Trails' Calling by MDJGussak
“Now! Jump now!” shouts the skiff driver. “It’s now or never!” His voluminous voice rises above the breaking waves. Dani and I exchange brave grins, fasten our bundles over our shoulders, leap overboard and aim for the shallowest part of the shore. The stony beach shifts under our weight rocking us back and forth. We stumble in one direction, and scramble for balance in the other.
“Walter!” Dani yells at me over the surf. “You okay?”
“Yeah! You?”
“Think so brother! That was a ride and a half, two nickels to the fella who thinks they’d want to do that again!”
We gather our wits and glance around for the other five men from the skiff. They give every appearance to be as disoriented as we are but when one man feels compelled to lead, the rest of us will follow. We were told there is a path at the tree line that will lead us to a prospector camp at the edge of the village. The fella in the mustard color hat strides forward with confidence so we follow. Plotting our way through the woods the angry swelling waves fade into the distance making room for the rustling whispers of the trees. Turns out following mustard man was a good choice.
“Walter, I can’t believe you talked me into coming with you. If I’d known half of the toll it would take, I would have turned around in Seattle.”
“You say that now, but when we have a hefty poke full of that Yukon Gold, you’ll thank me for cajoling you to come along.”
Smirking sideways at me he replies, “Momma was none too happy when you left this time, what with taking her favorite son along with you!”
“Just because you’re the youngest doesn’t mean you’re the favorite.” But in truth all three of us knew he was Momma’s ducky little boy.
“Well, all I’m say’in is you best look out for my wellbeing or you’ll catch hell when you get home.”
“Stop your yapp’in and keep moving, I’d like to make it to camp before night fall.”
The woods began to thin, we could see the lanterns of camp, and the prospects of a meal. Hot or otherwise was of no consequence. If it was edible, I could eat! Dani normally had a delicate palate but I think he too would eat whatever was put before him with more gusto than polite company could overlook.
We were welcomed at the edge of camp by a pack of working dogs chained to short tethers in a clearing under the trees. Their fierce barking broke the quiet of the woods, and rattled what was left of my daily allotment of nerves. A man appeared from the shadows, barked back towards the dogs in a language I did not recognize but whatever he said they settled back down. Some of the dogs turned away from us while others watched the group of newcomers with a keen mischievous eye.
Slogging through the mucky trails that braided around the makeshift structures of camp Dani and I finally acquired our lodgings for the night. We were tired, famished and our water-logged boots spread their chill throughout, sucking away our remaining strength.
At the flap door of the wall tent we were greeted with the musty smell of moldy canvas, dirty socks and something that resembled food. There were four other fellas spread out about the tent and a fifth standing at a pot belly stove in the middle of the cramped room. He stirred the contents in a large kettle precariously placed on top of the stove. Putting the ill-fitting lid back on he turned in our direction, grinning like a darn fool who knew something we didn’t. “Any of you ever eaten moose before?”, he cackled like a gravely raven with a beak full of mischief. “Well come on over and grab yourself some stew before all the good bits settle to the bottom.” The other fellas bustled to the stove forgetting, in their hunger, if you didn’t bring your own tin cup to the table you weren’t going to be served. Most everything on this adventure is bring your own or likely go without. Learning from their misstep Dani and I quickly retrieved our cups from our packs and were soon slurping and chewing like a couple of wild animals.
We paid the owner of the wall tent his due for the meal and the use of his cots for the night. In short order Dani and I were sleeping the rest of the weary, forgetting all the troubles that might lay ahead, and those we had recently passed through.
Morning came with a belly ache something fierce. Not sure that moose agrees with me. I reach over to give Dani’s cot a good jostle. He replies with a pitiful groan. Glancing around the tent we are the only ones still here, the others must have felt an extra burning to get a head start. Perhaps Dani and I should get a move on too, before newcomers arrive to haggle for our cots. If they have more coins in their pockets, we’ll be left wanting a place to sleep.
The other fellas were kind enough to leave a kettle of water on the stove when they left, something hot might settle my stomach. You know you are in the middle of nowhere when a cup of hot water that carries a hint of flavor from last night’s meal is a treat.
“Come on Dani, we best get go’in!” This time there was no reply. A few short steps in his direction and it was apparent his face was flush with heat. “Lord, Dani! You’re burning up! Let’s get you out of that coat.” It was a bit of a struggle to get him free of his still damp and musty coat, like wrestling with a limp rag. “Come on Dani, you got’ta help me out. Dani? Can you hear me?” Giving his cheeks a few smacks, he seemed to rouse.
“Walter, I don’t feel so good.”
