To Build A Shipt - Don Berry Read online

  "You're a dead man, Ben," Vaughn said with infinite melancholy. "Just a matter of time. Look there for yourself. She wants to fall right down on your cabin."

  I think there was something wrong about Vaughn when it came to trees falling down, I think it weighed on his mind or something. "Now listen, Vaughn," I started; "we can just-"

  He wasn't listening, he was speaking thoughtfully and low. "You get your cabin built, Ben. It's warm and comfy, right? And the sunshines in your window, and you lean on your elbows and look at that tree. You get used to it. There you are, a month, two months. Pretty soon you take that tree for granted out there. ‘My funny old tree,' you think to yourself. Maybe you wonder a little about it from time to time, but you tell yourself you're just imagining things. Then one night there's a storm. You got your fire up good, and you're warm and snug and happy, thinking how comfortable you are when there's all that terrible weather hawlin' around outside. You're just snuggling down into your blankets. You hear a little ‘crack,' but you say to yourself it's just the wind. You put your head down again. You're just dropping off, sleepy, sleepy, and—BANG!"

  He slammed his hands together, making us jump, and destiny thundered through the roof of my cabin, crushing it into splinters and pinning the lifeless bloody corpse of me to the floor. It was a horrible way to go.

  "Course, it's up to you, Ben," Vaughn said sincerely. "I mean, it's your tree, after all."

  So, in spite of the fact that I have always been more frightened of the present than the future, we cut it down.

  Vaughn looked triumphant as he sighted along his arm. "We'll lay her right down that little alley there. You're going to have to be careful with your notch on this'n boys."

  "That ain't where she wants to go," the blond giant said. I had not realized until this moment he could talk. He worked well, but the rest of the time, when Vaughn was explaining something, he just stood around with his hands on his head looking up at the sky. Now he felt he had said too much, and he blushed with embarrassment.

  "That's where the skill comes in," Vaughn said. "Listen, I got a plan."

  By his plan, we tied a line high up on the tree, and ran it out in the direction we wanted it to fall. We pegged it down, and cut our perfect notch. When she began to weaken, somebody jumped up on the line, tipping the tree in the right direction for a starter. After that she'd go right on her own. It seemed wholly unreasonable to me, but Vaughn said he'd seen professionals do it like that in difficult cases.

  "Wait a minute," I said. "Then the tree falls right on the guy that's doing the pulling."

  "He runs, Vaughn said. "Soon as he sees her coming, he runs. He's got plenty of time to get clear."

  "Who's going to do it?" Little Sam said, obviously worried about the lack of precision in the whole operation.

  "We'll worry about that later, first we got to get the line up there."

  There was a stony silence from the crew. You could hear the breakers over the hill.

  "Well, come on," Vaughn said impatiently. "I'm too heavy for climbing, I'd be better for pulling on the rope. Or—Sam,.would you rather do the rope pulling part?"

  Sam shook his head miserably. "No, but I don't—"

  "Hup we go, then," Vaughn said cheerfully. "Good boy, Sam." He had, with typical foresight, brought a coil of rope.

  We tied one end of the rope to Sam's belt in the back. Then the big blond man and I hoisted him up on our shoulders, giving him enough height to reach the first branch. His foot was about six inches lower on my side, but there was no help for it.

  He was shaking noticeably, Sam was, either from the uneven support or some inner disturbance. Finally he got a good grip on the first branch and hunched himself up to it. He turned around.

  "Don't turn around, Sam," Vaughn encouraged him. "Climb!"

  Sam climbed. He climbed very well and speedily in fact, dragging the rope behind him and looking like a monkey on a string.

  "Don't go around branches? Vaughn called. "You get her tangled up."

  "Wel1, I got to go around some of them," Sam hollered down. By this time he was about thirty feet up. After a moment he added, "Vaughn, I don't think you know what you're doing." I guessed that thirty feet must be the range of Vaughn's personality, and Sam had passed out of the magic circle.

  "Don't grab the plow and look back!" Vaughn said.

  "Push on!" Turning to me he added confidentially, "Sam's got no confidence, is his trouble."

  Finally Sam called, "I ain't goin' no higher, you g`uys."

  He was well up now, fifty feet or better.

