Mushing, Mining, Money, and Murder In the Land of the Living Skies

By Dr, Joseph Barake

McClarty,a genial used car lot owner, blessed with a superb line of blarney, wins fabulously rich mining claims in a poker game. In his efforts to parlay his claims into millions, he gets embroiled in trickery and murder. The surprising finale plays out in the unspoiled, grand Wilderness of the vast North, during a world class dogsled race that Portage Falls sponsors to save itself from bankruptcy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr, Joseph Barake
• Release date: Oct 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301607969

Dr, Joseph Barake

Dr. Joseph Barake is an economist who specialized in corporate financing. He was instrumental in financing several mining ventures and worked in Canada, Paris, France, and London England.He is now catching up with his goal of writing and plans to weave many mysteries around McClarty, his likable but unlikely hero.

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MUSHING, MINING, MONEY, AND MURDER

IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING SKIES

BY

DR. JOSEPH BARAKE

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*******

Published by

Dr. Joseph Barake at Smashwords

Mushing, Mining, Money And Murder

Copyright 2013 Dr. Joseph Barake

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Graphic Art - Donna Casey

Formatting - Brenda Van Niekerk

Contents

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

COME FORTH INTO THE LIGHT OF THINGS LET NATURE BE YOUR TEACHER

WILLIAM WODSWORTH

CHAPTER I

In the great, isolated and untamed Wilderness, the little prairie town of Portage Falls showed all the signs of the long and steady decline that is characteristic of so many of its equals across the prairies.

The railway ceased service years ago, yielding to the big semi's that wore out the road surface, leaving a deeply rutted and potholed highway into town. The railway track, still in place, with the rusty rails hardly visible, is now a desolate, overgrown track pointing to past accomplishments that are swiftly dimming away into the mists of time.

The highway, on entering Portage Falls, becomes Center Street and the paved surface ends at the town's main intersection, where Center and Main Streets meet. Gravel roads lead out of town North, East and West, as they have done for generations, connecting farms and small settlements with Portage Falls, the main trading and shopping center for the area.

Portage Falls' attractions fell so far short of the glittering promise of the urban areas that younger kids as well as many an able bodied man and woman left town to pursue a dream of working in the city and living in a mansion in suburbia.

Farming families around Portage Falls did not escape unscathed from the exodus of people to the big cities. Corporate agribusinesses, solely driven by profit, muscled out the smaller farmers and the countryside is dotted with dilapidated, partially collapsed barns and homesteads. The barns are useful only to those looking for weathered barnwood boards for feature walls in houses and restaurants. And the homesteads' empty hulks, looted of anything of value, are sad reminders of the departed pioneers that had settled the country.

The town traced its existence back to the days when Indians and trappers exchanged their furs for goods and money. Later, the completion of the railway spur line to the town opened the country up to homesteaders, traders, and adventurers while hunters from the south discovered plentiful wildlife. Prospectors scoured the country for gold and staked claims here and there but no mother lode like the spectacular Klondike was ever found.

Prosperity came to Portage Falls in bursts as contingents of settlers, traders and prospectors arrived. Then the Great Depression hit. The town never recovered from the dirty thirties that followed. Portage Falls saw a pick-up of activity for a brief period after World War II, but this was soon followed by another decline.

In its heyday, the town's population ran to several thousand. This had leveled out to an average of six or seven hundred for many years now.

Some stayed in Portage Falls because they had no choice in the matter. Others could not envision living anywhere else. Together, they put a brave face on the fact that they were living in a dying town. In a determined act of denial, all banded together and patched up dowdy facades and deteriorating buildings that spoke of years of neglect. And so life went on.

The abandoned Railway Station, in all its faded gory, had been taken over by the town. To save it from wrack and ruin, volunteers organized fund raisers such as silent auctions and flea markets. The grand old landmark was given a face-lift and continued life as the centerpiece of civic pride on the corner of Center and Main Streets. It became home to an indoor vegetable and fruit market, vendors of snacks and drinks, a liquor store, a clothing store, a beauty salon and an upscale restaurant.

