

  1. #

About the Book

Raised by a single mother with hatred for a father living out his life in a super max security prison, JT struggles to find his way through life as a young boy in a small town in Illinois. With an arrogant, selfish, vile attitude and mouth, JT barely squeaked through high school. He needed his one and only friend, Caleb Shepherd, to help him maintain a C average just to stay on the football team for his senior year.

After graduation, on a wilderness canoe trip in the Border Water Canoe Area (BWCA), JT witnessed an accident that for the first time in his life brought him to feel sorry for someone else.

Upon returning home after the canoe trip, JT is invited to visit his despised father in prison. Does finishing high school, playing football, the canoe accident, and the visit to see his dad have any effect on JT's arrogant, selfish, vile attitude and mouth?

Broken Stones

Copyright ©Roy Swanberg 2020

Published jointly by

Sterling Rock Books as a paperback

and

White Tree Publishing in eBook format

This White Tree Publishing eBook

ISBN: 978-1-912529-69-8

Sterling Rock Books

Paperback ISBN-13: 9798618958165

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

# All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Dedication

Author's Note

Publisher's Note

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

More Books by Roy Swanberg

About White Tree Publishing

More Books from White Tree Publishing

Dedication

To Rick Hill

The only one I called son

Author's Note

This fictional story out of Prairie Heights, Illinois, takes place in 1979 before the day of cell phones, iPads, iPods, Facebook, Twitter, etc.

The title for this book comes from Ezekiel 11:19, The Living Bible. "I will give you one heart and a new spirit. I will take from you your hearts of stone and give you tender hearts of love for God."

Publisher's Note

This book has 40 chapters, plus an epilogue. In the second part are advertisements for our other books, so the story may end earlier than expected! The last chapter is marked as such, which as readers ourselves is something we wish all eBook publishers would do! We aim to make our eBooks free or for a nominal cost, and cannot invest in other forms of advertising. However, word of mouth by satisfied readers will also help get our books more widely known. When the story ends, please take a look at what we publish: Christian non-fiction, Christian fiction, and books for younger readers, and go to our website www.whitetreepublishing.com.

About the author

Roy Swanberg is a retired public high school teacher. He has written and published many articles in magazines and is the author of six novels: Because He Cares: a story showing that prison bars cannot keep the love and grace of God in or out; a four book series of Jason's Promise: a story of a teenager who discovers there is often no choice, no option, and no other way through many of life's harsh situations.

Also a historic Christian fiction novel entitled The Other Two Crosses: A story of the early lives of the other two thieves crucified with Jesus and what brought them to their crosses; and a non-fiction book, Writing in Retirement: a description of his experiences in starting the writing process at age sixty-five.

Roy lives in Princeton, Illinois with his wife, Jan. They have two grown children and four grandchildren.

Author's website

www.swanbergchristianwriter.com

Other books by Roy Swanberg

Link to full details

Because He Cares

Jason's Promise

Jason's Promise II

Jason's Promise III

Sons of Jason: Return to the Vern River

The Other Two Crosses

Writing in Retirement

Chapter One

1979

A flying cheap alarm clock aimed for the wall missed its target and sailed out the nearby open doorway, spinning its way like a top down the small hallway. It came to rest as a pile of broken glass, plastic, and gears of all sizes. It was followed by a streak of swearing out of JT's well-crafted and impeccable cussing vocabulary.

From a nearby room came the words, "What the...? What's going on? Joseph, what in the world was that?"

Shouting back, "Just my alarm clock, Ma. Just a clock."

"Didn't sound like a clock to me?"

"It ain't a clock no more."

"Why'd you throw it like that?"

"Mad at myself, Ma. Just mad." Still yelling from his room, JT continued, "Me and Shepherd, his dumb dog, Boots, and Brady was gonna have a day on the canal in his canoe, and spend the night there. I slept late and missed it. Stupid me forgot to wind the alarm clock last night and it stopped."

JT's mother's voice grew louder. "Why those boys invite you for a trip like that?"

"Dunno. I guess them do-gooders think they can make me into a good kid or something."

JT's mother, a.k.a. Ma, now stood in his doorway in a faded pink ratty robe, hair resembling an osprey's nest, and a smoky cigarette burning her eyes while bouncing on her lips, and said, "Well, I hope they can. I don't have no luck on that. Clean up this mess."

"Later, Ma."

In the bellowing voice of an angry sergeant, "I said, clean it up. And clean it up now!"

"Yeah, Ma."

Three thirty in the afternoon the same day on the Hennepin Canal just north of Tiskilwa, Illinois, the agitated four-year-old Border collie, Boots, barked and growled violently at a buck standing majestically on the mule path of the Canal. Caleb Shepherd, a.k.a. Shep, with his friends Joel Brady and Boots were in a canoe that was drifting sideways in the aqueduct which was built around 1895 to carry the canal over Big Bureau Creek.

The four foot deep water bridge was a favorite place for Tiskilwa and Prairie Heights kids to swim in ‒ if they didn't mind the mud, weeds, and the two foot long carp bumping into them. But for now, seventeen-year-old Caleb and Joel were just trying to get Boots to stop barking and rocking the boat.

The harder Caleb pushed his paddle into Boots' hip with, "Boots! Boots, shut up. Stop it. Stop it!" the louder the dog barked, and the more he twisted. The pooch had his paws on the gunwales of the small craft, and the canoe began to rock back and forth.

When Caleb turned around and made a move to reach him by the collar, the canoe rolled over like a spinning log. Caleb, Joel, and Boots instantly found themselves reaching out in midair between canoe and water with nothing to grab onto. All three splashed headfirst into the four foot deep stagnant, brown and greenish weed-filled putrid water.

When they finally stood up, their bare feet were stuck in three inches of cold, grisly mud. They watched a tent, two sleeping bags, two paddles, three shoes, a cooler, food pack, and fishing gear floating all around them. The fourth shoe was still stuck on Joel's left foot.

After they righted the canoe, the two senior high school friends started to gather up what floating debris they could. Boots continued barking, trying to climb out of the aqueduct after that deer. He finally made it onto the old mule path, sniffed the ground, and started to run after the animal that the boys thought started the problem in the first place.

One yell from Caleb, "Boots! Boots! Sit! Stay!" and the well-trained dog quickly sat, obeying his young master.

The Hennepin Canal connects the Illinois River to the Mississippi River and was built in the late eighteen hundreds to lower the cost of shipping freight from Chicago to the Mississippi, and then down the great river to the south. It never completely paid for itself because the railroads had a better idea. Now it was only a recreational area. The canal originally had thirty-three locks and nine aqueducts to carry the canal up hills and over ravines and creeks. The Hennepin Canal aqueduct over the Big Bureau Creek is about one hundred feet long from tree line to tree line.

Caleb and his longtime friend, Joel, had been close friends since their early days in the Happy Hands Preschool at their church. Miss Joyce, Miss Jan, and all the other teachers watched the little ones grow up in Prairie Heights, and taught many of the town's children. The friendship of Caleb and Joel had always been strong, but was made rock solid on the day Caleb's dad was killed in a military accident in Minnesota. Joel was the first friend to get to Caleb on that horrific day, and they had sat in silence on the steps to Caleb's back porch, pitching dimes at cracks in the driveway.

While in the canal, the two dredged up whatever belongings they could. Caleb stepped on one of his shoes, took a deep breath and reached down into the questionable water to retrieve it. The other one and Joel's right shoe were found stuck together – now mud brown. After they put ‒ threw ‒ their equipment back into the canoe, still with six inches of water in it, Joel said in an angry voice while standing hip-high in the putrid water, "I hope the carp are happy."

Caleb answered in the same tone of voice. "The carp will grow another two inches today on our food. Look, the cooler is wide open and floating away."

"Maybe it's a good thing JT didn't make it here today."

Caleb let out a laugh like a roaring lion. "Boy, can you imagine him standing here in this mud? I can hear him now."

"Yeah, his swearing would turn the air blue and wilt the weeds."

"But it might warm the water up."

"Ya got a point there."

Standing belt-buckle deep in the water without a shirt on, Caleb said, "Four years ago on that canoe trip dad took me on in northern Minnesota, he told me things like this would happen." Now coughing and spitting up muddy canal water, he continued, "He said things would happen that had no choice, no option and no way out. I guess this is one of them. It's going to be a soggy night."

"You mean we're going to stay out here tonight?"

"We've got to. What else can we do? We're five miles out of town. Your dad won't pick us up till tomorrow. No way to tell him our problem. By the way, this will make men out of us."

"This is how we become men? I thought there were other ways."

"It's one way."

With clothes clinging to the P.H.H.S. seniors as if they were painted on, they walked in the rancid environmentally deprived swamp, bare foot, to the end of the aqueduct dragging the canoe behind them. Boots just watched his master and friend, and several times shook the filthy water out of his matted hair in his own way, adding more insult to the two teenagers.

After their impression of Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen, the boys moved to the west end of the aqueduct and set up some type of camping space for the rest of the afternoon and night. The night was soggy and cold, as Caleb said it would be. No one came along to discover their plight or to help them in any way. Any match or fire starting method was not to be found.

The cool night dragged on and on without sleep, and the wet clothes didn't get any dryer. "Ya know, Joel, if JT was here there would have been three of us and Boots in the canoe. It would have been too much for the craft anyway."

"Knowing JT like we do, I think he would have walked the five miles back to town when he knew there would be no fire."

"Can't you see him trying to hitchhike in his wet clothes?"

"Some trucker would have picked him up. He's got that kind of luck."

When hunger paid a visit, the misery grew worse. They finally decided that any chance for some kind of warmth was to lie close together with Boots between them. Many times Boots wiggled his way out to check on some nosy varmint and cause more time to go by without sleep.

Joel said in his frustration and embarrassment, "Shep, this is one part of the trip we don't talk about, right?"

"Right. It won't sound good."

"At this point, I know JT would have left."

Early the next morning, three kids from Tiskilwa came by with fishing poles and a cooler full of sodas and sandwiches. After hearing the miserable saga from Caleb and Joel, they shared some of the sandwiches with the soaked and hungry guys from the town north of Tiskilwa. The few sandwiches they ate did little to quiet down the growling in their stomachs.

Caleb and Joel filled the canoe with what belongings they had left. Caleb took a long look at his muddy dog and finally said, "You'd better get in too."

The three headed west. Within a few miles they portaged around the locks at Wyanet and then canoed to the Hennepin Parkway State Park where they had planned to meet Joel's dad near Sheffield.

Joel saw his dad standing on the edge of the canal as they approached in their muddy shoes and clothes. When Joel's dad saw the dirt and strings of debris hanging from their hair, he started to laugh. As they got closer, he started to back away from the place where they were landing, saying, "You guys look disgustingly dirty. Boots is a mess and not smelling too good either."

"Dad," Joel said, "there's a story behind all this. Don't laugh."

"It's not easy to keep from laughing. You guys look a fright. What happened?"

"Can we tell you later, Mr. Brady?" Caleb said.

After they got the canoe on top of the car, Joel's dad put blankets on the seats. Joel laughed. "Boy, this makes ya feel good, huh, Shep?"

"Boots is used to it."

"I don't mean blankets for Boots. I mean blankets for us," Joel said.

"You guys look cold. I'll take you to Loren and Donna's Café and get something warm for breakfast."

"Mr. Brady, it could be worse. JT was 'spose to be here with us, but I guess he slept in late yesterday. Either that or Jens didn't want him out of town."

"Who's Jens?"

"Rob Jens, his parole officer."

"Parole officer? This is a friend of yours?"

The small wind chime on the door of the quaint Swedish decorated café in Sheffield jingled as the three walked in, leaving muddy footprints on the well-polished old hardwood floor. From the far side of the dining room, "No! No. No. You guys don't come in here looking like that and getting my floor muddy."

Under a full head of steam Donna propelled herself at the three. With a fresh pot of coffee in one hand and waving a fist full of menus in the other, she went on, "Shoo, shoo, shoo, out, out, out! Go right back out that door."

Off in a far corner of the room a voice out of a crowd of farmers slurping their coffee from under feed dealer's caps, yelled, "Good going, Donna. Trow da bums out."

Back outside at the car, Joel said, "Dad, we really look that bad?"

Laughing again, "Yes, you two really do look that bad. Let's find a place with a drive-up window. Caleb, when I get you home you'd better hose down your dog, then go to that shower in your basement. And keep your clothes on for the first five minutes."
Chapter 2

August sixth, six a.m.

First day of football practice

The tires were skidding and bouncing in place on Caleb's Jeep, yet it took three more seconds for the yellow Wrangler to come to a smoking stop – almost sideways. Caleb was proud that his Jeep could go from forty-five to zero in three seconds.

"Just a bit fast there, friend," Joel said as he tossed his bag in the back, grabbed the roll bar, and threw his legs into the Jeep.

"Well, ya know Coach doesn't like any of us to be late for practice."

"Yep, the only coach I know who can get away with running such a tight ship and make all of us kowtowing like trained seals – and loving it."

"He's going to give the same speech about being on time he has for years. We've heard it for four years and we'll have to endure it again today. Always a new guy to hear it. It does work, though. I learned by experience how hard he is on punctuality, in my freshman year."

Snickering, Joel said, "I remember that day, and how you tried your best with any excuse you could come up with to explain it."

"Didn't do any good, did it?"

Still laughing, Joel continued, "All he said was, 'Bench, Shepherd. Mr. Bench.'"

Caleb Shepherd entered the student's gravel parking lot behind the field house in a cloud of dust as he slid to a stop – again.

"Shep, driving the way you do is not like you. You've really got to drive a little more normal. You'll pay a big price in tickets and new brakes for your liberal driving habits."

Caleb looked at Joel for a long second before saying, "You're right. I have been getting a little loose on this driving stuff. You're the only guy who could tell me that, though. I'll work on it."

As the two buddies were climbing out of the Jeep, they heard the roar of JT's old rebuilt and smoking loose valve Harley coming from a block away. JT spun his oil throwing machine in three figure eights, polluting the atmosphere with more gravel and smoke, with each circle getting closer and closer to Joel and Caleb. Joel had to fling his legs back into the Jeep to avoid JT's last twirl.

"Joel," Caleb said, "you want to tell JT what you just told me about liberal driving?"

"No way. I'm not about to pick a fight with him. I'm in no hurry to become a cadaver."

From the dirt and gravel in his teeth, JT said, "Here I am, you lucky guys. Out for football again this year."

With his legs safely tucked back in the Jeep, Joel said, "T, you've never stayed on the team beyond a month for the last three years. Why do you keep coming back?"

Patting the gas tank with a loving touch, JT said, "This time, I got the old beast here. I can get here on my own now. Don't have to wait for the old lady to drive me around. I bought me a clock that runs on batteries so it won't stop when I forget to wind it."

Risking a fist of JT from entering his facial area, Caleb said. "You'll be supporting the town with traffic tickets with that kind of driving, T."

"Shep, you know better than that. Them cops leave me alone, remember?"

Dust was just settling and the sun trying to shine again when other players began to pour into the parking lot with their cars, raising the dust again. It became a foot race of about fifteen guys to the rear door of the field house. In the scramble for a place on the old gray benches, several of the players mumbled something about JT trying out for the team again.

He overheard the chatter, and announced, "I'm here for the whole season this time – just watch."

From all over, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

When all the chatter died down, and the slamming locker doors stopped echoing off the cinderblock walls, the new team of the Prairie Heights Blue Tigers waited in silence as they had been taught for years, expecting the familiar speech of Coach.... Coach who? They never did know his last name.

A few of the assistant coaches started with their welcome back greetings. "We're in a new year, glad to see ya," and the other usual yawning lines of greetings. Then one of them introduced Coach Fisher.

Whispering, JT said, "Fisher! That's his name, huh?"

Everyone knew it was Coach's last year coaching for the Prairie Heights Blue Tigers. He said he was looking forward to retirement. He had been on the faculty for thirty years, and fifteen of that as head football coach, and explained it was time to hang up his whistle. In fact, after so many years, his last name had fallen into oblivion. Everyone in the school only knew him as Coach – Coach, Coach.

He was a short and stubby figure with natural white hair all the way to his beard. He looked more like Santa Claus. In fact, when they were little kids in third and fourth grades, some of the players thought he was the Santa in the little Santa's House on Main Street during the Christmas shopping season. Not that anyone dared mention it.

Coach had seven state championships to his credit, and had the respect and admiration of the whole population of Prairie Heights. Seated on the benches were sons of former players. For this special orientation, several players from past years – now dads ‒ were present, as well at the superintendent, Dr. Rodger Schwind.

Looking over the football hopefuls, as he had for many years, the veteran coach's eyes were moist as he began. "Gentlemen, you know how to play football. You've played it with your families, at picnics, in the streets, and in the parks. You've played in Youth Football and in Junior High. From now on things will be different. The rules are tougher, the hitting harder, and the head game is more important.

"High school football is the start of the real thing. You thinking football in college? Start here. You'll still learn another type in college. You thinking NFL? Good luck. You know only about one out of ten thousand wannabees make it? It can be done, but the work is brutal. Those are my first words to you.

"As for you and me and our team, you've heard my line on respect, responsibility, and relationships before ‒ except you new guys." Noticing JT, he said suddenly, "By the way, glad to see you back to try again, JT. I really hope you stay this year. I need your fight."

JT looked lost for words. A first that any of the players could think of. He was red in the face and turned his head in silence.

"You guys will all get my annual message on good living and moral habits when we meet in the chapel. Enough for now. Welcome to another year of getting beat up. Get your uniforms and lockers."

At the word chapel, the newbies just dropped their jaws, frowned, and stared at the others in wonder. On their faces the others could see, chapel?

On the benches were about thirty hopefuls from the population of 7,000 in the central Illinois town. Caleb Shepherd, a.k.a. Shep, was seventeen and entering his senior year. Four years ago, when he lost his father, he struggled to get back on his feet. But he grew into a well-respected and hardworking young man from the many jobs he had. His best job was a server at the Dawg House Restaurant.

His mother, neighbors, friends, and those who just knew him by name were proud of him. He had a strong good reputation. At six foot two, and still growing, he carried a handsome face and strong muscular body that girls were gaga over. It was no use, because his long- term girlfriend, Amy Dyson, was the only girl he cared to notice. On top of all this, he was one of the captains of the football team.

Joel Brady was Caleb's closest longtime friend. It was Joel who stood close to Caleb through the difficult weeks and months after Caleb's father died. Joel and Caleb were the type who could confide in each other concerning their deepest thoughts about the years they were going through.

Joel was an overweight kid with red hair, freckles, and an acne issue. He was built like the traditional brick schoolhouse with a thick neck, broad shoulders and a figure that went straight down from the shoulders to beyond the hips.

Opposing players, seeing him coming at them under a full head of steam, must have often had thoughts of, Why did I go out for football? His bulk was the noticeable figure of the defensive line. He knew he was not the pride of the streak to girls, but hanging around Caleb helped in that area. He had a pleasant personality and friendly demeanor most of the other students wished they had. He was a true leader, and on many class committees.

Last year about halfway through the football season, a short, bold, impeccably dressed Mr. Alfonzo Santos walked onto the field and right up to Coach during practice one Thursday afternoon. He introduced himself as just having moved into town from California and he'd brought his son, Carlos with him.

"You the coach?" Without waiting for an answer, he told Coach that his son would be the new quarterback for the rest of the season. Not bending an ear to him, Coach Fisher simply ignored him. Turning to face a small group of players, he leaned on his knees and went on working with his team.

Phil Kelly, a new teacher on the staff of the school, just out of the Air Force as a medic, was also an assistant coach. He came up to Santos, and kindly asked, "Would you step aside please, the coach is busy."

Mr. Santos responded with, "I'm not used to stepping aside for no one. My son is going to be the new quarterback."

After Coach Kelly seemed to get nowhere with the visitors, Coach Fisher finally came up to Santos, looked the other short man straight in the eye and quietly said, "I pick my own quarterbacks. Besides, that shoulder length black hair has no place on my team."

"That kind of thinking wouldn't be well received in California."

"As you can see, this isn't California. See any long hair under those blue helmets? I'll talk with you when I'm finished with practice."

Carlos and his father retreated to the sidelines and sat on a bench. Half hour later, Coach came up to the visitors and picked up on the feeling that Carlos was a little embarrassed of the situation his father had put him in. "He looks like he could be on the team, but that hair goes first and then I place him where I think he'll do best."

"Coach, I think you should‒‒‒"

"Should let me do my job. I won't do yours."

Carlos did join the team and quickly fell into the Illinois way of doing things. Coach placed him on the defense team, much to the humiliation and displeasure of the boy's dad, but he proved to do the job well. Carlos was tall like Caleb, with black hair and dark eyebrows. Deeply tanned skin was another target for the girls. The Spanish he spoke ‒ they all thought it was Spanish ‒ also attracted the girls.
Chapter 3

If there was ever an "other side of the tracks story" in Prairie Heights, it was the relationship between Caleb Shepherd and JT. Caleb was the clean cut, moral and respected youth in town, especially after his dad, Marc, was killed in that National Guard accident when Caleb was thirteen. Caleb was also the pride of many in the town by the way he handled and recovered from such a loss.

As for JT, no one knew what the JT stood for, except Superintendent Dr. Schwind. JT guarded his name well with his razor-sharp tongue and fist ‒ as several students in Jr. High discovered. He had no lineage from anyone in Prairie Heights. He and his mother came to town when he was in the fourth grade. She found work in one of the factories and they settled in an apartment that was entered by a long wooden, rickety, and sliver-filled staircase from the back alley above the Ben Franklin store.

JT quickly earned a reputation as a rebellious kid, by using his sticky fingers in many of the businesses in town. He was smart enough to leave the Ben Franklin store out of his hunting grounds – too close to the old lady and the landlord. Other boys and girls of the small town were warned by parents and teachers to stay away from him.

By the time he entered high school, JT's negative reputation had been firmly set in the community, and it included no friends. He tried to join in high school activities, but soon fell out. He tried to go out for sports, especially football, but was uncooperative with the coaches and other players.

He missed a lot of practices because of his mother's work. She would often sleep late after a bad night of drinking with friends, and couldn't drive him to practice. Faculty and students alike also knew him as one with a heart of stone. Nothing seemed to bother him. He showed no emotions over issues. Most of the people in JT's life considered him hopeless.

When JT was in the ninth grade, a retired plumber gave him a fifteen-year-old Harley Davidson motorcycle that didn't work. He tore it down part by part up in the living room of the apartment, leaving the rug more than just oil spotted, and the smell of oil taking over the apartment. He got it running and actually started riding it around town long before he was old enough to drive. After many run-ins with the local police, which had no effect on his driving, the cops left him alone as long as he didn't bother others. At age thirteen he had his own dedicated parole officer, Rob Jens. They were on a first name basis.

Caleb and JT knew each other in Jr. High School, but Caleb took the advice of others and stayed away from him. When they met in high school while trying out for the freshman football team, JT set his eyes and attention on Caleb, seeing him as a goody two shoes of the town and someone he could form into his lackey to go places.

After JT was cut from the football team two years ago, he continued to hound Caleb, and even put a dent in Caleb's good reputation for a while. Teachers noticed, and warned Caleb to be careful. JT introduced Caleb to smoking while hiding between two garages on the way home one day.

The first big draw on the little white stick sent Caleb's lungs into convulsions, putting an end to that habit before it started. Caleb began to stand an arm's length from his parolee friend after that experiment. But there remained a sort of friendship between them that teachers and students could never figure out.

Barely surviving in high school, JT's crude reputation included more than just sticky fingers – it included the other gender, creating a good source for whispers around the school. If he had a girlfriend at all, it was only for two or three days. Various rumors spread like a wildfire as to why the girls cut off the short relationship.

Teachers kind of liked the lonely kid and thought he'd make it ‒ if he honestly applied himself. His selfish attitude prevented that, so the times remained tough, but he made it to his senior year in spite of many cynical conversations in the teachers' lounge.

One day a math teacher made a statement in the lounge. "I don't know how JT does it. I gave him a tough question off the top of my head and he came up with the right answer."

For some unknown reason, JT, bad boy, and Caleb Shepherd, good kid in town, became close friends to the surprise and wayward eye of everyone. One day in their sophomore year on a walk home in deep discussion about nothing in particular, with JT sucking a cigarette to its end, they both discovered why they had a unique reason for their friendship.

Neither of them had a father in their lives. Caleb's father had died in the military accident, and JT's father was just nowhere on the scene. In fact, the whereabouts or story of JT's father was a total mystery to everyone. JT had an older-looking face than a normal high school student, and a bolder built body. He had long stringy black hair ‒ stretched as long as Coach would allow ‒ and matching thick black eyebrows that curled up at the end. When frowning, which he liked to do often, he almost looked demonic. Probably due to the greasy work on his motorcycle, he never really did look clean.

Tim Rodick was an unusual member of the team, for several reasons. First, because he was a special education student, the result of a brain injury a few years ago in a car accident. Second, he had a brick-hard muscular body that he had no problem with throwing at a player, seemingly with no thought of injury. Third, the coaches and the rest of the team knew Tim had more heart for the game than brains.

He would do absolutely anything he was asked to do, without thinking of the consequences. Other players would know the hurts about to come by playing as rough as Tim. He would run into any situation his quarterback or one of the coaches asked or told him to. He loved to carry out those demands, even though it cost him a hard hit or a penalty.

The entire student body loved Tim for his friendly personality. Yet in teenage brutality of finding nick-names, they called him Dim. Dim Rodick. Members of the faculty thought this was insulting, but Tim accepted it because he really didn't understand it, and it brought more students into his circle.

Tim himself once said, "This helmet don't do me no good. My brain already half gone. I know it."

Some faculty members said the coach and the team took advantage of him. His father told the coach one day, "I know Tim has his limitations, but he really loves being a part of the team ‒ and how you tell him to get to the other players. The nickname, Dim, doesn't bother him at all. I appreciate him being on the team. Most of all, the way the other players and students look after him is a great comfort to his mother and me."

Shane MacGuire was a mild mannered, strong boned, well built and proud young man of Scottish descent, returning for his senior year. He was a pussycat at heart, but tried his hardest to look intimidating. He shaved his head clear to look more macho, but when the students mostly found it hilarious and let him know it, the hair couldn't grow back fast enough.

Soft spoken as he was, Shane paralyzed any opponent on the football field with his siren of a scream as he headed for them. As the aggressive player he was, he charged his way through the line, with help from Tim, to wipe out a quarterback.

The rest of the Blue Tiger team mates were all native sons out of the Prairie Heights mold, mostly of Swedish roots ‒ true sons of the town from proud mothers and fathers who were academic achievers. With the championship teams the coach had woven together, he developed the teams as one mind that worked well.

One other player that stood out that year was Steve Brock. In November of the year before, his father, Raymond L. Brock was elected governor of the state. Steve lived with his grandparents for his senior year at Prairie Heights High School, while the rest of the family moved into the governor's mansion in Springfield.

Throughout that year, Steve developed an attitude of extreme egotism that made him a real pain in the neck to the other students. Once in a while a State Trooper was seen in the hallways, and Steve did not hide the fact that he thought the officer was on duty as his protector. But everyone guessed the officer was probably there for some reason connected with JT. All the coaches and the rest of the team were wondering how Steve Brock would fit in now that he had gotten all wrapped up in himself.

Coach Fisher told the other coaches, "Give him a try, but don't let him nurture that attitude on the field."
Chapter 4

On the first day of school, the team had their date in the chapel. Attendance was mandatory ‒ or no team. Coach Fisher collected his team and assistant coaches in a secluded locked room in the basement of the old wing of the school. It was called the "Sistine Chapel."

In realistic terms, it was just a dusty and cobweb-ridden storage room for old theatrical props and costumes under the auditorium stage next to the boiler room. They called it their chapel, but it had no candles, altar, or pulpit. Each year the team looked forward to this underground meeting. To the football team it was the holy grail of their year.

Four years ago, Scott Baldwin, an art student also on the team, laid on his back on top of a scaffold and painted a large leaping blue tiger on the ceiling, and proudly proclaimed it the Sistine Chapel. Nothing drastic really went on in that chapel, but the mystique surrounding those underground clandestine meetings had the other students coming up with all types of strange rumors.

Unique offers, from money to other favors were offered to the players for evidence of what went on in there. The players never cracked the code of silence. As for the team, they considered the meetings an honor, and enjoyed holding the secrets to nothing worthwhile.

Coach had stocked it with old couches, broken chairs, crooked benches, patched up bean bags, and large torn pillows. He also had it well stocked with donuts, rolls, junk food, sodas, and coffee. It was a time when Coach and the team discussed private stuff, plus the moral behavioral rules for the team. Inside meanings and narratives of teenage thoughts and questions were examined openly, but always kept private.

Phil Kelly, just twenty six years old, was officially inducted into the order of The Blue Tiger in one of these early meetings, but being the secret, secure society it was, no one knew what he had to endure at the start of his teaching and coaching career. He had been a medic in the United States Air Force and had just finished college for his teaching degree.

After more useless words from the other assistant coaches, and the first layer of junk food nestled in the bellies of the players, Coach Fisher started in.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. You newer men will come to know our time here in the chapel as the time we really get to know each other and how we all think. It makes the team work better together. We appreciate that you all keep what is talked about in here private – really private." To the old team members, he said, "It drives the other students crazy, doesn't it?"

The remark was met with smiles, shaking heads, fist banging, and quick comments.

"My message is not new to those of you from past years. But it all remains to be said again. I personally think my job of coach is more than just teaching you how to play football. I think it is my responsibility to raise good men for this town and country. I take that part very seriously. I don't want any of you to say anything like, 'I never heard that.'

"You older guys have heard this old song and dance for years, and you'll get it again. I enjoy watching you grow in the sport and in life attitudes. Having said that, I don't want you to get the feeling that you're some prima donna just because you're on the football team. The reasons for my hard rules, if you want to call them that, make for a well-oiled team ‒ with everyone knowing just where the boundaries are.

"Here we go. First rule is there is a ten p.m. curfew during the season. I know it sounds too rough, but that's what it is. Ten p.m. You're on your honor to answer to that, and I expect your parents to back me up. I might just call any one of you after ten and talk to you about a play we're working on. You'd better be there. Any complaints or information coming to me will be 'reviewed' between you and me.

"There will be no extracurricular activities between you and your girlfriends, or other friends. I want your full energy and thinking at the right time on the field. Of course the drinking issue is the big one. Drinking should not be a part of your lives now anyway. But we know it's done all the time. Real studies show that drinking destroys brain cells, and you need all the cells you can get to stay on this team. Don't start killing them off now. Also, drinking messes up families and loved ones all over town, as many of you well know.

"Don't laugh at that." Pointing to himself, "This old horse has seen it all in my sixty-five years of life. Make up whatever excuse you want for not drinking. Blame me if you want, but keep your lips away from the rim of the bottle. Here's an example of how I deal with the drinking issue."

A voice from the back of the room muttered, "Here it comes, that same story again."

"I heard that," Coach said. "And yes, you will get it again. For those of you with short memories, this one's for you. Four years ago my phone rang next to my bed at two in the morning. I don't like getting calls at two in the morning. An 'informer' told me one of my team members was at a seedy bar and night club in Peoria, drunk as a skunk. I called another coach from the team, and he didn't like his phone ringing at that hour in the morning, either. We drove the fifty miles to Peoria, dodging a few deer on the way. There the team member was, hanging onto some highly painted-up skinny lady of the evening while she was trying to do her job hanging on to a dance pole. And yes, he was drunk as a skunk. Smelled like one too.

"The other coach and I started to take him out of the joint, when the bouncer grabbed his arm and said, 'Mr. Bigspender there has run up a tab of one hundred and fifty-three dollars.' I said, 'I just want him out of here.' When the bouncer slammed his gigantic strong arm on the door frame in front of me, I knew we were in deep weeds. He said, 'The bartender wants me to tell you that without one hundred and fifty-three dollars, he goes to jail – right here in Peoria. It ain't a nice place for the kid.'

"I took out my own credit card to pay the debt but the muscle-man said, 'We don't usually take credit cards here. I can see what you're trying to do and who you are, so we'll take it tonight.' We put him, threw him, into the back seat of my car. He had no idea what was going on. On the way back here he threw up. Yep, in my car. Adding to the darkness of the early hour of the morning, the money I invested in him, and now what he left in the back seat, things were going downhill fast.

"When we got to my house I gave him a bucket of soapy water, a rag, and said, 'Clean it up!' He was almost sober by then and he threw up again – this time in the driveway. He did a lot of cleaning in those dark hours. The other coach and I just watched. We pointed to any spot he missed. At five in the morning we took him to his house. I don't know who made the most noise, the barking dog or daddy coming down the stairs. Daddy really didn't like the five in the morning stuff anymore than we did ‒ and he let us know about it. He thought his kid was upstairs sleeping in bed.

"Oh my, how a surprise like that had consequences when we handed him over to daddy. All his father said was, 'We'll talk about this in the morning.' I said, 'Dad, you owe me one hundred and fifty-three dollars.' He came back with, 'I don't have that kind of cash right now.' I quietly said, 'I'll take a check.' It was a costly pay-off. As we left the house I think I heard the old man shoving, slapping, kicking, pushing, and helping the kid upstairs. I almost felt sorry for him."

Jake Smith leaned over to JT and whispered, "I know who that was."

"Smith!" the coach said with raised voice. "You just interrupted your coach."

"Sorry, sir."

"No more, Smith."

"Yes, sir."

"Long story short, he was off the team the minute I saw him trying to pull that girl off the pole ‒ without any chance for an appeal. The next morning I emptied out his locker and threw the uniform on the field house floor. I told the janitors to leave it on the floor and let it rot. It stayed there for two weeks fermenting as a lesson to the rest of the team. Finally, it just got too much for all of us.

"When we picked it up, I noticed some of it was stuck to the floor. It was ruined. I felt that move was my fault and I paid to replace it. Football uniforms cost too much. I took a lot of heat from daddy and some others in the town for taking him off the team, but Dr. Schwind backed me up, and a lot of others in town did also.

"Think you've heard it all? Wait till after the break. We'll talk about smoking and drugs."
Chapter 5

"You guys sure know how to take a break. Freshmen players, clean up the crumbs," one of the assistant coaches said as he called them back. "Brooms and dustpans are in that corner over there."

Coach started in again with, "I know it sounds like I'm preaching to you guys, but I have the chance to do so, and I feel it my responsibility to use the opportunity. You may never hear this stuff again."

