him. He’s a rattler, I’m sure.”

  Jinx held her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

  Joel ran in the house to get his gun. As he came out, he slammed the door and it made a loud bang. Only a minute before, the hawk had swooped down, grabbed one of the banty hens and had taken off, flying.

  “Oh, my banty! My banty!” cried Jinx, wailing.

  The noise of the banging door scared the hawk, who had not too good a hold on the banty. He dropped it to the ground and the little hen ran off cackling. She had had a narrow escape.

  Joel stepped out with his gun.

&nb
sp; He had to be very careful. The snake was not in sight. Where had it gone? He must make it come out again. He put his gun down. He tipped over to the camper and shook it. With a shovel he poked at the chicken pen and the board under it. The camper fell on the pen and knocked it over. Out came the snake, a big long slithering Pacific rattler.

  Joel was ready. He picked up his gun. This was one time he was ready to shoot. He took careful aim and shot. The snake squirmed and lay still. It was all over quickly. Joel breathed a deep breath, although his hand was still shaking.

  Just then the banty rooster came around the corner and crowded loudly. Jinx gathered Rusty up in her arms and hugged him tight.

  “No snake, no hawk gonna get you, Rusty!” she sobbed.

  Joel took his gun in the house. He came out and sat down exhausted.

  The yard was a mess. The chicken pen with the baby banties was overturned. Cans of oil and grease had slid out of the camper and been overturned. Oil and grease were everywhere, and worst of all, on the baby chicks.

  Jinx stopped crying. She found kerosene and rags and cleaned the chicks off. She put them back in their pen, after Joel set it up again. She fed them and brought them water.

  Just then the dogs came tearing up and they all began to bark, as a car drove up the woods road. Mom and Sandy were back from town. They got out of the car and began to unload their packages and bundles.

  They had been on a spending spree, all right.

  Forgetting all her troubles, Jinx met them and cried out, “What did you buy? What did you buy? Anything for me?”

  They carried mysterious packages into the house. Joel and Jinx helped. They began to open them. They showed all the wonderful new things they had bought—six new sweaters, eight new skirts, and a lot of new blouses—all bargains. There was a big new coffee percolator, an automatic toaster, and a whole new set of dishes.

  “Wait till you see the new living room set we got!” cried Sandy. “It’s coming tomorrow. It was only twenty-five dollars down. A davenport and two big easy chairs.”

  They had been to Ward’s and Penney’s and the Roadside Furniture Mart and the discount house. And they went to a show, too. It was all very wonderful.