If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

Someone to Walk With

by Gladys Young Blyth

250 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1180; ISBN 1-55395-465-3; US$22.50, C$25.95, EUR18.50, £13.00

In 1910, Tommy, grief-stricken, orphaned, confused and alone, faces the mystery and dilemma of a secret past. Boldly, he explores a northern frontier life that pulls him out of complacency into one of strength, purpose and manhood.

Read more!

about the book      about the author      sample excerpts or Table of Contents      catalogue info

About the Book INTRODUCTION. The year is 1910 and Tommy Vincent of Vancouver, British Columbia, almost seventeen, has just completed grade eleven. A tragic boating accident, taking the lives of his parents, jolts him out of his life of youthful complacency. Adding to the trauma of the tragedy, Tommy's guardian uncle informs him that he was adopted as an infant. Tommy's real parents are a White man and an Indian woman. He also has a sister, a year younger than himself living in the coastal interior town of Hazelton in northern B.C. On impulse, Tommy boards a ship bound for the frontier town of Port Essington on the north coast. From there he travels by paddlewheel river boat 180 miles inland along the Skeena River to Hazelton, known locally as The Forks or The Junction. With no clues as to his sister's name or whereabouts, his mission is to find her and to learn something of his roots. From a vantage point on the bow of the riverboat, the Hazelton, Tommy sees first-hand the construction of the western portion of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railroad, Canada's second great transcontinental railroad, as it parallels the rugged and impervious shores of the mighty Skeena River. Along the way, he meets settlers, pioneers, prospectors, trappers, gamblers, telegraph linemen, wood-cutters, speculators, Corkscrew and Maybelle. At The Forks, Tommy naively thinks he will find his sister right away and return to Vancouver on the next riverboat. However, he runs out of money and has to work as a wood-cutter and as a partner in a trapline venture. The harsh reality of frontier life, in a burgeoning dynamic segment of history, not only changed Tommy but changed the northern region of the province forever. The impact bluntly shaped him into a man of compassion, tolerance, resourcefulness and purpose.

---

About the Author Gladys Blyth was born in Squamish and raised in Bella Coola, BC. In 1940, she married Alex Blyth of Victoria, BC. After the Second World War, they moved to Port Edward, BC, fourteen kilometers south of Prince Rupert where Alex worked in the salmon canning industry. Together they raised four sons and four daughters. Blyth and her late husband, have sixteen grand-children and six great-grands. Through her love of children, Blyth taught Sunday school and kindergarten classes, and worked with children from Social Welfare Services. She served on the School Board of District 52 in Prince Rupert for six years, representing the Port Edward School. As a writer, photographer, reporter and researcher, beginning in 1960, Blyth developed an insatiable interest in the history of the north coast, particularly the Skeena River and attendant industries. Her writing and photography have been published in books, magazines, newspapers, journals and pamphlets. Books published are Salmon Canneries, British Columbia North Coast, Wales Island, When God Opens the Door, and The History of Port Edward. A children's book, Summer at the Cannery, is yet to be published. From 1970 to 1990, with her overall knowledge of the history of the fishing industry, Blyth spear-headed the acquisition and restoration of North Pacific Cannery, a derelict salmon canning plant at the mouth of the Skeena River. The plant, subsequently designated a National Heritage Site by Parks Canada, is known as North Pacific Cannery Village Museum. It is now a popular tourist attraction, research and education center. And children, on field trips from schools locally and from across Canada, visit the Site to learn first hand the history, culture and fishing methods of one of British Columbia's leading industries. A highlight for Blyth, resulting from her years of community work came in 1989 when Brock House Society of Vancouver selected her as their sixth Senior Citizen of the Year for the province of British Columbia. At the gala ceremony, she received a gold medal and a number of accolades. Out of the wealth of her past and her continued love of children, Blyth has now moved into writing historic novels for children and young adults.

---

Sample Excerpts or Table of Contents

Uncle Cedric Tingley, of Tingley Real Estate, put down his pen, closed the leather bound ledger, and placed it on the shelf behind his big oak desk. He lifted his pipe from its cradle, filled it with tobacco shavings, tamped it down with his middle finger and lit it with a match from a metal case. Smoke curled up around his grey head and wafted out the open window. He smiled over at me and nodded.

Lately, this was his daily closing routine. 1910 was shaping up to be a good year in real estate in Vancouver and he was on top of the trend. The sketches of houses on the walls of his office attested to that.

The window was beside my writing desk in the corner. I slid it shut, locked it and stood up to leave.

"Thomas. Before closing up, I have something to discuss with you."

I sat down stiffly, clenched my hands into fists and set my feet flat on the floor. The tears I had been fighting ever since the funeral were so close to spilling over, I had to grit my teeth for control.