At City Hall, directly across from the refurbished Railway Station, Lorne Swenson quickly closed the door to his office, closing out the bustling throng of persistent reporters, curiosity seekers and staff.

He sank in the leather-clad executive chair, that once had been an imposing piece of furniture. The leather was cracked and the stuffing peeked out here and there while years of supporting backsides had worn a very shiny, rounded depression in the middle of the seat.

Lorne put his feet on the desk in front of him and pushed out a long sigh of relief. He closed his eyes and visited the events again that had led to his new job. Not many years ago, he would have rated his chances of becoming mayor of Portage Falls as lousy or totally non-existent.

Lorne, now 44 years old, was tall, blond, and rugged. He had inherited the fierce Viking features of his Scandinavian forebears. He was fearless and this, together with his strong physique, propelled him effortlessly to the forefront as a high school athlete. He excelled as a quarterback on the local football team. After high school, Lorne played ball professionally. Just as his career showed promise, a bad knee injury ended his playing days.

Lorne returned home to Portage Falls. Because of his notoriety in sports, he was offered a variety of jobs. He was listless and disinterested. All through a series of operations and recuperations, his spirits sank and he wallowed in his misfortune of having missed out on the fame and glory of major league football.

Lorne's parents, God bless them, tried to console him, pointing out the many friends he had and all those job offers he could choose from. It was to no avail. Lorne spent the years drifting from job to job. He was sports newscaster for the local radio station for a number of years.

He sold farm equipment, insurance, then went back to sports as a newspaper reporter but nothing could rekindle the spark that characterized him when he was an athlete.

Despite his lack of purpose in life, Lorne remained a popular person socially.

Lorne moped around the home after his parents passed away, an unfulfilled man. He knew that something was missing but he did not possess the drive to find out just exactly what would turn things around for him.

One day, in the fall, on a hunting trip with some of his friends, he experienced the call of the Wilderness. Suddenly, he was aware of the exhilaration of being in the vast, untouched bush, and in the prairie grasslands stretching for miles towards the majestic rolling hills and mountains far away in the distance.

Their guide, known only by the name of Skookum, swapped stories with them about life and survival in the Wild.

As Lorne listened to the real-life adventures under the harsh, uncompromising conditions of an untamed land, his mind cleared and his eyes reflected a new spark of life. He decided then and there to take up living in the Wilderness, like Skookum.

Skookum told Lorne that he knew of a trapline that had been abandoned which came with a log cabin that was fixable. So started Lorne's new life as a trapper in the bush.

Lorne spent long, lonesome days and nights in brutal weather conditions, rough terrain, and he suffered from frostbite and lack of modern comforts.

The long, solitary hours in the Wilderness accompanied only by his team of Huskies pulling his sled, stimulated his mind and his athletic figure returned to him as the rigors of his struggle for survival exerted their demands on his body.

On his infrequent visits to Portage Falls, people noticed the change in his demeanor. The years he had spent mushing in solitude along his traplines had changed him much for the better. He had turned into a thoughtful, purpose-driven man, hard working, with a healthy, outdoor complexion. Lorne's respect for nature blossomed as a result of his demanding life in the bush. He found deep satisfaction in forging a living from nature itself. His trapline made him only a modest income and the manual workload was exhausting but he became self-sufficient and he was at peace with himself for the first time since his athletic days years ago.

As Lorne's attitudes towards life and people improved, so did his fortunes. The new aura of resolute optimism that had replaced his awkward and directionless drifting attracted a growing circle of supporting friends.

He was asked to run for mayor. People in Portage Falls were grasping at straws to improve their lot. Despite efforts to patch up appearances, much of the town remained shabby, unable to shrug off the sluggish apathy caused by the steadily dwindling business volume. New vigor was needed to sweep away the cobwebs of complacency and fresh ideas were needed to revive Portage Falls from its long slumber.

Lorne's inspired speeches electrified the folks that came to hear him at the community hall, at the legion and at the hotel conference room. His ruggedly handsome person helped win admiration and approval, even if he had nothing to offer but honesty and dedication.

Lorne won in a landslide upset, with the clear directive from the folks to guide Portage Falls toward better days.

