The Little Woodhauler

By Debby Emel, Larry Bradford and Ruth Bradford

Jacob and Bridgett Malone traveled from Ireland with Shawn, their young son, in the late 1890s. Their hopes ended tragically when Jacob died in an avalanche on Chilkoot Pass.
Life in the budding city of Whitehorse in the Yukon, is never easy. Will Bridgett be made to marry suave Pete Schultz? Will Bridgett and Shawn survive and even thrive in the frigid temperatures of winter in the beginning of the new century?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503588875

Debby Emel

Ruth and her husband, Larry Bradford, taught school in bush villages in the state of Alaska for several years. They personally experienced deep cold, freeze-up, and break-up of the Kuskokwim River, next in size only to the Yukon River. The Bradfords now live in Moriarty, New Mexico. They love traveling, especially as short-term missionaries to an orphanage in the Philippines, but that’s another story.

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THE LITTLE WOODHAULER

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RUTH BRADFORD; LARRY BRADFORD

Copyright © 2015 by Ruth Bradford; Larry Bradford.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction with the exception of recognized historical figures. Names, characters, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Interior Illustrations provided / created by author and her daughter Debby Emel.

Rev. date: 08/18/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

717462

CONTENTS

Preface

You Must Pay

Johnny Redwing

Unclaimed Treasure Or Payback?

Olaf

New Beginnings

Gold Fever

Chilkoot Pass

The Debt

The Riverboat

Belle

Irons

Grandfather’s Letter

Choir Boys

The Terrible Cold Day

The Decision

Frozen

The Red Scarf

Lost

The Cave

A Strange Pillow

Break-Up

The Cry For Help

Hoe-Down

Gold

Epilogue

The Author

The Illustrator And Editor

PREFACE

We taught in the state of Alaska for several years. When we made our yearly trip to the lower forty-eight, we passed through Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory of Canada. We became intrigued by the beginnings of Whitehorse from the 1890’s to the early 1900’s. MacBride Museum and a grounded sternwheeler-turned-museum pricked our imaginations.

The MacBride Museum, an authentic log cabin, is located by the railroad. The original Telegraph Office is also on the property. Hanging on the walls of the museum, are black and white photographs and tools used by miners and settlers.

One intriguing display is of a silver tea set with a placard, explaining how the set was found buried near Whitehorse. It hints at a story of a woman who fully intended to return for her earthly treasure. No one knows what happened to her.

One photograph, in particular, hanging beside pictures of muddy lanes, lined with white canvas tents, was the catalyst that started this tale of Whitehorse. It was a simple picture of a little boy bundled against the cold, holding the handle of a wagon loaded with firewood. The Little Woodhauler was the title. There was another photo of a cocky silver-haired man, holding a frilly umbrella. These photos inspired the characters in our story.

The quest for gold and the tragedy of the snow avalanches on Chilkoot Pass defined the lives of the people, who dared to brave the challenges. From the Whitehorse Archives, we read accounts of several deadly avalanches on Chilkoot Pass, Palm Sunday, 1898.

Life for those early settlers must have taken an amazing depth of inner strength to withstand the bitter cold, the lack of basics of life we enjoy like thermostats, indoor plumbing, and convenient fast foods.

We know, that it is only by the grace of God and the power of His Word, especially Philippians 4:13, that got Shawn and Johnny through serious challenges, along with thousands of real people over the years in history, including us.

Several of the characters in the The Little Woodhauler are real historical people: Reverend R. J. Bowen; Soapy Smith; Mr. and Mrs. Maxson; Adolph Mueller and Ed Jaffe, who ran a restaurant on Chilkoot Pass; Pat Burns, the cattle shipper; and Mr. Taylor and Mr. Drury, who built a general store.

YOU MUST PAY

Ah, Shawn Malone, my boy. Just the person I was looking for! Pete Schultz twirled the ends of the long handles of his white mustache.

Shawn hated that mustache. He thought it made the scoundrel look just like the villain in a melodrama that Shawn and his mother and father had seen in Seattle before they came to Whitehorse.

You tell your good mother that I, Peter Schultz, will stop by this afternoon to collect her payment. He chuckled low in his throat. She must pay, you know, or suffer the consequences. His eyebrows went up and down. Then he turned and sauntered toward Belle’s Saloon.