Uncle Cedric picked up an envelope, one larger than the customary letter size, holding it between his two hands.

"I met with the lawyer for your parent's estate this morning. He says everything is in order in that respect. Nothing final, you understand. These things take time. But, there's one more thing."

Risking Uncle's disapproval, I deliberately slouched down and locked my thumb into my vest pocket, the way all the cocky young fellows were doing these days. There had been enough grief and funerals. Now what?

Uncle Cedric placed the pipe back in its cradle. His usually peevish mouth became a grim line. He leaned across his desk and shoved the envelope toward me.

"Thomas, sit up and show some respect for your uncle. Things have been just as traumatic for me as they have for you. After all, your mama was my sister. I miss her and your papa as much as you do."

Uncle Cedric reached for his pipe again and puffed on its stem.

Above the noise of city traffic I could hear the raucous caw of Billy, the tame raven that visited businesses in the surrounding streets.

"There's something more you need to know. That's why I am keeping you after work...so we can discuss it."

Uncle Cedric leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes focussed on the paintings of the Vancouver city waterfront on the opposite wall.

"What do you mean? What are you saying?" I plunked my elbows on my desk and wrapped my hands around my head. It was hard to cope with Uncle Cedric. His knotty way of handling things was frustrating. Wasn't it enough that Mama and Papa were gone? Why...why do I have to deal with this cantankerous uncle?

Uncle Cedric squirmed around in his chair. "I told your parents...years ago...they should have told you."

I stared at the envelope. All this had to do with that envelope. "What? What are you saying, Uncle Cedric?" Fear and uncertainty welled up again, emotions that had plagued me for the past two months.

"Well, it's the fact that you were adopted."

"What!" I almost yelled. "You're joking, Uncle Cedric. You are joking!"

"It was at a place called Hazelton in northern British Columbia, the place where you were born. It's also known as The Forks." Uncle Cedric looked directly at me. "You know, it's where your papa served as a medical missionary before moving to Vancouver."

The tobacco smoke filled up the room. I wanted to re-open the window but was afraid of risking Uncle Cedric's displeasure. Such an action would insinuate that the smoke was an offence.

"The papers in this envelope are from the lawyer."

I jerked upright. "You're telling me that I am adopted? Mama and Papa...I'm not really their son? That's impossible. Everyone says I look just like Papa. I even have his curly hair and turned around name...Thomas Carlysle Vincent, instead of Carlysle Thomas Vincent." I grabbed the arms of my chair and halfway rose up out of my seat.

"Tell the lawyer he is mistaken. He...he got his papers mixed up." I could hear my voice escalating, like I was thirteen again. "Maybe there's another Thomas."

Uncle Cedric leaned forward. "They had their reasons for not telling you. They didn't want you to feel inferior to those in our own society. Here. The papers are in the envelope. You can see for yourself."

I pulled the envelope toward me, fearful of what it contained. Just as reluctantly, I pulled out a single page. The black letters on sepia paper reminded me of the skull and crossbones I had seen on a post behind a bank.

"See there." Uncle Cedric pointed to the heading on the document. "Right under Gunn, Timmons and Jenson, Lawyers and Notaries, New Westminster, B. C." His voice reminded me of the head-master at the school.

"Right below the preamble it says, plain as day, that Thomas Carlysle Vincent, infant son of Forrest and Annie Vincent, born August twenty-nine, eighteen ninety-three, legally adopted by Dr. Carlysle Thomas Vincent and his wife Sarah Jean Tingley Vincent, February tenth, eighteen ninety-three." He blew another cloud of smoke into the air. "And it's signed by Richard Gunn."

Uncle Cedric leaned back in his chair. "Your parents moved to Vancouver when you were about six months old. It was because Carlysle had an offer of work through his church in this area. But, I suspect, mostly because of you."

Before I had time to react, he handed me another letter tied in a faded blue ribbon. "I'll leave this with you, too. It gives some further details of your real family."

Uncle Cedric stood up. He was almost six feet tall, as tall as Papa had been. He emptied the bowl of his pipe into the fireplace and put it back on its cradle. "Don't forget to lock the door when you leave."

There was a look of relief on Uncle Cedric's face as he stood at the door. "I know this is another jolt for you, on top of losing your parents, but you're a grown man, turning seventeen shortly. Men have to take these things on the chin. I know I had to when I lost my parents."

In a sudden change of mood, Uncle Cedric pursed his lips and chuckled.

"I remember how Carlysle had hopes that you would become a doctor, as he was. Sarah wanted you to be a school teacher. They argued about that. And all you could talk about was becoming a train engineer."

---

Catalogue Information

---