Larry Wallbertson, or Luckless Larry, as he was known by the citizens of Independence, Missouri, was notoriously unlucky, and had been since he was a child. From a young age, he sought solace in the soothing confines of the kitchen, and learned how to cook very well, even better than Ma. Unlike his three older brothers, Larry clearly was not destined for any trade in particular, despite Pa’s numerous attempts to teach him one, and he accepted working in the Wallbertson Family General Store as his life’s work. In 1849, when the rumor that James Marshall found gold in the California Republic was confirmed and the news reached Larry’s small town, even he caught a little gold fever. He ignored the townsfolk’s palpable lack of faith in his abilities, and the taunts of the perpetual bullies, Stu and Stan Ralston, and decided to take on the daunting and dangerous, two-thousand-mile Overland Trail to find his fortune in gold. Life in the gold country was exceedingly hard, and few miners truly found success. Larry was faced with physical and mental challenges and survived in a very unconventional way.

Luckless Larry and the California Gold Rush

By Stephanie Munn-Tsukada

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Stephanie Tsukada
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-5358-0

Contents

Part One YOUNG LARRY................................................1Chapter One MIND OVER MATTER........................................3Chapter Two SHOWCASE NIGHT..........................................11Part Two LIFE CHOICE................................................15Chapter Three TO WORK...............................................17Chapter Four TWEENKLE...............................................19Chapter Five FROM RUMOR TO REALITY..................................23Chapter Six "WHY NOT LARRY?"........................................29Chapter Seven THANKS, BUT NO THANKS.................................33Chapter Eight BIRTHDAY SURPRISE.....................................37Part Three THE TRAIL................................................45Chapter Nine DEPARTURE..............................................47Part Four HOME AWAY FROM HOME.......................................73Chapter Ten HANGTOWN GEMS...........................................75Chapter Eleven ANGUS................................................81Chapter Twelve ONE PROBLEM SOLVED...................................87Chapter Thirteen TURNAROUND.........................................97Chapter Fourteen MISTAKE(S).........................................111Chapter Fifteen VERNAL SPLENDOR.....................................117Chapter Sixteen PRODUCE GALORE!.....................................123Chapter Seventeen SPRINGTIME GOOD-BYE AND HELLO.....................127Chapter Eighteen HOME AGAIN.........................................131CLASSROOM ACTIVITIES................................................135

Chapter One

MIND OVER MATTER

Larry tested his luck yet again. For about the hundredth time that morning, he cast his line into the calm, clear lake and watched his baited hook come to rest a few feet below the surface. He sat by his empty fishing pail, let his long legs dangle over the edge of the narrow wooden dock, and waited impatiently. Every time he came to the lake, he did everything that his Pa had taught him to do—yet he never caught a single fish. It wouldn't be so bad if fish in the lake were scarce, or if his three older brothers never caught any either, but the lake was teeming with fish, and Daniel, William, and Henry always came home with full pails. That was humiliating enough, but what was worse was that even his little sister, Samantha, with her short little pole, managed to reel in fish after fish.

He felt a teeny movement at the end of his line and leaned forward for a better view. He shaded his eyes and saw a medium-sized fish with pretty little iridescent scales nibbling the bait. Excitement rushed through his body. This could be the one, thought Larry. Today, I will be the victor!

"Come on, fish. That big, juicy worm is just for you," muttered Larry, leaning out even farther.

He held the line as steady as possible and watched the fish slowly circle the bait as if sizing it up. Larry barely breathed, praying like mad for a catch. The fish paused. Then, it darted forward with its mouth wide open like a baby bird and chomped the worm, swallowing it whole. It was a wonderful moment. Unfortunately, Larry only had a fraction of a second to congratulate himself.

"Luckless Larry! Whatcha doin'?!" two very distinct voices screeched in unison.

Startled, Larry toppled off the dock and into the chilly water. The weight of his overalls and long-sleeved shirt dragged him several feet down, to the mucky bottom, where he landed squarely on his bare feet. Slimy mud squished between his toes, and he immediately pushed off, frog-kicking toward the light. He broke the surface and took a huge breath of air. Treading water with difficulty, he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, and when he opened them he grimaced at a doubly displeasing sight. Standing with their huge, dirty feet planted firmly on the edge of the dock were two of Larry's classmates, Stu and Stan Ralston. The oversized, rectangular-shaped twins, who were known more for their brawn than their brains, grinned down at Larry.

