Flume proved irresistible temptation

(Today, Bernice shares in her own words, some of her earliest memories of Brenn’s Spur, Idaho, and some of the people who lived there. Like life, some of her memories are happy and some are sad and frightening. Bernice’s maternal grandfather, Robert Sparks, homesteaded in the Fernwood - Clarkia area and Anthony Robert and Mabel Louise Brill, Bernice’s parents, followed him to Idaho. They bought an existing three-room log house that nestled against the hill that one climbed to get to her grandfather’s homestead.)

“One of my earliest memories is of going to school at the age of three and four. This came about because in the tiny Brenn’s Spur settlement there were three families whose children would have to walk more than three miles to get to the nearest school. The Browns had three kids, the Williamsons’ four, and the Spark family had three. Twelve pupils were needed to warrant a state supported school. My mother was just under 21 and I was three. The two of us signed up to make the required dozen. We both actually attended the one room school, she only very occasionally, and I quite often as my uncles and aunt delighted in taking me to sit with them during the classes taught by a pretty young lady named Mrs. Olmstead.

“Another vivid memory is of standing on a chair to look out of the window in the log cabin at the horses that Dad and George Miller used in their cedar pole operation. As a rule, I believe horses do not often fight each other but these two were definitely not compatible as they would periodically rear and use their hooves on each other. At these times, I would watch and be glad that I was behind sturdy log walls.

“Two families lived close by, the Williams family on a slight rise to our right and the Browns down by the creek to our left. Most of the water in this creek ran down a flume, which in past years had rushed logs from the woods to a landing on the spur. The flume held a great attraction for kids in the neighborhood. As the youngest, I was forbidden to play there. One day the temptation became too great and I had a fine time until my frightened parents found me.

“This was one of the three times I can remember being spanked. My dad’s remorse at having hit his darling daughter led him to shower me with gifts bought the next day on a business trip to Spokane. Among the goodies were a miniature washboard with its small wooden tub, and yet another doll to add to my collection that now numbered 13.

“He also brought a small-scale place setting of fine table silver. The instruments were very well balanced for small hands and I took great pride in using the sharp tined fork, and well-shaped knife, to dispatch all meals. One evening during supper, my dad teased me until I raised my sharp fork and impaled it in his cheek. I should have had a licking then but did not. I did learn then to walk away if a situation became intolerable to me.

“When I was three years old, my grandparent’s place seemed a long, long way up the mountain. Actually, it probably was not more than a quarter of a mile, a winding trail all uphill, through timber and the fairly dense underbrush common to cutover land. Trips to grandpa’s meant that we might encounter a bear, which could be ten times bigger than our black dog, Curley.

“Oscar Olson was a stump farmer (one who owned cutover land) who lived a couple of miles down the road from Brenn’s Spur. He was a bachelor. For income, he ran a few cattle and did some gyppo logging for the McGoldrick Company. One afternoon a young transient with a bedroll on his back stopped at Olson’s place to pass the time of day.  They got along famously and the young man stayed for several months. Then someone noticed that for some time nothing had been seen of Oscar or his ‘hired man’ as the fellow had come to be known. A search of the ranch revealed no trace of either.

“Grandpa Sparks was walking home from Clarkia along the railroad tracks when he noticed a folded piece of paper stuck under a splinter on a tie. It was a note that said, ‘I killed Oscar Olson.’ It was signed with the transient’s name or at least the name he had given Oscar and others with whom he had come in contact. Grandpa alternately walked and ran back to Clarkia where he gave the note to deputy sheriff, Merle Roberts. Search parties were organized. The writer of the grim note was not found but Oscar’s body was discovered where it had been buried in his own woodshed.

“The St. Maries River ran under the high railroad bridge where grandpa found the note, and formed a large pool just down stream. This was a favorite swimming and fishing spot. My fisherman father ranged mostly from the Metropolitan Bridge to the big meadow below our home at Brenn’s Spur. His usual catch of large speckled trout, fresh from the icy cold water, cleaned and rolled in flour, salted and peppered and fried in bacon grease, was delicious, especially when accompanied by a serving of raw-fried potatoes. Several months after the discovery of the crime against Oscar Olson, dad was fishing in shallow water downstream from the pool when he noticed an unusually large shadow along a sunken log. To his horror, the shadow turned out to be a badly decomposed human body. It was never established that this was the body of a remorseful killer but was accepted as such by the local citizenry.

“My mother was not able to cook the trout dad caught the day he found the body. Nor was she able to enjoy trout for a long time afterward. For such a hearty and healthy woman she had, throughout her life, a “delicate” stomach.”

To be continued.