When twelve-year-old Will Oleson befriends a white wolf in the wilds of Montana in 1910, he unwittingly becomes an enemy of unscrupulous trappers who will stop at nothing to possess the wolf's valuable pelt. Determined and desperate, Will devises a plan, not knowing it may cost them their lives.
This story was inspired by a historic event that ravaged the Northwestern United States and Canada in 1910.
When twelve-year-old Will Oleson befriends a white wolf in the wilds of Montana in 1910, he unwittingly becomes an enemy of unscrupulous trappers who will stop at nothing to possess the wolf's valuable pelt. Determined and desperate, Will devises a plan, not knowing it may cost them their lives.
This story was inspired by a historic event that ravaged the Northwestern United States and Canada in 1910.
C
Twelve-year-old Will Oleson kneeled on the ground. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up into his Pa’s brown, weathered face. Jack Oleson let out a deep sigh, sat back on his heels, tipped his broad-brimmed hat back, and shook his head in disgust. His piercing blue eyes squinted against the sun’s glare at Will’s silhouette. He turned and looked once more at the foul scene before him.
Will observed his father’s uncharacteristically grim face and could sense trouble brewing. When Pa looked up again, his mouth stretched into a thin straight line, pale and cracked from the Montana wind.
“Whose is it, Pa?” Will asked as he tipped his hat back, imitating his father. A lock of shaggy golden hair fell into his eyes.
“Jedediah Morgan’s, that’s who.” He spat a stream of tobacco juice into a lingering patch of snow.
Will’s heart plummeted to his stomach.
“What’s he doing trapping on our property?”
“That’s what I wanna know.”
Pa stood, ripped the rusty trap from the ground, and held the hideous spectacle before him. The partial hide and skeleton of a long-dead lynx jangled and danced in the breeze like a crazed marionette. With a disgusted snort, he stomped to his horse and tied the trap, with its victim, to the saddle horn. Mike, Pa’s roan-colored stallion, whinnied, jerked his head back, and skidded sideways. His eyes rolled with fright as he tried to escape the smell of death. Pa mounted him with the ease and grace born of experience and quickly had him under control, and then followed an obscure path. Will trailed close behind on Molly, his buckskin mare.
They crossed a small stream, still cold from snowmelt, into a forest of dark pines, spruce, and tamarack. Tree branches slapped against them, sliding along their wool jackets. It was silent as they rode, except for the far-off knock-knock-knocking of a woodpecker or the occasional squirrel barking disapproval as they passed. The relative quiet made Will nervous; Pa’s quietness unnerved him even more.
“Here’s another one,” Pa said and pointed at the skeleton of another trapped animal. He slipped off his horse and motioned Will to follow. Will obeyed and peered over Pa’s shoulder as he examined the rusted metal trap.
“How do you know it’s Jed, Pa?”
“He lives on the other side of our property.” He pointed north. “I’ve had my suspicions, but had no proof… until now. He slipped up this time; left his mark on the back. See this?” Pa pointed to the backside of the trap.
Will, eager to please his pa, kneeled next to him, strained his eyes, and then saw the faint JM etched crudely into the steel trap.
“Oh, I see it now.” Will nodded.
Pa leaned back on his heels and peered at Will. “He’s a lazy, unethical trapper who doesn’t check his traps, leaving the animals to suffer. But worst of all, he uses poison.”
“Poison?” Will’s brows knitted together.
“Yeah, strychnine. A painful way to die and any animal eating another animal trapped that way will suffer and die, too. It’s a lazy man’s way. He’s what we call a Wolfer,” Pa said and spat again.
Will’s eyes shot to his pa. “Wolfer?”
“A man who hunts mainly wolves, usually with poison. They kill the pups too, in the cruelest ways. There’ve been no wolves here for years, though. Killed off long ago.” Pa’s voice trailed.
“Well, shouldn’t we tell the sheriff?” Will said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Sheriff? Naw, this is our property. I’ll handle it myself.” Pa pulled the trap from the ground. “I’ve had enough of his shenanigans.”
Pa hoisted the offending trap and hooked it on his saddle horn with the other one, making his horse sidestep again. Sweat beaded on Will’s forehead, despite the frigid air, as he followed his pa through the forest. During the next hour, they discovered eight more traps, most without victims. With each one they retrieved, Pa became more silent, and that worried Will.
Pa halted, held up his hand, and motioned Will to join him.
“There’s Jed’s house; through those trees.” He pointed. “Stay back here in case something happens.” Pa unstrapped his gun. “If it does, get out quick. Go home, tell Ma, and get the sheriff.”
Will gulped and looked wide-eyed at his pa, and then stared at the old, dilapidated log home nestled among the trees. With reluctance, he nodded to his father.