Insistent knocking on the door startled Lorne out of his daydreams. Taking his feet off the desk, he called out:

Come in!

The door was opened slowly and respectfully and Holly, the ex-mayor's secretary, entered, smiling hesitantly as she advanced to face him across the desk. Lorne noticed that she had taken good care of herself and judged her to be about his age. She had a pleasing figure and was carefully and neatly groomed.

She carried herself well and looked every bit the competent, executive secretary. She spoke in a clear, crisp voice that belied her underlying anxiety:

"I hope I did not disturb you. I can come back later, if you prefer. I wanted to discuss your agenda for today. You have a full program ahead of you. I could

not squeeze in all the people that wanted to see you..... It's alright, Holly" Lorne said, cutting her short. A touch of nervousness had obviously made Holly rattle on and on.

We can go over the day's activities now, no problem, Lorne observed, using his soothing, mellifluous voice to best advantage. Sit down, he continued, let's hear what's in store. Holly's correct and businesslike manner softened into a more approachable style of behavior as she settled into one of the two visitor's chairs. Lorne liked her and decided she was a keeper. Holly, consulting her notebook, gave Lorne a brief digest of the day's agenda. Despite Holly's comments, Lorne thought the first day on the job as mayor of Portage Falls sounded not too taxing. The various municipal departments expected a courtesy visit, then lunch at the Portage Falls Hotel, sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce and an appointment had been made for Miss Sparks to see Lorne at his office at four P.M., after that the day as free of commitments. Miss Sparks? Lorne asked, surprised, What does she want?

Lorne was well aware of Miss Sparks' standing in the community. Every small town or village has a Miss Sparks. Someone that knows just what is going on, who is doing what and why. Miss Sparks had never married and had that look about her as if she had never been young. She was not outgoing and rarely smiled or laughed. She had volunteered to work at the town's library and was chief librarian now. Being a good observer, she had taken up writing and had booked much success as a writer of crime novels.

Apart from her assistant librarian, Muriel, she had few friends. She was well-to-do and lived in a rambling Victorian white two-story with lots of curlicues, inlaid glass windows, a wide verandah along the front and a white picket fence around her property. She lived like the Lady of the Manor, keeping a housekeeper and a gardener, who doubled as her chauffeur. He was also charged with keeping the heated greenhouse in her garden that produced organic vegetables year round. She was a remarkable woman who had her ways and did not hide her opinions. Folks recognized her achievement in becoming a successful author and she was regarded as a celebrity.

Holly continued: Miss Sparks did not want to go into details on the phone. She said to tell you that it concerned the future prosperity of Portage Falls.

You did well, Lorne commended Holly, it was a good idea to accommodate our one and only local celebrity.

Thank you, Mr. Mayor, Holly answered deferentially. Make that Lorne, please, Lorne offered. O.K. Lorne, you can call me Holly Holly countered cheekily. I'm off to see the wizard. Try and keep the prying newshounds away. I'll be back to see Miss Sparks. See you later. Lorne smiled and winked at Holly as he rose and made for the door.

Holly, struck by the unexpected wink Lorne had given her, wondered how to take that. She fancied he was hitting on her and conflicting thoughts flashed through her brain. At thirty-nine, she was no spring chicken and to boot, she was a single mother of two teenage daughters of twelve and fifteen. Nelson Vaughn, her late husband had died suddenly five years ago while out in the bush prospecting. His death was ruled a suicide, which Holly had strongly contested. He had been found by the camp's cook, who nearly fell over his body as he emptied the kitchen trash into the dumpster. A twelve gauge shotgun had been found on the body, one hand clenching the stock of the gun in a deadly, iron grip.

Nelson had behaved strangely before heading out on this last trip. His mind had been elsewhere and he had snapped at the girls. Nelson had been in the mining business, together with his partner, Herb Spence, for many years. The operations were barely in the black. With the help of modern machinery they managed to drag enough gold bearing sludge up from the riverbeds in the Wilderness to pay for their operations and satisfy their basic needs with very little left over for extravagances. Nelson had mentioned something, Holly recalled, about going after the big one this time. Something about doing further work on Skookum's fabulous looking claims. She thought not much of Skookum, so she had dismissed Nelson's comment as well meant banter. Herb had put the mining operation into bankruptcy which had left Holly destitute. After the winding up, Herb made a friendly gesture to Holly and gave her a few dollars that he said was her share after expenses. Shortly afterwards, Herb moved out of Portage Falls.

