Should he warn the push? Along with his no gambling and no liquor rules, the push had a strict policy against women visiting the camp. Since the ladies were wearing mackinaws, Ben didn't see their robes until they climbed out. “You're nuns!” Ben blurted out.
The taller one, who was at least six feet, turned to Ben.“Were you expecting carnival freaks? Do us a favor, sonny, and take our horse down to the barn.” She banged on the door and hollered, “What's for dinner, you old hash slinger?”
Pa opened the door and grinned. “If it ain't Sister Aggie!” he said. “It's been a long time.” They gave each other a hug. “I figured you'd come sooner now that you've opened up that new hospital in Grand Rapids.”
“It's a shorter haul,” the sister said, “but this ragtag outfit ain't the only camp in the north woods.”
“I can't believe all the years you traveled from Duluth to visit us jacks.”
“Who else would sell hospital tickets to you clumsy boys who are doing your best to chop your feet off?” The sister smiled. Ben was shocked to hear a nun talk so casually, and he was even more shocked at how forward Pa was. “By the way,” the sister said, “I'd like you to meet my new helper, Sister Gwen.”
The younger nun said, “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“And these are my cookees,” Pa said. “My son, Ben, and young Nevers here. Meet Sister Agnes, boys.”
“Call me Aggie, please. By looking at Ben, I can tell that the apple don't fall far from the tree.” She dug Pa in the ribs and winked.
“Can I interest you ladies in a little dinner?”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Ward,” Sister Gwen replied.
“It better be more than a little dinner, Jack Ward,” Sister Aggie said. “Driving that old nag stirs up my appetite.”
“I'll do my best to put something together.” Pa smiled.
“Any meal is bound to be an improvement over our last camp,” Sister Aggie said, scrunching up her face.“That half-soused cook served up venison ribs that were so tallowy we couldn't hardly part our lips to sing those jacks a hymn.”
The younger sister giggled.
“You came at the right time if you're in the mood for some serious eating, Sister,” Pa said. “We're having roast turkey tomorrow, and we're baking up a pie for every single man.”
“And for every woman, I hope!” Then Sister Aggie nodded toward Ben. “Does that cookee of yours suffer from an addlepated brain?”
“What's wrong with him?”
“I gave him directions to take care of my horse, but he's still standing there with his mouth hanging open.”
“Sorry, Pa,” Ben said. “I'll bring her cutter to the barn.” When Ben got back inside, Pa looked at Nevers and said, “I believe you have something for the sisters.”
“I do?”
“Ain't you been the main contributor to the hospital kitty?”
“I guess so.” Nevers blushed.
“Jack hired himself a cussing cookee, eh?” Sister Aggie said.
“I'm sorry, ma'am. But the words just pop out,” Nevers said as he lugged the can over and set it on the table.
“Well, son, you need to understand that God's name is not to be taken in—” Sister Aggie stopped when she tried to lift the can. She looked inside. “Lord sakes alive! Have you got the whole U.S. mint canned up here?” She patted Nevers on the shoulder. “I'd say that you've done your full penance already. Just watch that mouth in the future.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Later, as Ben and Nevers were helping Pa get a meal together for the sisters, Nevers looked nervous.
“What's wrong?” Ben asked.
“I'm afraid the jacks'll be impolite to those nuns.”
“You've got nothing to worry about,” Pa said.
“We never had women stop by my other camps.”
“Around here even the rowdiest jacks show proper manners where women are concerned,” Pa said. “One day a jack in Blackwater named Big Willy went snaky on bad moonshine and started digging a hole in the middle of Main Street. Some fellows tried to wrestle his shovel away, but he was too big and strong. Willy kept cussing and mumbling, ‘Ain't nobody gonna jump my claim. This here's my gold.’ But when Mrs. Wilson came by, Willy took off his cap and said, ‘Good afternoon, ma'am.’ He waited until she passed before he went back to his digging.”
Sure enough, the jacks were respectful through the whole meal. Pa suspended his no talking rule after supper, and the sisters led everyone in singing Christmas carols. Then Slim started a collection by dropping two bits into a lard bucket and saying, “Dig deep, boys.”