JT leaned close to Joel and Caleb and whispered, "Preaching is right. I didn't think coaches talked like that. I thought they was cussing guys. You know, yelling, swearing, and throwing furniture around the room. This guy sounds like a wimp. I need a coach that swears more than I do."

"Don't call him a wimp, T. And whatever you do, don't get on his wrong side. He's tough in his own way. All those championships show something for him"

After another hour of moral instruction, Coach could see some of the senior players who had heard this line before roll their eyes in boredom. "I see those eyes drifting skyward. What you do after this season is up to you. I've heard a lot of former players return to me over the years and say "Thanks."

Thinking Coach was finished, three players in the back of the chapel started to get up.

"Oh, but I'm not done yet, Mr. MacGuire ‒ and you others. There is a new issue to touch on this year. And in the privacy of our chapel here it is. I'm talking about tattoos."

Waving his hand, he continued. "I know, I know, now I'm getting personal, but by now you know me. When I was in the Army, one of my sergeants told us that someday, somewhere, somehow, we'd be sorry we got the tattoo. I was too dumb to listen, so I got a couple. And yes, he was right on. There have been times I've regretted it. Today you see your sport idols with arms full of 'body art.'

"Think for a minute and consider what damage is caused by carving inks into the flesh. I'm not a doctor, and this is just my thought. With all those colored inks in the skin, I think melanoma cancers are going to be a big problem in the future. Think possible big cancer issues. Anything to add to that, Coach Kelly?"

"A big ditto. I heard the same speech in the Air Force, but I too didn't listen – got one. As a medic I saw some serious problems with skin tissue. Just save yourself the problems."

A quiet sheepish voice from somewhere in the team said, "JT's got a bunch."

Not one to let his name go unnoticed, JT jumped up and yelled, "Yeah, I got some, and Coach is right. One of them I sorry I got. There's one on the back of my leg that I don't ever see. It cost me eighty-five bucks. How dumb is that?"

Coach let the murmuring die down before saying, "In closing this discussion, I just want you guys to know a final word about drugs. You know all the types, and you also know some friends of yours who are involved. Look. Look at 'em. Some doing badly in school and some dropped out of school. Where will they end up without finishing school? Wasted lives. But you have the opportunity to succeed in almost everything you do. Think men! Think of your future lives and families."

At the words, "In closing," the bodies on the benches all perked up. He went on without notice. "Like I said, this town is littered with former players who didn't like to hear all this, but have come back to thank me. This is my last year to put my stamp on your lives."

Coach walked to the white board and wrote three R's on it. "My last word to you men is what I call my three R's. Respect, Responsibility and Relationships. If you have these three attitudes in your DNA, you'll succeed light years ahead of your competition in education, society, families, sports, and careers."

With one loud clap of his hands, he said, "Any questions?" Without a breath, "No time for questions. Your Coach has spoken!"

As the crowd was stampeding out of the chapel, Caleb whispered to JT, "You get anything out of all that? Especially the smoking thing?"

Out of the side of his mouth, JT whispered back, "He ain't caught me yet."

Caleb just smiled and shook his head.

Real practice started early in August with field trials, physical demands, and football knowledge. The three weeks before school were spent in the nitty gritty stuff of the game: running around on the field and laps on the track, pushing the heavy skids with padded dummies on them, and sometimes real dummies in their uniforms.

Several of the guys ran around town for their practice, to let the people of the town know they were the ones on the football team – Notice me? Managers for the team included a few girls getting things ready, running with water bottles, and picking up afterwards. Coach and his staff demanded no fraternizing with the managers. Early practices were in helmets, T-shirts, shorts, and cleats. Bulky pads and shoulder pads would come later.

Practices, like games, were held in all kinds of weather, except when it was lightning. Rain, snow, wind, hail, ice, cold, and hot. Most of the players enjoyed the challenge of the elements and the mud that came with it, especially JT. He loved the worst of it, couldn't get enough gravel in his teeth. Coach told them that playing in all types of weather was just a part of toughing them up, like all the storms of life. Coach was always beating his drum on the positive side.

The first game of the season, an exhibition game, was on September 7th with a nearby school. Coach had the philosophy of doing all his training and yelling, as little as he did, during practice. He let the other coaches make their calls and do their yelling during the games. He preferred to walk the sidelines with arms folded, giving the impression of a man totally in control. The administration and spectators in the stands were proud and impressed by his coolness. What went on inside his head and behind that Santa Claus beard was another story.

The quarterbacks and captains were the leaders of the teams, and had been well trained by Coach over the past three years. They generally did a good job, but this year they had Tim Rodick and JT to deal with. Tim had trouble knowing right from left. JT had difficulty in respecting the sound of a whistle blown by a man in a striped shirt.

In the first game alone. JT took the team fifty yards back in penalties. One captain yelled at him, "T, you're taking us in the wrong direction."

"Relax. I'll get it. I'll get it."

"Better get it quick."

Another addition this year was a real live mascot. Not a yellow striped Bengal Tiger, but Caleb's five-year-old Border collie. He was dressed in a blue and white striped sweater and was under the trained control of eleven-year-old Levi Boggs, the son of the evangelical pastor in Prairie Heights and Caleb's neighbor. At the signal from a referee with raised hands, Boots would bark (roar) with all his might and pull Levi around. Home town crowds and visitors looked forward as much to the Boots and Levi act as they did to the touchdowns.
Chapter 6

The first real game of the season that counted in the conference was rough around the edges to say the least. The defense gang did more running into themselves than the other team. The worst offender was JT. Tim Rodick did just slightly better. They lost the game by three points.

After the game, in the locker room, Coach expressed his disappointment, but after all his years in this game he got the message to the team in the only way he knew how. "Gentlemen, it's never nice to lose a game, but that's the nature of what we do. We will do better next time ‒ with more practice."

Joel said, "Yeah, the next game is with our arch rival, Wannee. Next to us, they're champions in this area."

JT piped up with, "Big deal. They don't got me and Dim with all our surprises."

"You call loosing almost fifty yards between just you and Dim a surprise?" came from the back of the room. A little laughter rippled through the locker room.

Throughout the week, more practice was just what the team did. Caleb and Joel, both defensive captains, along with Carlos and Shane, spent extra time with the two new up and coming stars – Rodick and JT. Joel told JT bravely, "T, try and control your hot temper on the field. We all have to control that. This game brings out the worst in us."

"You mean the best, don't ya? There was some hard hitting."

"T, that's the game. By the way, since when is JT afraid of hitting hard? Have to take it too."

"Okay, okay, I got it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. I'm doing better next game."

Joel's mind switched to, Oh, boy, what have I just done to all the players in the conference?

Caleb took Tim under his wing and tried to get his right and left sorted. "Dim, you should have that right and left thing figured out by now. Some plays go to the right and some to the left."

"Yeah, but our right is their left."

Oh boy. "Work on it, Dim. You can do it."

Friday afternoon at two p.m. when the football team left their class rooms to get ready for the away game with Wannee, Mr. Melbourne stopped JT at the door and quietly said, "JT, you got a low score on that last test. You've got to do better if you want to stay on the team. I'm letting you go today, but be on notice. You're on thin ice."

"I know, Mr. Melbourne. I'll get some help from Shepherd."

"Good, you do that. That is, if he's willing to help you."

The sophomore game on the strange field was over, and the floodlights shone brightly as the stands filled up with Wannee and Prairie Heights fans. High school football games are pretty much the same, but inside the confines of Rodick's and JT's helmets, it seemed they had their own rules.

On the first snap from the Wannee center to the quarterback, JT just shoved the center aside, and like a coiled spring letting go he headed to the quarterback. Remember, T, no Mr. Nice Guy. He got to the quarterback before he could take three steps backwards. In an instant, the quarterback was on his back, looking up at JT grinning at him from three inches away. JT ran back to Joel. "That more like it?"

Shane turned JT around and said, "Look, he's not getting up. You hit him awfully hard."

"Ain't I 'spose to do that? Hit the guy? Last week you said I don't hit hard enough. Now you say too much."

"Just don't paralyze him."

"My job, ain't it? Hit the guy? Look, he's getting up now."

"Yeah, with the help of three guys and a doctor. You really rang his bell."

"What's with you guys? Don't hit so hard – hit hard, which is it?"

"Don't make the other team hate us. We have quarterbacks too."

Two plays later, just before the snap, Caleb pointed to one of the other players and whispered to Tim, "See 62 over there? My guess is that he's going to receive the ball to our right and run with it. Just get in front of him and knock the ball down."

"How you know?"

"Trust me, Dim."

The ball was snapped and, just as Caleb thought, it was passed to 62. Tim was there and deflected the ball. For the first time in his life, Tim heard a roar of approval especially for him.

The next play was run up the middle and resulted in a twelve man heap. Arms, feet, helmets, and legs aiming to all points of the compass. Deep in the pile, Joel felt a fist jabbing him in the ribs. Shane felt a finger gouge him through the ear hole of the helmet. A cleat with mud on it was in Carlos's mouth, and someone yelled that his helmet was being twisted.

On the way back to the defensive position, JT asked Shane, "That guy's helmet still on?"

P.H.H.S. won that first game by seven. The ride home on Big Yellow was happy, noisy, and stunk with all sorts of ripe high school guy smells.

Knowing his men would be hungry, and his traveling environmental disaster would not be welcomed in any respected fast food place, Coach had one of the other coaches order a boat load ‒ a bus load ‒ of fast to-go grub. The order was called in and prepared in three large boxes when the bus arrived. One hundred quarter pound cheeseburgers, seventy large fries, and seventy large Cokes.

The debris was ankle deep when they arrived back at Prairie Heights. As the bus came to a stop at the school, Coach Kelly announced, "You four newcomers to the team will, will clean this up. That includes Tim Rodick and you, JT."

JT tried to slither out the back door, but Coach Kelly was behind the bus and blocked the door for the big man. "Hearing problem, T? Don't forget the mud on the floor."

The newbies got the bus cleaned, but not without JT's commanding verbal help.

As the next week settled in, and bumps and bruises healed, Caleb and Joel found time to huddle up with JT and help him with some history, science, and developmental math. Surprising to all, JT responded well to the tutoring. It kept him eligible for the next game.

Several games into the season, other teams began to notice P.H.H.S. had a Special Ed student on the team. Word began to filter through the opposing scrimmage line that, "That one over there is the dumb one – the village idiot. You can get away with pushing him around."

When the words fell into JT's helmet he was deeply offended. "Nobody, nobody calls my friend the village idiot. That's my title, you jerks!"

Late in September it rained four days in a row, leaving no choice but forcing the football team to practice in the main gym. Coach made sure practices were in gym shoes instead of cleats for all the running, plays, and special team exercises. He sure didn't want basketball Coach Bradly on his back. Bradly considered the gym his house.

Finally, the football team was back outside, and Coach Bradly was back in the gym. He almost had a stroke when he saw a scratch, no, a gouge in his floor, and right in the center of the Blue Tiger's face. Flying into Dr. Schwind's office he bellowed, "Doc, you gotta see this now. I mean now."

Dr. Schwind never did like being called Doc, but he could see Bradly was in no mood to be corrected on this point of professional etiquette. He knew how to pick his battles.
Chapter 7

Coach Bradly had no intention of considering what the superintendent was doing, or who he was with, when he stormed into the superintendent's office. He almost dragged Dr. Schwind onto the highly polished floor of the main gym, shoving a gym class out of his way, right up to the scratched, and "gouged-out" face of the Blue Tiger in center court.

Jabbing his pointing finger, he growled, "Look at that. Look at that. What are you going to do about that? My guys could trip over that. Fisher has a lot of explaining to do."

"Bradly, how do you know it was the football team? A lot of other activities go on in here."

"Who else? Who else could scratch a floor like that and not tell anyone? That's from a football cleat."

Just then a student from the gym class came up to the two, and quietly said, "I know how that got there. I know who done it."

Coach Bradly's face lit up like a Christmas tree. The student was Tim Rodick, the Special Ed student on the football team. "Whadda I tell ya, Doc? See, a football player."

At the term, Doc's spine stiffened. He called me Doc again, and in front of a student!

"Well, who was it? Who was it?" Bradly pressed, "Tell us, who was it? Your coach know who did it?"

"No, Coach don't know who done it, but I do. I know who done it, but I promised I wouldn't tell nobody."

"Well, who? Come on, son, who?"

"I can't tell you. Remember, I promised the guy I wouldn't tell nobody."

On the brink of knowing who did the gouging, and wanting to wring Tim's neck over this promise stuff, Coach Bradly tried his best to bring his demeanor back to normal.

Tim started to open up. "Remember two weeks ago, there was a band concert in here with a coupla schools? Two of our teachers was helping set the instruments up for the band leader, and a pedal from one of them big gold looking drums fell off and scratched the floor."

"Good. Good, Tim. Who were the teachers?"

"Like I said, I promised I won't tell. A promise is a promise ain't it?"

Almost ready to backhand Tim into the highest row of bleachers, Bradly said to himself, Back to this promise stuff. "Dr. Schwind?"

The superintendent groaned. "You know who did it, but won't tell us. Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right. You mad at me, Dr. Schwind?"

"Not for keeping a promise, son." To Coach Bradly, "We'll get it fixed, Coach. It will be fixed."

Tim ran back to his gym class. Coach Bradly said in a low voice to his boss, "Now I know why they call him, Dim."

"Bradly!"

On Thursday, back outside and onto a still wet field, the team enjoyed being out of the gym. JT plowed his bulk into one of the blue padded skids and broke it off at one of the welded sites. When Shane and JT were picking up the pieces, Shane noticed Coach running their way. "Oh, oh, you're in trouble again, T," he said.

JT added, "That would be me. In trouble again. Nothing new."

In a deep, ecstatic voice from the coach, "Great job, T. Great job. The pros are always trying to do that. And I got you on my team. I'm calling you the jaw of my tigers."

Practice after practice and games every Friday night in the Central Conference came and went. One day, the team was told they were having an exhibition game with a Chicago school. The game would be with Raft High School on the far North West side of the city, and it would be on a Saturday.

On the bus ride to Chicago the question came up, "Why a game on Saturday, and not Friday night like we usually do?"

Coach Kelly asked, "You want hundreds of Chicago kids running around on a Friday night after ten?"

The question was received and understood. Then the students wondered: kids that rough?

That game in Chicago would be a game JT would never forget for two reasons. First, he almost made his one and only touchdown of his whole life. It was a good play from Raft High School and the runner was heading for his goal near a far corner of the field.

In an inspired burst of energy, JT got away from the crowded field and headed towards the runner. Not knowing JT was almost on him, the Raft runner began to hot-dog-it, sticking the ball far out in front of him, high stepping like a drum major ‒ expecting an easy touchdown.

JT gained on him from behind and snatched the ball from his hands like stealing candy from a baby. He quickly started running almost the full length of the field back towards his own goal line. With the rest of the teams far on the other side of the field, he knew he had a good start on them.

JT ran right along the sidelines making all players, coaches, spectators, and radio announcers yelling in their own direction. In an all-that-glitters-is-not-gold moment, one of Raft's football players was also one of Raft's track stars. Rick Hill's record in the 440 was 48.9 seconds, and he was breaking that getting to JT, even with all his equipment on. JT could actually feel the 30, 40, 50 yard markers fly past.

Now at mid field, JT began to feel the celebration to come, and didn't notice Hill coming up on him. He got to the next 40, 30, and then the 20 yard marker feeling ecstatic. Life is sweet. Maybe a parade for me back at Prairie Heights. Bluebirds of happiness in blue skis and white clouds were chirping in his mind as he closed in on his goal line.

At the 5 yard line his lights went out as the Raft player, with HILL on his back, broadsided him in the ribs and lifted him out of bounds. He still got three broad steps in midair before the sod came up to him. Those bluebirds quickly became ugly bald headed vultures circling above him. Getting up and gulping out some choice words with some grass mixed with them to the referee, JT was back in his usual format.

"See what he done to me? Why he'd have to do that? They was winning. I was robbed. Is that fair?"

The exhausted referee said, laughing, "Son..." The word, 'son' hit JT in the gut. Son? Son? I don't like hearing that from somebody. Thinking on it for a second, he thought, Let it go, T. Let it go.

The referee continued laughing. "He came to play football and did a good job at it. Didn't you? It's what the game is all about."

JT got so close to the referee with his own version of the rules, his facemask pushed his cap off. The referee saw that JT had more of his vocabulary to deliver, so he pointed his finger into the player's face. "That's enough. Don't talk to me. Don't argue. Not a word, young man, not one word. Not even a yes, sir." Pointing, "Go back to your team."

When JT got back to his cheering team, all he said was, "That ref's head was as bald as them vultures."

Steve turned to Caleb and said, "Vultures? Vultures? What's with vultures? What did he mean with vultures?"

"Beats me. I think he was hit so hard his brain got scrambled. I'd expect to hear something else from him after a hit like that."

There was another reason the game was a memory for JT. He hit a quarterback so hard he spun him around three times, losing his sense of direction. The quarterback ran the wrong way, not hearing the roar of his own crowd, giving Prairie Heights the six points. On the bus ride home, JT was the hero.

After school on Monday, October eleventh, the team gathered in the field house as usual to prepare for practice. That day the usual boisterous collection of youth-filled laughing over the weekend and anticipation of practice was missing – it was a quiet locker room. Something produced a dark cloud of doom and gloom over the place. No one could put their finger on it, but something felt out of kilter.
Chapter 8

Coach after coach tried to get the team's usual character and enthusiasm up, but try as they could, it all fell short. Throughout the crowd, a few eyes flashed back and forth with what seemed like the answer to the gloom, but nothing more. The mass of bodies just kept changing clothes.

A voice far in the back in the room asked, "Where's Coach?"

A sarcastic answer rebounded. "Look through the window to his office. Can't ya see he's on the phone?"

One of the assistant coaches said, "He's been on the phone with someone almost all day. I had to take over his fourth hour class today."

Just then, through the window they all saw Coach bang the receiver down. He stood up for a second, rubbed his red face, looked out the window and saw the team looking back at him. He quickly shut the blind. Seeing the usually mild mannered coach slam the receiver confirmed the fact something was truly amiss.

A moment later, Coach's door opened and the stocky, white-haired and bearded man stepped into the locker room. Now he really did look like Santa Claus – his face was now red as a beet. He calmly said, "Captains, take your teams out for practice. Coaches, you know what we've talked about working on."

The usual spirit for getting up for practice was gone, and the sullen team obediently filed out, cleats having a slower than usual cadence heading towards the field. This time there was no cheering or slapping their hands on the large painted blue tiger mascot next to the door.

"Oh, by the way," Coach said, "I want to see Santos, Brock, MacGuire, and you, Smith, in my office."

After the team had left for the field, the four players stood at the Coach's door looking like innocent sheep.

"Okay, choir boys, inside. And don't bother to sit on the old couch. You all can stand for this."

When all were gathered in the little room, and the rest of the team was on the field, the coach slammed the door so hard the blind broke at one end, dangled and swung back and forth for a second or two, then fell completely to the floor. The angry coach kicked it ten feet away. The tension in the office was so stiff, a guy would need a machete to cut it.

As the coach reached for his coffee mug for the last sip of cold coffee, he heard a whisper from the little flock. "Not a word, remember?"

"I heard that. Remember what?" It looked like Coach was about to fling the mug at the wall until he noticed the painting of their mighty Blue Tiger on it, and gently set it on his desk. He sat down in his old torn leather chair with hands folded on his desk, and quietly inquired, "Tell me, Tigers, how was your night at the canal last Saturday?"

Silence remained as the players, still in sheep mode, looked at each other wondering what Coach could possibly be thinking.

Coach spoke again, this time mocking the words he heard when he entered. "Not a word, remember."

Still not a word.

"Okay, men, have it your way. But the first one to crack your code of silence, gets a break."

No crack, but body language was beginning to shout out loud.

"Come on, men, we know each other well enough. I want to hear it from you. You are my men – I hope. I've spent the day getting my ears blistered on the phone. You must know this town has eyes, ears, and tongues all over the place. The grapevine is leaking. I have a thirty year long list of resources. Believe me, I've got stuff on you and your fathers you hope I don't spill."

Still not a word. Just sheep looking at each other.

"Your code of honor is admirable. The offer for a break is open for just two more minutes."

Shane MacGuire stepped forward and took a deep breath.

"No, MacGuire!"

"Shut up."

"Quiet."

"You'll get yours."

"Traitor."

"Well, that all sounds interesting, Getting warm in here is it? Keep going, Shane. What you got? Sit down, guys. Let's have this out here in private."

Shane continued, "Coach, we really just went to the canal and started a fire to eat junk food and drink sodas. We know your stand on drinking, and we were keeping to it. We went there to push the curfew of course, and to tell juicy stories and dumb jokes for the night. That was our intent."

A few others nodded.

"About eleven, someone, I'm not going to say who, brought us a keg of beer, a bunch of cups, and a case of other drinks. We knew it was wrong, but we were getting loose and thought no one would know if we kept quiet. Within the following hours we drank it all. Some of us passed out, some threw up, and others told us things I'll bet were real secrets in town. We stayed at the canal all night and were still sick the next morning."

"Not going to tell me who gave you the beer? Never mind. My chain of information will come up with who it was before the day is over. See what thirty years of friendships can do?"

The guilty ones all looked at each other.

Just as Coach was about to say something, the phone rang again. "I'm not even going to pick it up. My ears have heard enough for one day. I get the feeling this looks like the work of JT. But he's not in here. He's a tricky one. I saw him run out the door with the others. I can see him letting you four swing for him. This is something he'd do to get off the team again. He has a unique way of failing."

Steve Brock spoke up sharply, "No, Coach, JT had nothing to do with it. That's why he's not here. It's true, he had nothing to do with this. Besides, he's always in trouble, and most of the time on parole."

"Okay, so he's not in trouble this time. His name never came up in any of the phone calls. You four got yourselves into these deep weeds by yourselves, right?"

"This was all my idea, I swear," Steve said.

"I'm beginning to see some honor in this gang after all. Any other activities go on out there?"

"We don't know, Coach. Like Shane said, some of us were wiped out."

"Just as well. I don't want to hear any more, anyway. My chain of resources will let me know if there was more."

Tension was starting to thaw. Finally the coach said, "Here's the deal. Three of you will be on a three-game suspension. It's up to you to tell others the reasons. Remember, you're not playing is not my idea. You made that choice yourselves. Make your own excuses. I know it will hurt, but you've got to suffer somewhere. I can just imagine the flack I'll take from some in this town. Thanks, guys. You do know, of course, this will cost us the conference title. MacGuire, I promised you a break. You can stay on the team."

"Coach!" Shane said, jumping up from the old sagging couch. "Please, I know this will all leak out, and I don't want to be known as the snitch or traitor. Take me out for the three games too. Only the five of us in here will know."

Coach stood up. "You guys are a team after all. I see some honor here. As for the rest of you, there will be no, none, nada, any kind of retaliation against Shane. What went on in this room stays in this room as far as we can help it. Got that?"

They looked at each other with blank faces.

"Guys," Coach said, "get out of my sight."

The four returned to the locker room, dressed back into their regular clothes, left by the back door, and got lost. Coach took a few deep breaths, hitched up his sagging belt and went out to the field.
Chapter 9

A coach of Fisher's reputation could not take four major players off the team without a bolt of lightning striking the town. The Prairie Heights grapevine was crushed and spurted to its fullest, with the stories going wild. Stories far beyond the original version.

Parents, friends, and most others in the town all had their own slant on what should have been done. Everyone from the Bishop in Peoria, Mayor Redfern, most of the merchants and the garbage collectors had their piece of flesh off Coach.

"You're too hard on the boys, Coach."

"Boys will be boys."

"Give 'em a break."

"Ever do anything like that when you were a kid, Coach?"

"They've paid their price."

"It's good this is your last year."

"Oh, come on now."

"The team is finished for this year."

Coach expected some of that, but to hear from the bishop he thought was a bit over the edge. Those remarks were all pale in comparison to what he endured three days later when one of the administrative assistants in the school, Irene Grube, knocked on Coach's door.

Leaning in, she said, "Coach Fisher, the gov‒‒‒"

A long arm in a suit with just the right amount of white cuff showing pushed the door open farther, and the governor of the state of Illinois brazenly stepped into his office with two state troopers close behind.

"Coach, I've got something to tell you. I thin‒‒‒"

Coach felt an explosion in his spine instantly. He knew there was going to be a tiger fight. He stood up with a start, and without thinking said, "I'll talk to you, but you can tell your two Gestapo to leave. I have no intention of harming you."

The governor turned to look at the officers and nodded towards the door.

When the door was closed, Governor Brock started right in with pointed finger almost in Coach's white beard. "You have any idea of how this makes me look in Springfield? I've had reporters from all over the state calling me and wanting to know about my kid. There are going to be articles in magazines and newspapers coming out casting aspersions on the way I raise my children. I won't stand for it I tell you. I won't!"

With his hands holding up his upper body, he leaned on the desk to get closer to Coach's face. "You're going to recant all this nonsense and let my boy back on the team. What's more...."

After about ten minutes of listening to the governor rant and stomp around his office, Coach remained quiet to hear the rest. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself, Coach – if you are still the coach?"

Standing again, Coach said, "Ray, and I'll still call you Ray, I was your football coach when you were on that field. The fact that you are now the governor doesn't change that ‒ does it, Ray? Not really too much to say. Your son and others violated the rules, and are accepting the consequences like men. They came up with the idea. In fact, Steve admitted it was all his idea. You have no argument with me. Go see your son. As one of my players years ago, you knew how I ran the team then ‒ and you obeyed the rules. That's all I ask from my teams now. Really, this is all a non-problem."

Calming down, shaking his head and finally sitting in a nearby chair, the governor said in a defeated voice, "Fisher, I feel I've been greatly embarrassed over the actions of my boy."

"Ray, everything you've said in this office just now has been about yourself and how you feel. How do you think Steve feels?"

"I don't know. I hardly see him. I hardly know him."

"You're getting the idea. Why don't you and your son go out for dinner tonight? Just the two of you. As you know, my wife and I didn't have children. I never had the privilege of raising a son. I've coached hundreds of young men for many years, and I'd be proud to call any of them, any of them, my son. Here's another idea. Why not take a vacation just with him?

"Ray, you spend most of your time in Springfield. Steve lives here in Prairie Heights with your folks. No wonder there's a big gap between you and him. Heck, do something far out. Take him on a wilderness canoe trip, just the two of you, and get to really know each other. Hot days, cold water, portages, sore bodies, bugs, beavers, and bears have a way of making for good friendships. He feels bad about all this too."

Governor Brock stood up and looked at Coach for a long silent time. He then walked over to the coach and took him by the hand. He shook it firmly and left the room without another word.

Coach sat down in the chair the governor had just left and thought about his former player, Ray Brock, and his son, Steve. There was a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in."

It was Dr. Schwind and Irene Grube. "Coach," the superintendent said, "the whole office crew heard most of that through the walls. I'm proud of you. And yes, you're still the coach. In the end, I know the whole town will feel the same way. I know your team does already."

Even though the season was half over when the canal issue was discovered and dealt with, practice loomed up every day after school. With four key players missing for a while, much needed to be done in filling in the blanks. The coaches and team fully realized what they were up against, and spent extra time and effort to close the gaps.

The first change noticed was that Tim Rodick was called upon to perform at his best. He thrived on being let go to do his thing – running and breaking up the other team's offensive line.

JT was hitting his stride in the game and slowly responding to the academic help from Caleb and Joel. But the JT temper and mouth showed little improvement.

In spite of the suspension of four of the better players off the team, P.H.H.S. made it into the conference playoffs. One game was all they could handle of the playoffs, having lost to Sterling Rock High School a few miles to the north. That one game remained for JT to add one more of his variations to the season.

In that game, Tim Rodick proved his worth to society. JT was in true form, running, smashing into other players, and in general controlling the atmosphere on the field. After one play, he was so blistering mad that he ran into the other player and met his match from another school. They struck so hard their face guards not only collided, but one face guard broke and they were actually locked together.

With only an inch or two between the two livid faces, the personal opinions of the two deep-seated viewpoints were filled with such new terminology that the referees blushed.

Two referees ran to the expected nuclear event and tried to pull them apart. No luck with hands on shoulders. They realized the predicament and tried to fix it. "Prairie Heights, turn your head to the left."

"No, Sterling Rock, twist your body that way."

"Ever see anything like this, Hank?" one referee said to the other.

"Never. We need a bolt cutter?"

"Prairie Heights, kneel down. Sterling Rock, move to your left."

"Bolt cutter – good idea. Where do we get one? You two, work together and get off the field so the game can go on."

The referees got the conjoined twins – joined at the face ‒ off to the sidelines on the Prairie Heights side of the field. Other players gathered around to see this strange event, and observed with interest the many different ways the referees tried to separate the players.

Tim Rodick quietly said to one of the officials, "Why don't ya just take the helmets off?"

Amid the red faces sticking out of the striped shirts, players turning around and snickering, the situation was defused by the one they called Dim.

After it was all over, JT and his former helmet-locked "friend" had a good laugh together. As they knuckled each other, the other player whispered to JT, "And they call football players the dumb ones."

With that final game, the Prairie Heights players sauntered off the field, high fiving and low fiving the members of the other team. The players were carrying their sweating helmets as they did after any game, but this time there was a different mindset among them. They were a new band of brothers. They developed a comradeship among themselves they never knew a few months before.

Joel said to Caleb, "I think JT found a whole new outlook on his existence."

"Nah, just another ripple in his life."

Rough as it was, thanks to JT and Tim at times, they had developed into a real team of workers. Almost a love for each other. Coach had claimed another good season in time for his retirement.

The exhausted team stripped for the showers. Clean players dressed for the final dance of the season with the long awaited dates with their girlfriends. They left the locker room and never looked back. Uniforms and helmets were piled high in the center of the locker room waiting to be cleaned, repaired, and put away for the next year's Tigers.

The environment of the room could have been classified as a hazardous waste dump. The pile was now the "delight" of the volunteer moms of the gladiators. "All this smelly debris is from our little boys?"
Chapter 10

Thanks to his bulk, Joel went into wrestling for the winter. Joel tried to talk JT into joining him. "T, you like to beat up on guys. Why don't you go out for wrestling? You're strong and the commanding type, and you can throw the guys around all you want."

"Nah, I don't want to roll around on the floor hugging big sweaty guys."

Shane picked up a basketball and ran his legs off for the basketball season. Caleb realized his grades were slipping because of the time with football, and he had to spend more time working on them if he was going to get into the university he wanted.

"I know, Mom, I know. You told me I'd have to do this. So here I am, being your obedient son."

His mother just smiled. "Good thinking, son."

JT had enough of the sport thing. There were too many rules, order, and discipline for the self-appointed man about town. He felt, in a way, that it "cramped his style." In a weak moment, the owner of the Ben Franklin store offered him a job of stock boy and janitor.

JT took the job mostly because it was close to what he called home, but the temptation of being around all the stock aggravated his sticky fingers every minute of the day. To his own surprise, he forced himself to do the job he was hired for, and left the pilfering alone for now. A source of income was something new for him, and with no experience with an income, he set most of it aside in an old ratty boot in his closet under dirty clothes. He never knew why. Seemed to be the thing to do.

He felt constrained by his job, but expressed his wild side when he could with his old motorcycle, his sharp tongue, dominating social life, plus a variety of girlfriends. Walking the straight and narrow was a chore, but the school work improved a little. JT actually thought he might make it to the diploma. In his cold and crusted heart, he felt something stirring. He was definitely turning over a new leaf – only halfway, though. I got a rep to keep up.

In early February, Caleb read in the newspaper about the Mid-West Sportsman Show coming to the McCormick Place in Chicago for the second week in February. He talked about it with a bunch of his friends. Unfortunately, Jens, JT's parole officer, put the kibosh on JT's trip, saying, "No way do I want JT in Chicago – not even for a day."

In the long run, only Joel and Shane took him up on the trip for February 13th. As usual, Caleb wanted to drive his yellow Jeep up to the city, but the other two shot that idea out of the sky like a duck on the wing.

First, Joel said, "Shep, the Jeep only has a canvas top, and February is cold you know. The heater can't keep up with the cold and the wind off Lake Michigan. Which one of us do you think wants to ride in that minuscule back seat?"

"I heard that, Joel."

Shane added, "Guys in the city have knives, and a Jeep with only a canvas top like that sitting in the parking ramp says, 'Come and get me.'"

"Okay, guys, okay. The message is loud and clear. Joel, you going to take your folks' six-year-old Dodge minivan?"

"Good idea," Shane said. "That's not exactly an exciting vehicle. It won't attract thieves or vandals."

Joel finished the debate with, "Warm, guys, warm."

Early morning on February 13th, with a three degree temperature in the air, Joel picked up the other two. After a quick stop for fast food, they headed east on I80. Taking I55 north, after two hours they almost drove right into McCormick Place. The parking lot was the same used for Soldier Field, about another two blocks north.

When the three got out of the van, Caleb said, "Look, guys, what's parked right next to us."

"Well, look at that. It's a brand new black Rubicon Jeep," Shane said. "Note the canvas top, guys."

The walk to McCormick Place, in the blowing wind off the lake, almost did them in. Caleb said, "Now I know why they call this the windy city."

"I thought they called it the windy city because of the politicians," Joel answered.

"Both reasons work," Shane said, while they ran towards the big hall.

The three entered the massive structure to upbeat music and almost a foggy atmosphere in the air. "There's more people in here than all of Prairie Heights," Caleb said.

For the next four hours they walked among the many display booths, picking up all the free material that was offered. They saw all types of craft, from pontoon boats to fast and very expensive speed boats. There were dozens of booths showing off fishing gear of all types, and some even had a small fishing pond stocked with fish. Summer trips and cruises were offered, but they held no interest for these three.

Gun dealers had large displays laid out in the arena, but anti-gun activists were always causing a scene. Police were constantly trying to throw them out. "Ah, the sights and sounds of the big city," Caleb groaned.

It was now time for the big show, and just in time for the three to get off their feet. There was a large platform at the end of a huge pool of water about four feet deep. Dog trainers showed the audience what their trained dogs could do for the good hunter.

Trained dogs sat still and didn't move when the gun was fired. They waited for the command to go, jumped in the pool, got the dummy duck and brought it back to the owner ‒ and didn't shake off the water until commanded.

"Wish Boots would wait like that," Caleb said.