“Me neither Dani.” He shuttered, heaved, and his stomach let loose its contents. Over and over again. Dani vomits until the stench of bile and sour moose stew fills the tent. The retching finally subsided, his eyes glazed over, he went limp, short shallow breaths followed. “Dani, I’m going to find some water, hold tight, I’ll be right back.”
Outside camp was abuzz with chaos in every corner. Folks packing up carts, dogs barking, and men bickering over one thing or another. The only thing I desired at that moment was to find fresh water, and a means to Dani’s quick recovery. Slumped shoulders and wringing hands, my desperate appearance caught the attention of someone who helped me move Dani to the infirmary tent, and pointed me in the direction to fresh water with a nod. The path to the creek and I became familiar with each other in short order. Bucket after bucket of icy cold water is my task for some time. By mid-day there was nothing left in Dani but the dry heaves, fitful shaking and a fire inside that kept his fever stoked.
Twilight crept into camp, and the bleak cloud of our circumstances weighed across my chest. Dani was weak and barely had anything to say all day. Tucking him in for the night and getting as comfortable as possible crouched between the wall and floor next to Dani’s cot, uneasy thoughts of what to do next swirl around me buzzing their fear and regret.
A cackling eerie noise off in the distance woke me from my fitful sleep. Perhaps it came from my dreams, or Dani’s weakened body. “Dani, how’re you feeling? Dani?” I scoop him up and give him a shake. “Dani?” There was no moment of clarity, no showing of farewell, he simply slipped away from my arms. Stillness surrounds us. Dani no long inhaled, and I was afraid to. With my next breath would come the realization that I was here and he was not. I cannot tell you how long we laid there, as I wept hushed tears over my baby brother.
A preacher fella came to camp from the village, took down Dani’s name, birth date, and hometown. He gave me a wooden cross to mark as I saw fit, and the directions to the cemetery. We have been thick as any two brothers could be, best of friends, and traveling companions. Now I have to leave him behind in this far-flung corner of land.
“Now! Jump now!” shouts the skiff driver. “It’s now or never!” His voluminous voice rises above the breaking waves. Dani and I exchange brave grins, fasten our bundles over our shoulders, leap overboard and aim for the shallowest part of the shore. The stony beach shifts under our weight rocking us back and forth. We stumble in one direction, and scramble for balance in the other.
“Walter!” Dani yells at me over the surf. “You okay?”
“Yeah! You?”
“Think so brother! That was a ride and a half, two nickels to the fella who thinks they’d want to do that again!”
We gather our wits and glance around for the other five men from the skiff. They give every appearance to be as disoriented as we are but when one man feels compelled to lead, the rest of us will follow. We were told there is a path at the tree line that will lead us to a prospector camp at the edge of the village. The fella in the mustard color hat strides forward with confidence so we follow. Plotting our way through the woods the angry swelling waves fade into the distance making room for the rustling whispers of the trees. Turns out following mustard man was a good choice.
“Walter, I can’t believe you talked me into coming with you. If I’d known half of the toll it would take, I would have turned around in Seattle.”
“You say that now, but when we have a hefty poke full of that Yukon Gold, you’ll thank me for cajoling you to come along.”
Smirking sideways at me he replies, “Momma was none too happy when you left this time, what with taking her favorite son along with you!”
“Just because you’re the youngest doesn’t mean you’re the favorite.” But in truth all three of us knew he was Momma’s ducky little boy.
“Well, all I’m say’in is you best look out for my wellbeing or you’ll catch hell when you get home.”
“Stop your yapp’in and keep moving, I’d like to make it to camp before night fall.”
The woods began to thin, we could see the lanterns of camp, and the prospects of a meal. Hot or otherwise was of no consequence. If it was edible, I could eat! Dani normally had a delicate palate but I think he too would eat whatever was put before him with more gusto than polite company could overlook.
We were welcomed at the edge of camp by a pack of working dogs chained to short tethers in a clearing under the trees. Their fierce barking broke the quiet of the woods, and rattled what was left of my daily allotment of nerves. A man appeared from the shadows, barked back towards the dogs in a language I did not recognize but whatever he said they settled back down. Some of the dogs turned away from us while others watched the group of newcomers with a keen mischievous eye.
Slogging through the mucky trails that braided around the makeshift structures of camp Dani and I finally acquired our lodgings for the night. We were tired, famished and our water-logged boots spread their chill throughout, sucking away our remaining strength.