Larry did not return their smiles. He looked up at their round faces and said, "What did you do that for?"

The twins glanced at each other and giggled. "To see you fall in, Luckless Larry! Why else?" said Stu.

Larry glared at them and said, "Well, I'm done falling, so leave me alone."

"Not before we help you out," said Stan, extending a beefy hand.

"I don't need your help. Besides, you'd just drop me back in," Larry said, dog-paddling back to shore.

"Naw, dropping's no fun. We'd rather throw you in, Luckless Larry," said Stu.

"We wanna see a big, big splash," said Stan. "So, we're gonna throw yer scrawny little body really, really high."

Larry knew that they weren't kidding and tried to hurry. He struggled to get through a mess of cattails growing in the waist-deep water and hoisted himself onto the muddy shore. "I'm sure the splashes would be a lot more impressive if you took turns pushing each other in," he called over his shoulder.

Stu and Stan looked at each other and frowned. "What's he tryin' to say?" asked Stu.

"I think he's callin' us fat, Stu," said Stan.

Stu glared at Larry and yelled, "We ain't fat! Ma says we just got big bones!"

With his hands and one knee firmly planted on the slippery ground, Larry was able to stand. He looked at the twins and sighed. He suspected that he probably should have kept his mouth shut. "I didn't call you fat. I—" he started to say.

Stan didn't let him finish. "Maybe you didn't say 'fat', but you, ah, you ... It doesn't matter! We're still gonna teach you a lesson," he said.

"Oh, no," Larry muttered. He turned to run but slipped and fell flat. He felt the ground shudder as Stu and Stan jumped off the dock and landed solidly on the ground behind him.

Larry's sprawled position and the weight of his wet clothing rendered a second attempt to retreat hopeless. Each twin grabbed one of his arms and legs and carried him onto the dock and to its edge. Larry squirmed with all his might, but Stu and Stan had vise-like grips on his wrists and ankles. They swung him back and forth, nauseatingly higher and higher, blurring the flashing images of dock, water, sky, sky, water, dock. Larry knew he had to think of something fast or he was doomed.

"One," the twins said.

Larry's churning stomach protested, making it difficult to concentrate, and he hoped his breakfast would stay down. Breakfast, he thought. Food.

"Two," the twins yelled.

"Pie!" yelled Larry.

Larry was dropped on the dock like a ton of bricks. Stu and Stan whipped their heads around frantically sniffing the air.

"Where?" asked Stu.

"What kind?" asked Stan.

In a blink, Larry scrambled up, grabbed his bucket, and raced off the dock. He charged up the slight incline as fast as his wet clothes allowed, skirting low-lying bushes and large rocks, and made it to the dirt road before the boys realized they'd been duped.

They pursued, throwing dirt clods and rocks as they lumbered along.

"We're gonna git you, Luckless Larry," yelled Stu.

"You can't run from us," yelled Stan.

Oh, yes, I can, thought Larry. He pushed himself to go faster. The pounding sound of their labored gaits and the painful drizzle of objects whacking his back and head were powerful incentives to keep going, even though his legs and lungs burned. He pulled ahead and out of range, covering the two miles back home faster than he ever had before.

* * *

Larry burst through the kitchen door and slammed it shut. He leaned back, trying to catch his breath, then staggered to the water pitcher. He drank two full cups before flopping onto the floor. Thankfully, the only person to witness this was Samantha, who was sitting in their mother's rocking chair, knitting a long, long scarf. She calmly put her needles aside and looked at her bedraggled ten-year-old brother.

"Oh dear, Larry," Samantha said. "What a sight. Did you try to catch the fish with your bare hands?"

"No. But maybe I should have," said Larry. "I had another visit from the imbecile twins."

"Can't you just ignore them, Larry?" asked Samantha.

"I've tried, and they just don't go away. Besides, physically tormenting me is one of their favorite pastimes, along with eating, setting things on fire, and seeing who can hold his breath the longest," said Larry. "Someday they'll outgrow it." He got up and shuffled to the ladder leading to the bedroom loft that he shared with his brothers. He changed into dry clothes and went back downstairs.