A trained seal followed the dogs, to the enjoyment and amusement of the crowd. A seal in downtown Chicago was something new to all. Synchronized swimming with twelve ladies woke the brain cells up in the guys. Joel, in all his deep thinking, said, "I wonder how those girls like swimming in that water after all those dogs and that seal!"

After the show, they each bought an eight dollar hot dog and a three dollar soda. "Ya don't buy these every day," Shane said.

"No, but look at the size of the dog. Makes the price worth it," Joel was quick to throw in.

Suddenly Caleb stopped the food conversation with a shout. He pointed. "Hey, look! Cherokee Outfitters from Tofte, Minnesota. That's where dad and I took our canoe trip four years ago. Look at these pictures."

They picked up every piece of literature and whatever else was being given away free. Regan McComber, one of the workers from the outfitters in the booth, started to talk to them. When she heard that Caleb had been a customer before, she quickly became interested.

"Come back again some time. We're even better now than four years ago. Same water, though."

The Prairie Heights three quickly set their minds into gear about a canoe trip after graduation next June. With the help of Regan, they almost finalized the plans right there on the spot.

When walking away from the outfitters' booth, Shane said, "I like the idea a lot, and I'm looking forward to it. But can't you just hear some mom or dad throwing a wrench into these plans for some reason?"

Caleb nodded. "I heard that. I know it's coming."

At four in the afternoon, with their heads now full of canoes, trees, water, and fish, the three headed out to the parking lot. Three police cars with lights flashing stood by Joel's van. Their walk turned into a sprint.

Shane was the first to speak. "What's wrong, officer?"

"Look at this, kids. Someone ripped open the canvas top of this nice Jeep and emptied it out. You'd think anyone with a Jeep like this would know better than to park it in this city. How dumb can a guy be? I don't think they'll ever learn. There's no way we'll find the thief. That guy sitting on that guard rail talking to that officer over there is going to suffer a big loss, unless he has good insurance. By the looks of him, my guess is he doesn't."

Caleb, Joel, and Shane's eyes flashed between them. They were silent as they got into Joel's van. As they drove out of the lot, Shane took a breath to say something with the 'I told you so look', but Caleb beat him to it. "Don't say an – ne – thing. Just don't say anything. Okay?"
Chapter 11

When the three returned to Prairie Heights, they wasted no time being quiet about the graduation trip. They wanted four for the trip, so they began to talk about who they could con into being number four. It was less than one week before the ugly word "adult" was brought up.

"We parents know you three are responsible men, and we can trust you. There remains one more consideration. There must be an adult with you."

"An adult?" Shane said. "This is 'sposed to be just four of us guys."

"Four guys are fine, but we're insisting one of the four guys is an adult. Pick anyone you want ‒ but an adult. That is, if you can find someone foolish enough to go on a trip like this."

"Boy, Shane, you were right when you said this would come up. The wrench was the A word. But who?"

Caleb's first suggestion was, "My neighbor, Mr. L. has been on canoe trips in the BWCA many times. He would work."

"Nah," Shane said, "he's a lawyer and spends too much time at a desk. He's too old to take the toughness of a canoe trip now."

"Well, then, how 'bout one of your dads?" Caleb asked.

Both Joel and Shane yelled together, "A dad? We don't want a dad with us."

"Well, who else in town would be dumb enough to take the three of us up there for a week?"

Together, the three heads could not come up with a good victim. "We've got a few months to think about this," Joel said.

February ended with the trip balancing on the letter A. Another factor they thought might be a problem was the fact that a trip like this would cost some serious money. Against his mother's wishes, Caleb got a part time job at the end of the school year as a server at the Dawg House Restaurant at the north end of town at exit 56, off I80.

Joel and Shane also got jobs, and started to save what they could. The dates for the trip were set for June sixth to the thirteenth.

"We've got to make one deadline firm, so we can know what we're dealing with," Caleb said.

In March, they emailed Regan McComber at Cherokee Outfitters for more detailed information and what some costs would be – if any. The information she sent did little to encourage the trip. In fact, if anything it almost slammed the door shut.

"Yikes! Look at the cost of things."

Caleb took the bad news to his neighbor, Tom Lundgren. "Look at these costs. Is that really what a canoe trip costs? I didn't think it would be that much. You never said much about the costs. I didn't think being out in the wilderness cost anything."

"Those prices do seem high, Caleb. Higher than they were years ago when I did the trips. Remember what you're looking at is the costs for all the services. These prices include all the equipment from canoes to matches and all the food you'd need. You can reduce that cost by taking some equipment up there yourselves. You can take your own sleeping bags, tents, and things like that. You could buy your dehydrated food from a place called Camping Is Us. One more thing. You can borrow my canoe, and I know Colton Youngren would let you borrow his. He also has the right kind of trailer for two canoes."

When Caleb told the other two what he heard from Tom, the door cracked open again ‒ just a little. Joel was quick to say, "That's good news. Let's take everything we can. They can supply the lakes, but we'll still need some money for gas and eating on the way up there."

I'll need a bigger Jeep, Caleb thought.

In April, school was winding down at a fever pitch for the seniors. JT was bugging Caleb and Joel for some last minute help with school work. "Guys, I know I messed up a lot in high school, but the end is in sight and I think I can make it. That is, if I can have some help. Listen to old T here – asking for help. Let's say, begging."

"Good for you," Joel said. "That asking will do the trick for you. You can get a good job after college."

"College? Get real, Joel. There's no college in my picture. A better job maybe. I'm not the brightest bulb in the lamp, ya know. Getting beat up in that football thing might have done my brain some good after all. I want to finish high school."

As April dates clicked off, canoe trip cash was growing in the stashes of the boys. May was on the calendar before they knew it. The trip was looming up in less than a month. When they got together, they made lists of what each would supply for themselves and the whole group. They collected the stuff in their own rooms and on a certain date they planned to take it all to Joel's back porch and wait for loading day.

Their own load included underwear, swimming suit, hiking boots, grubby gym shoes, a jacket, sweat shirt, a cap, and some rain gear. They borrowed two polyester dome tents, a cooking kit, a fire grate for cooking things on, knives, flashlights, soap, matches, large backpacks, fishing gear, some rope, cameras and film.

They collected water jugs, a folding shovel, and on and on. As it grew into a large pile on the back porch, Joel's mother said, "This looks like what Admiral Byrd must have had for his expedition to the North Pole. And I don't see the canoes and paddles yet."

Mid May was knocking on the door, and thoughts of food entered the picture. Caleb started the food talk with, "Tom L bought a lot of his food for his trips from Camping Is Us a few years ago. There's a store in the Quad Cities. Keep in mind, even though you don't know who the adult is yet, you've got to plan for him."

"We'll get number four. I'm sure of it. We have a little time yet." Joel said. "We'll go on faith."

On a quick trip out there, they started their search. After fifteen minutes of looking through the shelves, that door began to close again.

"Look at these prices. Still out of our reach for four guys and six days. We don't even really know what or how much to buy. Maybe we should just watch a good canoe trip movie. We've got to talk to Mr. L again," Caleb said.

Two days later, the three would-be voyagers were on Mr. L's back porch. For months all three had been hyped up for this trip, but tonight Shane was more quiet than usual.

Caleb started with, "Mr. L, I don't think we can afford the food. We never thought it would be such a problem. How'd you do it?"

"I did pay a lot less, but remember my trips were in the 1960s. You're making the voyage in 1979. Imagine what this would cost in 2020!"

"That would be out of sight."

"Think about this, guys. Take all the equipment and gear you can, and leave the food stuff for the Outfitters. I'm sure your friend Regan McKelly can help you."

"McComber," Joel added in a flash. "And her sister, Harper."

Tom continued, "They know what four guys would like, how much, and everything for all the meals. It's highly specialized food, and prepared for use in the wilderness. Each meal will be packed and labeled for a specific time of the day. Yea, it might cost a bit more, but everything will be done for you. Pick up the packs when you get there. By the way, there's usually fresh meat for the first two days. That's because they're packed well for two days. The rest of the food is dehydrated or in powdered form."

"That's good advice, Mr. L. That's why you're the lawyer, huh?" Shane said. He then went on to say, "You guys have a bigger problem right now beyond the food issue. You need to find two more guys."

Caleb said, "So what's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't go on the trip."
Chapter 12

The faces on Caleb, Joel, and Tom turned to granite. Could have been chiseled into Mt. Rushmore.

"Why not?"

"You have to go."

"Who else?"

"Now you've got to find two more people."

"Why, Shane?"

"Well, you know I want to go into the medical field as a doctor. You also know I just got a job at the hospital that starts on June first. It's an important job to get me started on my career."

"Yeah, so ask for the week off."

"I did ask for the time off, but Miss Brennan said, 'Do you want this job? It's not right to ask for a week off at the same time you start. I've got two others who want that job.' That's all she said. She waited for my answer right then. I had to say, 'I'll be here.'"

"She's right, Shane," Tom said. "When you apply to work, you apply to their rules. I once asked for the same thing, and the boss said, 'Your application says you want to work for me, and now you're asking for time off?' Sounds cold, but it's reality. You'll all see that clearly in the future. Yeah, you two are now looking for two more people. Good luck."

Wanting to speak up in anger, Caleb and Joel slid down in their chairs in defeat, looking to Tom for some kind of answer. That door clicked shut.

Canoe trip or not, prom was coming up the next weekend. The two had to put the trip thinking off for a while. Other things to consider for now.

The large room was dark, with soft lights twinkling everywhere. A seven piece live band, The Sea Notes, were at their best playing inviting music, bringing the guys and girls into each others' arms while their feet glided effortlessly across the floor. They were all dressed in formal clothes that made it hard to recognize each other. JT was there, but with a girl from another town no one knew. He was dressed in kakis and a new shirt.

Someone in the crowd called out, "Look, JT got dressed up for this!"

Rest time, refreshments, the grand march, and pictures filled up the time when the students weren't dancing. Parents and faculty also danced a bit, but mostly stood in the background talking.

Tonight, Coach Fisher and his wife were the guests of honor, as these were the last few days before his retirement. There was a short break where some students gave him an award, and he made a short speech that sounded like, "Blah, blah, blah..." to some. When the blah, blah, blah was over, somebody said, "Let's get back to dancing."

During another break when Caleb, Shane, Joel, and their dates were seated at a table sipping their soft drinks, Coach Kelly and a young new English teacher joined them. "I heard the bad news, guys. Shane can't make the trip. Who's your backup man?"

Joel said, "We have two places to fill now. Yeah, Shane can't do the trip? Also, the folks say we need an adult for the trip, too. We've got to take these problems one at a time."

Caleb opened his mouth to say something, then suddenly slammed it shut. Joel sat up straight with a start and both had a face that reflected the same thought. Coach Kelly is our A.

While Caleb and Joel stumbled over their thoughts, Coach Kelly and his date got up and left for another dance. Shane quickly caught on, and the three huddled up again. "He's our adult."

"He was in the military."

"He could take the trip."

"He was a medic. Folks couldn't turn that down."

"He's our A."

The girls looked at each other, wondering what planet the guys were on all of a sudden.

Asking the girls politely, the three excused themselves and sought out the new coach and his dancing partner. Shane tapped the coach gently on the shoulder. "May I have this dance with your date?"

With a puzzled look, he said, "Sure, okay."

Caleb and Joel waved the coach to come to them. Within minutes the proposal was made, and Coach Kelly knew he was drafted for the expedition. "I've known you guys were planning for this trip, and I heard you were on the search for an adult. What took you so long to come to me? I'll do it. Now let me get back to dancing."

Prom was over, the big A problem was solved, but another hurdle was to be jumped. Who would replace Shane? For the next two days, names flew around the three like a revolving door.

They thought of Carlos Santos, Scott Baldwin, Jake Smith, Steve Brock, and even Tim Rodick.

The idea of who could take the rigors of the trip, and who they could get along with were hard to answer. Who would have the time and who would afford their share of the money?

After three days of soul searching, Caleb quietly whispered to Joel in class, "Think it could be T?"

Joel's face again turned to granite, then softened into a smile. "Good idea, but do you think his parole officer would let him out of his claws for a week?"

"Let's find out. Let's go see Jens."

Still in whisper mode, Caleb said, "Ya know, if he goes, it just might do him a lot of good."

The teacher's voice pierced the whispering. "You two. After all your years in school, do I have to tell you 'no whispering' in your last days?"

A quick check after class with Officer Jens was answered with, "I don't exactly like the idea of him being so far away, but if he's with you two and Coach Kelly I'll enjoy a week off. He can't get into too much trouble in the wilderness ... I think."

When they asked JT the next day, he just laughed at them. "Now just what do you want to do with me in the woods? I don't know how to row a canoe or walk with one of those things on my head, and I can't swim. I never been so far away. Jens won't let me go that far, anyway."

"We've already asked him, and he said you could go."

"You guys spying on me, again? Well, then there's Ma. Who knows what she'll whine about?"

After school one day, the three of them climbed the stairs behind the Ben Franklin store to ask JT's mother. To the surprise of all, the answer from the bouncing cigarette was quick. "Sure, take the kid. Think you can put up with him for a week up there in nowhere?"

After giving JT's mother a quick briefing about the week and leaving apartment, Joel said to Caleb, "This will work, Shep. Now we have all four."

In the following week, after school was out, Joel and Caleb took JT to the canal for a few hours so he could get the feel of a canoe and practice with the paddle. Joel and Caleb got the distinct impression that JT thought he knew all he needed to know, and wasn't taking the time of training seriously.

"You guys get a buzz out of this stuff? Rowing around in the water and carrying this thing through the trees. Eating food with bugs and dirt in it? This is fun to ya?"

"First of all, T," Caleb said, "you don't row a canoe. You paddle it."

"Row – paddle. What's the difference?"

Frustrated, Caleb continued with, "You'll see. One thing about the canal, ya have to go in a straight line. Remember the guy in the back controls the line of travel."

"I see a lot. But to get out of this corn field and away from Ma and Jens for a week, I'll do it."

In a final few words of getting JT to understand this canoe trip stuff, Caleb said, "T, I want to make something clear. A canoe trip is not an easy thing. There's no chance to quit once we get into it. It could be a strain on friendships, a lot of stress, difficulties, setbacks, disappointments, cold and hot weather, and problems to figure out on the spot."

"You trying to talk me out of it now?"

"No, just giving you a heads up on the down side of a trip like this."

"Hey, that sounds a lot like football. Not only that, my life's seen a lot of them words like you just said. Okay, I'm ready."

It was finally a go.

All the supplies were either bought or borrowed. Sometimes Caleb and Joel wondered how JT got all his things. The large pile on Joel's back porch had to be loaded the evening before the trip.

At 5 p.m. Caleb, Joel, JT, and Phil were ready to start loading. Colton Youngren backed his canoe trailer up to the garage, unhooked it and hitched it to the rear of Caleb's Jeep. Something was smoldering in JT's mind.

"What you thinking about, T?" Caleb asked.

"I always thought them canoes traveled upside-down. This one is right side up. It'll get full of water if it rains. Where the other canoe ride?"

"Good thinking, T. But look, this is different. The bottom canoe is right side up to hold all the gear, and the top canoe is upside-down on the rack above it. Like you want it – upside-down."

"Very cute. I guess I learn everything."

The boys and Joel's dad finished packing the canoes under the floodlights from the garage. Phil took JT home while Joel and Caleb retired to Joel's room for a sleepover scheduled to get an early start the next day. What's a sleepover without talking? It was more like midnight before sleep entered the room. Boots, now also an official member of the crew, knew better, going to sleep at nine.
Chapter 13

The six a.m. sun was peeking through the blinds in the Brady's kitchen when the boys entered. Joel's mother was in the midst of making her special fluffy waffles from scratch, and frying thick hickory bacon.

"Never going to see this food for a while, Shep," Joel said.

"Let's take our time here and enjoy it."

"Not too much time, Shep. We want to get out of here."

Joel's mother looked pleased to see her son and best friend devouring her home cooking – especially those waffles from scratch. The real maple syrup filling all the little squares helped the waffles go down.

As the teenagers were putting their dishes in the sink, Mr. Brady entered the kitchen. "I thought you guys would have been out of here at four this morning – in Wisconsin by now."

The boys looked at each other when Caleb said, "Hey, we should have done that."

"Not if you wanted that breakfast," Joel's mom said, waving her wooden spoon.

The four stepped out to the driveway where Caleb's yellow Jeep, a.k.a. Yellow Fellow, with four big fat tires bulging out of the sides was waiting for them. It was parked headed down the driveway as if it was just as eager to go as the would-be Vikings. The ropes were checked, and Joel hugged his mom and dad while Caleb and Boots made known their thanks to the Bradys.

With everything secured the night before, the boys and Boots jumped into the Jeep, and with Caleb at the controls the Yellow Fellow and trailer rolled out of the drive.

The first stop was at Phil Kelley's room at an old house turned into many small apartments, where the teacher/coach/friend was waiting. Next, Caleb pointed the Jeep up the alley to the foot of the long wooden stairs to JT and his mother's apartment above the Ben Franklin store – no JT to be seen or heard.

Just as Phil was about to get out of the Jeep and go up the stairs, the broken and dusty screen door was kicked open, dangling on one hinge. From the Jeep the three heard, "See ya, Ma."

Something undistinguishable was yelled from inside the apartment, and JT yelled back, "Gee, Ma, told you a week ago I was going on a canoe trip with some guys. I was with them packing yesterday."

A sleepy older woman in an ill-fitting, raggedy nightgown, and hair up in curlers looking like a hardware store, came to the door. With a tilted head and a cigarette bouncing between her lips again, "Well, why didn't you remind me?"

"You was always too busy with your friends."

"Ya got enough clothes?"

Without an answer JT bounded down the stairs in three seconds, saying, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Packed 'em up last night. Bye, Ma."

To say JT was excited would be an understatement. Since the moment he was added to the three travelers, he was looking forward to see what the world looked like beyond Prairie Heights. He admitted he had never been farther out of town than Tiskilwa. Any venture beyond the city limits was hampered by Rob Jens, JT's parole officer.

With a belly full of waffles, syrup, and bacon, Caleb said "You get any breakfast, T? We're heading out of town right now."

"Yeah, see, I grabbed a coupla Pop Tarts out of the freezer when I went through the kitchen. Them will thaw in a while."

With all his belongings for the trip packed under the tarps the night before, JT wiggled into the back seat under the black canvas top to the Jeep. Being his old gentle and compassionate self, JT pushed Boots off the seat saying, "Dog, go find you another spot."

In a Wrangler Jeep with four guys, there were very few spots to go to. Boots squirmed his way into the space between the two front seats. Phil said, "T, the dog's got a name. It's Boots."

"All them dogs is alike to me. It's tight in here. How far we going? Farther than Tiskilwa?"

The other three chuckled at the questions of their rough friend.

Keeping in his talking mood, JT asked, "Shep, can the dog ‒ Boots I mean ‒ go into the woods with us?"

"I signed a release with the outfitters giving me full responsibility for Boots. Danger, damage, loss, it's all my responsibility."

The three new high school graduates, one dog, and a twenty six year old, were in a good mood as Main Street slipped behind them. At the railroad crossing at the north end, they were stopped by a six hour late Amtrak passenger train from the west coast.

JT said, "What else is new? Ya never know when that train gets here."

Caleb clutched his way over the tracks as Joel took advantage of the open sides and hung his right leg out of the Jeep. They got to I80, east to I39, then straight up to the North Country. The air rushing through the Jeep kept them all wide awake – for now.

Caleb was the only one of the four who had been on a canoe trip that far north. Joel and Caleb had spent a lot of time canoeing on the canal, and Phil, being in the Air Force, had spent a lot of time traveling in other parts of the world. In an ignorance is bliss scenario, the others knew JT didn't have the faintest idea of the trials ahead of him.

After the trip was over, he told one of his girlfriends, "If I had any smarts at all, I would have jumped out of the Jeep ‒ at top speed." Top speed for this trip was about sixty, because of the trailer with the canoes and gear.

Conversation flew all over inside the Jeep as they skirted around Rockford, when JT asked the long expected question. "How much farther? Are we almost there yet?"

Joel leaned towards Caleb and whispered, "This is going to be a long ride. It's your Jeep. You tell him."

"T, you knew it would take a long time. We have about ten more hours to go before we get to the outfitters."

JT was suddenly at a loss for words, but when he did say something he verbalized his feelings in the only way he could. "Can I have a smoke before we get there?"

The others laughed, and Caleb said, "Normally not in a car, but the wind is blowing like crazy through this Jeep, so it won't make any difference."

From the little jammed back seat, Phil said, "Blow it out on your side."

When they got to the Wisconsin border, JT again let out with his questionable knowledge about being out of Prairie Heights. "Do I need some papers or a passport to go to another state? Maybe something from Jens? I see a state police car over there. They following me?"

Joel couldn't help himself. "T, you've been tied down in Prairie Heights too long. Relax. They're not following you."

Caleb punched his noncompliant friend. "Sorry, T."

"That's okay, guys. We all know I'm at the bottom of the food chain. I'm just glad you taking me with you. That kind of remark don't bother me none."

Barely into Wisconsin, Caleb swung into a welcome center area where they jumped out to use the rest room and give Boots a break from his cramped position over the shift leaver. Phil and JT made no little mention of their knees being locked into the ninety degree position. "Caleb, you should really try sitting in your back seat some time. You'd love it."

Returning to the Jeep, they saw three small kids looking over the Jeep and canoes. "Gonna go on a canoe trip, guys?" one of the little girls asked.

Joel clamped his hand over JT's mouth before anything gifted little kids shouldn't hear could come out.

Caleb asked, "T, want to drive for a while? You know clutch."

"Yeah, let me give it a try. Here's your chance to try out that back seat."

As he pulled out of the parking space, the trailer bumped over a curb. "T, the trailer takes extra space. It's not like a motorcycle."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll remember that."

"Also, no faster than sixty. If you do, you'll feel the trailer try and swerve back and forth."

"You done with the lessons?"

JT soon got the hang of driving the Jeep and trailer. As the rest settled down, Caleb said, "I've never sat in the back seat before. It's tight, isn't it?"

"Now you know how it feels," JT said.

A few miles later a SUV passed them, with the same little kids in it they saw at the rest area, waving their hands. JT lifted his hand in some kind of a wave off, but they continued waving and waving. Traffic slowed down and the four were caught right behind the SUV.

"How much longer this gonna take? What's wrong with them kids, anyway? Don't they want to stop that waving stuff?"

"Just trying to be friendly, T," Phil said.

At Portage, Wisconsin, they stopped for gas, potty, gave Boots another break, and bought some junk food. Phil took over the driving. Joel couldn't drive clutch, which gave JT another opportunity for one of his sarcastic remarks. "Real men drive clutch."

Now on I90/94, they continued to drive north to a town named Tomah. "What kind of name is Tomah?" JT asked.

"Something Indian, T. All this is Indian country."

As they passed Eau Claire, JT again took over the conversation. "What kind of name is Eau?"

Caleb took a guess. "I think It's French for Clear Water. This was all Indian country, but the French got to this part before the English and named some things. We Colonists took it all away from them."

"We safe out here from them guys?"

The other three couldn't help laughing.

"Okay, guys, I done it again, huh? I'll shut up."

Going north on highway fifty-three, Phil asked, "About time for lunch, Shep?"

"Yeah," JT echoed, "I'm starved. Them Pop Tarts are long gone. I seen a lot of signs about Kenny's Kitchen up ahead in Rice Lake. It looks cool. Let's try the joint."
Chapter 14

JT, Phil, and Joel entered the little Wisconsin café, while Caleb took Boots for a walk before tying him up to the Jeep. "I'll bring you back something," Caleb promised.

The pet sat and brushed the gravel with his wagging tail.

They all settled in a booth and picked up menus. "Breakfast anytime, it says here. Glad I don't see Pop Tarts." The first words from JT again showed what kind of foreigner to the north he really was. "I'm gonna try one of them omelets. By the way, what are all them things dangling from the caps them guys over there are wearing?"

Whispering, Caleb said, "Those are fish hooks and fishing stuff."

"Dumb place to carry 'em."

The other three put their menus in front of their faces, and Joel whispered to Caleb, "Sure we picked the right one to come with us?"

A pretty young waitress, obviously new on the job, with Dotty on her name tag, came up to the four. "May I help you?"

"Sure," Caleb said, and ordered his lunch. Joel followed, then Phil.

JT said, "Gimmie one of them omelets. Fill it with eggs, cheese, bacon, and sausage."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't have the cook do that."

"Why not? That's what goes into one of them things, right."

"Only one kind of meat, sir."

"Why can't I have two?"

"It's not on the menu, that's why."

"Just throw them in there anyway."

"You don't seem to understand. You can have only what's on the menu."

JT shook his head.

From behind the coffee maker, a man who looked like the owner, with Kenny on his name tag, heard what was going on and came over. "What's the problem, guys?"

JT couldn't wait to enlighten the man. "I just ordered one of them omelets, and she said I couldn't have it. I want eggs, cheese, bacon, and sausage. Why can't I? You got all of 'em, and a cook in the kitchen, right? Just throw 'em all together in one of them things."

Still hiding behind his menu, Phil tried to whisper to JT, "Give it up T. Just give it up."

"Okay," JT said. "Just gimme something with eggs and meat in it."

As Dotty and the owner walked to the kitchen, they could hear the owner say to Dotty, "You'll get a lot of different guff from travelers. They don't know how we work here. Just write down what they want. Let Harry figure it out in the kitchen."

JT whispered to the other three, "Guess I taught her something."

Lunch and JT's breakfast were served. In the end, Dotty became friendly to the little bunch, even to JT. Caleb bought some stuff for Boots as they got up from the table.

"What kind of a tip do I leave her?" JT asked. "About fifty cents?"

"One dollar, T. One dollar. You ate almost ten dollars' worth of food."

With eyes bugged out, "One dollar? No more cafés for me!"

"This is 1979, T. Prices go up," Phil told him.

When they returned to the Jeep, Boots was wagging his tail so hard he fell over. He enjoyed eating the burger and drinking the water Caleb brought him.

Caleb was back to driving again up fifty-three, and the others dozing as much as the cramped space, roaring wind, and JT's cigarettes would let them. A red convertible with three teenage girls passed them, and this time JT enjoyed waving back to them. "Now that's what's worth waving at."

The girls stayed in front of the Jeep for a few miles then turned off, the girls laughing and JT doing the waving this time.

Another stop for junk food, gas, and a bathroom break for men and dog. They exited Wisconsin at Superior. When Duluth, Minnesota came into view, JT said, "Don't tell me. No passport here either. Hey, look at that city. Is it all built on a hill? It's steep. What do they do in the winter?"

"They drive carefully. Very carefully," Phil answered.

Just north of Duluth, they broke out onto the North Shore Drive of Minnesota. "Wow! What a lake," JT said without thinking. "That must be one of them Five Big Lakes."

"Five Great Lakes," Joel said.

JT nodded. "Oh yeah, I remember now. Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, and Superior. This gotta be Superior."

"Hey, proud of ya, T. You got them all right," Phil said.

"Hey, I remember that H-O-M-E-S thing. I ain't all dumb."

The more they drove north along the lake, past granite rocks, tunnels, waterfalls, and pine trees, the more they enjoyed the scenery. JT, coming from an early life in the southwest, then locked in Prairie Heights for eight years, had never seen anything other than the Illinois River. His mind and retinas were treated to a new sight.

They stopped at the Split Rock Lighthouse for another break to go inside the old place, to see what life was like back in the day. JT said when leaving the old plain house, "It had to be cold beyond cold in the wintertime here. This high on the wall of stone, with a blast of wind from the lake would be nasty."

On the way out, he passed up the donation jar without contributing.

Arriving at Tofte, Minnesota, Caleb said, "This is it, guys. Last time to see civilization for a week. We'll stop here for gas and more junk food."

"Boy, Shep," JT said, "this Jeep sure gets thirsty, don't it?"

"Yeah, one drawback for a Jeep."

Turning and climbing a dirt road, Joel asked, "Shep, is this the long dirt road you spoke about?"

"How long?" JT threw in.

"About twenty miles."

"Twenty miles? All on gravel?" JT yelled. "You sure we'll be there today?"

"That's a good question. It's later than I thought we'd be getting here. The sun is going down behind the thick trees, and it will get dark fast."

Darkness did come fast, and soon the Prairie Heights four were in a deep, dark experience none of them had ever known. If the headlights were turned off, they would not know where to drive. Pairs of green or red shining eyes began to appear. Some small and close to the road, and some large and head high.

Boots was constantly whimpering, and his body could be seen stiffening. Caleb kept an arm on him in fear that he might jump out after some native animal.

The going slowed down as a result of the true blackness. At an unmarked turn in the road ‒ everything was unmarked ‒ what looked like a huge set of blinking red eyes standing still in the road suddenly loomed up out of the dark. To add to the threat, something was waving near the lights.

"Caleb, stop!"

"What animal can that be?"

"Keep going around it."

"I can't. It's in the middle of the road."

JT said, "'Spose it's a UFO? I hear they come to people in the dark like this."

A voice from somewhere in the Jeep, "I don't like this."

JT's final words: "We gonna die here?"
Chapter 15

All their fears were unwarranted when, coming closer, they saw another figure on two legs coming at them, looking just like they did. A man was alongside a car waving a white T-shirt.

"Sorry to stop you. Look, I have a flat tire and my wife is freaked out. To be honest, I am too. We're on our honeymoon, staying here in one of the cabins on Sawbill Lake. I thought I could make it to the outfitters, but the flat tire, hard gravel, distance, and the darkness put a stop to that. To make the problem worse, this car has no spare tire. Some new cars don't, and this is one of them."

All six tried to come up with a solution, until Caleb said, "I've been here before, and we're not too far from the outfitters."

The take-charge man, JT, said, "Shep, that don't solve the problem. I got it. You two get in the back seat of the Jeep where you belong. Me and Joel will walk behind the trailer. Go slow, Shep."

"Good idea, T. I'm sure somebody at the outfitters will come and get the car," Caleb said as he calmed Boots down.

Slowly, in the black of night among the dense trees, the little parade made its way through the darkness, thanks to the headlights of Caleb's Yellow Fellow.

"Somebody" at the outfitters did take over the car situation. Regan McComber, the one Caleb and Joel met at the Chicago Sportsman Show, greeted them around ten p.m.

The honeymooners were sent off to their cabin, and Regan showed the four rescuers to the bunk house where they would spend the night.

Very early in the morning, when the rising sun was pushing the fading stars out of the sky, bodies started to stir around in the bunkhouse. JT looked at his watch and sputtered his first words of the day. "Wha? Wha? Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night."

A strange voice from the far side barked back, "They say the early bird gets the worm."

"Who's talking about birds and worms? What's that all got to do about getting up?"

Phil leaned close to JT, and whispered, "I'll explain it all to you on the trip."

"Well, I'm going back to sleep."

Caleb joined the dispute. "T, the day starts for us too. Early morning is just part of life up here in the wilderness. It goe‒‒‒"

"I don't care where it goes. You never told me about this early morning stuff. Getting up at eight is early for me."

"Not this week," Phil said.

Grumbling JT style, he crawled out of his warm sleeping bag and started to pick up his things. First stop out of the bunk house was the café attached to the outfitters. Regan was already making another round of serving second and third cups of coffee for some of the campers when the four came in. "Hi, guys. Sleep well?"

"Not enough," flew out of JT. "Hey, you were here after ten last night, and now you up and serving breakfast. You ever sleep?"

"Of course I sleep. Late to bed and early up is just part of the job here. I love it."

When they were enjoying breakfast, JT whispered to Joel, "Tip here for her too?"

"Sure."

"Okay, she's worth it. I'm gonna make this breakfast count. I'm sure eating on the trail won't be this good."

"Don't overdo it, T. Remember, it's going to make its move on you in a day or so,"

"That's okay. I'll use an outhouse on one of them portages."

JT looked dumbstruck with the sudden silence and all the funny faces and laughing after his remark.

Many of the campers from the nearby campsites finished breakfast and left. Harper McComber, Regan's younger sister, was the next on the scene. "Okay, Prairie Heights, your time to get to the landing and shove off. Your two food packs are right over there by the door. Lunch for today is on top of pack one."

As Phil and Joel each picked up a food pack, JT said, "Hey, by the way, Harper, I need about five or six packs of cigarettes for the week."

"You've got a problem, mister. We don't sell cigarettes here."

With a frightening look of desperation, "Why not?"

"We're doing what we can to prevent forest fires."

"I won't start a fire." Looking at his friend with a panicked face, JT said, "What am I going to do, Shep? You never told me about this deal."

"Become a nonsmoker like the rest of us."

"Five days without a smoke? It ain't gonna happen."

"You can do it," Phil said. "You'll be a better man for it."

"Boy, Shepherd, there's a lot you didn't tell me."

Caleb went to the Jeep and drove it down the short road to the landing. The others walked. Joel and Phil walked with their packs of food, and Boots walked alongside JT. "Get lost, dog. Here's your chance – hit the woods. Go gnaw on a rabbit. You a free dog now. I ain't no friend of yours."

Boots tilted his head, looked up at JT, wagged his tail, and stayed beside him all the way to the landing.

At the landing, Harper helped take the canoes off the trailer and relocate the gear to the little ships. JT watched Harper more than he did any work. When Caleb, Joel, and Phil started to wrap all the gear under plastic, JT could not hold back. "Why the plastic? The stuff's not going nowhere."

Harper said, "The stuff isn't going anywhere, but a lot of water will be splashed on it. It's also a good place to carry the plastic you'll need in other places on the trip." She turned to Caleb. "If you don't mind, I'll take your Jeep back to the parking lot and put the keys in the office safe for the week."

Surprised, JT said, "You know clutch?"

"Sure, I live in the sticks. Where would I be without knowing the clutch? I'm not just a city girl."

"You like all this outdoor stuff?"

"Yep, ever since mom had us outside in the winter back in Deer Run."

"Get a lot of snow up here, I bet."

"Let me put it this way. We get enough."

A small group of staff workers and campers had gathered at the landing to watch this strange little group paddle their way out to sea. Of particular interest was that one with the long, dirty blond hair asking all the questions. Caleb and Joel stepped off to the side of the group and quietly talked to each other.

Phil looked at JT. "What are they doing?"

"Oh, them two. Probably praying, or something religious. They do that a lot. They okay, though."

When Joel and Caleb returned to the canoes, Phil was in the bow of one, and JT in the stern of the other. From his experience on the canal, Boots knew he belonged in the center of Caleb's canoe.