Every jack also bought a hospital ticket from Sister Aggie. If they didn't have cash, the pencil pusher marked it down against their account. But when it came time for Nevers to pay, Sister Aggie put her arm around him and said, “This boy and I have already settled up.”
During the singing Ben noticed that the only fellow who wasn't having any fun was Ernie Gunderson. Poor Gundy sat in the back corner all by himself. He had one of his sweetheart's letters out, and he just kept staring at it.
TO THE RACES: GRAYBACKS AND JACKS
After the collecting was done and the jacks had retired to the bunkhouse, Ben and Nevers got out Pa's present. “We didn't have a chance to wrap it,” Ben said, “but we made it special for your kitchen.”
“So when did you become a woodworker?” Pa asked.
“Nevers and I made it together,” Ben said.
“This is real fine work, boys.” Pa ran his hand along the edge. “And you even carved your initials.”
“You can test it out tomorrow,” Nevers said.
“I should say not,” Pa said. “I'm hanging this cutting board right up on the wall where everybody can see it.”
Picking up after supper went faster than usual because the sisters and Pa all helped. After they finished, Pa said,“Me and my cookees will sleep in the bunkhouse tonight so you ladies can have some privacy.”
“That ain't necessary, Jack,” Sister Aggie said.
“It's lots cleaner in here, and we don't mind, do we, boys?”
Ben and Nevers both said, “No, ma'am.”
“If you insist,” Sister Aggie said as Pa gathered up some blankets and handed them to the boys.
Ben and Nevers walked down ahead of Pa. “I've been wanting to try the bunkhouse all year long,” Ben said.
“How come?” Nevers asked.
“For once I'd like to track some dirt in without getting yelled at.”
Nevers frowned, but he didn't say anything more. When the boys walked into the bunkhouse, Ben was surprised to see everyone clustered in front of Arno's bunk. The room smelled of wet socks, horse sweat, and liniment.
“Let's see what they're doin',” Ben said.
The jacks were staring at something in Jiggers's lap. Ben and Nevers looked over the shoulders of the men. Jiggers had a sheet of brown paper on his knee, and a circle was drawn in the middle.
“Ready?” Jiggers said, digging at his scalp.
Arno, who was picking in his own hair, said, “Yep.”
Then he and Arno held their hands over the paper as Windy counted, “One, two, three, go!”
Jiggers and Arno each dropped a little white bug into the center of the circle, and the fellows all cheered. They were having a louse race!
Arno's louse just lay sideways on the paper, but Jiggers's hopped toward the outside of the circle. The minute Jiggers's bug crossed the line, Jiggers stood up and yelled, “I win!”
“No fair,” Arno said, grabbing the paper and staring at the bug he'd dropped from his head. “Mine is dead.”
“I can't help it if you're so clumsy you crushed it. That makes two out of three races I won fair and square.”
While half of the fellows dug in their pockets to pay up their bets, Poultice Pete said to Arno, “I ain't never putting money on you again.”
“Have you ever seen anything so disgusting?” Ben said to Nevers, but his friend was gone. “Where's Nevers?
” Ben asked Windy.
Windy nodded toward the door. “I think that gray-back racing upset his stomach.”
Ben turned. Nevers, his face white as an eggshell, was kneeling on the stoop, taking a big gulp of fresh air.
“Shut the door, you dummy,” Swede said. “If we ever have a puking contest around here, my money's gonna be on Nevers.” The jacks had a good laugh.
Ben went out to help Nevers. “Just stand a minute,” Ben said. “This cold air will clear your head.”
“Freeze it, more likely,” Nevers said.
When they stepped back inside, Swede said, “Hey, Nevers. Arno can save a few crushed lice if you'd like to sprinkle some on your oatmeal in the morning.”
“Don't pay him no mind,” Slim said.
Windy showed Ben and Nevers to their bunks at the far end of the room. “Before you boys sit down, let me run through the bunkhouse rules with you.”
“I heard those rules a hundred times,” Ben said.
“You hush and listen unless you want to sleep in a snowbank. The main and most important thing to remember is there ain't no spitting on the stove.” He acted like he was reciting the Ten Commandments. “You use this here box”—Windy spit into the sandbox under the stove as an example—“or this here spittoon.” Windy bent to spit into the pail, but he hesitated.
