Ten year old Jimmy Skidmore could hardly wait to get the family loaded up and on their way out of town. School had been out for two weeks, and he was ready to get started with real life. Twelve year old Ruthie came running out to the car with Peter the cat in her arms.
"Mother," she called, "can we take Peter with us too? He'll get lonely if we leave him here. Please?"
Mother stopped shifting bundles for a moment to look at the black cat with the white chin. That cat always looked like it had just finished a bowl of cream. And she'd swat it good with the broom if she ever found out it had.
"That cat will be just fine here, Ruthie," Mother said. "If we take him up to the canyon, a coyote or mountain lion will get him for sure."
"Oh, I'll look after him, I will, Mother," Ruthie pleaded.
"Suit yourself. Make sure we have the baby's things. Every¼one else make sure you have your own things, and let's go."
Jimmy checked again for his fishing pole, tackle, pocket knife and satchel of clothes. He jumped in the car with his older brother, Hank. Ruthie jumped in the seat too, with Peter in a basket. Art wriggled in between the packages. Mother got in the front, holding Dave on her lap. Dad folded down the roof of the big Buick touring car, then he climbed in behind the wheel, and they were off to Logan Canyon.
Every summer that Jimmy could remember, the family packed up their things and went to live in the canyon. There they could relax in the cool canyon breezes that never seemed to reach their regular home in the town of Logan, Utah. Mother and Dad had built a one room cabin next to the river. The wood siding came up four feet from the ground. Above that were screens that went up to the roof. There were shades you could roll down over the screens for privacy. When Jimmy was five, they built the main cabin. It was much bigger. It had a fine brick chimney that leaned to the right just enough to miss the center beam of the roof. It had a separate kitchen and a big porch on two sides. Ruthie claimed the woodshed for her dolls and kept it just as tidy as Mother kept the main cabin. Jimmy didn't mind much where he slept as long as he got to the river by dawn to fish.
Even though the camp up Logan Canyon was only seven miles from their home in town, it seemed a world away. In the canyon, there was time to sit and dream in the dappled light of the aspens, time to chase the flying cotton from the cottonwood tree by the kitchen door, time to make necklaces for his sisters out of joint grass and berries. Ruthie always liked the ones made out of red berries. Sometimes they would take one made of green and black stripes to their oldest sister, Katie, who worked in town. This year they would have to make a special one for their sister Louise, who had just married last month. They went back to town every weekend to tend the garden, do errands and go to church. But as long as the weather stayed warm, they lived in the canyon from Monday until Friday afternoon.
They all had their chores to do to keep things running smoothly, but somehow the chores were more pleasant in the summer woods than in the winter. Jimmy's job was to haul the water. With five children and a cat going up this time, he knew that Mother would need lots of water from the spring. So, he stashed his gear in a corner of the cabin, found the water pitcher in the kitchen, and headed for the spring. He walked down the road, swinging the blue and white enamel pitcher back and forth, remembering the feel of its metal. He turned the bend in the road and walked through the elderberry bushes and sage to the "eddy." The river widened here, turned, slowed, and whirled. It was his favorite place to fish. Later in the summer, when the river was lower, he would launch his whittled birch bark canoes into the slow water by the sandbar and watch the tiny ships make their way ever faster toward the white water in the center of the river.
The spring was just a few yards from the river's bank. He cleared out the stone pool he and his brothers had made to catch the spring water as it bubbled from the ground and down the small stone stairway. The pool was as big as a washtub. The pitcher was too awkward to dip in the pool, but he could scoop up the water with a dipper and pour it into the pitcher. Back and forth he dipped the water from the little pool to the pitcher, which probably held one and a half gallons of water. Sometimes Jimmy wished it was smaller, it was so heavy when it was full. By the time he had sloshed through the bushes, back down the road to the cabin, and into the kitchen, it was only half full anyway. Mother usually sent him back for more.
Jimmy went to bed early that first night, because he knew he would be up before dawn. He slept quick and deep under a heavy quilt, with only his nose out in the mountain chill. The river rushed loud outside the window all night. It was never so loud in the daylight.
"Jimmy! Are you coming?" Hank whispered in his ear. Jimmy was awake at once, reaching for his pants. In the dark he found his fishing gear, and he and Hank slipped out the kitchen door as quietly as they could.
They walked down the familiar path to the "eddy" to start fishing. By dawn, Hank had caught three rainbow trout. Jimmy had caught two. They cleaned the five beautiful rainbows and carried them home for Mother to fry for their breakfast.
She was up by then and had the fire in the stove lit. Art came stomping in. "Hey! Why didn't you wake me?" he asked as he picked up a pole and headed out the door.
The boys shrugged off his discontent. They knew Art would be back with his breakfast fish before they had finished eating theirs. Even though he was only six and a half years old, he seemed to have the best luck in the family when it came to fish.
Jimmy ate his fish slowly, savoring the crispy buttered edges. As he picked out the bones and put them on the plate in the center of the kitchen table he planned his day. First he'd dig worms for more fishing. Then he'd see what he could catch before lunch. After lunch he'd get Hank to help him string up the hammock right on the edge of the river. Maybe he'd go for a hike before dinner and fish some more after they all ate. Mother would want more water. He could fit that in somewhere.
"Jimmy. I want you to get more water right after you finish eating," Mother said.
"Yes, Mother," Jimmy replied, licking his fingers as he slid off his chair. "I'll get it right away."