Caleb was quick to say, "T, maybe you should get in the bow for the start."

"There ya go again, always telling me what to do. Not this time, Shep."

"T, remember at the canal about a week ago, you found out the guy in the stern controls the canoe. Remember that?"

"Yeah, but I can do it now. See, I got the big paddle."

Joel called from his canoe, "T, listen to Shep‒‒‒"

"Let it go, Joel," Caleb said. "Let's see how this works."

Proudly, JT lifted his head and got ready to paddle. "By the way, what's all this bow and stern stuff?"

"The bow is the front and the stern is the back."

"Well, why not just call it front and back?"

"Navy talk, T. Navy talk."

Sarcastically, "Navy talk. We ain't in no Navy."

Because of the many times Joel canoed on the canal, and with Phil's help, they shoved their canoe off and headed in what should have been a straight line into the center of Lake Sawbill.

JT started to push his paddle with all the force he could muster. He not only splashed water like a drowning man, but banged the side of the canoe with his paddle with a noise that could be heard echoing a long way off.

The result was a lot of uncontrolled circles and an embarrassed Caleb. "The J stroke, T. Remember, I told you about the J stroke last week on the canal? Paddle on the starboard side, then a little on the port."

"What's a starboard? What's a port?"

"More Navy talk. More Navy talk."

"Well, tell me again how to do the stroke thing."

Still too close to the landing and the many listening ears and watching eyes, Caleb knew he had no choice but to do some more training. "Like we showed you on the canal, T. When you push your paddle on one side of the canoe, the canoe points in the opposite direction. You have to twist your paddle so it makes a figure J, and the bow will come back straight. Paddle a little on the starboard, J your paddle, and then paddle a little on your port, J your paddle, and the canoe straightens out again. That's how the Indians and explorers did it. Many of them had no one in the bow to help."

"What does J stand for?"

In disgust, Caleb spit out, "I don't know. I don't know. Joseph, I guess."

"Joseph? Hey that's my first name."

"It is?

"Your name Joseph?"

"No kidding. Now we know, huh?"

"Shut up. Shut up. You guys never heard that."

"Okay, okay. Let's just call it a lesson in navigation."

"What's a navigation?"

"Just paddle, T. Just paddle."
Chapter 16

By this time, the crowd at the landing that had witnessed this unique start of the adventure left, and walked back up the hill to the outfitter's lodge and the large campground. Harper did a good job getting Caleb's Jeep and trailer to a far corner of the parking lot. Smiling, she locked up the keys in the office as she promised.

Regan said, "What are you smiling about?"

Harper laughed. "Oh, that JT guy. He was always watching me."

"Yeah, he sure is a piece of work. I wonder what his story is. The others seemed nice."

Harper shrugged. "The others seemed educated. How'd he fit into the mix? Kinda cute in his own way."

"Harp, what are you saying?"

Joel and Phil got to the other side of Lake Sawbill first, and beached their canoe at the start of a portage to Alton Lake. When the laboring JT and Caleb team arrived, JT said, "Look, a sign. Lake Alton ten rods." He shook his head. "What that mean?"

Phil whispered to Joel, "Are we to endure more questions about this portage thing all week?"

"Count on it."

"What's a rod? How long is that? Why don't they just say how long? Navy talk, portage talk, always new stuff to learn. And we just got started. I thought learning stopped in high school. I graduated didn't I?"

"Never too late to learn stuff," Phil said.

"Spoken just like a teacher." Then JT had to add, "So what's a rod?"

Joel stepped into the teaching job for this one. "A rod is a measurement equal to sixteen and a half feet. It was a measurement the explorers used. It's about seventeen feet. That's the length of one of our aluminum canoes today. Soooo, this portage of ten rods is 165 feet. Only just a bit over half of a football field. You'd know that."

"Well, that make more sense. Half a football field. I can see the next lake through the trees over there."

"Some portages are longer than this. They tell you how long, so you have some idea how long it will take to get to the end."

"So now I gotta know math, too?"

"No, you don't have to know math. The only thing you really have to know is where the path is and when you get to the end."

"Ten rods ain't so bad. Let's do it," JT said, sounding almost enthusiastic.

Ten rods or 165 feet wasn't actually too bad. They all enjoyed the break from sitting tightly in the canoes. Boots made good use of his time out of the boat by running around, but Caleb kept an eye on him. Joel and JT carried some packs on their backs and in their hands. Caleb and Phil followed each other, carrying a canoe on their shoulders with a pack on their backs. Boots did his part with a few sleeping bags tied around him.

When the small caravan reached the other end, reloaded the canoes, and started to float freely in Lake Alton, JT was unusually quiet. "Why so quiet, T?" Caleb asked.

"This lake is beautiful. Nothing like the water around Prairie Heights. Nothing like the canal. I can't believe it. The water is as blue as the sky. You can see the huge fluffy clouds reflected in the sparkling water. Ahead of us is a coupla islands in the lake. This place is awesome. You think God did all this? I can see why you are like you are."

"He did all this ‒ and a lot more."

"Don't go preaching to me, Shep."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The two canoes, four men, and a dog fell into a rhythm, and for a time drifted well on the cool and fresh water amid the strong pine scent. Caleb decided they must look like a picture for the month of July on a calendar.

Joel, Phil, and Caleb were aware of JT's sudden quietness. Phil whispered to Joel from their canoe about thirty feet away, "I'd give a lot to know what's going on in that blond head of his."

"Me too."

At times, JT took his paddle out of the water and laid it across his lap and watched the islands float by. Caleb had to wake him up once in a while by banging his paddle on the canoe. "T, I'm glad you're enjoying this new world, but it takes two to move this boat. Some help, huh?"

"Sorry, Shep, I never thought there was a place like this. I wonder what this all looks like from an airplane or in the winter."

"A whole new picture, but you'll have to find out that winter one by yourself."

The end of Lake Alton came in sight and another little wooden sign: Beth Lake 144 rods. "Now this is more like it," JT said. "I'm carrying the canoe this time. Help me get a pack on, too. Gimme two packs. One in front and one on my back."

In no way did the first ten rod portage prepare any of them, least of all JT, for the rigors of this 144 rod ordeal. The path was good, but that's where good stopped. The path was narrow and at times the canoes bumped into and scraped branches, pulling them off the guys' shoulders. There were slippery hills to go up and greasy hills to go down.

JT lost his footing on one hill and plastered his jeans with mud on the way down. From his landing point, he wilted some plants with his well-honed vocabulary. All the paths had slimy roots crossing them from recent rains. Sometimes fallen trees blocked their way and they had to struggle off the path to go around them.

Little sunlight filtered to the ground through the tight trees. To top it all off, the Minnesota State Bird, the lady mosquitoes, were enjoying their first taste of fresh meat in days.

They all had their own opinion of the rough portage – JT more descriptive than the others. They finally finished the trek and shoved off into Beth Lake. As they did, Phil said, "Look at the sky, guys. It's getting black in a hurry. Get your rain gear out fast. Know where it is?"

Both Caleb and Joel answered, "Right on top in the pack."

JT was quiet.

"Where's yours, T?"

"I dunno. In there someplace. We can make it across this little lake before it rains if we hurry."

Hurry they did, and just as they got to the other shore lightning flashed and the rain came down in torrents. Three got out their ponchos and covered up. Caleb brought Boots in with him. They sat in their canoes under a group of heavy trees hanging over the shore line.

As three guys and a dog were staying dry under their rain gear, JT was mining deep in the packs to find his. In the meantime his long blond hair collected rain water like a sponge.

"Lightning's bad for us out here, guys," Phil said.

Joel added, "Lightning can strike these tall trees easily and follow it to the ground. You don't want to be near a tree. Especially if the trees are wet, they can transfer the lightning."

JT piped up quickly. "Joel, you hear what you just said? 'Ya don't want to be close to a tree.' How do you stay away from a tree out here?"

"Good thinking, T."

"Another comforting thought," Caleb said. "The aluminum canoes we're sitting in can also be classified as a lightning rod."

JT got the final word in as usual. "So, where does that leave us? We're either out on the water or under the trees. Sitting ducks for a bolt of lightning to strike? I don't like the odds. Something else you never told me, Shep."

Phil told them to move near the edge of the lake, far enough from the trees for safety, but not like sitting ducks right out in the open.

By the time JT finished digging for his rain gear, the storm had stopped. "That's it?"

"That's it," Phil said. "Storms come up and go just as fast. Look at the sun breaking up the clouds. This next portage is 287 rods long. Should we have lunch now or when we finish the walk?"

JT looked at the map and noticed a river running right next to the portage. "Let's just float down the river and eat later."

Joel said, "Ever think the river would go up? Might be rapids to climb? Also, think, why is there a portage just parallel to the river? Could be a clue there. A little river like that could be just a long swamp."

They decided to do the lunch thing before the portage. "Yeah, for the energy we're gonna need," JT said.
Chapter 17

The bag with a note, Lunch, first day, was opened and the four quickly consumed Summer Sausage and cheese sandwiches, granola bars ‒ two each ‒ some cookies and Kool-Aid.

"Where's the rest of it?"

"That's it, T. Mostly all protein. They figure it's what we need," Phil said.

"They think it's enough. Who's they? Shepherd, you holding out on me on this food thing, too?"

"T, I don't know how else to say this. You've got to slow down on all your complaining. We did tell you this trip was no picnic, and you accepted. Try it."

"Getting to be a problem, am I?"

There was no answer. The silence said it all.

If the modern day voyagers thought that 144 rod portage taught them any lessons, they met their challenge on this 287 rod hike. The rain they'd been through a short time ago had visited this portage too. The path was wide enough, but muddy ‒ with a capital M.

Shining and slippery tree roots twisted their way across the path and made walking dangerous. Ankles were worked overtime. At one place, to avoid stepping on a slimy root, Caleb stepped off to the side of the path to step on a clump of ferns, but his foot sank into the mud. It kept sinking up to his knee. "Oh, no!"

"Oh, no? That the best words you got, Shep? Wanna use a few of mine? I'll let you have some," JT was quick to offer.

At the start of the portage, JT thought just under a mile would be no problem. At the end of the journey he reversed his thought. "I saw a movie once something like this. Four guys were on a canoe trip with fancy bows and arrows. They got into a lot of trouble. They killed a guy."

Joel said, "That was Deliverance. You thinking about killing one of us?"

"Na, I need you all to get out of this someday."

Finally at the end of the portage, they found a spot of dry land to lie down and rest their tired bones. JT sighed. "Portage isn't the right name for a walk like that. I got a better one."

"We don't want to hear it. Hey, you said you'd work on that complaining."

"Gimme a little time. We gotta come back this way, don't we? Shep, you know all this? Like you told me a few weeks ago, it puts a strain on a good friendship."

"Didn't know it all, friend. Surprise to me too. If we made a big loop and came back another way it would take a few more days or a week. Then who knows what we'd get into. T, part of a trip like this it to handle the unexpected and figure a way out. That's the point of it."

At the end of the portage, they could see the gentle Grace Lake. It looked and felt like its name – still waters and small islands. It was the perfect place to use up some film. JT was getting the knack of the J stroke so well that Caleb took some time to take a close look at the map for the next portage.

He could see there were four short portages, but at a closer look he saw some marks he didn't understand. Looking at the key, he was shocked to see something new – rapids. Rapids they would have to go up. How many? How long? How am I going to tell JT about this?
Chapter 18

At the start of the first portage of fourteen rods, JT walked a few feet into the brush to answer nature's call. Caleb thought he'd clue the other two upfront about the rapids ahead and prepare them for a possible meltdown from JT.

"Guys, get ready to take another blast from our friend when I tell him that there are some rapids ahead of us. I didn't know they were there, and no one told us about them. I don't know how T will take it. He seems to have a hard time getting into this trip."

"He sure is. Good luck," Phil said.

When they broke the news to JT, he quickly got into the planning mood. "Okay, the total rods for these four portages is 141 rods. That's somewhere about just one half a mile, I figure."

"T, you did that math pretty good."

"Well, I know some things. Besides, look at this. There are some ponds between them to rest."

Caleb looked at Phil, and said to JT, "Got something to tell you, T. You might not like it."

"Now what could that be? Something new? I'm getting used to that something new stuff."

"Yeah, something new."

"Try me."

"There're some rapids ahead of us that I didn't know about. The water's coming down toward us, so that means we will have to climb them. It could get bad." Slowly, Caleb said, "T, you do seem to complain a lot. That's why I thought I'd give you a heads up on this."

With a sigh, JT slowly turned his head from side to side looking at the dense trees. He looked to the sky then down to his muddy clothes and shoes. The other three braced themselves for the mother of responses. "You right, Shep. I do complain a lot, but that's over. Bring it on. Throw the worst you got at me. Never gone through rapids before. Just how tough can going through water be? JT's gonna do them rapids to make you proud."

The first portage of fourteen rods went well. After a small pond, they did the next twenty-three rod portage and began to hear the rushing water ahead of them.

There it was. Another calendar picture with little waterfalls cascading over and between the boulders. The trees and underbrush, so tightly meshed on each side, proved to the four that their only path lay straight up the rocks in the water.

Now, at mid afternoon, and breathing hot muggy air since the rain, Phil and JT took off their shirts. The canoe JT and Phil were in came to a stop in a small whirlpool.

Almost as if he personally took charge, Captain JT yelled, "Okay, men, out of the ships. Time to get wet."

With one of the canoes securely tied to some trees, the four each took a corner of the other canoe. With Boots sitting in the center of the little craft, they started walking it between, and twisting around, the boulders. The water was up to their knees and rushing so fast it was hard to stand. Water was splashing onto the gear.

"Now I understand the plastic. Harper knew what she was talking about. Gotta thank her for that," JT said.

The pulling and pushing went well, but the cold water showed up in chattering teeth. Arriving at the first bend, the landscape changed like a snap of a finger. Large granite walls closed in on the rapids making the water rush all the faster. Now it was the canyon-like walls closing in on them, and not thick forests.

After another two "shelves" of rapids, they were able to tie canoe number one to a tree root and go back for the other one. The water was now belt-buckle deep.

"Boots, stay!" Caleb ordered, and his obedient friend did just that. "Guys, I sure didn't know this was here. Sorry."

"Hey, don't be sorry. We'll handle it," JT shot back. "I'm getting to like this vacation."

"No choice and no option," Joel said. "Let's do it again."

Now that they were prepared for what they were doing, they walked and slid back to canoe number two tied to the trees. It took a good forty-five minutes to navigate the rapids again, and they arrived back at canoe one with a barking dog waiting for them.

They entered a second small lake about the size of a half city block for a gentle rest, but could see another set of rapids waiting for them. They faced it without the fear they had the first time.

They took that canoe on forward for the last stage. As they passed Boots, they transferred him to the canoe they were pushing. "These don't look as bad as the last rapids," Phil said. "The map shows a campsite at the end of this set."

"Let's hope it's not occupied," Joel added.

"And if it is?" JT asked. "Oops, no more complaining."

Guiding the canoe around the rocks and boulders in waist deep cold water, they were making headway when the little boat suddenly became stuck. Caleb and Joel gave it a hard shove and it lurched ahead.

Phil yelled, "It's tipping, it's tipping. Going to roll over."

Boots was thrown overboard, landing on his side in the water and disappearing. Caleb quickly thought, You're on your own now, buddy. I hope you make it out.

JT stretched out to steady the craft, lost his footing and completely disappeared beneath the water. Only his greasy Harley Davidson cap surfaced and floated down stream.

"T's under water," Phil yelled.

Before any of them said another word, a strong arm shot up out of the water and riveted itself onto the canoe's gunwales like a vice grip. "Just a slippery ... slippery rock. Gulp. Keep going. I'm okay."

Some more struggling and more effort got them to the end of that section of the rapids. Boots stood on a large rock shaking water from his hair. Caleb got to him and carried him back to the canoe.

Joel said, "Ever wonder what that dog thinks of all this?"

Phil quickly answered. "And these stupid guys left Prairie Heights for this? What a dumb bunch."

JT couldn't hold back with, "Would he be so wrong?"

Getting the second canoe up that same set of rapids went much the same way. Even to the point where JT slipped on the same rocks and again went under. Coming up, he said, "I should know where them rocks are by now, shouldn't I? Think I'll remember them on the way back?"

Hearing that line of speech from JT without his creative language, the other three were almost disappointed.

At the end of the second trial of rapids, they paddled effortlessly in another quiet pond when Phil shattered the calm environment with, "T! Look at your arms and chest! Covered with swamp gook and all kinds of creeping vermin."

The once tough football player, bully, take-charge type, and mean spirited man of Prairie Heights was suddenly reduced to a screaming mass of arm-flaying hysteria.
Chapter 19

JT looked at his shirtless chest to find it crawling with ants, water bugs, maggots, an unknown variety of submerged life, and leaches he had picked up from his sudden dips underwater. While the others were laughing at him rocking the canoe, screaming, and trying to brush them off, he yelled to the others, "You got 'em too. Look at your legs."

By this time, they were grateful to be at a campsite on Pheobe Lake. The only way to get rid of the pests was to completely strip and jump back into cleaner water, cold as it was. They had to check each other before any of them settled down. JT looked at Caleb with a mouth that was ready to detonate a memorable moment, but some wise spirit slammed it shut.

Getting most of the vermin off was easy, but the leaches took a bit more work. The Air Force medic asked for a box of matches from the watertight container. He lit a match, blew it out and touched the hot end to each little fella ‒ and they fell off dead.

At five in the evening, the exhausted four were finally on high and dry Terra Firma at the unoccupied campsite. They doused their grubby clothes in the water and hung them to dry on a rope strung high over the circle of rocks where they were going to build a fire. With fresh dry clothes on, they set up their little two tent village for the night, then gathered pine needles, strips of bark and twigs to start a fire. Later, they added larger branches and logs.

The food pack for the first supper was taken from the pack and opened up. Being the first night, they were overjoyed to find prime lean steak packed in insulated bags. They also had garlic mashed potatoes, chocolate pie, and choice of Kool-Aid, coffee or tea. They passed up the tea.

As they ate their dinner, they talked about all they went through that day. JT was showing signs of being a different person. "Boy, we've done a lot today. Who'd think all this was even in the world. I only knew Prairie Heights. This is a whole new adventure. Thanks, guys, for letting me come along. I know you took a risk to put up with me. I hope I don't let you down. Although that water bug experience almost did me in."

"You've done well, T. We've learned a lot from you, too," Caleb said.

"Well, before I turn in I'm going to find that outhouse here in the campsite."

"T, where did you get the idea there was an outhouse here? Whoever told you that?"

"Come on, guys, this is 1979. There's an outhouse here somewhere. People don't live like pilgrims no more. We're not that far from civilization."

"We are far from civilization, and still no outhouse," Caleb said, laughing. "Go find a log to hang over."

"Do you mean to tell me a guy just...?"

"Yep. If you find a better way, let us know."

"Shepherd, there's a lot you didn't tell me about this trip. But I'm starting to catch on. Life in the wilderness is just that – wild. What else ya got? Come on, give me your best shot. I'm getting tough now. I can take it."

Before turning in for the night, they cleaned up the blackened pots and pans and whatever other debris laid around the site. When Caleb and Phil started to string rope over branches, JT again expressed his lack of wilderness living. "What's the ropes for?"

"To keep the food packs out of reach of raccoons and other creeping things."

"Raccoons can climb trees can't they?"

"I guess they can. Maybe they can't climb down the skinny rope. The booklet says to hang the food from trees for the night, and that's just what we're doing. Most of all, it just makes the food harder to get to for the animals."

"Whatever. I don't think I'll ever catch on."

With dirty clothes drying on lines stretched from tree to tree, pots and pans lying around, food packs hanging from branches, and other backpacks scattered around, it was a wonderful peaceful portrait of a relaxing campsite.

Phil said, "From my experience in the Air Force training camp, sleeping in the wilderness for the first night is always difficult. Trying to find comfort in a sleeping bag that now feels too thin on cold ground, with rocks and roots in the wrong places, makes a camper squirm their bones around to find relief."

Caleb and Joel were in one tent and Phil and JT in the other. Boots took up a position right outside the flap to the tent where Caleb slept. The strange surroundings always kept the faithful mutt on guard for his master.

The conversation from Caleb and Joel died out quickly, and Phil did not have much to say, preferring to sleep. Only JT hung on to consciousness, watching the branches flash around in the shadow of a dying fire. Visions of meandering bears, beavers, moose, raccoons and other creatures kept his mind from sleep for a while. Soon the only sound to be heard was the hoot of a lonely owl.

After a night of off and on sleeping, JT woke up to what he thought was the sound of someone crying. Without considering Phil might still be sleeping, he said, "What the.... Who's crying out there? Joel?"

"T, it's not Joel." Phil said, rudely coming from a sleep. "That's the sound of the loon."

"What's a loon?"

"You have to ask me that now? The sun's barely up. It's five in the morning. Go back to sleep."

Digging his way out of the little nylon house, JT mumbled, "What a mournful sound so early in the morning. Still sounds like somebody crying to me."

When he stood up and stretched his unslept bones, he felt he was on a planet he never thought existed. The air was crisp, but not cold. The sunlight filtered through the tall trees in streaks of sunbeams, and dew droplets hung on all the pine needles.

The "crying" continued, but now JT heard it with a new feeling of serenity as he watched the dark blue birds with white specks on their backs floating on the water. Okay, JT, something new for your brain – a loon. By the time this trip is over, I guess I'll know everything. Now what do I do? Coffee?

His mind now cleared from his epiphany on the species of water birds, he thought he'd get a fire started. The others will want some coffee when they wake up. Gathering up wet pine needles, twigs, and branches, trying to get a fire going proved too much for his patience. Suddenly he had a more urgent need. He went back into the forest to find a suitable log.

Returning to the campsite, he saw that Phil had a fire going quite well. "So how you'd get that started so fast? Nothing but wet junk around here."

"Dry bark and twigs."

"Where'd you find dry bark and twigs?"

"Last night I took a bunch of that stuff and put it in my sleeping bag with me."

"Sleeping with bark and branches? I'll never live through this week, will I?"

Phil laughed and poured some water for coffee.

When Caleb and Joel climbed out of their tent, listened to the loons and saw the sunlight beaming through the trees, they both said almost in unison, "Praise the Lord!"

JT rolled his eyes and thought, That's them religious guys for ya.

Pancakes and syrup were on the menu for breakfast, and Joel bragged up the fact that he knew how to make them. The others backed away and let him get to the fire.

After he got the frying pan on the grate and put oil in it, he poured in enough mix for four great looking round pancakes. When they bubbled up and Joel tried to turn them over, they would not cooperate with his spatula. By the time he got them flipped over, they looked more like a frying pan full of scrambled eggs than pancakes.

Joel felt embarrassed. Caleb held back his opinion. Phil laughed out loud. Only JT had words for the situation. "Don't matter none. Here, fill my plate with the stuff. I'll just pour syrup over the mess and eat. I'm hungry. Don't matter none to me."

With that, JT enjoyed breakfast, and Joel went on to make more pancakes, a.k.a. scrambled eggs. By the time his were finished, the pancakes were almost looking like pancakes.

When the intake of nourishment, called breakfast, was finished, Caleb said, "What's in store for us today, guys? What do the maps say?"

"You guys figure it out," JT said, as he started to clean up the site. "Phil, give me a hand on this mess while them two check out our day. We're due for an easy one."
Chapter 20

Joel and Caleb found two cut-off stumps to sit on, and spread out the map. "We're here at Pheobe Lake," Joel said. "Let's say Lake Koma is our goal for today, right?"

"Looks good," Caleb said. "And look at this. Most of the way is a river. Could be an easy drift."

"Not so, Shep. Look at the portages along the way ‒ right next to the river as you call it. Something doesn't ring well with your 'easy glide.' I count six portages. Maybe not the good day T thinks we deserve."

"Let's not tell him ahead of time. He seems to endure things better at the last minute, before he can worry and complain about an issue ahead of time."

"Let's just say Lake Polly is our goal for today. If we're there by noonish, we can go on to Koma for the night."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Joel added.

By the time the route was figured out, JT and Phil had the site cleaned up. Packs were filled up and buckled, sleeping bags placed in the canoes, fire well soaked and out, and all the ropes collected.

Caleb announced, "Before we get going, here's the plan. We'll go off that way up the Phoebe River and on to Polly Lake at noon. If we get there in good time, we'll go on to Lake Koma for the night. We can spend a full day of rest there and return this way in a few days."

JT asked, "Why don't we make a big loop and return by another way to the outfitters?"

"According to the maps, there is no loop in this direction from the outfitters. Even if there is one, it would take a week or more."

JT shook his head. "A week or more is not for me. I guess it will be okay. At least I know where the deep water in those rapids is by now."

"Look at it this way, T," Phil said. "Regardless which way we return, you'll have done something very, very few guys have ever done. No one from Prairie Heights has experienced anything like this. You've mastered the real wilderness with all its unknowns and challenges. A canoe trip like this is a rare adventure."

"All that, huh? Sounds like an explorer from history."

"You got it."

Out of Phoebe Lake, up a narrow but pleasant channel, they came to Knight Lake. A rather small lake, but so picturesque more film was used up.

JT said, "Now this is what I thought a canoe trip would be like – easy and comfortable. This is the prettiest place I've seen so far. Too bad it's so far back off in the world where nobody else can see it. Paddling has been easy, cool, and nothing in our way."

With JT in the front seat of the first canoe, they rounded a bend in the river and he saw a pile of logs and branches blocking their way, with no portage sign around it.

"What's all that mess?" JT asked.

Caleb yelled from far back, "That's a beaver dam."

"If that's a beaver dam, it's still a mess."

"That's no mess. It's well engineered by the builders."

"Yeah, right. Well engineered. Still looks like a heap of wood to me."

"Don't let mama beaver hear you say that."

"Why? Think she wants a piece of me?"

"If she does, you'll think a big rat got ya."

"Ugly thing, huh?"

"You don't know when to stop do ya, T?"

"Oh, I'm scared. Look, shaking in my boots. She don't hear me. Nowhere around."

Just then ma beaver rushed out of nowhere and ran towards JT. He rose straight up – in the sitting position ‒ and almost out of the canoe. "You right. That beaver looked like a rat. Big as a dog. And soaked too."

"T, what'd you expect? She lives here."

"By the way, where's your mutt?"

"Right here in my grip," Caleb said.

"I bet he'd like to run after that thing. Okay, how do we get around it? Trees are too thick."

'We don't go around it. We go over it."

"You guys don't let up on me, do ya? Now you want me to fall through that and get all wet again."

"It won't cave in. It's built well."

"Don't look like it's built well to me. Okay, so how do we get to the other side of this mess – thing, without ma coming after us? Where is she now?"

Phil said, "We go back about twenty feet and paddle hard and ride up on it."

Disbelieving, but with his mouth shut for a change, JT and Phil made a big circle and took a run for the dam. JT in the bow rode up about four feet. He got out and pulled the rest of the canoe up on top of the solid dam. He did more looking around than pulling the canoe.

Together they put the bow of the little ship back in the water on the other side. JT got in first, then Phil in the back.

"See T," Phil said. "Nothing to it."

Caleb and Joel repeated the act and the little flotilla went on their way.

JT said, "I still don't like it. Shep, we got more dams to go over?"

"Who knows? Ma beaver had her little say, didn't she?"

"Sick. She did look like a big rat. Just like you said."

With the beaver dam ordeal over, they faced a 144 rod portage. It went easy now that portaging was well accomplished. In fact, they found themselves cutting the time down when unloading the gear, and reloading at the end of a portage. Any of the four could carry the canoe and a pack.

Boots carried three sleeping bags tied to his body. Carrying sleeping bags hindered his running free to chase a native of the forests. The end of this portage was at the small Lake Hazel. They could see another portage across the lake waiting for them.

That morning they covered six portages, two small lakes, and some of the Phoebe River. They stayed dry this time. It was lunchtime when they arrived at Lake Polly, so they opened lunch bag #2. As usual, the packaged lunches required no fire, which made it easier to keep moving at that time.

Lunch was a bacon and cheese wrap (two each), dried fruit, cookies, and Kool-Aid. Never enough for JT, but nothing he could do about it. Grumbling over the meager ration of food didn't seem to help in the past, so why start now?

Phil, as the adult, agreed with JT about the lack of food. "If we brought fishing gear with us, we would have enough to eat."

"Now you bring that up," JT said.

After the lunch and a brief rest, Joel said, "If we're going to make Lake Koma for the night, we'd better shove off."

JT asked, "Is this trip just go, go, go? Just paddle, portage, and canoe to the next place all day?"

In answer, Caleb said, "We'll spend a quiet two days at Lake Koma and do the resting thing. Good enough, T?"

"Okay, let's shove off."

Shove off they did. They enjoyed the classic pleasant experience of four on a canoe trip up Lake Polly, three simple portages and into Lake Koma in the late afternoon.

JT was the first to make a comment. "This canoe trip thing is just one good thing after bad. Never know what's coming up. Kinda exciting. Unpacking for a portage, the walk, and then packing up is growing a little old. But it's getting to my good side. Nice way to celebrate the finish of high school."

The other three agreed with him.
Chapter 21

Third evening out and about five miles from any touch of civilization, the four actually relaxed and enjoyed a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, lemon cream pie, and the omnipresent Kool-Aid and coffee.

While cleaning up, JT mumbled, "Good food, but not enough."

Everyone agreed.

At about six in the evening, the campsite began to look like a postcard picture. The dinner pots and pans were cleaned and stacked away, debris picked up, packs buckled up and in line, and canoes pulled up to the rocky part of the site for the night. Boots spent his time chewing on a bone Caleb was kind enough to pack for him.

The campsite was rather large, with a great sandy beach shaped like a quiet cove leading to the water too cold for swimming. A large portion of the site was in short grass. Obviously no one came out there to mow it, so it must be that in the cold rocky climate grass never got long. The back side of the campsite had a few layers of flat rocks.

A solid stand of trees surrounded the area, with a large fallen tree over the flat rocks. It looked as if it had fallen many years ago, and as true to the code of the North Country, no one cut it up or took it down. For now, it made for a fitting scene for an evening of heart-to-heart conversations around the fire in the circle of rocks.

Caleb looked at the fallen tree for a while, then punched JT in the shoulder. "Think it made any noise when it fell down?"

JT looked at Caleb and his mouth dropped open. He answered with a sarcastic voice and wrinkled face, "What you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard the old saying, 'If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make any noise'?"

After a long moment with that open jaw and a pregnant silence, JT again said, "I still asking ya, what you talking about? Course it makes noise. Of course it does. Look how big it is."

"Who heard it, T? Anybody here?"

"Who heard it? Anybody here? How in the world should I know?" Looking at Phil, he said, "They call me the village idiot, and now he's telling me a tree falls without making noise? I'm missing something here, but what else is new for me?"

"Forget it, T. Just forget it."

"I think I can forget something like that." Whispering, "A tree like that falling and not making any noise? Shep, I think your brain is strained a little."

Phil brought the conversation back to a more personal arena. He started the open sharing time with a question for Caleb. In a compassionate tone, he said, "How did you put your life together after your dad's death? I heard you were young, and I 'spose it was hard. Do you mind?"

Caleb got up from the log he was sitting on and walked around in silence for a while. It was obvious to the others he was thinking hard about explaining his feelings.

"I don't mind. Time heals the wounds, but the scars remain. A guy makes himself build his life around the issue. It does me good to talk about it."

Caleb thought for a moment. "I was thirteen when he died. Yes, it was hard. But when a kid of any age loses a parent at any age, it's hard. About one year before he died, when I was twelve, dad took me on a canoe trip just like this from the same outfitters, but in a different direction. He wanted to prepare me for what was coming in my life. He opened his past to me about some mistakes and sins from his younger years. The biggest surprise to me was that when he and his girlfriend, now my mom, were dating at the university, they went too far in their emotions one time, and she became pregnant."

"She get an abortion?" JT was quick to ask.

"No, she didn't. And I'm glad she didn't."

"You're glad? You proud about that? If she had an abortion, nobody would know," JT said.

"Yeah, I'm glad she didn't get an abortion. See, you're looking at that pregnancy. Standing in front of you."

The other three were silenced at once. All the sounds of the wilderness sounded like someone hit the mute button.

"Sorry, I brought it up," Phil said at last.

JT kept stirring up the conversation like agitating a fire. "You sound like a pro-lifer. Not believing in abortion."

"Is that so bad, T? It was me in there. Me. I had my own brain waves, blood type, heartbeat, and fingerprints. I was a baby, not a "blob of conception tissue" like some call it. I was defenseless with no one to protect me. Good thing Mom and Dad decided to keep me. On that canoe trip, hearing Dad tell me all this brought us real close to each other. I made a promise to myself and to him that I wouldn't let that happen in my life. I felt very close to Dad on that trip ‒ and ever since. That's why his death and that funeral were hard."

As Caleb went on with the story, how his dad's death and funeral affected him, the other three could sense the emotional release Caleb felt by telling this. "Guys, I'm letting you in on the most private part of my life. Please don't tell anyone."

After a few minutes of heavy silence, JT spoke up. "When you got to high school, you done good with getting it together, 'cause you helped this lonely kid find his way in town. Me and Ma was alone and you helped me. Nobody liked me. They wanted you to stay away from me, but we got to be friends. A few years later, we discovered we was friends 'cause we don't got a dad. Right?"

"Yeah, that was one thing we had in common."

Phil pushed the conversation to the edge with, "T, I hear there isn't a dad in your life either. Did he die, or divorce your Mom?"

With his quick, sharp tongue, "No! He didn't die or divorce Ma. That's a part of my life nobody knows. And nobody will. Nobody's business. I am what I am – JT. I live with it. The only two guys in town who know the story is Superintendent Dr. Schwind and Jens. None of the counselors or faculty know – not a clue. Test papers and report card just said JT."

For some unknown reason, Phil kept the trap open. "When you came out for football and I was a new coach, I asked some of the players what the J and T stood for. Their only answer was, 'Forget it, Coach.'"

"Ain't forgot it, have ya?"

"Ya know, T, you do have a heart like a rock. Just like they said, but people kind of like you. You have an accepting way about yourself."

"You think I have a heart of stone? You shudda seen my old man." At the point of demolishing the pleasant fireside chat, JT said, "The story stops right here. Well, I will tell you guys this. Dad told me once, before he left, that when he was a kid he took a canoe trip like this with his scout troop. He said when I was older he would like to take me on a trip like this. That never happened. He also said he liked this wilderness so much he'd like to return some day. That's all you guys gonna get. Got it?" Without a breath, "Okay, what's your story, Air Force guy?"