“What's the trouble, Santa Claus?” Packy laughed.“Did all that talking dry you out?”
By the time Windy was done, Pa had arrived. “Looks like we won't be sweating tonight,” Pa said.
“What do you mean?” Ben looked at the red-hot stove.
“Watch this.” Pa leaned into the corner and blew.
When Pa's breath turned to frost, Nevers's eyes widened. “You suppose we shoulda brung more blankets?”
As the jacks got ready for bed, each fellow followed his own routine. Packy unwound his sash and folded it neatly and set it on the deacon's bench below his bunk. Poultice Pete took off his long underwear, turned it inside out, and then put it back on again. “Poultice does that every night,” Swede said. “It's his way of keeping clean. But I favor this.” Swede lifted up his flour-sack pillow and showed Ben a half stick of dynamite.
“You sleep with dynamite under your head!” Ben said.
“The powder smell gives me a little headache, but it drives all the bugs away.”
“I keep telling that fool a jolt of lightning's gonna hit this shack and blow us all to kingdom come,” Jiggers said,“but he don't never listen.”
When Windy called, “Lights out,” and turned off the kerosene lamps, Ben heard the wind whistling between the logs. He rolled out his blanket on the loose hay, and the smell of tar paper and hot steel burned his nostrils. Ben wondered how many millions of lice were crawling around the bunkhouse. His neck felt itchy. To make matters worse, the stink of onions and turpentine was drifting up from Poultice Pete's bunk.
Ben was about to ask Nevers how he was doing when he heard a squeak. Then something tickled his lips. Thinking it was a bug, Ben tried to swat it, but before he could get his hand out from under the blankets, a little tail brushed across his cheek. “Pa!” Ben smacked at the place where he'd heard the critter dive into the hay. “A mouse ran over my face!”
“Shut your trap,” Arno said from two bunks over, “or that little squeaker might jump into your mouth.”
“Yuck.” Nevers shivered in the bunk beside Ben.
Now it was Ben's turn to feel like throwing up.
“He won't hurt you none.” Pa laughed. “You just rousted him out when you settled into the hay.”
For the first time all winter, Ben appreciated how clean Pa kept the cookshack.
“Pa?” Ben asked.
“What now?”
“Could we stop in the boiling-up shack before we go back to our own beds?”
“I second the motion,” Nevers called.
“Fine by me,” Pa said. Ben felt him smiling in the dark.
“Hush up down there,” Windy growled.
Soon the wind was overshadowed by the raspy snoring, burps, and grosser noises of the lumberjacks. It sounded like the roof was ready to fly off.
Nevers whispered, “These fellows sure do rattle the tar paper, don't they?”
“Would you boys shut yer yaps?” Ed Day spoke from somewhere between Ben and Windy. “It'll be time to harness up soon.”
From then on no one made a peep. The snoring got louder as the last of the men dozed off, but Ben lay awake, listening for another squeak or rustle. If a mouse touched his face again, he was going to rake the straw out of his bunk and sleep on bare wood.
“Daylight in the swamp.” Ben felt someone tap his shoulder.
Ben opened his eyes. He could barely make out Windy's beard in the dim light. It was four A.M. and time to start breakfast. Pa and Nevers were already slipping on their pants.
Ben dressed and laced up his boots. He felt a little dizzy from lack of sleep. Along with the snoring, the heavier jacks had made the bunk frames creak every time they rolled over. And once the man next to Ben had rapped the snorting pole between the bunks so hard that Ben sat straight up and bumped his head.
Ben pulled up his sleeve and scratched his forearm. Pa whispered, “Did the lice lunch on you last night?”
Ben nodded. The welts on his arm burned like blisters.
“Try not to scratch too much,” Pa said. “We'll get over to the boiling-up shack as soon as we can.”
As the three of them tiptoed out of the bunkhouse and into the bright moonlight, the rest of the jacks continued to snore. Outside, the wind had died, but the air was biting cold. Ben started to button up his shirt, but Pa said, “Don't bother. We'll shake our things out before we go inside.”
