This is a story of love--the best kind of love--the kind that leaves no scars, but only sunshine and fond memories. It happened to my aunt over 60 years ago, and I will let her tell the story in her own words:

Dodger Davis and his father lived in the Sawtooth wilderness. Dodger's mother had died when he was a small boy, so it was just he and his dad against the world. They lived in a small cabin at the mouth of the Yankee Fork of the Salmon River near Sunbeam Dam, in an area that now houses a restaurant and trailer house hookups for tourists. Dodger's dad was employed at the gold dredge, which was a strange looking structure that employed many of the local men. Its purpose was to scoop up gold from the creek bottom, separating it from the mud and gravel.

I met Dodger when he came to Shoshone to visit my next-door neighbor, Walt Huffman. We were all in our early teens and became very good friends. Every day we would go to the park and swim in the pool, spending the whole day there. I became quite enamoured of the handsome young Dodger, as he was very tall, lean, had brown curly hair, blue eyes and a wonderful smile. My best friend, Virginia, felt the same way about Dodger. When his visit ended and he returned to Sunbeam, he wrote me long letters about his life there with his father. Many times they were snowed in and had to find hobbies to keep them busy. His father liked to use wood scraps and incorporate them into various objects. They became very close and helped each other, cooking and doing all the household chores.

Dodger came to see me after several months of hard winter. He asked me if I would like to go for a walk with him. I noticed that he had something under his arm but I didn't inquire about it. Suddenly, he pulled out an exquisite wooden box and told me that both he and his dad wanted me to have it. They had spent their snowbound winter making it for me. I thought it was beautiful--and I especially liked the fact that the box had a lock and its own little key.

I remember that I gave him a kiss, my first kiss with a boy, and I felt I was in love.

Time passed and the letters became fewer as we both grew older and went on to other things. My dad knew a County Agent named Clarke who told us that he had a strange experience up at Sunbeam Dam. A young fellow and a young girl wanted to get married, so Clarke took them to a minister and stood up for them. The boy was Dodger! I thought, "Well, that ends that and I will never see him again." But while shopping in Twin Falls one day, I saw him and his wife. Dodger left her and came running over to me, seemingly delighted to see me. We talked a bit and then parted--and that was the last time I saw him.

I heard later that Dodger's young wife had drowned in the Salmon River. For some reason, she got aboard an overhead cart that ferried people across the river and the cart collapsed and she fell into the river. Tragic.

Both Virginia and I have heard that Dodger went back East, but that every year he returns to Sunbeam for the reunion of the dredge workers. I asked once at the Sunbeam restaurant if anyone there knew of him (after many years) and no one remembered him except for one old man who said, "I think he was the young boy that lived in that cabin over there with his dad."

The box was a treasured possession where I kept my favorite things for many years. I decided to give it to my lovely niece, because of all the people I knew, she would be the one to keep it safe.

Lois Stewart Moore

And here for all to see is Dodger's box, more than sixty years old, testament to young love with all its sweetness and devotion. I treasure it.

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