We’ll pay, Mr. Schultz! Nine year old Shawn almost spit the words. He gritted his teeth as he pulled his empty wagon toward a large area where a new board hotel was being built.

Five little girls about six or seven were playing jump rope with a long rope. They stopped when they saw Shawn and started a silly chant.

You must pay the rent, you must pay the rent, you must pay the rent today. Two of the girls sing-songed in a gruff voice that sounded almost like Pete’s voice.

I can’t pay the rent, I can’t pay the rent, I can’t pay the rent today. Two of the other girls answered in high squeaky voices.

I’ll pay the rent. The fifth girl chanted in a funny low voice,

My hero! The squeaky voices said,

Curses, foiled again! The first girls giggled and tried to speak in low voices as they looked under their eyelashes at Shawn.

He pulled the wagon so hard it made him stumble.

We will pay the rent! I am almost ten years old and I’ll sell so much wood we will pay for the whole house! He looked back at them and realized, too late that he had said the words out loud.

The little girls giggled and stared at him as he jerked the wagon behind him, trying hard not to look at them again.

Shawn shook his head, his lips tight.

He pulled the wagon up the dirt road to a place where the woodcutters had been chopping down trees for the new telegraph office. Shawn loaded the little wagon with thick branches they had left.

His grandfather had built the wagon, back in Ireland. The sides weren’t as high as Shawn wished, but the wagon held a fair amount of wood. He was dragging the heavy load back to the cabin, he shared with his mother. There he would saw each branch into stove lengths and chop the thicker pieces. It took a long time, but every day he got stronger and faster.

Before he reached the steep path that led up to the two-story log cabin, two tall boys swaggered up to him.

What you got there, little woodhauler? Buck Flannery put his big boot, that looked like it should fit a man with much bigger feet, on the side of the wagon.

Just wood, Shawn said, clenching his teeth.

Just wood, Ralph mocked in a sing-song voice.

Buck rocked the wagon back and forth until it tipped on its side spilling the branches, that had taken Shawn a long time to trim the twigs and carefully balance in the wagon.

Stop it! Shawn shouted. He pushed Buck.

Ralph grabbed Shawn from behind, pushed him face down on the ground and sat on him.

Come on, Ralph. We don’t want someone to think we’re hauling wood with the little woodhauler! Buck grabbed Ralph’s jacket collar.

Ha, ha. See you… Ralph couldn’t think of what else to say.

Oh, maybe next month when you’re living in your tent again! Buck snickered.

Laughing and shoving each other, they walked on down the road, puffs of dust following their boot tracks.

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The dugout canoe was perfect for fishing with a drift net. Johnny’s mother had made both boys kuspuks (long, hooded cotton pullovers) to protect them from biting insects in the summer and to cover their fur parkas in the winter.

JOHNNY REDWING

The next morning, just after the sun cleared the tops of the trees, Shawn was already hard at work. His wagon was piled high with branches. He found lots of branches left by the carpenters who were making lumber for the new board buildings taking the place of the businesses that had been part of the tent city.

Just over the hill, was the village of Shawn’s best friend, Johnny Redwing. The Tlingit village had many smooth cedar plank houses, a smoke house, and a long house. The village had been well established years before gold was discovered.

The tent city looked pitiful compared to the well organized clean Tlingit village.

Many of the buildings had posts by their doors with carved animals. Most of the posts were topped with a raven, the symbol of the local clan. Wolf and bear clans lived along the coast and further south.

The door post of Johnny’s dwelling showed a blackbird with red stains on the outer edge of the wings just under the raven on top.

Johnny’s house had three rooms. Johnny’s father spoke English and was important in the leadership of their clan. He called together the leaders of the clan to tell stories and plan hunting trips. Their meetings also concerned what to do about the gold-seeking, rowdy, new-comers.

When he wasn’t working, Shawn competed with the Tlingit boys in running races and shooting arrows and spears at targets. The targets were carved in the shapes of birds and fish and hung high in the trees or lay hidden in bushes. Johnny was the best young hunter. His arrows and spears always hit their target. On the other hand, Shawn, no matter how hard he tried, his best shots bounced off branches or dug holes in the dirt.

He pulled the loaded wagon down the forest path. It bumped over a big root. His load of branches was so lopsided that it tipped the wagon