Pa stood on the top step of the bunkhouse and stripped off his pants and underwear. Steam rose from his skin. “Stand on the toes of your boots so you don't freeze yourselves,” he said as he shook out his clothes. He had just pulled his pants back on when the door swung open behind them. Ben and Nevers were whipping their woolies in the frigid air.
Lantern light streamed over the bare bottoms of the boys. “Morning, gentlemen,” Sister Aggie said.
“Good mornin', Sister.” Pa chuckled. “You're up early.”
Ben and Nevers scrambled to dress while Pa stepped inside, still laughing.
“You realize a nun has just seen us naked?” Nevers groaned.
“How are we ever gonna face her?” Ben said.
The boys finally got tired of shivering in the dark and opened the door. They tried to slip in unnoticed, but Sister Aggie, who was working next to Pa, hollered,
“Come on in, boys. And don't you be embarrassed. Being that I'm a nurse, I've seen hundreds of scrawny hinders in my day.”
Ben didn't know if that made him feel better or worse.
But Nevers was suddenly excited. “Is that biscuits I smell?”
“And gravy,” Sister Aggie said. “I figured I'd treat these Scandahoovians to a little Southern-style cooking for a change.” She slapped Pa's hand away from her pan. “By the way you talk, boy, I'd wager you're from Georgia.”
“South Carolina,” Nevers said.
“My mother was a Tidewater gal,” Sister said. “How'd you ever find your way to these parts?”
Nevers looked at Ben. Sister could tell that Nevers was wondering if it was safe to share his story with her. She chuckled, “I'm not about to turn you in, boy. If I tattled to the law about everything I knew, there wouldn't be a lumberjack left in these woods.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Nevers said. “I'd sure hate to get sent back to that ole orphanage.”
“Who wants the first biscuit?” Sister Aggie held one out.
“Go ahead, Nevers.” Ben nudged him forward. Nevers took a bite and smiled. “Merry Christmas!”
Chapter 22
BOILING UP
As soon as the sisters left, Pa and the boys headed for the boiling-up shack. Now that the weather had turned cold, Poultice Pete was about the on
ly jack who took a bath. But no matter how bitter it got, Ben and Nevers still had to go to the boiling-up shack once a week and launder the aprons and towels, and Pa insisted that he and his cookees bathe.
Ben had gone down earlier in the day and started a fire in the stove, because it took a couple of hours to heat enough water to fill the washtub.
Pa slipped off his clothes and took the first turn in the tub. “If we had a few Finlanders around here, there'd be more fellows who cared about keeping themselves clean,” he said. Ben had heard that camps with Finnish men often built a separate sauna for bathing.
“We'd also have to eat fish soup,” Nevers said.
“That's true.” Pa chuckled. He looked at Nevers, who was sitting on the bench next to Ben. “Do you miss Carolina now that we're getting a touch of winter?”
Nevers nodded. “I get most lonesome at Christmas.”
“I can understand that. Ben and I lost Lucy about this time of the year. It was the week after New Year's.”
To Ben's surprise, Pa kept talking as he sudsed up his arms. “She caught a sudden fever. Ben was only two at the time. Lucy had doted on Ben since the day he was born. When we first got married, I was afraid that she wouldn't be happy giving up her teaching job. She wanted to tell the school board that it wasn't right to fire a gal the minute she took a husband, but she decided there was no use fighting. I still remember her standing with her hands on her hips and her dark eyes flashing. ‘All that school board does is talk policy,’ she said, ‘when they should be looking out for the good of the children.’ ”
Pa looked at Ben. “From the minute you was born, Lucy turned all her teaching energy to you. Though most mamas jabber baby talk at their little ones, she spoke like you was a tiny scholar all wrapped in swaddling clothes. I'll never forget one evening in particular. I'd just hauled in an armful of wood, and she was standing by the window holding you in her arms. She pointed at the sky and said, ‘Master Benjamin J. Ward, may I introduce you to the moon?’ And she went on to give you a regular astronomy lesson. I didn't understand half of what she was saying, but you smiled like you were soaking in every word.”
Blackwater Ben Page 9