  "Ten more feet, Sam!"

  "No."

  Vaughn sighed and shrugged. "All right, tie her off, then."

  Sam straddled a branch and began to untie the rope from the back of his belt, leaning his forehead against the trunk. He was very small, so high up, and we couldn't see what he was doing clearly. At last he finished, gave the line a couple of good yanks and called,"That's it."

  For the first time he looked down at us. He poised that way for a long moment, straddling the limb, and suddenly grabbed the trunk with both arms.

  "Sam," I called, "what's the matter?"

  "Nothin'."

  "Well, come on down, then," Vaughn said.

  Sam didn't answer for a minute, and his voice sounded strangled when it filtered down to us.

  "I can't."

  "Are you scared, Sam?" I asked him.

  "COME ON DOWN, SAM!" the blond giant hollered in an enormous voice.

  "I can't."

  "He's froze," Vaughn said. "That's what they call it, froze. It's a kind of fear a guy gets up high. He's froze up there, he can't move."

  "Well, that's all fine, what they call it," I said. "But what the hell are you going to do?"

  Vaughn shrugged. "Nothin' to do. Case like that, you just wait till he thaws, is all. Have a bit of a smoke."

  He hollered up to Sam that we were going to have a smoke and wait for him to thaw. We lit up and sat with our backs against trees, thinking it over. Sam perched over our heads like a ripe plum, which I suppose was how he felt. Once in a while somebody would call up,

  "How you feelin', Sam?" and he always said "All right," but he never started down.

  "How long can he stay up there?" I asked. "I mean, when a man's froze like that, how long does it take to get un-froze?"

  "Well," Vaughn said hesitantly, "that depends. But listen, I got a plan. I figure, only way to bust a scare. like that is with a worse one."

  It made me a little uneasy. "That don't sound right to me."

  "Well, what have we got to lose?" Vaughn said reasonably.

  "Little Sam," said the blond giant, almost under his breath.

  "Now listen, Joe," Vaughn said. "Just you don't worry about a thing. Trust me, I got a plan."

  "Joe?" I said, startled. I had not caught the big man's name before. "Are you Joe Champion?"

  He seemed embarrassed, but nodded.

  "God, I been wanting to meet you," I said. "Say, listen, do you—" I broke off sharply. Lord, I'd almost blurted out did he hang by his knees in his tree and look around, the way I had it in my mind.

  "Do I what?"

  "Do you, ah, do you like it around here?"

  "Ben,"` Vaughn said impatiently, "What's the matter with your mind? You got a mind like a grasshopper."

  "Yeah," Champion said thoughtfully. "I like it pretty well, I guess."

  "I like it pretty well, too," I told him.

  "Listen, you boys, I got a plan, and I'm going to give her a try, all right?"

  Without waiting for an answer he picked up an ax and went to stand under the tree looking up at Sam.

  "Sam!" he hollered. "I'm sorry, but we can't wait any more." He hefted back the ax and took a good swing.

  The bit thunked into the tree, making it quiver.

  "VAUGHN!" Sam screamed.

  "What?"

  "DON'T CHOP ME DOWN!"

  Vaughn took another swing, very well placed, and a little tr
iangular chip came popping out of the cut.

  "VAUGHN, JESUS, DON'T DO IT ANY MORE!"

  Sam's voice had a funny note in it, like he was crying. Vaughn leaned over and picked up the chip, sniffing it appreciatively. He threw it over to us. "Smell that, boys, that's pretty." He looked up in the tree again. "Sam!" he hollered. "You better come down."

  "I'M COMING!"

  Unfortunately he didn't start fast enough to suit Vaughn, who swung the ax again determinedly.

  "DON'T DO IT, I'M COMING! DON'T CHOP ME ANY MORE!"

  And by God, Sam started down. We almost held our breath for him all the way. Vaughn walked hack to Joe and myself and sat down, plunging the ax in the dirt. We were a little in awe, but Vaughn seemed to take it for granted that his plan would work; he was neither surprised nor particularly elated. He sighed contentedly and wriggled against a tree, scratching his back.

  When Sam reached the ground he was pale and shaking. "Vaughn," he said, "Vaughn, you shouldn't of done that. God, you scared me so bad."