"Ma wants you to roast a chicken and make a double recipe of cornbread for tonight's supper, Larry," Samantha said. "She and Pa may be late."

Their parents owned the Wallbertson Family General Store a few miles away in Independence, Missouri. The Wallbertsons were highly respected in the community for their honesty, dedication, and hard work.

Larry's mood brightened with the knowledge that he was being given free rein in his favorite room: the kitchen. It was large, airy, and outfitted with all the appliances available in 1840. Larry often sat at the table beneath one of the windows and watched his mother calmly cook and bake. He found it very interesting that she could take a few ingredients, which, on their own, seemed like nothing, and mix them together to make something worth eating. When Larry had expressed an interest in learning to cook, his mother had readily agreed to teach him. And, under her guidance, Larry had learned to cook. He practiced whenever time allowed and found it to be a particularly enjoyable and soothing activity after an encounter with the twins.

The request to prepare tonight's supper was perfectly timed. He washed his hands and got to work on the cornbread. He assembled all the ingredients and utensils on the table and consulted the well-worn recipe.

"Milk," Larry said frowning. "Samantha, whose turn is it to milk Clara?"

"Why, yours, Larry. I milked her this morning," she said. "She sure is a sweet old thing."

"Sweet, all right," said Larry, walking out the door.

It should have taken Larry only about one minute to walk to the big brown barn, but he was in no hurry to see Clara. Scuffing his feet and making a big dirt cloud along the way was much more appealing. He had almost made it to the enormous sycamore tree, which marked the halfway point between the house and the barn, when he saw Stu and Stan sitting at the base of the tree. Larry's feet came to an abrupt stop and the dirt cloud quickly enveloped him.

"Uh, oh," said Larry between coughs.

The glowering twins stood up and walked toward him. Stan was carrying something behind his back. Larry considered making a break for the corral and the protection of his brothers, but he knew it would be futile and appear cowardly.

"Aren't you missin' something, Luckless Larry?" asked Stan. He took Larry's fishing pole from behind his back and tapped it slowly on his hand. "We found this stuck in the dock."

"Oh. I thought it fell in the lake, too," Larry said. He glanced at the dangling line fluttering in the breeze. "Where's the fish? My first fish. Was it still on the line?"

"Sure was," said Stu. "And boy was Mama proud of us for catchin' it and bringin' it to her."

"But it was mine," protested Larry. "You should have brought it to me!"

"You're ungrateful, Luckless Larry," said Stu. "Bringin' your pole back should be good enough for you."

"And here," said Stan. He thrust the pole out to Larry. "Take it, cause we don't want nothin' unlucky of yours rubbin' off on us."

Stu grabbed his brother's arm and said, "I wanna give it to him!"

"How 'bout we both do?" asked Stan. He snapped the pole in half and gave his brother one of the pieces. Both boys burst into laughter, then threw the pieces at Larry's feet and stomped on them.

Larry stared in amazement. "You broke it! It's completely ruined," he said.

"That's right! And you're lucky that's all we broke," said Stu. "Next time we play together, you better think twice about lying to us about pie!"

The twins gave Larry one more threatening glare, then turned and stalked away in a double huff.

Larry stormed into the barn and threw the pieces of his fishing pole into the corner. They have to be the two most obnoxious, rotten people in this whole world, he thought.

He released his anger by kicking a bale of hay, using more force than he intended, and a streak of pain shot up his leg. "Ow!" he cried.

"Moo!" said Clara.

"Sorry, Clara," said Larry. "Here I come." He limped over to the black-and-white cow and gently led her by the collar to the milking station. Larry sat on the three-legged stool and placed the metal milking bucket beneath her. He gave her three reassuring pats on her side.

"Clara, please be nice. I really need some milk," he said.

He reached for her udder and began milking. Thick streams of creamy milk squirted into the pail, and Larry began to relax. A few minutes later, it was a couple of inches deep and Larry smiled. Clara must have sensed that Larry was making headway because she looked back at him and seemed to smile.

"Thank you, Clara. I don't think I can stand another problem today," Larry said.

Clara nodded her head, seemingly with sympathy, then raised her hoof and kicked over the bucket.