Jimmy grabbed the pitcher and dipper, pushed the wooden screen door open, and went out into the morning light. The birds made a racket in the trees overhead as he walked. How pretty the trees were in the morning. Maple, birch, pine, cottonwood, box elder they seemed like old friends along his familiar path to the spring. He stopped to look at the wild rose bush. It wasn't quite ready for June yet but there were one or two buds he could take to his mother. He put the flowers carefully in his pocket and went on to the spring.
When he got to the spring he put the big pitcher on a rock, knelt down and began to dip water from the pool to the pitcher. Soon the pitcher was full. But just as he began to pick it up, he heard the rattle of a snake. He dropped the pitcher and ran. He scrambled up the path, kicking up a rock. It struck him on the ankle. Surely the rattlesnake had struck him a fatal blow. He screamed for help.
Meanwhile, Hank had returned to the nearby eddy to catch more fish. Hearing Jimmy holler, he ran through the brush to find out what was wrong. He spotted the snake a few yards away from Jimmy, picked up a rock, and smashed its head. When the snake was dead, he turned to Jimmy. They looked all over his ankle and couldn't find the bite. Jimmy calmed down.
That afternoon, Jimmy thought about his brother Hank as he lay in the hammock over the river's edge. Jimmy was embarrassed that he had panicked over the rattlesnake. But he sure was grateful that Hank had come so quick and killed the snake. He was glad he had big brothers.
He listened to the river rush cold and quick over the rocks by the river bank. Suddenly, he remembered his lost tooth. He got out of the hammock and began looking through the rounded pebbles caught in a shallow pool at the water's edge. There were all colors of rocks: pink, gray, white, speckled. Somehow he still hoped he could find the tooth he had spit there several summers ago. He had been eating an apple in the hammock when he thought he bit into a small rock. He spit it into the pool, then realized it was his own tooth. It surprised him because he had never lost a tooth before. He looked for that tooth many times but never found it.
Willie walked down to the hammock and asked, "What are you looking for, Jim?"
"Oh, nothing," Jimmy shrugged, embarrassed again. "Why are you here? I thought you were staying in town this time," Jimmy said to his oldest brother.
"Well," Willie said, "You know my old bike? I haven't been using it that much. Dad lets me drive the car now. And since you turned ten this week, I thought you might like it. I brought it up for you."
"Really? You mean it? That would be swell, Willie. Thanks!"
It was a real nice bike. Its big heavy tires gave it lots of bounce. The frame was light; that made it fast. It had once been a racing bike, but its heavy tires now made it possible to ride on all kinds of roads and paths.
Jimmy bounced out of the water and started to run up the hill to the cabin to tell Mother. Halfway up the path he stopped and turned back to Willie.
"I can have a paper route now, even in the summer!" Jimmy exclaimed.
Willie smiled, "It's a long ride down from the summer camp to town and back."
"Oh, I can do it," Jimmy said and ran to tell Mother.
Mother and Dad said he could have a paper route. Jimmy was pleased. Every day that summer and for several after, he fished until noon, ate lunch, did chores or hiked. At 1:30 p.m. he peddled the seven miles down the canyon to town. It took him about an hour to get to his route, half an hour to deliver the papers, and a little longer than all of that to go back up the canyon to the cabin. He loved his job and decided to be the best paper boy he could. He learned to throw the paper right on the porch most of the time. Once in a while, he could even get it under Mr. Felix's screen door that was too short for the door frame. He became so fast that he could deliver 150 papers in 30 minutes.
All that bike riding made him stronger for the July competitions too. He had always done well in the Cache region races. One year he won the grand prize of a tricycle in the Junior League. This year he was able to win the Junior pentath¼lon for the third time.
Before he was ready, the leaves in the tops of the mountains started to turn to gold and the days grew shorter. It was time to lock up the camp and move everything down to Logan. Ruthie had been looking all morning for Peter the cat, who was nowhere to be found. Finally, everything was packed and it was time to make the last trip down. Ruthie was heart broken about leaving Peter, but there was no where else she could look. Jimmy felt sorry for her. As they bumped down the dirt road to the main highway, he tried to comfort her.
"Peter is a tough cat, Ruthie. He'll be all right. Remember when that squirrel bit him on the jaw and he swelled up? We all thought he would die that time but he got better."
Ruthie patted his knee silently to thank him for the effort.
Dad added, "I've heard of cats finding their own way home. Maybe he'll show up on our doorstep anyway."
"It's a long ways to walk," said Art. "I don't think he'll make it."
"We'll just have to wait and see," Mother said. "There isn't much else we can do."
Ruthie slumped in her seat and watched the trees blur together out the window.
When they got to the white house in town, the ¼family was very busy unpacking and cleaning the house. That next week was a busy one also because the garden was bursting with carrots, potatoes, and onions to be dug and stored. The last of the beans needed to be picked. The tomatoes were in their prime and needed to be canned. They worked hard to get the harvest in before school started in another week. The days were cooling quickly. Ruthie had just about given up hope that Peter would find his way back home. He had been missing for two weeks. She went to bed very sad.
That night, Mother heard a sound at the kitchen door while she was washing up the dishes. She opened up the door, and there sat Peter, very thin and very dirty. Mother looked at the tired animal for a minute. Then she went to the ice box and got out the cream.
The information for this story came from an interview with James Burnham Skidmore in the summer of 1987. All of the incidents, the snake, the stone pool, the tooth, the cat, are true to his best recollection. I took the liberty of placing them in the same summer, though they probably took place over a span of years. The cabin is still used for family vacations, the dipper and pitcher are still stored in the kitchen, the stone pool and spring are gone, but the eddy is still a favorite fishing spot. Hank, Jim, and Art still love fresh trout for breakfast.