To keep her home together, Holly applied for and landed the job of secretary to the mayor, which she did not want to compromise now by flirting or encouraging amorous episodes. Thoughts of another man after Nelson made her uncomfortable. She liked her life, she thought, and did not want to disturb her routine. She lived a full life, loved her kids and the odd girls' night out. There was no room for a man in her life.

Until Lorne had winked at her. Her resolve had vanished. Only for an instant, but it had and it unsettled Holly. Quickly, she suppressed the notion and busied herself at her desk.

Miss Sparks had arrived at City Hall a full five minutes early. Lorne, hurrying through the front doors, spotted her talking to Holly.

Always a pleasure, Lorne said, greeting Miss Sparks graciously. Come into the office. Some tea, or coffee, perhaps? Lorne was all smiles and tact as he ushered her into his new office. Served with a cup of tea, Miss Sparks took a dainty sip from her cup and came straight to the point:

I am sure that you realize as well as I do that your election promises of honesty and dedication, although very fine by themselves, are not much of a plan to bring prosperity to Portage Falls. Any thoughts? Miss Sparks said this with a smug expression on her face of knowing the answer but not willing to divulge it until after having made Lorne realize she had the better of him.

Well, Lorne said, gathering his wits, I had in mind to hold a meeting or two at the community hall. Everyone welcome and invite suggestions for profitable projects that Portage Falls could initiate. From that, Council could make a short list which than can be voted on by the people. Democracy at work!

Miss Sparks, giving Lorne a look as if she was helping him out of his misery, said:

Lorne, I've known you since you were a baby and I changed your diapers when babysitting you. Democracy exists only as a figment of your imagination. You are no longer running for mayor, you know. Now your real work starts. The electioneering is over and done with. Portage Falls has been going downhill for years and thanks only to a bunch of volunteers we still have a functioning town.

I agree, Lorne cut in, hoping to stem the tide of Miss Sparks' verbal onslaught. She was building up a full head of steam and he remembered Miss Sparks' lectures well enough to try to avoid them. Myself, he continued, I've got a couple of ideas too. The land in the North here has incredible natural resources. We have not seen anywhere near the development that has brought prosperity to other areas. I was thinking of the mining and also of the oil and gas industries. We could become the main Northern supply and service center if we can attract exploration and development. We'd be booming."

Nonsense, Miss Sparks rejected this idea without hesitation.

Dawson is doing exactly that and, look at them, they are booming, Lorne remarked, slighted.

Rubbish, it is fine for Dawson but not for us here in Portage Falls, Miss Sparks declared.

I see quite a similarity, though, Lorne said, reluctant to give in.

What you are talking about, Lorne, takes years and years. It also takes money. Big money. Small time operators are a thing of the past. Big is in today. Big governments, big corporations, and the big banks are the only players that can manipulate the finances, the restrictions, rules and regulations of the agencies of government and don't forget the environmental studies and on and on it goes. No, worthy projects in themselves, but Portage Falls will be a ghost town before we will see anything from such endeavors. Miss Sparks held up an admonishing finger while uttering the last remark.

Lorne admitted to being at a loss: I can't think of what else to do, he said, dispirited.

Miss Sparks' moment had arrived. With a faint hint at superiority and with conviction stemming from knowing to be right, Miss Sparks divulged her plan of action:

"As you are aware, I am an avid outdoors person. I've done my bit of snowshoeing, cross country skiing, ice fishing, snowmobiling, you name it. I've been out in blizzards, ice-fog, howling winds at fifty below; there wasn't a thing that could keep me from the great experience of the Wilderness in wintertime. I've slowed down, but I still go out. Never mind that.

This is what we have to offer, Lorne. The unequaled, untouched Wilderness of the North. The adventure and exhilaration of being in the land of the living skies under conditions that tax your endurance to the limit. That's what we have