"Clara!" exclaimed Larry, setting the bucket upright. "Please! No more. Keep your legs still!"

He began the rhythmic milking motions all over again, and the pail began to fill.

"That's it, girl. Keep it steady," Larry said encouragingly.

"Moooo," said Clara. She raised a hoof and sent the bucket flying. A rivulet of milk trailed after the rolling bucket until it stopped several feet away.

"Clara. I promise I will pick some of the sweetest grass we have and serve it to you on a pretty platter if you just let me have a full pail of milk," Larry pleaded.

Clara had absolutely no compassion for Larry, and she kicked the bucket over three more times before he finally gave up and sent the mischievous cow back to her stall. He grabbed the bucket containing the meager amount of milk he had salvaged and stalked out of the barn and back to the house.

Back in the kitchen, he slammed the bucket down on the table and poured every last drop into a measuring cup. For the first time that day, something went right; there was just enough milk for the cornbread. He looked at Samantha, who had moved on to mending clothes, and said, "Water only tonight. I think that cow strongly dislikes me."

"She's just a cow, Larry. Do you want me to try?" she asked.

"Sure, Sam," Larry replied.

Samantha paused with her hand on the door and turned to look at Larry. "Larry?" she asked. "You do remember what night this is, don't you?"

Larry dropped the mixing spoon into the bowl and slapped his hand to his forehead. "Drat! Showcase Night."

Chapter Two

SHOWCASE NIGHT

One of Larry's parents' goals was to enable their children to have a gainful future. They always said that they hoped one of the boys would follow in their footsteps and come to work at the family store, but they were quick to add that it was important to give the boys multiple opportunities to discover their talents and build a foundation for their life's work.

Their father organized projects involving farming, ranching, carpentry, and metalwork and met with the boys several times a week to offer guidance. As a means to exhibit their work, he'd created Showcase Night. It came about once every three months, and Larry dreaded it.

While Larry put the final touches on the supper, he couldn't help thinking about all of his failed projects. Despite careful cultivation, routine watering, and regular weeding, 99 percent of Larry's vegetable and fruit seeds never germinated. Time and time again, his courageous attempts at rounding up the cattle were thwarted by the antics of Pitch, the most manageable of the horses, who ignored Larry's requests and threw him every time. He had to wear thick gloves in the henhouse or else the hens pecked his hands raw when he gathered their eggs. Wood had an uncanny way of splintering, snapping, or becoming useless whenever Larry got his hands on it. Fortunately, he was still considered too young to participate in potentially hazardous metalworking activities.

I really am as luckless as everyone says, thought Larry.

* * *

Supper was consumed with gusto, and Larry's family expressed their contentment and thanks. With each bit of praise, the discouragement that Larry had accumulated throughout the day was chipped away. Afterward, Larry relaxed by the fire, feeling proud and satisfied, while the rest of the family took care of kitchen cleanup. However, when the last dry dish was put away and the flurry of activity in the kitchen ceased, so did Larry's pleasant feelings.

Showcase Night was about to commence. Larry's brothers were ready with samples of vegetation and growth charts from their gardens sitting on the table, bow-backed Windsor chairs positioned on the floor behind them, and metal spoon examples clutched in their hands. Larry sat next to Henry and waited for Pa to speak.

"Boys, I sure am excited to see what you have accomplished. I know you've toiled long and hard on those chairs, in your gardens, and in the metal shop, and the proof of your achievements is in what you have to show tonight," their father said with a smile. "Why don't we start with Daniel and end with Larry." He sat next to Ma and Samantha and gave each boy an encouraging look.

Daniel, who was nearly fifteen years old, had an affinity for woodworking. His chair, with its shield-shaped seat, seven graceful spindles, smooth, bowed back, and four identically-shaped legs, looked exactly like the one their father had used as an example. Daniel's future trade was clear.

William, who was thirteen, had a green thumb and a strong attachment to his garden. The seedlings he had pulled to thin his carefully cultivated rows and his detailed and organized growth chart were evidence of an abundance of crops to come. William's destiny was farming.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Luckless Larry and the California Gold Rushby Stephanie Munn-Tsukada Copyright © 2011 by Stephanie Tsukada. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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