1937


The new owner of the property was due to arrive anytime so Mickey was having one more walk around the area. He was going to miss this place.


Especially the little family of raccoons that he would often share his precious bread crusts with. He walked to the log on which he usually enjoyed his lunch and took a long look around.


"What am I going to do next, Rascal?" He held out a small crust in order to coax out one of his little raccoon friends.


Rascal slowly approached and gently took the crust.


"Sorry, little fella, but I'm not going to be around anymore." He took out a freshly rolled cigarette courtesy of Flynn.


Rascal munched his bread.


"I hope you watch over this place real good. I got lots of good memories here." The wind picked up and howled around the treetops. "There's just something special about this place, Rascal. I don't know what it is, but I respect it. And I think it respects me. If these woods wanted to chew a man up and spit him out, they could. This is pure nature up here, Rascal. Mother Nature is bigger and stronger than us men."


Mickey reached into his pocket and pulled out a second crust.


"This is all I got left, Friend," Mickey held the second crust out for his little furry companion. Rascal accepted this second portion happily.


"I never did get to explore the mountain as much as I'd have liked," Mickey looked toward the road. Their camp was almost all the way up the mountain. Further down, there was a second, smaller camp that had only briefly been used a few years back.

There simply weren't enough loggers to merit using both campsites, so they all stayed at the one further up.


But when the men would sit around the campfire at night, passing cigarettes or maybe even a little moonshine, there were stories about a massacre down there. And of course that meant ghosts. Lots and lots of angry, evil ghosts.


Mickey chuckled at the memory of those ghost stories but was soon brought back to earth by the faint sounds of a vehicle off in the distance.


"I guess that's them, Rascal," he said as Rascal scurried off into the bushes. "You take care, ya hear?" He whispered after the raccoon. He quickly brushed away the small drop of warm saltwater that had just escaped his eye.


He put his hand back in his pocket for a second cigarette when he got an idea.


Reaching for his pocket knife, he walked back into his cabin and sat down on his bunk. He opened the knife and then began to cut into the wall next to where his head rested each night.


"Take care of Rascal and always love your Mama." He carved.


He had never forgiven himself for not being there when his own mother passed; he'd give anything to see her again so he felt like that was sound advice for whomever was going to occupy that space next.


And of course, he wanted to make sure that his furry little bandit buddy would be taken care of as well.


The vehicle sounds grew louder before coming to a stop.


Mickey could hear Lewis greeting the newcomers.


"Welcome home, Sir. I hope you will enjoy this place as much as we have over the years."


"Thank you," a heavily accented man's voice answered back. "I apologize for having to displace you and your men."


What accent is that? Mickey had never heard it before.


He walked outside to join Lewis and Flynn who was already there too.


"This is our youngest crewmember, Mickey Reed, Mr. Stanislav. Mickey has been with us since he was just 15 years old." Lewis patted Mickey on the back, with pride.


Mr. Stanislav extended his hand. Mickey graciously accepted, giving him an extra-firm handshake.


"Oh, that is some grip, young man!" Mr. Stanislav looked impressed. "I have gifts for you three. Please, is there somewhere we can be seated?"


Lewis directed them all into the dining room of the main cabin, where they sat.


Mr. Stanislav's driver brought in a large box and placed it on the table.


"I am very sorry for interrupting your work. I am but a humble immigrant who happened to inherit a large sum. It is my dream to have properties so that I may help other immigrants. In doing so, I have displaced you all." He opened the box.


"That's how it is, anymore," Lewis answered. "No hard feelings on our end, right men?" he looked over at Mickey and Flynn.


"No sir," they both muttered, even though that wasn't entirely true. Mickey still didn't know where he was going to go or what he was going to do.


"I hope this will make it right," Mr. Stanislav handed each man a large stack of bills.


Their eyes widened. Mickey had never seen so much money in his life!


"But sir!" He said, unsure as to how to proceed.


"I insist," Mr. Stanislav pushed the stack into Mickey's hands.


"You don't have to tell me twice," Flynn chimed in, happily taking the cash.


"Sir, this is very generous," Lewis finally spoke, his eyes wide like a child's.


"We appreciate all the work you've done to ready this camp for us. It is truly the least we can do." Mr. Stanislav's eyes twinkled.


"It's getting late," Lewis said, looking out the window. "We'd better get a move on if we want to get down the mountain before dark."


"I'll grab my gear," Flynn said, heading out the door. Lewis followed.


"Oh, yeah, me too," Mickey said, turning to follow Flynn.


"Young man, wait," Mr. Stanislav interjected. "Down the mountain, in the town, there is a new bank. My company owns it. If you want a job, you walk in there and tell them I sent you. Your handshake showed me that you are a man of integrity."


"Sir, I don't know what to say," Mickey was shocked. "I never thought someone like me could work at a bank."


"Anyone can do anything they want," he patted Mickey's shoulder. "I am proof of this."


Mickey was still smiling as he sat in the back of the truck on the way back down the hill.


He woke up that morning both jobless and homeless but now everything was going to be okay.


Mickey turned to watch the woods disappear out of sight before leaning his head back for a little nap before arriving in town. He'd need to be well-rested for his new career, after all.