Phil took over the storytelling. "I had a pretty good childhood until I was seven. That's when mom and dad got a divorce. My two older brothers knew why, but I was in the dark. Three months later Dad got remarried, and I didn't know who I should call mom. After about a year, I figured out who my real mom was, because of her love and care. Not the floozy my dad married.

"When I got out of high school, the first thing I did was join the Air Force. After that, the university and teaching. That's where you guys and I met. Not much of a story."

Drinking in these stories, JT was again quick with his words. "That leaves you, Joel. What's your legend? Can you top the rest of us?"

"I don't have anything to top those stories. I guess if anyone lived a charmed life, it was me. As the middle child between two sisters, Mom and Dad were always kind and loving to all of us. We enjoyed a lot of trips and vacations together in the summertime. They both encouraged all of us in school and sports. We had a great circle of friends, neighbors, and enjoyed a good bunch of church friends too.

"If I had one kink or scare in my life, it was when I started to date a girl for a while, and she became pregnant. I knew it wasn't me, because we never did anything to make a pregnancy. Stories and rumors flew around like a roaring fire. My folks were devastated. I learned a lot about people in a hurry over that. The truth all came out a few days later, and I was relieved. See, nothing like you guys."

Impossible to keep a remark to himself, JT said, "Joel, that's the best story of all. I hope you know how lucky you are. No death or divorce. Sort of the way it should be."

Silence followed for a while. As the fire crackled and sent sparks ascending, drawing the hearts of the friends together, JT started to think to himself. Maybe this is the time I should tell these guys about the old man. Suddenly and with a start he said, "No!"

"What? What's with the sudden No, T?"

"Never mind."

"Must have been something," Caleb said.

"It was nothing. Give it a rest."

The harsh words from JT were nothing new to the other six ears. The words didn't even wet down the warm feeling of open-heart thoughts having just been shared.

JT said, "Sorry I dumped cold water on the conversation, guys. The sun has almost set. It'll be dark real soon. Maybe time to settle into a nice comfortable sleep."
Chapter 22

Joel said, "Going to sleep at eight in the evening is like some old people I know. But after the days we've just had, it sounds good. That is, if we can get away from the mosquitoes."

Caleb picked up some of the rope and started to throw it over a low branch to lift the food packs up for the night. "Hold it," Phil said. "I'll shinny up this old fallen tree and out to the branch and tie 'em up."

Caleb said, "That tree looks old. Think it's safe? Looks pretty high to me."

With some rope clenched between his teeth, Phil mumbled, "Looks good to me," as he started to crawl along the tilted tree. All was going well until he got ten feet above the flat boulders.

Caleb was ready to take the ropes and Joel was getting the food packs ready. JT was at the lake cleaning off his shoes, and Boots was watching Phil, and whining. His tail was not waging as usual.

"Lighten up, Boots," Caleb said, as he glanced at the dog.

At that same instant, a large piece of the old bark slid away from under Phil. He rolled over with a yelp while trying to squeeze the large trunk. He lost his grip and fell ten feet, landing on his left side onto the flat boulders. The impact brought a loud gasp of air from his mouth.

Joel got to him first and noticed he was not breathing. Caleb said, "He probably got the wind knocked out of him. He'll start breathing again soon."

In a few seconds, Phil got his breathing back, but the look on his face spooked Caleb and Joel. He seemed scared, hurt, angry, and unable to move. Caleb started to help him sit up.

"Don't touch me!"

Caleb backed off with, "Why not? Let's help you up."

By this time JT was on the scene, looking for what he could do to help.

Phil spoke up again with, "Don't touch me, guys. I'm really banged up. I hurt all over. Let me think."

"Ya think anything's broken?"

"A lot of things are broken. I'm cold."

JT brought him a blanket and when he laid it on, Phil moaned in pain. "You guys know I was a medic in the Air Force and I can tell you what I think is broken. First of all, I think my left leg and arm are broken. From the hard time I'm having breathing and talking, I know some ribs are broken. Who knows what my inside organs must be like after that fall? There could be a lot of internal bleeding. Man, everything hurts."

At the sudden change of events and now in the growing darkness, the recent high school graduates were at a loss for what to do for their friend – the adult on the trip who was supposed to protect them.

Phil tried to calm them down, at the same time assessing his own injuries. "I'm thirsty. Get me some water. I hope there's a straw in our gear."

Questions and comments started to flow from everyone.

"Where do we go for help?'

"Nowhere, at this time of day."

"Think you can move in the morning, Phil?"

"We'd better start to plan our return trip."

"Try moving just a little. What can you do?"

Phil opened and closed his hands and he twisted his ankles. "That means my spinal column and neck are okay, but I don't feel anything else is. Breathing is hard and hurts. That means ribs for sure. Broken ribs are always painful and dangerous. I saw some guys with broken ribs in the Air Force ‒ very hard to move."

While all this talking was going on, Boots wiggled in and laid down next to Phil. JT said, "Maybe having that dog with us is okay after all."

He then started to give orders to the others. "Joel, stir the fire up and collect a lot of wood. I think we'll need it all night. Keep coffee coming for us throughout the night. We'll have to take turns trying to sleep. Tomorrow will be a nasty day. At least one of us will have to be with Phil all night. Keep talking to him."

The others stared at JT as he continued. "Caleb, find easy to eat food from the packs. Don't worry what day or meal it says on the package. We'll just use what we can when we need it. Find Jell-O and apple sauce type stuff for Phil."

Phil quietly said, "T, where in the world did you learn how to take over like that?"

"Heck, I don't know. It all just came out."

They all started to laugh, when Phil yelped, "Stop! Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Phil tried to twist or just move a little to change his position, but he grunted and even yelled out in a new level of pain. "Guys, I ... you ... we have a bigger problem now."

"And just what can that be?" JT asked.

"A broken pelvic bone. The big one in the body. I must have landed on that first. Few people break the pelvic, but it's the worst. I don't know how I'll ever move tonight or tomorrow. Standing up is a real no-no. We're in deep weeds here, guys." He groaned in pain, then went on to say, "This is the real adventure. We'll laugh at it in the years to come ‒ and on the next trip."

Sarcastically, JT said, "Next trip? We gonna sign up for this again?" Again Sergeant JT started with the orders. "I'll stay with Phil for now. You guys try and get some sleep."

Joel and Caleb went to their tent, but nothing like sleep was possible. Finally they came back to JT and Phil. Joel said, "We're all in this for the whole night."

"I thought so," Caleb said.

It was now fully dark, with the glow of the fire the only source of light. Chill settled in, fire crackled, conversation was low. Phil moaned when he moved, and Boots faithfully stayed close to the fallen Viking.

The dark hours seemed to go on forever. At three in the morning, under the ink black sky with millions of bright stars keeping watch over them, Joel said, "I'm hungry. I'm making more pancakes."

"Make them look like pancakes this time," JT said.

Phil moaned in pain. JT added, "Sorry, friend."

About halfway through the night, Caleb said, "We'd better try some of the tea. Gotta save the coffee."
Chapter 23

The first streaks of sunlight starting to filter through the moist trees in the morning came as a relief to all. The sorrowful crying-like sound of the loons echoed the feelings of the endless and sleepless night spent caring for Phil.

Thinking about getting some help was today's first problem. Three seventeen-year-olds were also thinking of how they would get Phil over beaver dams, across lakes, through rapids, and over portages.

JT said with a bit of frustration and anger in his voice, "You'd think by now in 1979 we'd have some kind of way to call for help, but we don't. So somebody – somebody – two somebodies will have to go for help. Whoever is going will have to canoe like crazy for two days to get help. I know one ain't going to be Phil."

Throughout that first long night looking after Phil, Joel had got pretty good at flipping nice round golden pancakes. The new problem now was that the syrup was gone and they had no pancake mix left. Pancakes were now eaten like large floppy cookies. Joel reached into the food pack and pulled out a bag labeled Oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar. "Oatmeal, Phil?" Caleb asked.

"Nothing. I'm not hungry. Got something for pain?"

In his sergeant voice again, but tempered with a little compassion, JT said, "Coach, you gotta eat something. As the medic you say you were, you know it. Oatmeal is what we got. Oatmeal is what you gonna get. Do I have to help you?"

Phil tried to take a deep breath but winced in pain. "I think Caleb and Joel should go for help. T, you stay with me."

"No way," JT shot back. "I ain't no nurse. Don't know nothing about this stuff. By now I can handle a canoe lots better than being a nurse."

Caleb and Joel stood looking at each other while Phil groaned in pain. "T, I like the way you took over yesterday. Something inside me tells me I know you can be the help I need here."

"I don't think so. One of them would be better."

"T, listen to me. You're the one to help me. If you don't, I'll die here. You want that on your head?"

"That speaks well of us, huh, Joel?" Caleb said.

"He's right T. You did come to the top in our crisis yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. You guys better get going. What are you gonna take?"

The three figured they should take all they could, so the next trip out of the forest wouldn't be too heavy for whoever had to make it. They pulled together all they could carry in one trip on a portage.

Caleb and Joel promised they would do the trip as fast as they could – straight through the whole day and night if they had to.

Joel said, "That would be two sleepless nights. Think we can do it?"

They agreed it was vital to get to the outfitters as soon as they could to tell them about Phil, and get them to send a helicopter to get him out.

Caleb added that Boots should stay at the campsite with Phil.

"No! The mutt's yours, Shep. Take him with you." Just then Boots went to Phil's side and lay down. "That settles it, I guess. Okay, go!"

JT pushed the canoe with Joel and Caleb in it from the shore, and watched their back muscles paddle their way to the south.

"God help us," Phil said to himself, but JT heard it.

"God?"

"T, I'm expecting you to be creative in the next few days. Think outside the box. You gotta."

"I'll do my best." JT felt he had to start doing something. He rummaged through the remaining packs to take an inventory of what they had in the way of food and clothing. Then he pulled up a cut-off log to sit on next to Phil, knowing there was a lot of talking coming up.

He watched Phil try to sleep once in a while, but without success. JT thought, He trusts me. I hope I can do what he needs. "Ya gotta help me, dog."

JT and his patient started to talk about the football season, and JT brought up all the dumb and stupid things he did. Phil started to laugh, pain quickly ending the football talk.

The rest of the morning went by slowly while JT kept the sips of water coming, and adjusting the blankets on Phil.

"Here, put this rolled up towel under your head. I'm gonna put this log up behind you so you can rest against it. A blanket between you and the log should help.

"See, you do know what to do, T."

Caleb and Joel paddled hard through Lake Koma in their quest for help. "Shep, we're in this for at least two days. We've got to figure out a rhythm."

"Right. Without sleep last night, and maybe tonight, we've got to be careful. Being tired brings on accidents."

They were soon out of Koma Lake and into the series of portages, tight and little rivers, that beaver dam, always the sense of not doing enough to help Phil. Time dragged on and progress was slow. Each one could only wonder what the other longtime friend was thinking.

They finished the portages and finally got to Lake Polly at eleven. Lunch was just a few nutrition bars and peanut butter sandwiches. Progress was important.

Four more portages and JT's famous rapids, then more tight rivers that took longer than expected. "Caleb! Look at the sky. We're in for a nasty night."

"We'd better pray for the others. The rain won't be fun for them."

The two long time Christian friends prayed a short time for Phil and JT, as they had been taught in their early Sunday school classes.

The two realized the heavy black boiling clouds would bring night on early, and they knew there was no campsite in the area. "Hey, what the heck," Joel said. "When we get to the end of the next portage let's just pitch the tent in the portage path. Who else would be out in this?"

When they got to the end of the portage to Hazel Lake, their plans came to a halt. Four other guys were already hunkered down in a large tent for the rainy night. It was going to be a crowded place.

Back at JT's little clinic, the afternoon had been shaping up to be a long dragged-out, boring time. Phil was amused by the talking JT did with Boots. "You do kind of like the dog, huh?"

"I can take him or leave him." JT spoke to the dog again. "Sorry, mutt, we're all on rations now. Maybe you could try and find a rabbit to chomp on."

"Stop it, T. The ribs."

"Sorry."

Phil relaxed a bit and closed his eyes. At one time, he saw JT scoop a finger full of peanut butter out of the jar and let Boots lick it off. "T, you have a heart after all. You do care for that dog."

"Quiet! You didn't see that."

Half hour passed as JT paced around the campsite and wrestled with the thought of telling Phil his story. It would take most of the afternoon and JT was starting to feel a deeper kinship to Phil.

Phil was dealing with a more serious problem. "T, come over here. Something new has come up."

Without hesitation, JT was at Phil's side. "What's up?"

"You know I can't move and can't even stand up for a minute. I've peed in my clothes and now I have to do more."

"Ya mean ya gotta...?"

"Yeah, I gotta."

JT fell to his knees in front of his hurting friend and put his hand on his shoulder. "Wow! I really don't know what I can do for you. You can't move at all?"

Gritting his teeth, Phil said, "Right. I can't move a muscle without awful pain. I can't get up to go anywhere. Just something else to do in my clothes. I feel sorry for those poor medics when I get to the hospital. But that's their job. As a medic sometimes I had to do it to a patient in the Air Force. That helicopter will really stink on the flight. Can you imagine the mess they'll have with me?"

"I wish I could help you somehow."

"You've done a lot, T. You couldn't do anything more. I can't even roll over."

JT could only lean back on his legs in anguish as Phil strained his way through pain and embarrassment. For the first time in his life, JT's heart could feel a deep hurt for someone else.

When it was all over, Phil lay still, squeezing his eyes shut. JT bit his lip, turned his head and squeezed his own eyes. Wanting to yell out in anger but having only Phil to hear it, JT just stood up and threw small rocks into Koma Lake.

Boots wiggled a bit, but stayed next to Phil. "I have to sleep a little, T. The sun is really getting warm. Could you put something in front of my eyes to keep the sun out?"

"Sure. When you wake up I got a story for you that you won't forget. But you can't tell nobody the rest of your life."
Chapter 24

During Phil's sleep, JT fumbled in his duty of keeping the fire going and trying to make coffee. Memories of his younger years flashed and thundered in his mind. An interesting story? If Phil only knew. How will I start?

He thought of what he told the guys yesterday about his dad planning a trip like this for him. Knowing his father liked this type of wilderness, brought a sudden twinge of care for him. The twinge of care didn't last long.

While JT was waiting for Phil to wake up, he washed his sweaty face and hands in the cold water of the lake. He looked up and saw three guys in a canoe on the other side of the lake. They waved and he waved back. They were too far away to yell at. JT wished they might have come across to help Phil in some way.

He waved Phil's red jacket wildly in hopes they would see it as a sign of trouble. They just waved back. His skill at cussing rose up in him, but not to let Phil hear he muffled it in Phil's jacket.

He heard a moaning sound from Phil. When he got to his patient, Phil asked, "What time is it? Did I really sleep?"

"You sure did. About two hours. It was really lonely, but I'm glad you slept." He decided not to tell Phil about the three people he had seen.

"Sleep felt good. I'm hungry. What ya got?"

Rummaging through the packs, JT said, "Some Beef Jerky, peanut butter of course, some dried fruit, and some apples."

Digging further, he said, "Hey look, a bag of stew. With some water and the fire still going, I can make you some stew. What's your pleasure?"

"My pleasure is any of the above. Mostly the stew. Give me some of that other stuff too."

Phil said he enjoyed the stew. The other stuff could wait till things got worse. They had lunch out of scorched pots. Nothing fancy, but at least it was a hot meal.

Feeling almost good after the sleep and hot lunch, Phil banged his fork on the tin plate with the words, "Okay, T, what's your story? Other students have told me you don't ever talk about it. Maybe you should tell someone. Might take a load off your mind. Believe me, I won't tell anyone. You can trust me."

"I ain't never told nobody, Phil. Not even my best friend, Shepherd. Here's your coffee. Can you hold it?"

"Yeah, I can hold it."

Clearing his throat, JT reluctantly started. "Well, we got time now and nobody around to hear. So here goes. Right now my dad is serving out many life sentences in a concrete cell deep under a super max prison in Colorado. Got your attention?"

"You have my attention."

JT rolled a good size short log closer to Phil, sat on it and started again. "This might scare you. I have a famous name."

"If it's a famous name, why have you kept it a secret?"

"Teacher-coach-friend, if you keep asking questions I'll stop with the story. It's a bad, famous name. Only Dr. Schwind, the superintendent, and Rob Jens my parole officer know it. The first part of the JT is Joseph. That's the good news. The T is for Thruarpa."

Phil looked at him with a face of granite.

JT said, "I can tell that means something to you."

"I heard a lot about a guy with that name when I was in high school – about eight years ago. That was your dad? You don't have to go on if you don't want to."

"That is my dad. And now I've started, I'm going on."

Boots had no interest in the story so he got up, scratched, yawned and walked to the lake for a long drink.

"I was born in Utah and everything was cool for my first years. Dad and I would go camping, hiking, and fishing. Like I told you yesterday, he said we was going to do a canoe trip up here when I got older. We watched every football game we could when Dad wasn't working. Mom like to see us doing that, so she kept them munchies coming.

"Just thinking about those days gives me the creeps. He was a great dad. He was a state police officer working his way up the ranks. I was really proud of him. My friends were too. As a state trooper, respect seemed to follow him all the time. Ma was a teacher in the church pre-school and I had a mutt, Spike. We had good neighbors and friends. Many friends and relatives from all over the country would always stop in to visit us on their way to California. Life was good."

"Sounds like the way it should be."

JT stopped talking and just looked at Phil with a glare in his eyes.

"Okay, I'll shut up. Sorry."

"When I was seven years old, there was lot of reports of little kids gone missing in the state of Utah. Because Dad was lieutenant in the Utah State Police, he was busy a lot on the cases. It got so bad nobody let their kids play outside alone – or even with friends. All the law enforcement departments around put a special task force together to work on the problem. Dad was a part of that team. He was always going to one meeting or another.

"For a year, the team never seemed to be able to crack the case. The killer always seemed to keep one step ahead of 'em. Kids kept going missing. Once in a while one or two were found dead, but the rest were never found. Parents started to take their kids to school. School bus drivers had to watch all the kids that got off the bus until they went into their houses. If you were in high school, you must have heard about all that. It was big stuff around the whole country.

"Dad got the flu once, was home for three days and missed one of them special team meetings where they set a trap for the killer. About a week later, another child disappeared. The next day some members of the task force came to our house and arrested Dad. Me and Ma didn't know a thing. One of the team – a friend of ours ‒ told us Dad was the kidnapper and killer. By missing the meeting he didn't know about the trap they set, and he walked into it.

"Ma fainted and I didn't know what to do. I have this memory of Dad being led out of the house in handcuffs with his head down. No matter how much or loud I yelled, 'Daddy, Daddy,' the other officers kept taking him away. He never even looked at me. I only saw him once after that at one of the trials. Some trial – everybody knew what they wanted to do to him.

"The street and neighbors' yards were full of media people shouting questions. The Utah State Police Department got hold of some close friends of ours and brought them to the house through the mad crowd. It was clear at once that because Dad was on the task force, he knew what all the plans were. He'd been a step ahead of them all the time."

Phil wanted to move or twist a little, but he was as still as the rocks he was laying on.

"When the town found out who the guy was, our house was surrounded by people day and night yelling terrible stuff. Police had to protect us for a while. The whole country went up for grabs, mostly because of Dad being a high member of the local law enforcement, and especially the task force. I don't know which of the following words described the feelings of the Utah State Police or the country when it all broke in the news. Shock, stunning, appalling, trauma, disbelief, fear, revenge, and anger was all used in headlines. I'm sure if you was in high school you read some of them. You can say something now."

The story struck Phil so hard he lost some pain for a while. "It's been so long since that all happened, JT. I never thought I'd hear anything about it again. I sure never thought I'd know any of his family. How have you handled it?"

"Look at my lifestyle? I spent years hiding my name. I'm ruined for life. It really affected Ma's life too. She ain't the wonderful person she was before all this happened. She really hit the skids. That's why I'm the way I am, I guess. I'm a bother to everybody who knows me – except Shepherd maybe. I tell ya, Phil, I never known a guy like him. He's different. He's the one I finished high school for. He helped me so much. Look what he's doing for us right now.

"I'll never live in peace and I sure won't see that man again. Well, let me finish. Me and Ma couldn't stay in Utah so we moved to the little town of Prairie Heights. Ma's grandma used to tell her what a nice town it was. Ma thought we could hide out there. It worked out okay for us. Sometimes I wonder who is in the worst prison, me or Dad. He don't have to face nobody about this. I know he only gets one hour a day out of his cage. They keep him separated from the other prison guys for his own safety. He don't even know who is in the next cell.

"They say even hard prisoners hate child killers, and would take care of him their own way. What they got to lose? In for life anyway. Here in my own secret prison, I have to guard my thoughts and actions. I don't do too well on that sometimes. I constantly wonder what others will do if they find out who I am.

"When I see little kids playing around town I get nightmares of what it must have been for a parent to be a victim of my dad. I've come to hate him, and I hope I never see the creep again. I know I'm not the nicest guy in the world, but my dad must be real scum in the prison after all these years. He's got how many more years in that place? Thirty or forty? Good place for him. He made my life miserable and ruined Ma's."

Suddenly standing up and kicking a stone into the water, JT swore long and loud. He yelled out in unabated emotion, echoing across the lake. "Can you imagine, Phil, what it would be like to have a little child missing from your family? What do you feel in your bones? What way do you look? What way do you run? How long do you look into the faces of other children hoping it will be yours? On and on for the rest of your life. I ain't no kid lover, but I hate him for that. That's one reason I don't think I want any kids. That's a big if, 'cause I don't even think I'll get married. Who'd marry a Thruarpa? Dunno why Ma didn't change our name. Gotta ask her when I get home.

"Well, Phil, that's the mystery about JT. I'm trusting you to shut up about what you just heard and keep it a mystery in town."

"T, you have my word. From where I'm lying, I see the sky starting to get mad. Look up. See that?"

"Yeah, mad like me. We in for another problem."
Chapter 25

At the end of their portage, Caleb and Joel met the strangers who had planned to stay there for the night. In their introductions to each other it wasn't long before one of the younger men mentioned that he and his brothers were having a canoe trip with their father.

"Dad's been a busy doctor as head of the Emergency Room Operations in a large Minneapolis hospital for over twenty-two years. This is the first time we could get away for a much needed time together. We were having a good time – until this storm came up."

When Caleb and Joel heard the word, 'doctor,' they couldn't believe their ears. "You're a doctor?" Joel said to the older man in surprise. "An ER doctor?"

"Yes, I am. I'm Doctor Peters and these are my three sons. You two seem glad to see me. Are you two okay?"

Both Joel and Caleb started to run off at the mouth, until Joel said, "Shep, you tell him. You can do it better."

"Tell me what?"

Caleb spent the next twenty minutes telling the doctor and his sons about Phil's accident last night, and how one of their friends was waiting with him while he and Joel were going for help. The four were motivated by the story and wanted to get right to him. "How far away is he?"

"They're at Lake Koma." Pointing. "About a day's trip from here."

"Son, I'd like to take off right now to get to him, but look at that sky."

"Thanks for your help, but I know we'll all have to wait for morning."

When the rains came, they came in torrents again. Blown by strong winds the rain beat on the nylon tents almost ripping them from the stakes.

After telling Phil his story and looking at the sky, JT knew he had to get to work doing something creative. His mind started putting ideas and actions together. "I can't move you into the tent, Phil, so I guess I have to move the tent over you."

"This I gotta see. What's in your head, T?"

"I don't know. Let me think. Let me think." JT went to the canoe and started to lift it up.

"You leaving, T?"

"Of course not. Let me work."

JT dragged the canoe over to where Phil was lying on the rock and propped it sideways behind him against some trees. He looked around the campsite for some saplings about two or three inches in diameter. He got out the hatchet and chopped them down and stripped the branches off.

"Ya know, T, that's against the rules here in the wilderness. The brochure says 'Don't cut down good trees'."

JT gave Phil one of his evil, don't tell me what to do looks. "The brochure don't work here today. I'm doing what I gotta do. Who's to know? Cutt'n them trees down don't bother me none. More will grow. I'm in charge out here now."

You sure are, Phil said to himself.

JT propped the skinny trees over the canoe to create a space to cover Phil and himself, with space for Boots to crawl into. He spread the nylon sheet from the tent and some other plastic over the frame and anchored it with cut-off logs and rocks around the edges.

Within a few minutes, the wind, rain, and thunder dumped on them as it was doing to Caleb, Joel and the new friends a day away.

"Hey, T, Remember we were talking about the other day about a canoe becoming a lightning rod in a storm?"

"Yeah, that's all we need now – to be burned to a crisp. Think somebody will find our ashes some day? I hope it's fast."

"Look, T, you can see the rain coming right across the lake. There's a lot of rain, but no lightning."

"Oh, yeah. We lucked out on this, huh?"

Ten minutes later, Phil said, "Sorry to tell you this, T. There's some water leaking in over here – getting me wet."

To himself, JT said, Well, of course there's water. It's raining like mad outside and this is just a homemade tent. "Not on my watch." He started to crawl out.

"Where you going T? It's raining."

"No kidding. I'm gonna fix it."

"What you going to do?"

"Heck, how do I know?"

When JT discovered the problem, he took the small shovel and dug a trench around the big rocks. With his bare hands he fixed the muddy trough so water would go around the shelter. After he crawled back into the little nylon cave, soaking wet, he held his hands out for a while, and the pouring rain cleaned them. He wiped them dry on Boot's hair.

"T, you amaze me. I bet Caleb or Joel wouldn't have the faintest idea what to do."

"Like I said, I doing what I gotta do. That's called out-of-the box thinking."

"That's why I said you should stay here with me. I knew you would know what to do."

"Yeah, yeah."

The night was long and another painful one for Phil. Around three in the morning Phil started to cough, and said he was cold. JT rubbed his back, put another blanket on him, put a dry folded towel under his head, and pushed Boots closer to him.

If there was any sleep, it came a few minutes at a time. It poured heavily until nine in the morning – right through the start of daylight and the whining of the loons.

Phil said, "The night didn't go too bad. Considering the cold, rain, the pain, the unknown, the cramped space, the leaky tent, no sleep, and a soggy dog, it wasn't bad."

"Well, you'll probably never top that again," JT said as he crawled out of the cocoon. "I wonder how Caleb and Joel did last night. This place is soaked. Smells fresh, though."

The first thing Joel said to Caleb from their rain soaked tent, "I wonder how Phil and JT did last night?"

The six campers on their crowded portage path got up early. The doctor's sons fixed a good breakfast for all, and they quickly packed up to go their different ways. Doctor Peters told Caleb and Joel what they should do when they got to the outfitters.

"Tell the staff what happened and who I am and what I'm trying to do. Tell them I want a helicopter there about mid-day. From what you tell me, it must be a pontoon chopper. It must be a pontoon. I need a stokes with it. Any fire department or medical person knows what that is." He turned to his sons and added, "Guys, our fishing vacation is on hold for a day. We're now on a mission."

"Works for us, Dad," one son said, and the other agreed.

Doctor Peters and his sons were the first to leave the campsite and head up the portage, out of sight of Caleb and Joel.

As Caleb was packing up, he said, "Can you imagine? A doctor just when you need one? And an ER doctor at that!"

"Yeah, I'd like to be there and see what JT does when a doctor comes across the lake."

After the soggy night, but yet a restful night, Caleb and Joel were ready to press on to the outfitters and get help for Phil.

Dr. Peters, his two college-age sons and high school son soon experienced early that day what Caleb and Joel had told them about the narrow Phoebe River, the rapids, and beavers. Because the sons of the doctor had been on canoe trips with their scout packs, they did better than the doctor. Dr. Peters was thinking he should have brought along one of his friends – a cardiologist.

They enjoyed the beauty of Wolverine Lake, but did not take any pictures. "Guys, hurry." It was nearly one in the afternoon when they came to the edge of Lake Koma.
Chapter 26

The hard pelting rain continued long after sunrise back at JT's clinic. The entire campsite was heavy with rain dripping off trees, dampness all around, high humidity, muddy ground, cold, and a soggy dog. One look at Boots, and JT said, "Oh, doggie, you must have mopped up a whole puddle."

As if the Border collie could understand, he went to the lake and, cold as it was, jumped in and cleaned himself off. He was quick to repeat the doggie shake many times.

If there was a sun above those clouds, it remained hidden. After the sleepless night JT spent on the ground, next to his rancid smelling teacher/friend and that soggy dog, the first thing he said when he woke up was, "Phil, you smell pretty ripe."

"That bad, huh? If that's ripe, I don't want to smell what rotten is."

JT had many thoughts as to why he ever came on this so-called vacation. The long ride in the cramped Jeep, the unpacking, learning the canoeing thing on all the lakes, climbing over a beaver dam, rapids, portage after portage, and now this rain soaked, and makeshift hospital – sort of. Why was he left behind with Phil, when either of the other two would have been much better at this humble serving thing?

Amidst all this misery, JT knew he had to do whatever he could for his immobile teacher/friend. With the camp stove buried in one of the packs to keep it dry and useful for when the time came, there was not much for some kind of warm breakfast. The two ate a few high protein bars and some clods of peanut butter dug out of a jar with dirty fingers and spread on soggy bread.

By this time, Boots had found his way into a rare warm corner of JT's soul. Always rough around the edges, JT told Boots, "Sorry, dog, but remember all of us on rations for now – never know what's coming up."

In an unexpected moment that lightened Phil's ravaged frame, he saw JT put some peanut butter on his finger again and let Boots lick it off. Phil managed to say, "There's definitely love in your heart somewhere, T."

"Shut up. You never saw that. I had to give the mutt something for trying to keep you warm last night."

Like the throwing of a switch, the rain suddenly stopped about nine thirty in the morning, and true to the quick changing weather of Minnesota the sun broke out in great form. On branches and on flat rocks, JT hung up or set out everything he could that was wet. Phil said in another moment of what little relief he could find, "Looks like you've got quite a laundry hanging around here."

"Yeah, I'll say it again. A guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Nobody gonna see it anyway. Feel that warmth coming on us? Ma Nature doing us some good for a change."

Phil watched JT pick up and replace much of the campsite that had gotten soaked from the rain, and could see another side to the rough student he had coached.

By eleven, JT figured he had done all the chores, so he said to Phil, "Shep got the deck of cards in one of them packs they took, so nothing for us to do but talk. Of course nobody brought a book along. Who'd read a book anyway? So, you now. What was your life like before you come to Prairie Heights? You got my story yesterday. What's yours?"

Phil shifted and twisted his body in a vain attempt to find another inch of so-called comfort. JT could see Phil's face twist in pain as torture ran around in his bones. "I told you my story yesterday about my home life. In spite of that, I did well in school and football until some jerk ran his helmet into my side and cracked some ribs. That's why I know I have some broken ribs now. I've been there before.

"After high school, I went into the Air Force. My scores on the entrance tests were good in chemistry and biology so they made me a medic. Nothing very glamorous, but I worked in the dispensary, sort of the ER of the Air Force. Always an actual doctor there to do the real stuff. It would be nice to have a doctor around here now, huh?"

In a compassionate question, JT asked, "Really hurts, huh? That rib stuff I mean?"

"Yes, it does, and I know I can't take a deep breath. Whatever you do, don't make me laugh – please."

"Nothing exciting in the Air Force? Nothing?"

"Well, once a jet I was on broke its landing gear when it landed and we skidded off the runway. That's all."

"I never been up in an airplane."

"You haven't missed much. Well, after the Air Force and the State University, I went into teaching and coaching. You know the rest. That's the end of my simple story. Nothing like what went into the making of you. Your story yesterday beat us all. I'm proud of you, T. You've done well with what you have. Hey, can you make some coffee?"

While JT fumbled around getting the coffee made, again – as they often did ‒ memories of his younger years flashed and thundered in his mind. Oh how different, us two.

The rest of the morning again dragged on with nothing to do but talk. JT was facing Phil, when Phil suddenly said, "T, you think there's a God?"

"You asking me? The no-God man? If there's a God, how in the world would I know? I don't ever see Him."

"Well, look out in the lake, JT. There's two canoes coming at us."

"Big deal. Four guys. I still don't see no God in one of them boats."

When the canoes got closer, a voice called out, "One of you JT? The other, Phil?"

JT's heart skipped a beat with the no-God idea. "Yeah, that's us."

The canoes rode up on the sand, and JT asked, "So who are you? How you'd know it was us here?"

Boots started to growl softly as the strangers approached. With a hand on the dog's back, JT said, "Easy, boy. Let's wait."

"I'm Doctor Peters from Minneapolis...."

I hope he don't say he's a dentist

"These are my sons, Matthew, Mark, and Luke. The two older ones are in med school and Luke in high school. We met your friends last night before the rain. They told us about you, and we set out at first light to help."

One of the sons added, "Dad's the director of the Emergency Room Division of Hennepin County Medical Center. The biggest hospital in Minneapolis."

There is a God.

After a quick examination of Phil, the doctor took JT aside and said quietly, "He's in what I would call an extreme critical condition. I know it must have been terribly hard, but it was a good thing you didn't move him at all."

To Phil he said, "Son, my sons and I will do what we can, but I'm afraid it won't be much more than what your friend has done. He did a good job. Your other friends will tell the outfitters the story and get a helicopter here when they can. I hope it will be later today, or perhaps this evening."

While the doctor and his sons were helping Phil at JT's little "hospital," Caleb and Joel were retracing their steps towards the outfitters as fast as they could. Lakes were crossed with a lot of effort, and portages seemed long. Both Vikings were tired and sometimes felt weak.

About halfway back, Joel said, "This is a heck of a way to enjoy a canoe trip. I was looking for a good time, not this. Let's rest for a little."

Caleb nodded. "Great idea."

They sat down and enjoyed the sun while they got their breath back. Within a few minutes, Caleb said, "We can't just sit here, can we? Let's keep going."

"You're right. Let's go."

Finally, they got to the last small portage from Alton Lake to Sawbill Lake – a simple ten rod walk. Caleb grabbed two packs and the paddles, and Joel put on a pack and gripped the gunwales of the canoe and swung it above his head. They both started up the path.

