The Badger Riot by J.A. Ricketts Page A

went at it like there was no tomorrow. Pretty soon he would be the best cutter in the Badger division. Vern hated it; hated the forest; hated the camps; hated Tom; hated Ralph because he wouldn’t tell him how to keep the flies away. He was longing to get away, but there was no place to go.
    After three months of cutting logs, Ralph got sick of it. He made his way over to the west coast of the island where he had many Mi’kmaq cousins. He stayed there until the summer of 1947. Then he came back home and decided to try for a job on the drive.
    The three rivers converging at Badger were well-known to Ralph and to every boy growing up in the small town. They had fished and canoed on Badger Brook, swum in Little Red Indian River and sometimes even dared the mighty Exploits. As a teenager, Ralph would sneak out in the springtime when the drive was on and the River was full of pulpwood and try jumping from log to log. This was a dangerous game, but when you’re young, you don’t think about danger. A stick of pulpwood was five feet long, at least fourinches thick, and as slippery as an eel. Sometimes he fell in and would swim under the logs and get to shore.
    Tom hadn’t gone around with Ralph and Vern much, due to religious issues with his parents, but when he did, he would try a log close to the shore. He used to say that balancing on the logs made him dizzy. Annie Drum, Ralph’s Ma, said Tom probably had trouble with his ears. He had no balance. He’d slip off into the water every time. Vern had been too scared to jump logs, no matter how much Ralph called him chicken.
    The River had always been Ralph’s first love or, he thought,
my second love
. His first love – his love for the white woman Jennie – would always be a secret hidden deep inside him.
    With pike pole and peavey, as the famous song said, he would join the other rivermen and work at moving the logs on their way to the Grand Falls mill. His drive boss would be Jennie’s father, Ned Sullivan.

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    One day, in the summer of 1947, Jennie sat down at the base of the tall old pine tree on the bank of the River, pretending to be reading but actually hoping to see Tom come across on the cable boat. Ralph came by.
    â€œHello Jennie. Can I sit with you for a spell?”
    â€œYes, Ralph b’y, sit right here.” Jennie made room for him under the pine. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen much of you since you left school.”
    â€œI was over on the west coast for awhile, you know; had a job with Bowaters cutting wood on Glovers Island out in the middle of Grand Lake.” He lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. “But I’m never content until I’m back home in Badger.”
    â€œWill you go up in the camps now? Vern says they’re some state. He hates it, but Tom is happy enough; never complains.”
    â€œYeah, I know. I guess I’ll try to get on as a cutter for now. I have my name in with your father for next spring to get on the drive. I figure I can do that pretty well. I’ve been on that River all my life, sure.” He laughed. “What about you, Jennie? Are you going to marry Vern or what?” Ralph had been away for quite a while and didn’t know what was going on anymore. She saw him looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, as if he was anxious about it or something.
    Jennie’s quick anger flared. “No, Ralph, I am not going to marry Vern. I am not.” She jumped up. “Sure you are worse than Mam and Pap! I am sick of them trying to make a couple out of me and Vern.”
    Ralph got up too. “I’m sorry. I only asked. I am actually glad you’re not going to hitch yourself to Vern.”
    That stopped her. She had thought he and Vern were buddies, and that he was questioning her on Vern’s behalf. “You are? Why are you glad, for God’s sakes?”
    Ralph turned away and gazed out over the surface of the