The traps jangled on the horse’s neck as Pa nudged it forward. Will stayed on his mare and watched. His heart hammered as a line of sweat beaded along his forehead and began a slow slide down his paling face.
Pa rode between copses of aspens, into a clearing, and paused in front of the old log home. Will saw Pa glance up and followed his gaze to a thin stream of smoke that curled from the chimney. Someone was home.
Will’s eyes narrowed as they moved across the shingled roof, noting two fist-sized holes and a crumbling chimney. His eyes slid lower to the shutters hanging askew on leather hinges, then to the junk piles and litter-strewn yard. What a dump.
“Jedediah Morgan!” Pa hollered as he dumped the traps to the ground with a loud clang. “I’ve got somethin’ of yorn!”
Silence.
Will saw a curtain move. His neck hairs rose, and he leaned forward in his saddle. Pa, the window!
The wooden door cracked open, and the long, black barrel of a shotgun appeared.
Will froze and sucked in his breath.
“What you want, Jack?”
“Just returning what’s yorn.”
“What are you doin’ with my traps?” Jed burst through the door, slamming it back with a bang. “You ain’t got no business messin’ with em.” He raised the shotgun.
Will gripped his horse’s reins and turned pale as a ghost. His heart skipped a beat.
Pa held up his hands. “Put the gun down. Let’s talk, man to man. Or aren’t you man enough without a gun?” Pa held Jed’s gaze.
“Bah!” Jed lowered his shotgun. “I’ll show ya who’s man enough.” He slammed his gun next to the doorframe and stomped off the sagging front porch with his son, Samuel, on his heels.
Will’s eyes met Samuel’s glare and scathing look. His mouth went dry, and he clutched the reins tighter. Crap!
Pa dismounted, stood by his horse, and waited. Jed puffed his chest and strutted to a stop within inches of Pa’s face. Pa stared into the bottomless pool of Jed’s ebony eyes and almost choked at the odor of alcohol and the foulness of his breath.
Jed’s crazed eyes peered from beneath his shaggy, black, shoulder-length hair, greasy and unkempt. His beard and mustache, flecked with bits of food, stank of uncleanliness. A jagged scar on his cheek blazed like a lightning bolt against his tanned, leathery face. Samuel skulked in the background, a smaller image of his father. “What are ya doin’ with those?” Jed jabbed his grimy finger at the traps.
“What I want to know is, what are you doing trapping on my property?” Pa snarled back.
Flustered at Jack’s boldness, Jed flinched. “I’ll trap when and where I want. Tain’t you or nobody else stoppin’ me,” he yelled and flung his hands in the air.
“Take this as a friendly warning. Stop trapping on my property, or next time I’ll file a complaint with the sheriff!” Pa ground out, looking him in the eye.
“Horse turds! Yer the one trespassin,’ fiddlin’ with my traps and settin’ em off. Now git off my property!” His face and neck burned red, making the lightning-bolt scar even whiter. The purple vein on his neck throbbed, threatening to explode.
“Remember, I’ve warned you,” Pa replied. He turned his back on Jed, and with deliberate slowness, mounted his horse and left. Jed continued his tirade to his retreating backside.
Relieved Pa was back safe; Will turned his horse to leave. Unable to resist one last glance at the Morgan’s, he instantly regretted it when Samuel threw him an I’ll-get-you-later look.
Crap! Will gulped.
The year is 1910 and twelve year old Will is navigating the rugged and unforgiving life of a farm boy in Montana. Will gets into all the normal mischief a boy his age usually does, but he has a kind heart. He stands up for a girl at school who is picked on relentlessly and learns about how to care for living creatures from his Pa.
Everything changes when Will finds Chinook, a wolf. An uneasy bond strengthens into a full fledged friendship and Will must now fight off trappers who want to kill the wolf for his hide.
As soon as I read the back, I immediately remembered reading books like Call Of The Wild or Stone Fox. A mashup of White Fang and Little House On The Prairie, this book is firmly rooted in the time frame it is set in, sometimes to its detriment. The portrayal of Native Americans is true to its time, with Native characters speaking in stunted English. It took many of the traditional stereotypes of the time, blended it with the writing style of books set in that era and mixed it up with classic action and adventure.
It was a good book, an enjoyable story but it didn’t read as anything new or unique. It is more accessible for middle grade readers than say, Call of The Wild would be. This is a good gateway into this style of book for younger readers. It had some blood and violence, sad scenes, moments of humor and bravery, the close bonds of family, and true friendship.
It is a little on the longer side for middle grade but has enough happening to keep young readers engaged. As an adult, I knew right away how the story would play out, but I still wanted to read it all the way through to see how it was all wrapped up.
This is a good book to keep kids entertained during long winter weekends when it is too cold to go outside and they can imagine the sound of a wolf howling carried on the wind.