In less than two minutes, Caleb heard a loud crack from behind. It sounded as though his friend had stepped on a twig, snapping it. A yelp from Joel, and the sound of a sixteen foot aluminum canoe banging into some trees and hitting the ground ran up Caleb's spine. That was no twig. He turned around to see Joel's right hand and foot sticking out from under the fallen canoe.
Chapter 27

Back at the campsite, Doctor Peters continued examining Phil. He ran his hands over his shoulders, down his back, chest, and waist. He quickly became aware how serious the injuries were. When he touched Phil's left leg and arm, Phil twisted in pain.

Phil said, "I was a medic in the Air Force. I think I know what my problems are. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Right off, I'd say you are right on. As for your ribs, I think about five or six could be broken. Very painful, isn't it?"

"Only when I laugh."

"I heard that. The worst of your problems, as you might know, is the fact that your pelvic bone is damaged. You hit this bolder squarely on your left side. How your head and spine escaped injury is nothing short of a miracle."

JT said, "He been like that for two nights and all of today."

"That's a long time without treatment. There's a lot of swelling and must be a lot of internal bleeding. I have no way to see what else might be broken on the inside. Whatever the case, you did a good job, young man, by keeping him still and quiet. That log behind his back helped him a lot. We'll fix what we can and get him to a good hospital." Dr. Peters turned to Phil. "Have you slept at all?"

"Not much."

"I can give you something for the pain, and it might help you sleep."

"You got medicine with you, Doc?" JT was quick to ask.

One of the sons said, "I don't know a doctor in the world that is ever without his bag of tricks. Dad takes it wherever he goes."

Just before the doctor gave Phil a shot of morphine, the four medical visitors put a sleeping bag behind him and gently rolled him over onto his back. Above the yelp of pain, the doctor said, "This will get you off your left ribs. It should help a little."

"It does. I can feel some relief now."

The shot and repositioning of Phil were all they could do for now.

Dr. Peters rolled a log up to sit close to Phil. "Now all we have to do is wait for that helicopter. I hope it gets here this afternoon."

In the meantime, while Phil dropped off into a restless sleep, the five became more acquainted with each other. It wasn't long before they discovered JT was from "the other side of the tracks" in his attitudes and speech.

Luke asked, "Why do they call you T? Short for a long name, or some other reason?"

"It started in Junior High School and stuck. Yeah, it's short for something else – a long story. I wished one of them other guys stayed with Phil. I don't know what to do."

"You did very well," the doctor said. "Your idea for the towel under his head?"

"Yeah."

"That's just one thing you did that gave him a lot of comfort. Think the others would have thought of that?"

JT shrugged. "I dunno."

Caleb dropped his packs and quickly returned to Joel and lifted the canoe off him. He got the pack off Joel's back, and noticed his right ankle was at the wrong angle to his leg.

"It's bad isn't it, Shep?"

"Sure looks like it. Good thing we're near the end of this part of the trip. Also a good thing this portage is short."

Caleb took his two packs and the paddles to the other end of the portage and came back for Joel's pack and the canoe. When he got everything to the end of the portage, he returned to Joel with the larger paddle and helped him crutch his way the ten rods to Lake Sawbill. It took quite a while, because Joel could not let his right foot touch the ground.

When they reached the end of the portage, Joel said, "I hope you'll live long enough to tell the reporters about this trip. The rest of us are falling apart."

"Like it or not, when we get you in the canoe you'll have to be in the stern with your foot up. The bow would be too cramped for you."

While Caleb was arranging Joel and all the gear in the canoe, four canoes approached. It was obvious it was a small scout troop.

The older guy asked, "You guys have a problem?"

Joel whispered, "What was his clue?" Then he said, "I just broke my right ankle pretty bad."

"We can help," one of the scouts said.

After hearing the story about Joel's fall and the problem two days ago about Phil and his fall, the scout leader called Tim took over.

"Caleb, take my senior scout, Smitty, in one of our canoes and get to the outfitters as fast as you can. Tell them we're coming with Joel, and give the information of your other situation. The rest of you scouts follow us. Our trip will be set back a few hours."

Caleb and Smitty paddled well together, making it to the landing in just over forty-five minutes. Regan McComber already had a golf cart at the landing when Tim and Joel and the others arrived. Everything was loaded in the cart and taken up to the lodge.

Caleb told the owner of the outfitters about Phil's fall back at Lake Koma, and how it took two days to get here for help. "The doctor said he needed a pontoon helicopter and a stokes body basket up on Koma Lake as fast as they can make it. We have a seriously injured friend there."

Regan listened carefully. "Is he bad?"

"The doctor told me our friend is in a very serious condition and his life is in the balance. He insisted it be a pontoon chopper 'cause it has to land on the lake to put the injured guy on it. It can't hover. He also wants a paramedic with the pilot. They should stop here and pick me up to go back with them."

Mr. Berg, the owner, picked up his phone and got the word out about the helicopter. Regan and Harper McComber made arrangements to get Joel to the Grand Marais Hospital, after letting him talk to his parents on the phone back in Prairie Heights.

Caleb collected all the packs and whatever other gear they had, and put them into the Jeep. Now I guess I just wait for the helicopter. It will be my first ride in one.

Doctor Peters, his three sons, and JT passed the time that afternoon with more chatter about the good and bad aspects of canoeing in the BWCA. They knew both sides.

Eventually Phil came out of his fitful sleep.

"Dad," Luke said, "is there a way we can help clean up Phil? Look, I'm sure it bothers him."

"Great idea, son. Matt, Mark, get a lot of water heated. We'll need it to clean him up. Luke, bring me my bag and use that shovel over there to dig a hole. Make it at least three feet deep."

"What for?"

"Tell you later."

"I'll dig the hole," JT said.

"Matt, take everything out of Phil's pockets and give it to JT. Then you two med students cut all the clothing off him."

The warm water in abundance pouring over Phil seemed to be doing him some good. The soggy sleeping bag from under him was changed for a dry one. He was then covered with blankets and another sleeping bag. The soiled clothes were put in the hole. Phil again mentioned what the brochure said, something about not leaving anything behind.

JT was first with the reply. "Phil, even the doctor's gotta do what he's gotta do. You want me to take them clothes back? Will you please get out of that brochure?"

By four thirty they could hear the sounds of the helicopter approaching. They could see the stokes strapped to the side, but it was not a pontoon chopper. The helicopter came close to the rocks and hovered, rocking back and forth. Caleb and the paramedic, John, climbed out, carrying the stokes.

"Where's the pontoon I asked for?" Dr. Peters yelled.

Yelling over the roar of the motor, Caleb shouted into the ear of the doctor, "The pilot told me, 'This is it, kid. Take it or leave it.'"

"Is that the way he told you?"

"Yes, sir."

For a few seconds Doctor Peters stood stunned, thinking how to deal with the situation. Furiously, he said, "Let me talk to him."
Chapter 28

In a vocabulary devoid of his high level of education and profession, and salted with strange words to the ears of his sons, Dr. Peters let the pilot know exactly how he felt. Animated and bellowing over the thumping rotors, he would have made General George Patton proud.

"I sent word I needed a pontoon chopper. Where is it? This patient is so close to death. He has to be loaded with great care. Why don't I have the pontoon I ordered? Never mind that now. I know some resorts on the North Shore have them. Now get one and get back here before dark, or deal with some high powered lawyers from Minneapolis."

The only response from the pilot was a nodding head and lifting off.

A surprised Mark said, "Dad! Where did all that language come from? Mom know you could talk like that?"

"Forget it, kids. Forget it. You too, JT. Sorry you had to hear that."

"Hey, don't bother me none. I cudda done better job on that if you let me."

Phil started to laugh, but his ribs told him to forget it.

JT brought Caleb up to date with what he did for Phil while he was gone. The doctor and John talked about medical things, and cared for Phil.

Doctor Peters whispered to John out of Phil's hearing. "He may have been a medic in the Air Force, but he doesn't know how serious he is. John, stay with him when you get him to Saint Luke's in Duluth. When you get there, call this number in Minneapolis on my card and only talk to Else Newman or Sandy Reed at Hennepin County Medical Center.

"Tell them the whole story, and say I want the best for him. Saint Luke's should be able to prep Phil for the flight to Minneapolis. If you can stay with him on the flight to Minneapolis, Else or Sandy will make all the arrangements for you in the cities and get you back to Grand Marais. Can you do all that? The boys and I are going back to our vacation."

"Yes, I can. I'm glad I can be of help for this guy." John whispered, "Will he make it? I've never seen so many deep injuries in one person."

"Come work for me in Minneapolis. You'll get your fill. Now let's get him into the stokes. By the way, John, when you get to Minneapolis, tell Else or Sandy that I'm adding two more days to my vacation. Nothing they or management can do, anyway."

The doctor and his sons gently rolled Phil onto his right side and JT held the stokes against his back. Rolling him back, he fit into the basket. He was covered with a blanket and a sleeping bag. "Thank you. This feels good."

The waiting game continued. Just as the sun was starting to set, they heard the sound of another helicopter approaching. This time the pontoon chopper landed softly on the still water and the engine shut down.

A different pilot stepped out. "I heard the whole story. Sorry, doctor."

"We've got him comfortable and ready for you." To the others, "All you guys, grab onto the sides of the stokes and carefully walk into the water to the helicopter."

In true JT style, JT said, "This basket won't fit in that thing. What are you going to do with Phil?"

Matthew answered, "Ever see M-A-S-H on TV? We're going to strap him to the side like they did in Korea."

"Won't he fall off?"

"Not a chance. Watch."

Phil's eyes flashed to all his helpers, and he saw care and compassion in each face, even JT's. They carefully stepped from the rocks to the sand and into the water. With the chopper sitting still, the stokes was secured and fastened to the chopper's framework.

"John, keep the door open and hang out of it. Be as close as you can to Phil. Keep a hand on him for assurance. The flight will be scary."

"Yes, sir."

The last streaks of daylight faded as the helicopter lifted off. The six at the campsite watched the pulsating lights disappear over the treetops.

JT went to one of the logs at the fire circle and sat down. With his head buried in his hands and quivering shoulders, he remained quiet.

Watching from a distance, the doctor said to Caleb, "That young man's been through a lot. His emotions are catching up with him. From what I observed of him today, I don't think he ever had to care for anyone in his life like he did for Phil. Leave him alone for now"

Caleb nodded. "I've known him for five years. Nothing has ever moved his heart of stone."

"That could make a new man out of him. Sons, we're camping here for the night with JT and Caleb. What's in the feed bag?"

After several X-rays of Joel's foot were taken at the hospital in Grand Marais, his eyes watched the clock point to seven. The words from the ER doctor fell into his ears with fright.

"Son, the bones in your ankle are completely crushed. I don't know how there could be so much damage from stepping on a slippery root. We've given you something for the pain and we'll keep your foot on ice. You're in for a helicopter flight to Duluth's Saint Luke's. They can do much more for you, and your folks will be there as soon as they can. Are you up for that?"

"Yes, I am. And thank you. Thank you all for what you've done for me. Are the two girls from the outfitters still here?"

A nurse said, "Yes, they are. Do you want to see them?"

"Yes, please."

Joel told the McComber sisters that Caleb and JT would be back at the outfitters in about two days. "Tell them how I am and that I'll be in Duluth for a few days. See if they could stop in and see me on their way south."

The girls promised they would.

Joel was then placed in the helicopter for the trip to Duluth.

Twenty minutes later, when Joel was being taken from the chopper in Duluth, he overheard a voice on the landing pad say, "Hurry up with that ankle case. We've got a critical coming in from the BWCA. We need the pad quickly."

Joel looked up at the nurse. "I know who that is. Can I talk to him when he gets here?"

The attending nurse said, "I'll see what I can do. He may be unconscious."

The sound of another helicopter grew louder.

The fire at the campsite had turned to embers during the talk about the day's events. JT remained mostly quiet as he watched the fire fade.

Caleb broke into his silence. "T, our fun trip is over. Tomorrow we, just you and me, start our two day trip back to the Jeep and Prairie Heights."

Without a word, JT crawled into the tent without taking his shoes off.
Chapter 29

The Lord's environmental alarm clock, a.k.a. the loon, woke up the new companions about 5 a.m. With little talking, Dr. Peters, Matt, JT, and Caleb began to pull their things together.

Mark and Luke started preparing a breakfast of oatmeal and all the extras, juice, and whatever else they could get out of the combined food packs. With Joel and Phil not in the company, JT finally got his fill of a good meal.

The breaking of camp went quickly, and with the fire well doused, the doctor, his sons, JT, and Caleb said their goodbyes and again thanked them for their help.

JT asked, "How much do we owe you, Doc?"

Luke leaned close to JT, whispering, "There's no way you could pull enough money out of your pocket to pay that man for what he did."

"I heard that," the doctor said. "I'm getting paid by meeting you two, by your thanks and gratitude. I'm glad I could help. This one's on me."

Matt added, "I don't know where you guys would be if we hadn't come when we did."

"Not a clue. Not a clue," Caleb said. "We'd just have a hovering helicopter and not knowing what to do. You were an answer to our prayer."

"Glad to hear that," the doctor said. "Now, you two be careful. Two injured out of four isn't a good score."

With the shaking of hands and verbal good wishes all around, JT and Caleb helped shove the two canoes of their new friends into the lake. It was still early – just after 6 a.m.

After a final check on the fire, covering the gear in the canoe, and a final trampling on the stones and soil covering the buried clothes, Caleb shoved the canoe off the beach. With Boots in the center and JT in the bow, they headed out into the lake the same way they came.

"Sorry, T, the trip was cut short like it was. Not a good memory for ya."

"Oh, don't bother me none. The doctor and them sons was kind to this dummy."

"Don't sell yourself short, T. Remember all the good things the doctor said you did for Phil?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

There was little talking between the two to start with. Each had their head reflecting on the strange days they had just gone through. At the other side of Lake Koma they started the usual string of portages.

On the second portage they came to an abrupt stop. A cow moose and her two calves stood on the portage path, chewing on some tree bark, with swamp weeds still hanging from their mouths.

"How long ya think this will take, Shep?"

"Why don't you go up there and tell her to move. Take your soggy jacket and swat her on the butt."

"You think I'd do that, huh? You want me to do that?"

"We could be on our way."

"I'm gonna play this one like you would – wait it out."

Shortly, Mama Moose nudged one of the calves and they lumbered off into the woods. JT whispered, "You think they knew who we was and what we been through?"

"I know animals communicate with each other. But I reckon that thought was a little over the edge."

"Wasn't this whole trip over the edge?"

Back down the Phoebe River and portage after portage, the day quickly became mundane. Their only goal was to get back to the outfitters and get this trip over with.

On the final portage of the day, with JT in the lead and two packs on his frame, suddenly Boots stopped. His usual wagging tail stiffened and fell between his legs, and the hair on his back rose up.

From in the canoe cavity over his head, Caleb yelled, "Why you stop? Keep going."

"Ya gotta see this, Shep. I don't think we're going anywhere for a while."

Caleb set the little boat off to the side of the portage. Looking up, he saw a frightening sight. Boots and a large wolf about thirty feet apart were in a stare-down. Quietly, Caleb said, "Look! He's trying to protect us."

"He's protecting you, Shep, not me. How you think this will go? He ain't ever seen a wolf before, has he?"

"No, but the wolf has never seen a dog like him either. This will be more than interesting."

"That's a cute way to put it. Look at Boots' claws – dug deep into the dirt."

"Gonna be a fight. I hope I don't lose him here."

Still Boots did nothing. Tail was frozen.

The stare-down lasted a good four minutes as the two guys gazed at the scene – a lifetime of breathing for Caleb ‒ when it looked like Boots had waited long enough. He growled and lurched a foot or so. The wolf snarled back and took off into the trees to the relief of all.

"Okay, Shep, I liked what your dog did for Phil, but I love the mutt for what he just done for me and you."

At the end of that day, they set up a quick campsite on Lake Hazel. JT was setting up the tent when he became locked in his movements. He said. "Look! A long sandy beach, bordered by a field of floating green lilies and hundreds of tall straight pine trees. It's the most beautiful sight I seen on the trip. Why didn't I see this coming up here?"

"Maybe 'cause we were going in the other direction."

"Look at those trees. That where they get telephone poles from?"

"Gee, I don't know where poles come from."

"It's even quieter here than other places. Remember the brochure shows a chipmunk walking on a guy's chest. That quiet here?"

"You let a chipmunk walk on you?"

"Heck no," JT said. "They still a rodent, ain't they? This is the place where a guy could set up camp for a few days and just let the world go by. Let's eat, and then get some sleep."

That mind sure switches gears fast. "Think you'll ever do that, T? Come out here on another trip some day?"

"If there was ever an I-don't-know question, that would be it."

Dinner or supper, or whatever the two decided to call it, was a strange combination of the food that was left in the packs. Food was food and this was the last night. They found that even crawling into the tent was more comfortable.

The shadows of swaying branches, formed by the strong moonlight, drifting across the nylon house didn't bother them. They slept well now that their bones were used to hard ground. Boots stayed alert. Maybe thinking – wolf.

Throughout the night another "friend" visited the campers. A gentle three hour rain soaked the place. They didn't even know it till morning.

When JT crawled out of the tent and stretched his bones, he said, "Shep, you say God does all this? The fresh smell, droplets of water on the pine needles showing a rainbow of colors in each one, clear blue water with a mist rising up, a gentle breeze, and that crazy loon?"

"Yep. All of it."

"I might come back."

"Love that loon, don't you?"

"I'm starting to like his music."

"Write a book someday. You have the title. Music of the Loon."

"Yeah, that would be the day. JT writing a book? I don't even read books."

"Some people do that ‒ write a book later in life. Come up here and do the research."

"I ain't in my later life – yet. Besides, if I wait till later in life, like you say, I'll be too old to do the canoe thing."
Chapter 30

With only two in the party now, breakfast was again made up of whatever was in the packs. JT rummaged through the supplies and came up with a great discovery.

"Look, I just found a new package of pancake mix, and some syrup. We gonna eat like kings this morning. Joel showed me how to turn them babies over to look like pancakes and not scrambled eggs."

JT ‒ nurse, now cook ‒ did a fine job with the pancakes, and the two ate well. Boots even looked satisfied. With the coffee gone, there was only hot chocolate or tea to drink. JT tried tea for the first time in his life to a reaction of, "Ugh." He spit it out over a large group of ferns saying, "They'll all die now."

As usual, the breaking of camp followed breakfast and a good supply of the ever-present water poured on the fire. With Caleb in the bow, with Boots as usual proudly sitting in the center, JT shoved the canoe out to "sea."

"Ya know, Shep, if I ever did come back here, I'd like to return to our quiet cove. It was the most comfortable place on our trip. I wish we could have spent more time there."

Caleb nodded. "I agree."

They exited Lake Hazel and started down the small river that turned into JT's famous rapids. "I'm ready for them rapids now. I got it figured out and I know right where them drop offs are."

When they approached the eighth pond, they removed their shirts and whatever else they could, and slid out of the canoe. Then, with one on each side, they started to guide it through the fast running shallow water. Boots was in his usual commanding spot in the center of the packs, looking proud.

With his mind off of guiding the canoe, JT said, "You enjoy this don't cha, dog." Just then he lost his footing and again disappeared beneath the water with a gulp.

With JT's grip off the canoe, Caleb pulled it towards him. He too lost his grip and sank.

The two surfaced, both choking up swamp gunk. The canoe was now adrift with the dog, riding high. Oblivious to his peril, Boots sat there waging his tail and barking.

"Think he's having a good time, Shep?"

"If he is, I'm not. You let go of the canoe."

"You did too."

"I thought you said you knew where the drop off was."

Laughing with a chunk of swamp mud, JT spit out, "I lied."

"My dog, T. My dog!"

Mocking his friend, JT thought, My dog, T. My dog. "Sheeee, Shep, relax. The mutt's an animal. He'll take care of himself."

After a moment or so of confusion, Caleb saw the canoe wedged between two boulders nearly fifty feet away from him – without Boots. They reached the canoe and freed it from its prison among the rocks. Caleb called and called for Boots, but no response.

With a heavy heart, JT tried to calm his friend. Then they both saw him at the same time. Boots, a soaked Border collie, was unsuccessfully scratching his way up a boulder. Caleb was in the water again and got to his dog. JT pushed the canoe over to them, and in a moment all three soaking wet bodies were back in the canoe.

When they got to shore, they searched each other for swamp vermin, from experience this time, and tried to find any on the dog.

Pointing, JT said, "Hey look, Shep, The tree we argued about a few days ago. You know, did it make any noise when it fell? Think anybody saw us sink in the river?"

"Okay, T, I heard that. No one saw us."

Shortly they were in Lake Alton, the largest one for the day. Caleb yelled back to JT, "Just one more short portage and we're into Lake Sawbill ‒ and then the outfitters."

In his own mind, JT was thinking, This trip's been crazy. I never thought I'd be a part of this kind of stuff.

"Did ya hear me, T? The trip is almost over."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya. Think the Harp's on duty at the lodge?"

At the start of the ten rod portage to Lake Sawbill, Caleb showed his friend the root that Joel slipped on.

"Gee, that's a small root," JT said.

"But it was slippery from rain, and when Joel slipped, the canoe fell right on the twisted ankle."

"Sure did a job on him, huh?"

"It sure did, but I think they can do the surgery and put pins in it at Duluth. We'll try and see him when we go through Duluth."

At 5 p.m., they arrived at the landing and got right to the job of getting the packs and canoe up to the Jeep and trailer. They found the other canoe on the trailer right where Tim and his scouts had left it. Soon they were surrounded by a lot of campers and some of the staff. To JT's joy, Harper was among the throng.

The questions came fast and furious. "You guys okay?"

"How long did it take to get back here?"

"How are Phil and Joel?"

"How's Phil or Joel?" JT added in his special way, "We'd be the last to know. They was taken to some hospital."

Regan told the guys, "Joel was taken to Duluth, and Phil was sent on to Minneapolis. How about you two?"

"Us?" JT asked. "We ain't in no hospital yet. We okay. Tired though. We gonna leave tomorrow. We really don't know anything 'bout Phil."

Regan pulled Caleb aside. "When John the paramedic got back here from Minneapolis this morning, he told us Phil really got worse on the trip to the cities. He also told us the pilot that brought the first helicopter to your campsite was severely reprimanded for not getting a pontoon, like he was asked to."

Caleb suddenly asked, "By the way, what's the cost for all this flying?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? That must have cost a bundle."

"The Superior National Forest has a big fund for just that. You're good."

"That's unbelievable. There must be someone I can thank."

"I'll find out," Regan said.

A comfortable dinner of a salad, today's fresh bass, baked potato, a vegetable and apple pie for Regan, Caleb, JT and the Harp, as JT began to call her, was served in front of the large stone fireplace.

Boots was grinding his teeth on a good steak bone on the braided rug in front of the fire, probably thinking, This is a lot better than peanut butter from JT's fingers, and no thoughts of a wolf.

The two turned in shortly after 10 p.m., and the mattresses on the bunks in the lodge were a blast. The building with its many logs and beams was stronger than the wimpy tents blowing in the rain and wind of the past few days.

Just as JT was fading into sleep, he thought, The wilderness gave us a rough time. I can see what Dad must have liked about it. I wonder what civilization gonna throw at us now?
Chapter 31

The boisterous talking and laughing of several dudes not considering the sleeping JT, woke him up. "Pipe down! Shut up! Let a guy sleep. It's too early."

The familiar voice of Caleb said, "T, it's six in the morning. Time everything starts here."

"I'd rather hear the loon and not all this noise."

"I hear ya, but we have a long day in front of us. Prairie Heights is a long way from here. Get up. Harper's probably in the café frying your eggs right now."

"The Harp is doing that for me? I'm getting up. I'm getting up."

Stepping into the café, the unmistakable aroma of coffee, bacon, eggs, and freshly baked cinnamon rolls almost knocked JT over. To see the Harp smiling at the grill completed the picture for his retinas.

At the buffet, JT and Caleb tried their best to hide any evidence of a plate beneath the heap of food. They went to the end of a long crowded picnic style table and sat down. The Harp brought them a tall glass of orange juice and coffee.

One of the campers said, "Heard you guys had a bad experience on your trip."

"Yeah, you could say that," JT said between shovels full of food.

The group seemed interested in the account, so Caleb told the whole story in about ten minutes.

"How are your friends doing?" a voice asked.

Now refreshed from a good night of sleep, JT was back on his game and about to throw a comment in his usual manner, but a fork full of bacon and eggs was on its way to his mouth and couldn't be stopped. But his mind completed the thought. How the heck could we know? This whole thing happened three days ago. One's in Duluth and the other one's in Minneapolis.

Keeping decorum at the table, Caleb said, "We're going to stop in and see both of them on our way south. We'll ask them how things are going. Thanks for asking. We'll call Regan or Harper and let you know."

The two from Prairie Heights paid their bill and said goodbye to Regan, Harper, and the rest of the staff and campers.

As they went out the door, Caleb whispered to JT, "Think you'll see the Harp again? I thought you had a thing going there."

"Never know!"

They secured their gear in the lower canoe on the trailer and climbed into the Yellow Fellow after Boots. As the Jeep's tires crunched gravel on their way out, JT said with a sigh, "Now, this is more like it. Two guys and a dog in a Jeep. Not five. Look at the mutt there. The whole back seat to himself. I think I see him smiling."

"Dogs don't smile, T."

Twenty--five minutes later, the sound of crunching gravel stopped as the Jeep traveled onto US61 and headed south. For the next hour the talk was only what the sight of the North Shore Drive looked like.

JT summed it up with, "I ain't ever seen a place so beautiful. This and that quiet cove last night. We gotta be on another planet. Nothing like this in Illinois."

As they approached Two Harbors, JT caught sight of a billboard that said, King's Dairy – Now with a New Super-size Menu.

"Shep, we gotta stop! I ain't had ice cream for weeks. I gotta have something. I know it's early in the morning and they just opened, but what the heck, I need my fix. I'm gonna get the biggest thing they got."

"You have enough money left for that?"

"I'll spend my last nickel for some ice cream now. I'll even buy a cone for Boots."

"You're all heart, T. A pile of ice cream for you, and a cone for the dog."

"Yeah, a cone. Don't want to spoil him."

Caleb drove the Jeep and trailer into the lot. They went inside, and JT said, "I want the biggest thing ya got."

"You sure?" the pretty young thing said at the counter. "Isn't it a little early for that?"

I'll decide what's too early for me. "You heard me. Yeah, the biggest. And a cone for the dog."

"Okay, okay, that will be seven dollars and fifty cents."

As she was creating the masterpiece in a large plastic bowl, Caleb said, "You know, T, you could buy a good meal for that price."

"You spending my money now?"

"Sorry. Tell her I'll have a medium Snickers Snow Storm."

The first item up was the cone for Boots. JT took it out to the Jeep where he held it while the tail wagging dog licked it. After three licks, the dog clamped his jaws on the whole thing and gulped it down.

When JT returned to the counter, he told Caleb, "He gobbled the whole thing in one bite. I even felt his teeth when he ate it."

"He'll love ya for that."

It took about half an hour for JT to work his way through the hoard of ice cream, three different syrups, nuts, whipped cream, and three cherries, before they were on their way again.

Arriving in Duluth, they located St. Luke's Hospital and parked the Jeep and trailer in a far corner of the parking lot. They decided they would take turns seeing Joel, while the other stayed with Boots and walked him.

Stepping off the elevator on the fifth floor, Caleb almost bumped into Joel's dad reaching for a cup of coffee. Joel's mother was in a far corner reading a magazine on quilting.

"Caleb!" the older man said. "Glad you could come up here on your way home. Joel's in surgery right now. They said it would be long. They're going to put some pins in his ankle to hold it all together."

"Bad, huh," Caleb said.

"The doctors said it was a massive break, but they could deal with it here. A lot of therapy later, but he'll be okay. I heard Phil was taken on to Minneapolis. I hear he's really in a bad way. I hope he'll come out okay."

Caleb nodded. "We're going to stop in Minneapolis later today and see him. I have a lot of questions to ask him. Boy, I sure am sorry about Joel's foot. It all happened so qui‒‒‒"

Joel's mother said, "Say no more, Caleb. Accidents do happen, and they always happen quickly. It could have been any of you. We've been told we can take Joel home in a few days."

With those few words, the visit was over and the three Christians had a word of prayer for Joel and Phil.

As Caleb returned to the Jeep, he met JT coming back from a walk with Boots. "Joel's in surgery right now, T. On the fifth floor. Want to go see his folks?"

"Nah, I seen 'em before. Let's go."

Smooth as ever, Caleb thought.

On the way to Minneapolis from Duluth, the conversation drifted into personal experiences they both discovered by being so close together for the week. Days of camping, canoeing, portaging, sleeping, beautiful scenery, and suffering heavy rains brought deep thoughts and admissions out to each other in well-hidden words easy to the two friends.

JT suddenly said, "Shep, while me and Phil was alone for so long at the campsite, I told him the story of my past, and why the JT. Me and you been friends a long time. I think you should know the story. Want to hear it?"

"Sure."

It took from Hinckley, Minnesota, to the outskirts of Minneapolis for the story to unroll and stir Caleb's heart to a deeper dimension of his friendship with JT.

JT finished the story with, "Shep, as you know, this has been a big secret for a long time in town. You can tell your mom, if you want, but tell her not to tell anyone else."

The Hennepin County Medical Center in Minneapolis was a huge complex taking up six city blocks connected by overhead walkways. They found space to park the Jeep and trailer in a big parking lot behind a large church across the street.

As Caleb entered the church to ask permission to park in the lot, the chief maintenance man met him and told him his name was Doug. He said he could park there and he would be glad to watch Boots while they visited their friend.

"The entrance to the hospital is two blocks south and one block west. It's a long walk," Doug told them.

"That's good," JT said. "We need the walk. Jeeps are cramped."

The two approached a large reception desk where a young woman was on the phone, while sorting out a pile of envelopes at the same time.

JT politely said, "We're here to see Phil Kelly. Can you tell us what room we'll find him in?"

When the receptionist heard, "Phil Kelly" she dropped the envelopes and cut off her conversation on the mouthpiece of her phone. She jumped up, and with hands on the desk said, "You want to see Phil Kelly?"

"That's right," Caleb answered.

"I'll have to call Dr. Neston's office."

JT blurted out, "Who's he?"

"The Hennepin County Coroner."
Chapter 32

The Coroner? The words shot through JT and Caleb like a blast from a shotgun. In unison, "Why the Coroner? What happened?"

JT was quick to speak up with, "We don't want to see no coroner. We want to see Phil Kelly."

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. Would you please come with me."

They followed her to a small waiting room and were offered some coffee. "Shep, if this means what I think it does, you got some more God explaining to do to me – again."

In less than two minutes, Dr. Neston and his assistant, Sarah Albinson, entered the room they were waiting in. The two stood up to meet them with just one question. "What happened?"

"Gentlemen, be seated. This will be difficult." Dr. Neston put his hand out to the assistant. "Would you please explain the situation?"

She started with, "I'm very sorry. I'm afraid I have to tell you Phil Kelly did not recover from the surgery. We lost him soon after we started. He seemed to be in good spirits when he arrived here, so the paramedic from the north left to return.

"With a full trauma team in place when he got here, he was immediately prepped and taken into surgery. The three surgeons were surprised he lasted the three days in his condition, without early medical care. They all said the damage was massive. There were many more internal injuries than Dr. Peters could have known. The spleen was torn loose, and both kidneys were not functioning. Internal bleeding was everywhere, so we had a problem to deal with, before getting to any other organs."

Dr. Neston added, "We've seen several cases like this before, but there is just so much the best of surgeons can do. I'm surprised he didn't die at the campsite." Looking at JT, he said, "Just before he went to sleep, he said, 'JT took care for me at the campsite while the others went for help.' Is that you?"

Choking, JT said, "Yeah, that's me."

"Well, young man, you did well with what you had. You gave him a day or two more before Dr. Peters arrived at your camp. If he was moved or made to sit up after the fall, you would have lost him in five minutes. Everything possible was against him."

JT slumped into the chair and bent over with his head in his hands. "I shudda done more. I shudda done more. If I not so dumb, I cudda done more."

Sarah told him, "You could not have done anything more. None of us could have done any more, even with all our training. Dr. Neston is not just trying to make you feel good. You really did help your friend a lot. Neither Grand Marais nor Duluth could have handled this. He had to come to Minneapolis. The trip from the north to the cities was just too much."

Caleb stepped to JT and put his hand on his shoulder, and again felt the trembling movements of his friend's back.

After a brief moment, Dr. Neston said, "I'm sorry to press another issue on you two. There is an additional concern we have to take care of. Beyond his name and condition, the paramedic gave us little information who he was. We have no way to know who his next of kin is, or where we should send his body. Can you help us with that?"

JT looked at Caleb with raised eye brows and shoulders. "Gee, I don't know. Caleb?"

"I've no idea who next of kin would be. He was a new teacher and coach at Prairie Heights High School in Illinois. Dr. Rodger Schwind the superintendent would know better from his files."

"That's a great help." Turning to Sarah, "Would you please get on that right away?"

"Yes, I will."

When she left the room, Dr. Neston told JT and Caleb there was still one more serious issue to face.

"What's that?"

"Identification. Before we can move him we'll need a positive identification. Would you do that for me?"

They agreed with nodding heads.

The two from Prairie Heights, a few more from the hospital staff, including a chaplain, followed the doctor through a labyrinth of halls and an elevator to a floor far below the complex. In a wide tiled and cold looking hallway, there was a large window with a curtain drawn behind it.

"Wait here a minute or two, please. Are you ready? It will not be pleasant."

Again they nodded.

The chaplain asked, "Would you want me to stay, or leave you alone for a while?"

Without hesitation, JT said, "You can go. No! ... Wait."

The chaplain stepped up to JT. "Son?"

"I don't think I can do this. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault, T." Caleb tried to convince him again. "Didn't you hear what Sarah and the doctor told you? You did a good job with Phil. He just couldn't take the trip here. T, you're the tough one of our bunch, aren't you? You can do this."

JT looked at his friend for a long time. "Okay." In a totally unbelievable gesture, JT took hold of Caleb's hand.

The chaplain tapped on the window.

The curtain parted and they looked on a full length covered body of their new, older friend and coach. Sarah looked at the two and raised her head in an are-you-ready look? Caleb nodded yes.

She slowly and respectfully pulled the sheet back. Caleb and JT took a deep breath, a choke, and saw what looked like their friend asleep, and acknowledged it was their teacher/coach/friend. The chaplain motioned to Sarah that they had confirmed it was Phil Kelly.