  "Sam," Vaughn said patiently, "it was for your own good, now. You come down, didn't you? There's no telling how long you'd of been up there without that. I mean, maybe all night, even, you wouldn't want that. Cold, the rain comin' down. Cettin' hungry, holdin' on for dear life, just tryin' to keep your eyes open. Gettin' sleepier and sleepier, what with being so hungry and tired like that. And along about the middle of the night, you'd start drowsin' off. just a little, maybe, you start drowsin' off and then—BANG!"

  We jumped, Sam toppled off his branch and crashed down through the thick tangle of limbs, crushing his head on one, breaking an arm on another, until by the time he thumped into the ground with that terrible dull sound there was no more than a feeble spark of life to be extinguished. In the night small animals came to sniff the crumpled corpse.

  You really had to hand it to Vaughn, the way he told you about things.

  * * *

  We cut the notch with special care, and when Vaughn's ax trick showed it was going to fall in the right direction we ran the rope out and tied it to another tree just out of the line of fall.

  I was not terribly surprised to find myself scheduled as line puller: Vaughn had, after all, only said he would be better at that than climbing. He hadn't actually said he'd do it. He and ]oe Champion began hauling away at the big crosscut saw, gradually chewing their way into the

  opposite side.

  "Now, wait a minute," I said. "Where'm I going to run?"

  "Into the clearing, of course. You'll have lots of time. When she starts to come, you go, that's all. Ten yards and you're clear."

  "We1l, I'm going to practice once," I said.

  "Go ahead and practice," Vaughn said, grunting over the saw.

  "Well, dammit, let up on that saw! I don't want the thing falling on my head when I'm just practicing? Vaughn shrugged, but he was already a little tired, so they all gathered around and watched me practice. I stood under the line and made believe I saw the tree start coming. I took off toward the clearing, and when I reached the edge I dove as far as I could, crumpling up into a little inconspicuous, unhittable ball.

  "That's good," Vaughn said. "That's very good. You got to get out of the way of the branches?

  I picked my route carefully, removing small branches I might trip on, and whacking out the more troublesome clumps of brush with an ax. By the time I had practiced three or four times my belly was sort of scraped, but I felt safer. When I was really confident I could get out of there fast enough, they started again on the saw work.

  "Jump on up that line a bit, Ben," Vaughn said.

  I jumped up, letting my weight dangle from the taut rope. The tree didn't budge. This happened a couple more times, until I finally decided he was just getting me to do it when he wanted a little rest.

  At last, when nobody expected it, there was a little cracking sound and the top of the tree wobbled.

  "All right, boys," Vaughn said. "You get back in the clearing and watch. This might be dangerous here, cutting. Ben, where the hell you going? This is your tree."

  I came back.

  "Get up on that line, now."

  "It ain't ready yet."

  "Less'n you hold 'er the saw jams up."

  I sighed and jumped up to dangle from the line like a hunk of drying meat. Vaughn went to work with a will. The saw scraped back and forth raspingly. I couldn't stop the tree from wobbling. The line on which I hung tightened and loosened as the trunk swayed, clamping down on the saw blade from time to time. It finally got a rhythm, and Vaughn could RASP RASP RASP before the cut closed down on the blade. It went that way for a while. RASP RASP RASP pause RASP RASP RASP pause. Champion and Little Sam were standing in the middle of the clearing, watching. Champion had his hands on top of his head, but he was watching the sawing instead of the sky, which was a sort of tribute.

  "Listen," I hollered. "You guys get the hell out of my way, now. When I come I'm going to be movin' like a—"

  CRACK!

  Ponderously the treetop leaned. With a lovely smooth motion the rope slackened, lowering me to the ground as gently as a cloud.

  "PULL!" Vaughn hollered.

  I pulled with all my strength.

  "Here she comes! Run, Ben, run!"

  I waited, watching the top. It was clearly coming now, gathering speed. And just as clearly moving in the wrong direction. The tip swung in a wide circle, and the rope picked up from the ground and tightened again. With huge majesty the trunk headed straight for the clearing, where it had intended to fall from the very beginnings of time. I caught just a glimpse of the two bystanders, their mouths dropping open with astonishment and fear. Joe still had his hands on his head.