At the flap door of the wall tent we were greeted with the musty smell of moldy canvas, dirty socks and something that resembled food. There were four other fellas spread out about the tent and a fifth standing at a pot belly stove in the middle of the cramped room. He stirred the contents in a large kettle precariously placed on top of the stove. Putting the ill-fitting lid back on he turned in our direction, grinning like a darn fool who knew something we didn’t. “Any of you ever eaten moose before?”, he cackled like a gravely raven with a beak full of mischief. “Well come on over and grab yourself some stew before all the good bits settle to the bottom.” The other fellas bustled to the stove forgetting, in their hunger, if you didn’t bring your own tin cup to the table you weren’t going to be served. Most everything on this adventure is bring your own or likely go without. Learning from their misstep Dani and I quickly retrieved our cups from our packs and were soon slurping and chewing like a couple of wild animals.
We paid the owner of the wall tent his due for the meal and the use of his cots for the night. In short order Dani and I were sleeping the rest of the weary, forgetting all the troubles that might lay ahead, and those we had recently passed through.
Morning came with a belly ache something fierce. Not sure that moose agrees with me. I reach over to give Dani’s cot a good jostle. He replies with a pitiful groan. Glancing around the tent we are the only ones still here, the others must have felt an extra burning to get a head start. Perhaps Dani and I should get a move on too, before newcomers arrive to haggle for our cots. If they have more coins in their pockets, we’ll be left wanting a place to sleep.
The other fellas were kind enough to leave a kettle of water on the stove when they left, something hot might settle my stomach. You know you are in the middle of nowhere when a cup of hot water that carries a hint of flavor from last night’s meal is a treat.
“Come on Dani, we best get go’in!” This time there was no reply. A few short steps in his direction and it was apparent his face was flush with heat. “Lord, Dani! You’re burning up! Let’s get you out of that coat.” It was a bit of a struggle to get him free of his still damp and musty coat, like wrestling with a limp rag. “Come on Dani, you got’ta help me out. Dani? Can you hear me?” Giving his cheeks a few smacks, he seemed to rouse.
“Walter, I don’t feel so good.”
“Me neither Dani.” He shuttered, heaved, and his stomach let loose its contents. Over and over again. Dani vomits until the stench of bile and sour moose stew fills the tent. The retching finally subsided, his eyes glazed over, he went limp, short shallow breaths followed. “Dani, I’m going to find some water, hold tight, I’ll be right back.”
Outside camp was abuzz with chaos in every corner. Folks packing up carts, dogs barking, and men bickering over one thing or another. The only thing I desired at that moment was to find fresh water, and a means to Dani’s quick recovery. Slumped shoulders and wringing hands, my desperate appearance caught the attention of someone who helped me move Dani to the infirmary tent, and pointed me in the direction to fresh water with a nod. The path to the creek and I became familiar with each other in short order. Bucket after bucket of icy cold water is my task for some time. By mid-day there was nothing left in Dani but the dry heaves, fitful shaking and a fire inside that kept his fever stoked.
Twilight crept into camp, and the bleak cloud of our circumstances weighed across my chest. Dani was weak and barely had anything to say all day. Tucking him in for the night and getting as comfortable as possible crouched between the wall and floor next to Dani’s cot, uneasy thoughts of what to do next swirl around me buzzing their fear and regret.
A cackling eerie noise off in the distance woke me from my fitful sleep. Perhaps it came from my dreams, or Dani’s weakened body. “Dani, how’re you feeling? Dani?” I scoop him up and give him a shake. “Dani?” There was no moment of clarity, no showing of farewell, he simply slipped away from my arms. Stillness surrounds us. Dani no long inhaled, and I was afraid to. With my next breath would come the realization that I was here and he was not. I cannot tell you how long we laid there, as I wept hushed tears over my baby brother.
A preacher fella came to camp from the village, took down Dani’s name, birth date, and hometown. He gave me a wooden cross to mark as I saw fit, and the directions to the cemetery. We have been thick as any two brothers could be, best of friends, and traveling companions. Now I have to leave him behind in this far-flung corner of land.
My dearest Sister, September 17, 1897
Greetings from Alaska. We finally made it to Dyea and I am waiting for news of when the next sternwheeler loaded with men and supplies will make it to camp. With this shipment of supplies will come my ride home. Dani died last night. Retching and fever something awful. They say there is a cemetery not far from here where I can lay him to rest. Regrets flood me, I should have never cajoled him into coming on this foolhardy journey with me. Momma was right this time. With luck I will arrive home before this letter reaches you. If you can, please hold this on the inside, I’ll break the news to Momma myself. No need for you to take the burden I rightfully deserve. If this letter arrives before me, give me a month to follow, after that it would be best to let Momma know about Dani. Sorry to put you in this predicament. God’s grace I arrive before this letter.
Your loving Brother,
Walter
Walter
***