Suddenly JT said, "Wait!"

The chaplain motioned Sarah to stop covering him up.

JT stood frozen in time and space for a few minutes viewing Phil. The chaplain put his hand on his shoulder in compassion. This time JT, deep in thought, accepted the touch.

They returned upstairs, answered more questions and did some paperwork. It was agreed Dr. Schwind would contact Phil's family and arrange for the body to be returned to Prairie Heights.

As promised, before Caleb and JT left the hospital in Minneapolis they called Regan at the outfitters and told her the sad news.

Crossing Chicago and Seventh Streets to the church, neither of them heard the traffic noises. They met Doug at the rear of the church under a large green canopy.

Doug told them, "Boots and I have just had lunch. He's been watered, peed, and pooped. Ready to go."

JT and Caleb thanked Doug a great deal.
Chapter 33

Getting through downtown Minneapolis and heading south on I35W took all the map reading and thinking the two could put together. When they left the city, there was only silence in the Jeep for many miles. The atmosphere was heavy with thoughts about Phil. Even Boots stayed quiet – sleeping.

It wasn't until driving past Faribault that the words hungry or food were mentioned at 2 p.m. Fifteen miles later at Owatonna the hunger was satisfied by another fast food stop. A burger for Boots, and they were off on the final leg of the anticipated canoe trip that turned into a tragic odyssey for the memory.

After lunch and back out on I35, JT couldn't wait to throw out the questions of the ages. "Okay, Shep, tell me more about what makes your religion so great. Why does it mean so much to you?"

With a minute of thinking, Caleb said, "You could look at a guy's life like a triangle."

Not being of the geometry type, JT had to run that through his thinker for a minute trying to come up with an image of a triangle. "Shep," pointing to his head, "you know the light bulbs up here ain't too bright. Explain that."

"A triangle has three sides. I‒‒‒"

"Gee, I know that much. What's that got to do with a guy's life?"

"Okay, let's say one corner of the triangle is a guy's physical body. Another corner is his mental abilities, and the third corner is his spiritual concepts. Most everybody has no problem taking care of his physical and mental parts of life, but they neglect or ignore the spiritual part."

"Okay, I'm one of them. I don't get the God thing."

That's obvious. "Look at it like this. A guy takes care of his physical body the best way he can. He exercises it, feeds it well, gives it enough sleep, cleans it up, and spends lots of money on making it look good, and with just the right type of clothes. He does bodybuilding to make it look good – even watches himself do that in a mirror. The movie makers show off the best bodies they can, to influence us and spend more money making it all look better. The physical point of the triangle is important.

"Got that, Shep."

"Okay, and the mental part is the same. A guy educates his mind by going to a lot of schools. He reads and thinks, and challenges his mind with others in conversations and debates. Sometimes he gets higher degrees, trying to outsmart the other guy or get a better job. Just about anybody on television tries to impress us on how much they know. The mental point of the triangle is also very important."

"That's my weak point, ain't it?"

"Not really, T. You've done that school thing and even graduated from high school. There are people you know who didn't graduate. Remember Chunks and Smitty?"

"Yeah, them was really dumb. I mean them were really dumb. Still are, I guess."

"Remember what you've learned on this trip. You now know a lot more about medical things, and look at what you learned about animals and the wilderness."

"Ya got a point there. Go on to that next corner."

"The spiritual part of this triangle is the point many people don't want to think about, or ignore, or don't think is important. So they leave it out of their lives. Now with that corner out of the triangle of their lives, what kind of a triangle do you have?"

"A dumb one. A useless one. A lopsided one. One that don't work right like it's 'sposed to."

With a smile, Caleb took his right hand off the steering wheel and punched JT in the left shoulder. "Right on, T. Right on. Just like a guy's life. Like you said, a useless one that doesn't work. A triangle without one of its corners does not live up to its purpose."

"I said a dumb one too."

"I know better than to use that word for you – in front of you."

"Well, I am."

"T, you're as good as any of us. You'll make your triangle work someday."

"Think so?"

"Know so."

While JT was back in his think-tank, Caleb said, "You asked why religion was important to me. First of all, I don't see Christianity as a religion. I see it as a relationship. A relationship between Jesus and me."

"That mean you know Jesus like a friend. Right?"

"Exactly. Remember a long time ago in your early Sunday school days you sang a song, What a Friend We Have in Jesus?"

"Yeah, back in them days before life caved in on me. I remember that song. That still be true?"

"Sure. Even though you haven't always considered Jesus your friend, He's always considered you His friend."

"Well, that needs some explaining."

"God created you in your mother and had every day of your life planned out to serve Him before you were born. That's a pretty close friendship."

"Got a big problem with that."

"That problem would be...?"

"If God has all our lives planned out, how come some of us are so messed up? Did God plan for my dad to do all the stuff he done? Got my old lady all crazy? Had me slugging it out for survival in Prairie Heights all these years? Why don't He just make us do what's right? Then there would be no problems, huh?"

"All that was not in His plans. You are not living in His will."

"Well, tell me something I don't know."

"Try this. God gave us the freedom to choose. He didn't make us like a robot or a puppet and pull all the strings. If we choose to follow Satan in all his thrills, we have the opportunity to do so. God knows this and is disappointed, but that's how He created us. With the ability to choose. Our modern culture has pushed us into thinking Satan's way is fun and exciting. We like that idea. A lot of people are not in God's will because Satan does the messing up, as you call it. As we grow up and understand Satan's game, we can choose to return to God's will."

"So you're saying the devil is real?"

"Sure is, and for some he turns daily life into one long battle."

"Sounds like my story, don't it?"

"Yeah, it does."

JT again retreated into think mode. "Well then, what's the answer? Just what's the remedy? The devil sure dumped on you when your dad died. How'd you come out of that so good?"

"Christ and His friendship covered me. I sure had a hard time with it, and yes, I cried a lot and punched things and wondered what God was doing to me. But I had the assurance that God still loved me, and things would come out okay in the end."

After a moment of staring at Caleb at the steering wheel, JT said, "Boy, you're something else. No one talks to me about this religious stuff. I don't let 'em. And here you throw it all in my face with a new angle."

"You asked me, didn't you? I just gave you the best answer I could."

The Jeep rolled over at least five miles of Iowa concrete before JT opened up again. "Sure is a lot to know about this religious ... I mean Jesus stuff."

"Not really. Do you enjoy receiving a gift?"

"Of course. But people don't gimme things."

"Salvation is a free gift. No one has to work for it."

"Sounds too easy."

"It is easy. People make it hard to understand. It's all wrapped up in two words – grace and forgiveness."

"Putting me in a religious school now?"

"No. Here's the best example I can show you. Remember when Jesus was crucified, there were two thieves with Him. Remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember that. Must have been bad dudes."

"They were. They lived sinful lives of crime. One of them asked Jesus to remember him, and the other kept up with his foul mouth. Jesus told the first thief in words something like this. 'I forgive you, and today you will be in heaven with Me.'"

"He don't deserve heaven."

"No, he didn't. He never went to church or Sunday school. He wasn't confirmed or baptized. He never did any Christian good work or even gave a dime to a church. None of that saves a person from their sins. God's grace and forgiveness are all it took for him to go to heaven. It still works like that today."

JT drifted back into think mode like he had so many times that day, and as the Yellow Fellow and trailer crossed the Mississippi River into Illinois, he asked, "Hope for me after all?"

"Always hope."

"Soooo, what you saying is I gotta forgive people stuff, and ask for God's forgiveness for my crummy life? Pretty messed up ya know."

"Your life's not crummy to God. Remember, He built you and He can remake you."

"That forgiveness stuff is hard. A lot of people dump on me."

"People dumped on Jesus too."

"What about my dad? Am I 'sposed to forgive him too?"

"Yep. You can forgive him for what he did to you."

"Well, let me think about this for a few days. Hey! You think Phil ... you know ... knew all this before he died? Why did God let him die anyway? He was a good guy."

"I don't know about Phil. I just don't know. Death came on him early and unannounced. I don't know if he ever heard what you just did. Don't wait too long to make a decision, T. You don't want to live in an I-don't-know-life or a what-if life that may have surrounded Phil."

`"So you don't know it all, huh?"

"T, of course I don't know it all."

"Can I change the subject?"

"Sure."

"What about a job, Shep? What am I gonna do about a job when we get back home? I ain't going to college like the rest of you guys."

That's what I like about my JT. Shifting gears like a race car driver.
Chapter 34

The trip was getting tiring, even for two healthy seventeen-year-olds and a dog. They had left the outfitters at about eight a.m., and with the stop to see Joel in Duluth, and the hope to see Phil in Minneapolis, it was now closing in on eleven hours ‒ with more miles to go.

Thanks to Caleb's clear answers, JT did more thinking that day than many days of his past put together. Now just being east of the Mississippi River, in Illinois, their spirits were boosted to a new fresh attitude. At Geneseo, Caleb wheeled the Jeep and trailer into another fast food stop.

"Shep, when I get back to Prairie Heights, I'm gonna go to the Red Apple Restaurant and order a real meal – maybe two. Between camping food mixed with water and this fast stop stuff, I don't want to see fake food again. I gotta have real grub sometime. I 'spose your mom will bake a cake for you."

"T, got an idea. After we rest up a day or so, come over to my place and mom will make us my favorite meal. Swiss steak, mashed potatoes, plenty of gravy, and finish it off with a fresh baked apple pie – not a cake."

"I dunno. Sounds good, though. The old lady can fix something, or I can get a bucket of chicken at that chicken joint."

"Better idea. Bring her over with you. My mom would like to meet her. She's heard a lot about you, and I'm sure she would like to meet your mom."

"You asking for trouble, Shep? Ma don't get out much with real people. She'll probably smoke you out of your own house."

"We can handle that. Come on, ask her."

"Okay, but remember, I warned ya."

At the fast food stop the two polished off a platter of small burgers called sliders, and an ample supply of fries. Boots woofed down another burger. JT looked at the dog. "I'll bet even the mutt will be glad to get home."

Leaving the food stop, Caleb tossed JT the keys. "T, take us home. Stop off at Joel's place, and we'll leave his and Phil's stuff there."

The last fifty miles of the long trip seemed the longest, going on forever. The only thing that kept them from boredom was talking about what kind of a job JT could get.

"I don't know anybody else I can tell this to," JT said. "You know school was tough for me, and you're the one that helped me through it. I took the easiest classes I could, just to stay on the football team and get school over with. I didn't set myself up for a good job or college like you other guys."

"Think of a Junior College? There's one in LaSalle."

"Yeah, I have. I know they'll take anybody – just pay the money. Dunno where any of that will come from. You know how I wasted my money and the time in high school. I'd do the same in another school. Too many girls to think about. How would I get there in the winter time? On my old Harley?"

"How 'bout the military?"

With an audible snap, JT spun his head to the right and almost shouted, "Shepherd, what kind of a hair-brained remark is that?"

Yelling at his driver, "The road, T! The road. You're driving now."

"Ma would like that. She'd say, 'Do ya some good.'"

I think she'd be right, darted through Caleb's head.

"Yeah, back to the road. How do you think I'd talk to the sergeant the first day? He'd be lucky I wouldn't slug him with an answer. Remember how I treated them referees in football? I'd be in jail – again. JT in the military? What good would I be to the country? I'd probably get some dumb-dumb job. Hey, I might end up an Army cop. See me a cop? Jens would be traumatized."

"Big word for ya, T. Okay, I heard that. No military."

"Don't get me wrong, Shep. I love this country. I really do. After what my old man done, the country done a lot for me. I wish I had more to give to Lady Liberty."

"That sounds good. Let's think of something else."

"Don't do no good to do all this thinking. I just didn't plan too good. Nobody to help me 'cept you – and that came too late."

While the job debate was going on in the front seat, Boots just watched corn and bean fields fly by in the dark with farm lights dotting the view.

"You're lucky, Shep. You're smart, good looking, got a steady girl – nice one too. A nice house and mom. You all set for college."

"Yeah, I got it all. All but a dad. Oops, sorry, T."

"That's okay. I know what your mean – no dad. We got something in common there, Shep."

The two friends glanced at each other and knuckled their understanding.

Caleb said, "Ya know, janitors at the school get good money, vacations and all that stuff too."

"I don't want to go back to that school for nothing. Schwind wouldn't let me work there anyway."

"Hey, Schwind was always good to ya."

"Yeah, he was. Hey, no school thing."

"You're not making this easy for me, T. The city? Prairie Heights always needs people in the streets and parks. The Post Office? A mail man?"

"Not a mail man. I got a reputation around town, and people wouldn't let me close to their houses. See, everything's against me."

"Trying to help ya."

"I know, I know. That's what I like about you. You the only one in town who helps JT."

A few more miles for the tires to turn and more corn and beans for Boots to watch, when unexpectedly JT said with a finality in his voice, "Garbage man!"

Caleb heard it, but acted like he didn't.

"Yeah. A garbage man – fits me just right. I was talking to Albright, which he ain't, and Tibbs about a coupla weeks ago, and they said the city is always looking for guys in that department. A lot of guys quit. It really fits me. Look, I don't need no schooling, and they show me how to throw the stuff. I can dress anyway I want, and it will keep me in shape. The smell ain't nothing new to me, and I can handle the weather. They say the pay is good and got all them benefits. That's it, Shep. I figured it out."

You sure did, friend. You sure did.

JT was so excited with his discovery that he laid on the horn for a half mile. "I got it. I got it. I'm gonna see Albright tomorrow"

"Think Jens would approve?"

"What's a parole officer got to know how I get a job? He'll be glad to see me on a job and making some money for myself. Ma will too."

The setting sun had long disappeared from the large mirrors of the Jeep as they took exit 56 off of I80 and into Prairie Heights. They drove to Joel's house, but as Joel and his parents were still in Duluth, they left all of his stuff on the back porch.

At ten thirty, in the dark, they arrived at the bottom of the long stairway to JT's apartment. Mrs. T stood at the top of the stairs leaning against the broken screen door in her usual ratty old faded robe, with a cigarette bouncing on her lips. "Well, this is a fine time to get home."

Quietly to Caleb, JT said, "That's my old lady. Still want her for dinner?"
Chapter 35

When JT got to the top of the stairs, he actually felt good to be back in the dingy apartment. It didn't take long for him to hear the words, "Go to bed, Joe."

"Gee, Ma, it's only ten. That ain't late. On the trip, we was up at all hours. Sometimes all night."

"You're back in my house now – remember? It's been a long day of worry for me waiting for you to get home."

Worried about me? She was worried about me? The hard hearted guy gave up. "Yeah, I'm kinda tired too. See ya in the morning."

The homecoming at Caleb's house was different. When he walked in the back door he was met with a full embrace of a grateful mother. "Son, I know it's late, and I heard that Mr. Kelly died on the trip. Can you tell me all about it right now?"

Mother and son drained several cups of hot chocolate and ate coffee cake while sitting at the kitchen table for more than an hour. Caleb told her about the good and the bad parts of the trip. He told her it was fun watching JT learn canoe stuff and get excited about the wilderness. "He hated the loons for waking him up every day."

Caleb told her about the rapids that almost did JT in, and the bug frenzy he endured – they all did.

When he told her about Phil's fall, the story took a sad turn. "A doctor and his sons came along to the campsite where JT and Phil were, when Joel and I had gone for help. They did all they could to help Phil. They said JT did a good job with what he had. When we heard he died in Minneapolis, it was hard on JT because he thought it was his fault. We had to identify the body. We could only give Dr. Schwind's name, so the hospital could contact Phil's family. We knew nothing more about him. I wonder how his family took it."

"Son, I'm sorry all that happened on the trip. Canoe trips are supposed to make good memories."

"Mom, I'm not finished. Joel broke his ankle really bad when we went for help. He's being fixed up in a Duluth hospital. When we got there for a visit on our way home, his folks were there. He should be home in a few days."

"Caleb, only because it's you telling me this story do I believe it."

"Mom, you haven't heard it all yet."

"Now just what else could have happened?"

"When guys spend so much time together they start to share parts of their lives with each other."

"I guess they would."

"JT told us the story of his past, why there was always a secret about him, and why we know him only by JT. Mom, what I'm about to tell you is a hard secret. But I know I can tell you. Please keep it quiet."

As Caleb told his mom the horrific story, she buried her head in her hands and started to cry. "So that's it. I remember that news story. It was really bad. I'm so sorry for your friend. He's suffered a lot, hasn't he?"

"He sure has, Mom. I was hoping we could do something for them. So on the way home, just the two of us in the Jeep, we talked a lot about things and I invited him and his mother over for dinner some day this week. Swiss steak, huh?"

His mom thought for a moment and then smiled. "That's a good place to start. We'll do that."

"Let me make the arrangements, Mom. He's kind of touchy about her meeting other people."

The next morning in the musty apartment above the Ben Franklin Store, JT and his mother sat down for their usual breakfast of cereal, coffee, and cigarettes. "Ya know, Ma, I went for almost a week without a cigarette, and I kind of liked it. I hope I can stay off of 'em."

"Will my smoking bother you?"

"I don't know yet."

"I'll try to do less when you're home."

She trying to help me? I wonder what's up. "Thanks, Ma. Maybe you should stop too. We all know smoking is bad for us."

"I think it's too late for me."

"I learned a lot this week. Stopping smoking was just one of them." He went on to tell her the whole story about the long crowded trip to northern Minnesota in the Jeep, driving into the wilderness, the beavers and moose, cold air and water that was so clear and fresh.

He went on about the unexpected rapids where he lost his footing and sank under the canoe, about the bugs and other vermin, and learning a new use for a fallen log back in the forest. Endless paddling and portages were also part of the story.

JT's mother was so interested that she didn't light up a cigarette from the one she just used. When he told her about Phil's fall, he slowed down and got serious. "I was alone with him for two days. I did all I could for him, but he was hurt so bad."

"Why did Caleb and Joel leave you with him? Wouldn't one of them have been better to have stayed with him?"

"I don't know. I never will know. I thought the same thing, but in that time I felt something new inside of me. Get this. When we was alone, a doctor from Minneapolis and his sons came along on their own canoe trip and helped him more than I did. That was a real surprise. Caleb said it was God's work."

"That God thing?"

"It made a lot of sense then. We also talked a lot about religious stuff on the long trip home to Prairie Heights. Shepherd says being a Christian is a relationship with Jesus, and not just a religion. I liked what I heard. Don't know how I'll handle it though."

"That canoe trip turned out to be a bummer didn't it?"

"Ma, I ain't done yet. On their way for help, Joel broke his ankle real bad. He was taken to a hospital in Duluth to be fixed up. They got to put some pins in it to fix it."

Shaking her head, "My son, the wilderness doctor."

"Nothing like that, Ma. Phil died when they got him to Minneapolis."

"I can't believe my son went through all that and came out okay."

"Ma, there's another thing I should tell you. When guys spend a lot of time together they start to talk about themselves a lot. Well, I told them about Dad and why the secret about us in town."

"You told them? Joe, that was never to be told!"

"I know, but these guys won't tell nobody. I told Shepherd he could tell his mom. She be okay. Ya know, Ma, maybe it's time some people knew 'bout us. I'm tired with living in a secret."

Crushing out a cigarette in a saucer, "I don't know, Joe. I don't know."

After an awkward silence, JT blurted out, "Hey, Ma, you know I ain't going to no school or college now that I'm done with high school. On the way home, me and Shepherd talked 'bout me getting a job."

"I been thinking of that, too. I talked to Mr. Stevens at the factory. Maybe he's got a job for you there."

"I don't want to work in no factory. I want to be outside and do some hard work."

"What you call hard work?"

"Throwing garbage, Ma. Throwing garbage."

"Garbage! Joseph, with our background that's just what the people of this town would want for you."

"Well, it fits me just right, don't ya think? Everybody will understand."

"Joseph!"

"It gets cold in the winter and hot in the summer. It rains and snows, the weather changes a lot. I can handle that. The canoe trip made me like the outdoors."

"I don't know, Joe. I don't know."

"Got any better idea that pays that good without any schooling – and all them benefits?"

"See what you can work out. By the way, I saw Sergeant Jens the other day. He told me he wants to see you soon. He wants to hear about the trip. He even has a job idea for you. He wants to tell you about something else too."

"Great. What I done now?"
Chapter 36

Three days after the homecoming of the voyagers, JT and his mother dressed in what had to be their Sunday best for the big night out at the Shepherd's house. JT's mother tossed him the keys to the car. "Here, you drive. I don't want to ride on the back of that greasy motorcycle."

She never done that before. "What's that in the box you bringing?"

"It's a Bundt cake I baked yesterday."

"Why you bringing that? They asked you to come to dinner. Why you bringing something?"

"It's what uppity folks do. They bring something when invited."

"The Shepherd's ain't uppity. I don't get it."

"Trust me."

Both Caleb and his mother, Michelle, were at the door to welcome their guests. Caleb introduced the mothers to each other. Michelle said, "Welcome, Mrs. ... T. I guess I should call you Mrs. T. That's all I've ever heard about your name."

"Call me Harriet." She then handed the cake to her.

Michelle said the usual response, "Oh, you shouldn't have."

In JT's mind, the words, I knew it. I knew it.

The Swiss steak and all that went with it was a big hit to JT and his mother. The meat was so soft JT found he could cut it with the fork. After his second helping and while reaching for thirds, his embarrassed mother put a stop to his eating binge.

Caleb said, "That's okay, Mrs. T. I mean, Harriet. I'm going to have some more myself."

JT added, "This is really good, Mrs. Shepherd. The food on the trip was okay, but nothing like this."

"I'm glad you like it, T. That's all I've heard you called." To Harriet she said, "I like to see the boys eat well. They keep active and wear it all off in time."

"Mrs. Shepherd..." Harriet started.

"Call me Michelle."

"Okay. I understand you probably know by now the story of our past. The boys talked about it on the trip."

"To be perfectly honest, Harriet, I have wondered, but really it's none of my business so I never tried to find out. But is there something I can do to help you? I'd like to know. It must be a huge burden for you to carry."

"It sure is. I know it's been hard on JT. I live in fear of what would happen if others find out. The early days after my husband's arrest we were living in a nightmare. The nightmare still follows me at times. I don't know how to handle it after all these years. JT's dad and I really loved each other."

Harriet paused, seeming overcome with emotion. Then she took a deep breath and continued.

"We had such a good life before ... well, you know. Part of me still loves him. I guess that's why I didn't change our name like the officers said I should. Even so, I don't ever want to see or hear from him again. They keep him so deep in some prison, but there's something I just can't let go of. I see a part of him in JT every day. The way he looks and walks. It kind of scares me. Oh, listen to me. I'm getting carried away."

Visibly ashamed and embarrassed, Harriet started to choke up. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Shep.... I mean, Michelle. It's just that it's been so long since I've ever talked about it to someone. My close friends at the factory don't even know. They all think there's something weird about me."

JT sat stunned while listening to his mother talk about the past. "I ain't ever heard that stuff, Ma."

Touching her arm, Michelle said, "Harriet, I'm so sorry. Maybe you should talk to someone – a counselor maybe?"

"I don't trust 'em. I couldn't afford one anyway."

"Ma," JT said as he pushed his chair closer to hers, "after I told the guys on the trip, I felt a relief. Caleb and Joel won't tell nobody. I know Phil won't tell. Oops, that was a dumb thing to say. Sorry."

As the dinner finished, the two women had found a new friend, and the two fatherless boys a closer relationship. At ten p.m. and much more conversation laced with the delicious Bundt cake from Harriet, the evening ended.

JT had an appointment with Sergeant Jens, his parole officer. They met at a table far back in a corner of the Dawg Hause Restaurant at exit 56 on I80. Being filled with strangers and all their busy chatter, it was easy for the two to talk.

"Eat up, T. This meal's on me."

"You mean the county, don't ya?"

"Can't put one over on you, can I? Tell me all about the trip. All I know is Caleb is leaving for college, and Joel just got home with some kind of an ankle problem. What's that all about?"

"How much time ya got?"

"I want to know what went on in the week you gave me off."

"Ya like that?"

"It was okay, but I kind of missed you."

Missed me? People missed me? "Ya hear about Coach Kelly?"

"Yes, I did. So sorry for his family and friends. I met Dr. Schwind the other day, and he told me."

"That's a story in itself."

"Start with the rest of the trip."

For over an hour of burgers, fries, and shakes, JT unloaded about the whole trip. The long and crowded trip to Minnesota in the Jeep, Caleb's dog, learning the canoe thing, life in the wilderness ‒ and how different it was than living in the dingy apartment downtown.

"Boy, Minnesota is out of this world. Nothing like Illinois. We saw real beavers and some moose just walking around – no cages."

JT dragged on about the cold fresh and clear water, the early morning loons, and the usual line about how to use a fallen log. Not ever having enough food was another point he made clear.

"A fantastic story, T."

"Yeah, it is. I don't know why them guys asked me to go with them, but I'm glad they did. Now, about Coach Kelly. We had a good time with him until the fourth day. He fell off a branch onto a flat rock and really hurt himself. Caleb and Joel went two days for help, and I was left with Phil.

"We talked a lot and got to know each other. He really couldn't move at all and I saw a guy in a lot of deep hurt. I felt sorry for him. I did all I could. While we was alone for the two days, I told him the story about Dad and why I'm known only as JT."

"Sure you should have done that?"

"I felt a lot better after I did. Anyway, a doctor on his own canoe trip with his kids tried to help, but the flight to Duluth and then Minneapolis was too much for Coach. He died. What a bummer. Somehow I think him dying is partly my fault."

"I'm talking to a different JT than I knew two weeks ago. Let me get to something else. Now that you're out of school, and by the way, congratulations on graduating, there were some times I had my doubts."

"Didn't we all? I graduated mostly because of Shepherd's help. He didn't have to do that, but something made him help me. Ya know both of us got no dads? Another thing, don't go looking for a job for me. I got one."

"You do? Like what?"

Proudly, JT said, "A Prairie Heights Sanitation Engineer."

"A what?"

"A garbage man, Sergeant. A garbage man."

"I was thinking abo‒‒‒"

"Let me go on. Andy Albright ‒ another one of your charges – told me two weeks ago that the department is always looking for guys on the trucks. I'm gonna see him and one of the other guys tomorrow on their lunch break. The job fits me, don't ya think?"

Sergeant Jens looked stunned by the way JT had seemed to take hold of his life. "Glad to hear that, T. I have something else to tell you before we break up this little time. Comfortable?"

"Yeah, why do I gotta be comfortable? Boy, you're just full of things to talk about."

"You won't see this coming."

"After last week, I can handle anything. Try me."

"How'd you like to visit your dad?"
Chapter 37

Suddenly there wasn't a sound in the place. JT could not hear anyone talking, walking around, or the dishes rattling. Silence bore down on him like a vice. He could see Sergeant Jens' mouth move, but didn't hear a word. His vision grew dark and he felt dizzy. He grabbed the edges of the table to keep from falling off the stool.

"T, are you there? Did you hear me?"

Leaning into the sergeant's face, JT asked, "You just ask me if I wanted to visit my dad?"

"I did."

After more silence, and a long stare out the window, JT sputtered out questions like a shotgun. "How can that be? I didn't think he could have visitors. You tell Ma about this? Where in the country is he? Why do you think I'd want to see him? He want to see me? Who brought this dumb idea up? How do I go to where he is?"

"All good questions, T. Let me try and filter them out one by one. I think your first question was how can this be, and who came up with this 'dumb' idea?"

"Yeah, right. A dumb idea."

"Want me to go on?"

"Yeah, go on."

"Chaplain Sprowl from a super max prison in Colorado contacted our department and asked me to talk to you. Your dad and the chaplain have become friends. It's the chaplain who came up with the idea. He received permission from the prison board."

"Does Ma now?"

"No, your mother doesn't know about this. Your dad asked to see you. I don't know why your mother wasn't asked. It's up to you to say if you want to follow through with this. If you do, I'll make the arrangements. It can be done in one day, and any time you want. We'll meet here again on Thursday. Let me know by then."

"You right, I didn't see that coming. After a bomb like that you just say, 'See ya next Thursday' – huh? I might have a job by that time. I can't just ask for time off right away."

"Let me handle that. It could be done on a Saturday. Remember, don't tell anyone. This is up to only you."

The two left the restaurant and JT jumped on his motorcycle. Leaving a pile of oil and fish tailing, he laid down a single skid mark in the parking lot as he headed to I80 and a long fast ride west to the Quad Cities to clear his head.

When he arrived back in Prairie Heights, he drove right to Caleb's house like the sergeant told him not to. "Can you believe this, Shep? My dad wants me to visit him ‒ and Jens says it's all up to me."

"Wow, what do you think this is all about? How long has it been since you've seen him?"

"Gee, I don't know. Let me think." JT counted the years on his fingers. "Nine years, Shep. Nine years. Ma ain't seen him in that time either. I wonder why Jens didn't let Ma in on this."

"Do you want to see him? That would be my first question."

"This came up so fast I don't know what to think."

"You don't have to come up with an answer today, T. Do what Jens told you to do. Think about it, and I would ask him to let your mother in on this so she can help you figure it out."

The next day JT, Andy Albright, and Rocky Polson, his fellow garbage thrower, met for lunch outside another fast food place in town.

Andy said, "On these hot days we don't go inside. They want to bring the food out to us at these tables. They don't like our smell in the place ‒ and we don't like the smell of each other anyway!"

They told JT about the job and that there would be an opening in a few days. He liked what he heard, especially that there was no school to learn the job, no money to be paid out first, and any training would be on the job. The fact that it paid well also made him a happy camper.

That afternoon, JT went to the superintendent of the city employees to fill out the application. When it came to the place for his name, by habit he just put down, JT. "Just JT?" the superintendent said.

Before JT could come up with an answer, the man said, "JT's okay. We all know who you are. But the government will want to know your Social Security Number, which includes your last name."

"Can you keep a secret? My name is Joseph Thruarpa."

Without batting an eyelash, the superintendent said, "So what's the secret?"

"Oh nothing. Just a secret of mine."

JT called the next meeting between Jens and himself. "I can't keep this from Ma no longer. Come over to our place and talk to her about it."

JT and his mother sat still and silent on the old saggy couch in the stuffy apartment. The sergeant explained it all to her.

Her first words were a quiet, "I've wondered for a long time if this day would ever come. Joe, do you want to see him? That's the question."

"I think I do, Ma. Sergeant, what about her?"

"That's okay," Harriet suddenly said. "After all these years, I still don't think I'm ready to face him."

After an hour of talking it over, JT came up with, "Okay, I'll go see him."

Sergeant Jens stood up. "Good. I'll get hold of the chaplain and make the arrangements. No hurry here. It will take a week or so."

Monday morning a week later at 5 a.m., a groggy JT walked into the city barns at the north end of town and met his new friends. Andy Albright introduced him to the two crews working the trucks.

"My first question," JT said, "why do you call this place the city barns? I don't see no horses."

One of the older workers, a driver, answered him with, "Goes way back to the days when horses were a part of the job. We just a lazy bunch and never changed the name."

With the coffee and doughnuts finished, they went to the streets just at dawn. When JT caught the fresh warm air of the early July morning, he said. "This ain't bad. Feels good."

"Tell me that in January," Albright threw back at him. He continued with, "After ya dump the garbage into the hopper, set the cans back on the yard. Don't throw 'em. The seniors don't like that, and the office gets phone calls. You'll see all kinds of stuff that tells you what the people in this town are like. You'll see what they eat, drink, and play with. Don't pick anything out. It's all trash. It just goes to the transfer station. Don't collect things."

"So why are you telling me that?"

"Because some new guys get carried away with looking through the stuff. That takes time and we all want the days to get over with. Besides, it's against the law."

A week later, JT, Harriet, and Jens were back in the apartment. "It's all set up and cleared with whoever it has to be. All accept the date. Oh, by the way, they said you could bring a friend if you wanted to, so you wouldn't be alone."

"That would be Shepherd, of course. If he can get out of school for a day."

"This can be done on a Saturday."

"All the way to Colorado and back?"

"Sure, we'll fly from Chicago to Denver and be back in the evening."

"You know I'm eighteen, but ain't ever been flying. I don't like that part of the idea."
Chapter 38

Sergeant Jens and the Prairie Heights Police Department pulled every string, wrung out their networks, and called in all their "I owe ya ones" for JT's trip to Chicago for an 8 a.m. flight to Denver. At a selected spot on I55, a Chicago Police car met them and escorted them to a private parking lot at Midway Airport.

With a name of Thruarpa, the Chicago Police Officer helped them through the TSA security check then on to the waiting area at their gate. While waiting, JT said, "That all went good."

"Don't expect all that help again. Next time you have to join the line, like we all do," Caleb whispered to him.

When boarding and finding their seats, JT again ran his mouth off with questions. "Can I sit by the window? How many people on this thing? Crowded, ain't it? How fast does this go and how high?"

JT broke out in a cold sweat when he heard, "About five hundred miles an hour, and thirty thousand feet or so."

"I don't like it. I don't like it. I can't see what's ahead, and I got no control over this, do I?"

Caleb assured him, "It's all normal. We just have to trust the guys up front."

"Not normal to me." Looking at Jens, he went on with, "Sure I couldn't have done this on my motorcycle?"

His only answer was a smile.

The doors were shut and the jet was pulled away from the gate. After a slow taxi to the runway, the new flyer said, "That wasn't too bad. Why are we waiting now?"

"The pilot is waiting for clearance from the tower that no one else is in our way."

"There's other planes around us?"

"All normal"

"Yeah, yeah. All normal."

The engines roared to life, pushing the craft forward and JT back into the cushion of the seat as his whole body took flight. JT's left hand buried itself deeply into Caleb's right knee. A gasp came from the new flyer's mouth. "Jens, I'm walking home."

Caleb again said, "All normal. All normal."

JT just nodded his head in short quick jerks. When the jet banked for a turn soon after takeoff, JT had second thoughts on this whole thing. To top all that off, at about ten thousand feet the pilot backed off the power to the engines after climbing to a specific altitude, and almost sent him into a coma.

He mumbled under his breath, "Normal. Normal." He didn't want to look out the window, but he couldn't help it. Later he asked, "How high you say we are?"

"Now, somewhere around thirty thousand feet."

"That's around six miles high! That all normal too?"

"Nice job. You figured that out fast."

"Hey, I might be slow on a lot of things, but not math. No total dummy here."