  I started to run in the opposite direction, straight into the mass of brush toward the interior of the forest. I plowed into it like a cannonball, trying to get out of range of the branches. Finally I plunged face first into a big manzanita that sprang back like a mattress and stopped me flat. I prayed fast, and turned to see if I was dead.

  The enormous trunk hesitated briefly as it reached the restraining limit of the rope. The line snapped like a thread. Vaughn had been watching the frantic scramble of the others as they thundered out of the clearing, rushing open-armed into the impenetrable brush. They penetrated it with amazing ease, just like diving into a lake.

  For some reason this struck our lumberman so funny he started to laugh, and he was doubled over with glee when the trunk hit, shaking the clearing with the sound of thunder and earthquake. As the peak hit, the strains in the twisted trunk were discharged like an explosion. The trunk splintered like a gunshot and the base leaped off the stump as though it had been catapulted six feet in the air. The butt end swung over Vaughn's back and crushed into the earth on the other side of him, not a foot from his body.

  He straighted up suddenly, all the glee gone and the color fading from his face, leaving it gray. He looked at the trunk on one side of him, the stump on the other, and then at the air over his head where a good ton of hurtling wood had passed a second before.

  He blinked once, then sat on the stump, resting his back against the huge splinter of wood that remained standing vertically in the center. He pulled out his handkerchief and began to wipe his forehead. The rest of us emerged from our diverse prickly hideaways and ran over to him.

  "It didn't hit you? You all right, Vaughn?"

  He breathed heavily and he didn't answer, but he wasn't bleeding or anything. He wiped and wiped and wiped at his forehead with the handkerchief, as though there were a big indelible stain there. Gradually the color came back into his face, and his voice returned to him.

  "By god," he said. "You boys were a sight, now. Just like a bunch of quail takin' to the brush. Never saw anything like it."

  "Jesus, you almost killed us all, Vaughn. You damn near got every loving one of us."

  "How come you ran the wrong way, Ben?" he asked curiously. "You was supposed to run into the clearing."

  "If I'd run there, I'
d be dead!"

  "Yeah, I know, but I just wondered. Because you was supposed to run there, the way the plan was."

  He sighed deeply again and got up off the stump, taking long breaths. We were all sort of agitated, but Vaughn recovered first. He picked up the ax and wandered along the length of the fallen, split tree, poking casually at it with the ax blade from time to time. When he got out into the middle of the clearing he looked back around at the space where the tree had been.

  "Well, hell," he said, looking at the ground again. "I expect this is as good a place to burn them logs as any."

  He slung the ax one handed at the trunk, burying the bit in the shattered wood with a lusty thunk.

  "Boys," he said confidentially. "I don't mind telling you this is the toughest tree I ever cut down. It is, now. It was a real challenge to me."

  THREE

  1

  The cabin that was built that summer was the first home I had, the first thing I ever owned that I couldn't carry on my back. Sam Howard built it for me. After the remembrance of his own, I was at first reluctant, and I think I'd have refused if I had known how to do it. But I didn't know how, and when I saw what Little Sam could do with wood and tools I thanked God I didn't.

  I never learned why his own cabin was in such utter contradiction to his skill and character. It must have been a perpetual agony for him to live in it, to live in the midst of one huge imperfection. Perhaps it was deliberate, I don't know. Some kind of terrible punishment he thought he deserved for being imperfect himself. When he built for me, everything was different. He made wood live; with his hands and a saw he gave life to what had been merely a hunk of tree lying on the ground. There was an uncanny feeling about Sam's work I have never been able to define. He understood about building as some men understand about women.

  When my cabin was finished, it almost seemed a shame to inhabit it. It was a single room about ten feet by twelve, with a little window in the south wall opposite the fireplace. Reading that, I see it means nothing, it is merely a fact. I suppose the truth of the cabin is something that exists only in my own belly. Sometimes I used to sit outside when the sun bobbed down under the sea like a fishing float and watch the sky color shift into reds and golds that spilled down the walls of my home like flames. I felt so full inside, so soaked in the beauty of my cabin and my ownership that I didn't know what to do. I wanted to do more than just look at it, I wanted to eat it or something.