Caleb and Jens looked at each other with grinning faces that said, "Ever knew all this could come from a new flyer?"

Soon JT settled down, but twitched at every bump and jerk the plane made. "It looks like we're moving slow. Look at them roads and the towns. I still don't like it."

"T, shush. People are starting to look at us. They're laughing."

"Okay, okay, this is really kinda cool after all. Jens, I'll fly back home."

"Glad to hear that."

Touching down at Denver brought on a new string of, "It's normal" stuff. Out the window things moved closer and faster. Touching down with a bounce gave JT a little hope of having survived the flight. But the engines getting louder, the flaps in all directions, and hard braking pulling JT forward against the seatbelt, finished a day of terror for Caleb's friend. "Okay, you two. That's all normal, huh?"

"Sure. Some people do this every day."

"They're nuts."

The three took a shuttle to the car rental area where Jens had a car waiting for them.

They headed out of the airport to Denver then I25 south to Colorado Springs. During the drive, JT suddenly became quiet. Jens turned to look at him. "Why so quiet, T? Ever see scenery like this before?"

There was no answer. JT just gazed out the window.

"T, did you hear him?" Caleb asked from the back seat.

"Huh? Huh?"

"Sergeant Jens asked you if you like the scenery. Nothing like Illinois is it?"

"No, nothing at all. Hey, can this trip be called off? I'm not too sure about it now."

"I don't think so," the sergeant said. "A lot of people have gone out of their way and to great expense for you. They're even protecting you from the media. What's the problem?"

"You guys know I spent some days in jail myself, and I don't like the idea of going to another one. I remember the smell and all the noise. Besides, after nine years I won't know what my Dad looks like, and I sure know he don't know me."

"He will, T, he will," Caleb said reassuringly.

JT didn't look convinced. "And another thing. After all these years in prison, can you imagine what he looks like? He's either skinny, or real fat. When I see him he'll be in handcuffs and chained to a table. I bet he'll be bald and have a ratty beard, self-carved in-prison tattoos all over him, and smell like a dog. His clothes will look like he's been sleeping in 'em for a week."

Caleb reached from the back seat touching his shoulder. "You don't know that for sure. Why set yourself up for the worst?"

"I don't know. I seen them prison movies."

"All prisons aren't like that," Jens said.

As they approached the fortress, Caleb watched JT's eyes scan the high walls, guard towers, and razor wire. "I'd be in a joint like this if it wasn't for you two."

After checking in and being searched at different gates and doors, the three were escorted through long halls and many rooms. They saw no prisoners, the place was quiet, and smelled clean. The guards talked to Sergeant Jens and Caleb, but ignored JT. Caleb heard his friend whisper, "I'm used to it."

Chaplain Sprowl and the assistant warden met them in a small visiting room with several doors around the walls, with narrow slits in them for windows.

"Young man," the chaplain said, "this visit was all my idea. Your father and I have come to know each other in a special way."

"Well, let's get this over. I don't think I'm gonna like what I'm gonna to see."

The chaplain replied with a smile, "You'll be surprised by what you'll see. Guard, the door please."
Chapter 39

JT's heart skipped a beat or two when he saw the guard sink a key into the lock on the door. As it swung open, he saw a man sitting at a table and two guards standing behind him.

When the five entered, filling up the room, JT's gaze fell on a slender, well-built man. He was tall, had a full crop of wavy hair white as the driven snow, and clean shaven. He was dressed in crisp and clean denim clothes, a new pair of white cloth shoes, and no tattoos.

Silence surrounded the group waiting for someone to break it. A quivering voice said quietly to the young man standing in front of the group, "You must be my boy."

JT stood still, frowning. Then, "Yeah, I am. Are you...?"

The man just nodded.

Again, the chaplain said, "This visit is all my idea, and with the cooperation of the administration we stand here today." He went on with introductions of those from Prairie Heights.

To JT's continued surprise, his father stood up to shake his hand. No handcuffs, no shackles, and no sudden movement from the guards. A tentative handshake quickly turned into a gripping embrace from the prisoner, not readily returned from JT.

After another long silence, the assistant warden said, "Gentlemen, let's leave them to each other."

Everyone, including Caleb and the two guards left the room.

Caleb said, "No one to watch them?"

One of the guards said, "There's a video camera on them. This is the only door. There are six of us, and more locked doors. They're not going anywhere."

The chaplain added, "Just being with Mr. Thruarpa for the past few months showed me there's no violence in him."

Jens said, "I'm surprised there are no handcuffs or shackles."

The assistant warden said, "I know this is hard to believe, but it's up to our discretion how to handle a prisoner. Mr. Thruarpa has always been cooperative with us and has never shown any signs of escaping. From his own law enforcement background, he has completely accepted his fate. To be honest, he's the only one in here we trust. I wish we could put him on some cleaning detail or gardening crew and let him have a few minutes of freedom a day. He'd like that.

"He has mentioned many times how much he loved the outdoors. Policy prevents us from getting him out. A rare situation in this prison. After his lawyers were finished with him, they and everyone else walked out of his life. He's not had a visitor until today.

"Besides, where would he go? How many walls, fences, how much razor wire, doors, gates, halls, guards, cameras, check points, or elevators did you walk past on your way down here? He wouldn't know what direction to run. If he did get out, people outside still remember his name and what he did. He wouldn't last a day."

The six men found chairs in the waiting room and settled in for an undetermined amount of time. The visit was to be on JT's terms.

Behind the locked door, Joe Sr. spoke first. "Is that really you, son?"

JT just nodded.

"Stand where I can see you, Joe ‒ my son. I'm sorry I don't talk so well. I haven't had a conversation with anyone in years. Rule is the guards just lock and unlock doors – no talking. I'm treated like a non-person. I might be in a cage like a rat, but I've made up my mind I'm not going to live like one.

"It's like hell down here. With no windows, I never know what time of day it is. The only clue for me is what's on the plastic tray of food. If it's a long time between the food, it must be night time. I haven't seen a sunset, a squirrel, people, or even a pile of dirt in years. I haven't seen a tree, river or lake either. That really hurts. I loved the outdoors. The loneliness is what kills a guy. I can imagine some are found dead from just giving up. No group sessions to share feelings. It's like hell alright, except in one way ‒ it's clean. Other prisoners do all the cleaning."

"That must be a hard way to live."

"Hard in other ways too, Joe. The cell, what I call home, is a box of reinforced concrete only eighty-four square feet. Walls, floor, and ceiling all poured concrete. The sink, toilet, chair and table and even the floor I sleep on is all the same. I've lost my sense of color in here. Everything is gray. The only comfort is a three inch foam mat to lie on. That's gray too.

"I'm only a few miles away from one of America's most beautiful sights – the Rocky Mountains. I haven't seen them since the day I got here, nine years ago. I can't even see the sky. This whole place is built like that to prolong the punishment I deserve so well. I used to love the outdoors. I fear that in the end my brain will be crushed just from thinking of what used to be."

JT started to speak, but his father shook his head.

"Let me go on, son. I have to get this out of my system."

JT nodded his head.

"You hear prisoners talk about how they feel the walls closing in on them? In here, it's the skull that crushes in on us. My heart ‒ hard as a rock that it was ‒ or what's left of it ‒ has been broken too many times to count.

"I get out of the cell for one hour a day. Of course I don't know time of the day it is or what day of the week it is. Some guys just sit in the area and continue to waste away. I make use of every minute I have. I run and jump as much as I can. I use the weighs and bars to lift and pull on. I do anything I can to make my blood run."

JT interrupted him with, "It shows. You look good for being in here."

"Nice to hear that. I don't hear any compliments. You look strong, son. You go out for sports? For wrestling?"

JT shook his head. "I tried that wrestling gig, but I don't like rolling around on the floor with big sweaty guys. I only went out for football. I did it mostly to have a reason to hit guys and throw 'em around. They all seem to hate me. It's a way I can work out my aggression without beating up on somebody. I gotta admit I got an attitude."

"I'll bet that all comes back on me. Sorry to carry on all about myself. It's just that I have no one to talk to. No one understands."

"I'll try."

"Tell me about yourself. Now you've graduated, you going on to college or some other school?"

"Nah, I can't sit in no more school. I got a job for the city, working outside in all kinds of weather. Nobody thinks it's a good job, but I like it. Been doing it for two weeks."

"And what would that be?"

"Collecting garbage."

Joe Sr. sat back in his chair. "Garbage collector? Is that the best my son could do? I never would have thought of that. It would be better than in here – right?"

"It fits me just fine. Like I said, it's all outside, I can use my strength, talk the way I want to, and wear what I want ‒ as long as it's under the yellow vest. It's really working out good. I guess I'm using that attitude like you – just making the best of things."

Joe Sr. closed his eyes, perhaps trying to picture his son at work. "Keep going, son."

"After graduation, me and three other guys went on a wilderness canoe trip in the BWCA. I saw a part of the wilderness and country I never thought there was."

The prisoner spoke up with, "Like I said, I haven't seen a tree or lake for over nine years, except in a book. I can't even have a poster of a lake on my wall. Just concrete gray."

"I could send you a calendar of twelve pictures of canoes and lakes."

"A calendar? What use would I have with a calendar?"

"Sorry. Dumb thing to say. About our canoe trip. One of the guys died because of an accident on that trip. It turned out to be more than a nice vacation."

"Son, I did one of those when I was a young man, and I often thought of taking you on one."

"I remember you telling me about that. It would have been nice."

"A lot of things would have been nice."

"Can you do anything other than look at concrete walls?"

"I can read, thank goodness. I read anything they'll let me read. I like books on animals, travel ‒ the only view I get of the outside – biographies, and history. History only up to the time I was arrested. I have no idea what's going on outside. I don't even know who the president is."

Joe Sr. got up to stretch his arms and walk around. JT flashed a look at the door thinking someone would rush in ‒ no one did. "Let me show you something." The older man turned away from JT and lifted up his shirt.

JT saw a horizontal scar in his back. "How'd you get that? A fight?"

"No. Remember, I'm alone in here all the time. The scar is from donating a kidney to some kid in Milwaukee. I've donated gallons of blood over the years and lots of bone marrow. I'll never get out of these doors, and I want to give as much of myself back to society as I can ‒ if anyone wants a part of me. People won't know who the parts come from anyway. What's left over can be cremated and sent to you to do with what you want. I've found my resting place. I'll be glad when it's all over."

"I don't know what to think."

"How's Harriet? How's she doing? I miss her so much. We had a real good life going till I messed things up."

"You sure did. She doing okay. She works in a local factory and they don't know what her last name is. Whatever friends she got give me the creeps. She's had to become tough I guess."

For a moment – only a moment ‒ the two were talking about life and people like a normal father and son. One look at the walls and that moment was over.

"Son, what makes me survive down here is a friend I found."

"A friend? Here? You said you can't talk to nobody."

"Yeah, I have a friend in Jesus."

Standing up quickly, "Who?"
Chapter 40

(Last Chapter)

Just as Joe Sr. said those words and JT jumped up, Chaplain Sprowl opened the door. "Did I interrupt? You want more time?"

"Yes, we do. This is the only time I'll have to talk with my boy."

The door was closed respectfully, but still with a rock-solid click.

"Son, after you've heard me tell you how terrible this place is, I want to tell you I've found peace in here ‒ and more important, peace in my heart."

Looking around at the cold and stark surroundings, JT said, "How? I'd go out of my mind in here."

"A lot of guys do. It thins out the population with no expense to the state. That's a cold way to say it. You can see cold is a way we think and talk around here. But I have actually found a friend in Jesus. Joe, I discovered that Jesus is a friend for sinners. I fit right at the top of the sinner list."

"I don't get it. I don't get it. Why would Jesus care for you, after what you done?"

"He cares for everyone – even you, son. I told you I read a lot in here, and in the years I've read about a lot of the religions of the world and modern day cults trying to find answers to my place in life. The answer is simply that the Christian faith is the only true and honest one. Anyway, it's not a religion. It's a relationship."

"That's what Caleb told me on the canoe trip."

"Who?"

"Caleb, my friend out there in the waiting room."

"Get this, son. There is only one word that the Christian faith offers that none of the other 'religions' as you call them offer ‒ it's grace. Marvelous and wonderful grace. Grace is something good that we don't deserve. And it's free. Absolutely free! Once we really repent of our sins, the Lord doesn't treat us like our sins deserve. Yeah, even mine."

JT slumped in his chair and ran his fingers through the long hair shaking his head.

Joe Sr. continued. "I know what I did to those kids and their families. I deserve this place and the lowest level in hell. If I think about it, my brain would explode."

Reaching up to grasp JT's shoulders, the older man said, "Son, I don't know what sprung in my head when I did all those things. Some demonic obsession must have seized me. At times, I don't even remember doing some of the acts I was accused of. It's a horrible feeling, not knowing what one does. The evidence proved that I did it. That's all the jury needed."

JT frowned. "Go on. Maybe I need to hear this."

"When Jesus died for me on that cross so long ago, He knew He was forgiving Joe Thruarpa from his awful sins. When reading about all those theologies, I jus‒‒‒"

"Theology? Big word for me. What's it mean?"

"Religious stuff, son. Too much of it. It all comes down to this: Jesus saves us from our sins."

"Sounds all too simple."

"It sure is. But God operates in simple ways. People make it all so difficult."

"How'd you get on to all this?"

"One day, Chaplain Sprowl started to tell me about Jesus. I could tell he was stumbling over the correct words he should say. Words that would be politically correct here in the prison. I told him to forget all the rules. What do guys in prisons care about rules anyway? That's why they're all here in the first place. Give it to me straight. He did. Now I understand it."

Grabbing JT by the wrists, with the desire to tightly embrace him, the older man burned his eyes into JT's, and said, "Son, if I leave just one good thing behind, I want to know my only son is a believer in Jesus."

"Make any difference?"

"It makes all the difference in the world, son. It will make your life count for something, and all who follow you. They let me have a Bible in here and I read it a lot. Ezekiel, a prophet in the Old Testament said, God speaking here, 'I will give you one heart and a new spirit. I will take from you your hearts of stone and give you tender hearts of love for God.' He did that for me and He can do that for you."

"You memorized that?"

"I've memorized a lot more. That one's important for you to know."

Again JT slumped in his chair and stared at the father he never knew. He's committed the worst of crimes. He messes up my life and Ma's. He's living in a cage. He'll die right here. Everybody in the world hates him. Now he tells me to believe in Jesus."

"What you thinking about, son?"

"Too much. Why don't you write a book? You got a good story here, and you got the answer too."

"I don't think I have much time left. Besides, who'd read a book about Thruarpa?"

"Can the others come back in now?"

"Sure. But first, promise me you'll think and act on what we just talked about."

JT nodded slowly. "Okay ... yeah ... yeah I will."

The others entered, filling up the little room. Silence again covered them all. To break through the stillness, the chaplain said, "Did you folks know Joe Sr. has given one of his kidneys to a young man?"

"Yeah, he told me about that," JT said.

"Did he tell you about his future plans?"

JT shook his head. "Tell the others."

Caleb thought, Future plans? Does he have a future?

The prisoner nodded for the chaplain to continue. "Joe has offered any part or parts of his body to be harvested for anyone who needs them when he dies."

"I sure won't need them." Joe Sr. broke in with, "The way it will work is that when I'm about to die – whenever that will be – I'll be taken to a Denver hospital. When Jesus takes my soul, the doctors can have the rest of me. I'm told many different parts can be used for lots of people. After that, what's left of me can be cremated. I'll be with my Lord."

The end of the visit was dictated by the timing of the return flight to Chicago. All shook hands and left the room, leaving the two Thruarpas to have their final words.

A hard handshake quickly turned into a solid embrace where two hardened hearts became like broken stones and felt compassion for each other. JT scanned his father's tear-filled face for a moment. Compulsion moved him to gently kiss his father on the forehead.

He turned quickly, and left the room.

On the flight back to Chicago, JT never stopped looking out the window silently, from takeoff to landing.

Jens said to Caleb, "What do you think is going on in his head all this time?"

"It would take a greater man than me to know that. It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment for them. I hope he tells me someday."

"Knowing you two, I think he will."

As Sergeant Jens unlocked the doors of the car for the ride back to Prairie Heights, JT opened the rear door, almost shoved Caleb into the back seat, and said, "Okay Shep, time to finish telling me about your Jesus."
Epilogue

Three days after school started in the fall term, Dr. Schwind conducted an emotional memorial service in a packed gym for Phil Kelly. Phil's parents and extended family were present, as well as JT, Caleb, and Joel. When Caleb explained the situation to everyone and mentioned that JT, alone, had helped Phil a great deal in his final days, a respectful soft applause was heard.

JT did become a believer – and a good one – although always a bit rough around the edges. Two years into his career as a Prairie Heights Sanitation Engineer, he met the one who was to become the other half of his life. Ursula Banks lived with her sister in the Maple Grove Trailer Park on the west edge of Prairie Heights.

She was as outspoken and expressive as JT, and shared his Christian faith. They met at the dumpster where she always made herself present at the time of his pick-up. She was typically dressed in tight faded cut-off bib overalls revealing her thunder thighs. Six months later they were married, and a year later gave birth to their only child – a son – Phil.

JT's father remained in the super max prison for the next six years where the confined, solitary life finally brought on his death. His last three days were spent in a Denver hospital, under guard. Chaplain Sprowl arranged that his room faced west where he could finally see the Rocky Mountains.

After his death, everything that could be harvested from his body was done as he requested, then he was cremated. JT received the ashes and, with Caleb, traveled to the BWCA the next June where he spread the ashes into the winds of Lake Koma in JT's quiet cove.

JT simply said, "He always wanted to return here."

Caleb and Joel went to different universities, then to Lincoln Law School in Chicago. They returned to Prairie Heights where the partners opened their law firm, Shepherd and Brady, across from the Soldiers and Sailors Park. They both married their high school sweethearts and together raised five of the next generation Blue Tiger football players. For the rest of his life, Joel walked with a pronounced limp.

Steve Brock, son of the governor, went to Illinois State University in Normal, Illinois and became a teacher/coach back at Prairie Heights. It was often said Coach Fisher ran a tight ship under harsh rules, but when Steve became head football coach, he could have showed the old coach some tougher ones.

Boots lived to be eighty-four years old in human years and was laid to rest in Caleb's back yard.

More Books by Roy Swanberg

Because He Cares

Paperback only: ISBN 978-1508675075

Because He Cares reminds us that "inside the walls" dwell men and women who are in need of the love and grace of God that cannot be shut out by concrete and steel; lives that should not be ignored or forgotten by His Church.

Rev. Bruce R. McVety, former Illinois Department of Corrections chaplain

What an amazing story of love, truth, choices, and consequences. This book shows us how much God loves us regardless of our past. There is redemption and victory in Jesus Christ. Roy, your faith and imagination convey God's grace and mercy in this book. Thank you for your inspiration. When the bottom of life falls out there is a God who cares. Well done faithful servant! KLM, Illinois

Roy Swanberg's writing is captivating and believable. I was personally moved as the story developed and individual characters were touched by the message of personal forgiveness and the loving grace of God. This is fiction based on cutting edge realism. Swanberg's writing is strong and delivers a solid message. RHB, Michigan

An excellent tale told by a sensitive obviously wise and very capable author. The story grabs you and holds your attention. Really a hard one to put down. The author writes with a true sense of passion, lacing together situations that hold you in suspense while you read toward that ultimate outcome. Does he find his way or ...? Highly recommended for avid readers! RS, Illinois

Jason's Promise

Paperback only: ISBN 978-1468-1258-6-3

In front of a campfire in the boundary water canoe area of Minnesota, Marc Greene confesses his past sins to Jason, his twelve-year-old son. In the innocence of youth, Jason promises he will avoid the sins of his father. Marc warns him that the heavy promises he makes now will be difficult to keep in the tough years to come.

Just a year later Marc is killed in a helicopter accident and Jason is forced to rebuild his life without his Christian dad in the fragile years of adolescence. Is Jason able to keep the promises he made to his dad at age twelve when he comes up against temptations in high school and college?

You probably don't know a kid like Jason Greene, but he exists somewhere beyond this story. You'll come to love Jason; can't help it. It's a heart-warming and easy to read story with conflicts, failures, and victories. "Just a pleasant and touching book." You'll cry and laugh through Jason's Promise – enjoy. Jason's Promise is a good book for any young person struggling with a major life crisis (parents' divorce; death of a parent or sibling; natural disaster etcetera).

Roy Swanberg has an unusual ability to write to the pre-teen and teenage readers' ability to relate to and understand situations and circumstances beyond what that age group normally experiences. This book can be helpful, empowering and encouraging to a youngster in need of compassion and understanding.

Tom Ziglar, proud son of Zig Ziglar

Jason's Promise II

Paperback only: ISBN 978-1480-0920-9-9

After conquering wilderness and mental challenges on a canoe trip in the Minnesota/Canadian boundary waters area, Jason returns home to another crisis in his young life.

Going off to college he discovers that the temptations in high school were small challenges compared to those he faces in college. The time comes when Jason finds himself in the same trap his father did. Will his early promises hold, or does the new generation morality justify such liberties?

When Jason suffers a crippling injury and the death of someone close, can he keep the enthusiastic Greene spirit alive? Is there anything JT can teach him? And will law school bring disaster to his life?

"The Jason's Promise series is tantalizing. The dialogue is natural. Testimony clear. I will pray for its impact."

Dr. David L. Larsen. Former senior pastor of First Covenant Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Jason's Promise III

Paperback only: ISBN 978-1468-1258-6-3

The promises twelve-year-old Jason Greene made to his father on that canoe trip fourteen years ago were hard to keep as he grew up. In high school the promises kept him in moral check. In college they were more difficult to live up to.

Jason's life has always been an emotional rollercoaster full of unexpected and surprising events. Jason's Promise III, Fulfilled, continues to push the emotional ride to both extremes.

Is it still vital for Jason to keep those promises now that he is in law practice and politics? When pressures and opportunities to conform to the world grow heavier as he attains high political office, are those old promises still important? Does Jason ever wonder why he made those promises?

"This series is so close to reality it makes the reader wonder if it is really fiction. The flow of your book is very good. Your book is enjoyable and worthy reading."

Rev. Jamie Morrison

Executive Publisher – Books By The Bundle

Sons of Jason: Return to the Vern River

Paperback only: ISBN 978-1720305477

After high school graduation, Jason and three friends canoed the Vern River in northern Minnesota. One of his friends nearly died on that expedition. Now, twenty-seven years later, six sons of Jason and his friends return to the Vern River to claim their own victory over the wilderness. Had the Vern River changed? Did the newbies find the river easy, or had modern lifestyle made the river more challenging? Do members of the Presidential Secret Service go on a wilderness canoe trip just because the sons of the president want to?

Starting in the family quarters of The White House and ending in a hospital in Duluth, Minnesota, Sons of Jason, Return to the Vern River, could make or break anyone's plans for a canoe trip in Minnesota.

The Other Two Crosses

Paperback only: ISBN: 978-1544886077

"The crowd is shouting that you're the Christ! If that's so, save yourself and us too!"

In suffocating gulps of his final breath, the other thief shouted, "Shut up, David. You a disgrace to your good name. Me and you are nailed here because we deserve it. This man done nothing wrong." A moment later. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

"Gustavo, listen to me..."

"How'd you know my name?"

"Listen to me. This very day you will be with me in paradise."

Who were these two other young men on the crosses? What were their lives like? What brought them to their deaths next to Jesus? Why was one thief and murderer sympathetic to Jesus in the last minutes of his life and the other demanding? Where did Barabbas fit into this story?

Endorsement

Written through the eyes of the two thieves crucified next to Jesus, we see how two men were brought to a decision about Jesus at the end of their troubled lives. There are points to ponder and profound new insights that can be gained from no other people in Jesus' day. Well-researched and accurate in detail, you will indeed find much to consider in this excellent new book, The Other Two Crosses.

Dr. Walter Elwell: Emeritus Professor of New Testament

Wheaton College Graduate School, Wheaton, Illinois

Writing in Retirement

Paperback only: ISBN 978-1530485345

Upon retirement many people feel the desire to write with a passion, but often come up to a brick wall, like, "Roy, you have to write fast ― you don't have much time." That was shocking advice from a mentor in a writers' course. In the following years I discovered what he meant.

In retirement, urgent is a word to deal with. It takes time, education, and solitude, getting to meet a new brand of people, and facing rejection, rejection, rejection. I started my race among a field of accomplished authors when I was sixty-five. I had to learn all aspects of composition, publication, and marketing. I went from that wicker chair on the porch to a desk with a computer. Writing in Retirement presents some difficulties a new writer faces, but also exciting rewards and new beginnings. Is it really so different? It's really different!

I invite you to an exciting project few others have stepped into. This is my journey into Writing in Retirement. I hope it helps you.

Roy Swanberg's attitude is, the older you get, the more you have to write about. In this book, he shows folks how to capitalize on those life experiences.

Dr. Dennis E. Hensley

Author, Pseudonym

About White Tree Publishing

White Tree Publishing publishes mainstream evangelical Christian literature for people of all ages. We aim to make our eBooks available free for all eBook devices, but some distributors will only list our books free at their discretion, and may make a small charge for some titles ― but they are still great value! All our books are fully typeset. No "photocopies" or bad OCR. So check for our name, White Tree Publishing, before downloading! Long sentences and paragraphs are broken into shorter lengths, and modern punctuation is used for easier reading. Many books are sensitively abridged, but in all our books no doctrine or teaching is changed. The full list of published and forthcoming books is on our website www.whitetreepublishing.com. Please visit there regularly for updates.

More Christian books from White Tree Publishing are on the next pages, some of which are available as both eBooks and paperbacks. More books than those shown here are available in non-fiction and fiction, for adults and younger readers. For more details of each title and cover photo, and the full list of published and forthcoming books is on our website www.whitetreepublishing.com. Please visit there regularly for updates.

We rely on our readers to tell their families, friends and churches about our books. Social media is a great way of doing this. Take a look at our range of fiction and non-fiction books and pass the word on. You can even contact your Christian TV or radio station to let them know about these books. Also, please write a positive review if you are able.

Christian non-fiction

Christian Fiction

Younger Readers

Return to Table of Contents

Christian Non-Fiction

All our books are in eBook format only, unless otherwise stated

Secrets of Happy Home Life

JR Miller

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-16-2

Be Still

Bible Words of Peace and Comfort

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-4-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

Four short books of help in the Christian life:

Chris Wright

Leaves from My Notebook

William Haslam

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-2-7

Haslam's Journey

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

Previously published 2005 by Highland Books

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

Building From the Top

William Haslam

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-12-4

So, What Is a Christian?

An introduction to a personal faith.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-2-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-2-7

Starting Out

Help for new Christians of all ages.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-0-2

Paperback ISBN 978-1-4839-622-0-7

Help!

Explores some problems we can encounter with our faith.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-1-9

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9927642-2-7

Running Through the Bible

A simple understanding of what's in the Bible.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-3-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-6-5

The Gospels and Acts

In Simple Paraphrase

with Helpful Explanations

together with

Running Through the Bible

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-9-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-0995454958

English Hexapla

The Gospel of John

(Paperback only)

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-1-8

A Previously Unpublished Book

The Simplicity of the Incarnation

J Stafford Wright

Foreword by J I Packer

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-5-7

Paperback ISBN: 9-780-9525-9563-2

Bible People Real People

An Unforgettable A-Z of Who is Who in the Bible

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-7-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-5-6

Christians and the Supernatural

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-4-0

Paperback ISBN 13: 9-780-9525-9564-9

The Authority and

Interpretation

of the Bible

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-9-6

Psalms,

A Guide Psalm By Psalm

J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN 978-0-9957594-2-8

Howell Harris

His Own Story

Foreword by J. Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-9-5

Roddy Goes to Church

Church Life and Church People

Derek Osborne

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-0-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-09927642-0-3

Heaven Our Home

William Branks

White Tree Publishing Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

I Can't Help Praising the Lord

The Life of Billy Bray

Chris Wright

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-01-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-00-1

Blunt's Scriptural Coincidences

Gospels and Acts

J. J. Blunt

White Tree Publishing New Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-5-8

From the Streets of London

to the Streets of Gold

The Life Story of

Brother Clifford Edwards

A True Story of Love

by Brother Clifford Edwards

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9933941-8-8

I See Men as Trees, Walking

Roger and Janet Niblett

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-1-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1508674979

Fullness of Power

in Christian Life and Service

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

R. A. Torrey

Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-8-9

Faith that Prevails

The Early Pentecostal Movement

Home and Group Questions for Today Edition

Smith Wigglesworth

Study Questions by Chuck Antone, Jr.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-4-1

Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends

Musings on Life, Scripture

and the Hymns

Marty Magee

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-1-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Twenty-five Days Around the Manger

A Light Family Advent Devotional

Marty Magee

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-1-0

Also in full colour paperback

ISBN: 978-1-4923248-0-5

The Christian's Secret

of a Happy Life

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-6-6

Every-Day Religion

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-0-9

Living in the Sunshine:

The God of All Comfort

Hannah Whitall Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-3-0

Evangelistic Talks

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-7-8

My Life and Work

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-4-7

Real Religion

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-10-0

As Jesus Passed By

Gipsy Smith

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-05-6

The Lost Christ

Gipsy Smith

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-20-9

Rifted Clouds

Bella Cooke

All Three Parts

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-08-7

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-09-4

Deeper Experiences

of Famous Christians

James Gilchrist Lawson

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-15-5

A Series of Books and Booklets from Lin Wills

Seven Steps to Walking in Victory

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-3-5

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Keys to Unlock Your Calling

Lin Wills

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-2-3

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Prepare for Revival

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-21-6

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Reasons to Pray

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-24-7

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Reasons to Forgive

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-35-3

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Truths About Worship

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-33-9

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Know Your Identity

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-37-7

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Overcome Fear

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-41-4

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Know God's Voice

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-52-0

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Live in His Presence

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-62-9

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Know God's Guidance

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-67-4

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Seven Ways to Go for More

Lin Wills

e-Book ISBN: ISBN: 978-1-912529-68-1

Also available from the author as a printed booklet

Return to Table of Contents

Christian Fiction

The Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romances are brand new!

Tall Men and Strangers

Lizzie Lewis

An Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance #1

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-48-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-54-4

Poetry and Mayhem

Lizzie Lewis

An Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance #2

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-49-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-55-1

Cake and Calamity

Lizzie Lewis

An Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance #3

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-50-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-56-8

Ghouls and Jewels

Lizzie Lewis

An Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance #4

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-64-3

paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-63-6

When it Was Dark

Guy Thorne

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-0-3

A Gamble with Life

Silas K. Hocking

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-42-1

The Lost Lode

Silas K. Hocking

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-45-2

The Scarlet Clue

Silas K. Hocking

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-53-7

Rex Raynor ‒ Artist

Silas K. Hocking

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-60-5

The majority of the following books are Victorian classic romances that have been sensitively edited and abridged for today's readers.

Keena Karmody

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-5-4

Hazel Haldene

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-8-5

Rollica Reed

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-6-1

The Secret of Ashton Manor House

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-11-7

The Mystery of Grange Drayton

Eliza Kerr

White Tree Publishing Edition

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-912529-22-3

Gildas Haven

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-7-2

Amaranth's Garden

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-6-5

Rose Capel's Sacrifice

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-3-4

Una's Marriage

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-5-9

Miss Elizabeth's Niece

Margaret Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-7-3

Silverbeach Manor

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9935005-4-1

The Clever Miss Jancy

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-9-7

Freda's Folly

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-02-5

Sybil's Repentance

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-04-9

Sister Royal

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-03-2

Iona

Margaret S. Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-14-8

The Lady of the Chine

Margaret S Haycraft

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: ISBN: 978-1-912529-19-3

The Lost Clue

Mrs. O. F. Walton

White Tree Publishing Edition

A Romantic Mystery

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-2-6

Doctor Forester

Mrs. O. F. Walton

White Tree Publishing Edition

A Romantic Mystery

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-0-2

Was I Right?

Mrs. O. F. Walton

Abridged Edition

A Victorian Romance

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-1-9

In His Steps

Charles M. Sheldon

Abridged Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-9-6

Paperback ISBN 13: 978-19350791-8-7

A Daughter of the King

Mrs Philip Barnes

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-8-0

Stepping Heavenward

Elizabeth Prentiss

White Tree Publishing Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-23-0

A Previously Unpublished Book

Locked Door Shuttered Windows

A Novel by J Stafford Wright

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9932760-3-3

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9927642-4-1

Return to Table of Contents

Books for Younger Readers

(and older readers too!)

The Merlin Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-2-7

Paperback ISBN: 9785-203447-7-5

The Hijack Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-6-5

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-0-5

The Seventeen Steps Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-7-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-6-7

The Two Jays Adventure

The First Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9954549-8-9

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5203448-8-1

The Dark Tunnel Adventure

The Second Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-0-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5206386-3-8

The Cliff Edge Adventure

The Third Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957594-4-2

Paperback ISBN: 9781-5-211370-3-1

The Midnight Farm Adventure

The Fourth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-9997899-1-6

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-5497148-3-2

The Old House Adventure

The Fifth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-07-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-06-3

The Lost Island Adventure

The Sixth Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-17-9

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-18-6

The Black Lake Adventure

The Seventh Two Jays Story

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-28-5

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-27-8

The Hidden Room Adventure

The Eighth Two Jays Adventure

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-39-1

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-40-7

The Holy Land Adventure

An Adventure Book

with optional puzzles

(Some are easy, some tricky, and some amusing)

Gold Medal Winning Book!

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-36-0

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-34-6

Mary Jones and Her Bible

An Adventure Puzzle Book

Chris Wright

The true story of Mary Jones's and her Bible

with a clear Christian message and optional puzzles

(Some are easy, some tricky, and some amusing)

eBook ISBN: ISBN: 978-0-9933941-5-7

Paperback ISBN 978-0-9525956-2-5

Pilgrim's Progress

An Adventure Puzzle Book

Chris Wright

A similar format to Mary Jones

with optional puzzles

(Some are easy, some tricky, and some amusing)

eBook ISBN 13: 978-0-9933941-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-6-3

Pilgrim's Progress

Special Edition

The original story retold

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-8-8

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-7-0

Zephan and the Vision

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9932760-6-4

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-9-4

Agathos, The Rocky Island,

And Other Stories

Chris Wright

eBook ISBN: 978-0-9927642-7-2

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9525956-8-7

Please visit our website www.whitetreepublishing.com for full details on all these books, and their availability.

Return to Table of Contents

