Beyond These Hills (38 page)

The day grew darker as the train chugged up the mountain. Smoke swirled through the air swept on by the increasing gusts of wind. Andrew stared out the window and wondered how much further they could go before the engineer would have to stop. Already they could smell the acrid stench of the fire, and several men in the train car had begun to cough.

The train jerked to a halt, but nobody moved for a moment. Since leaving Tremont, they had climbed higher into the mountains, and Andrew stared out the window at the steep incline beside the train that led on toward the summit. He shook his head in sorrow not at what the fire had done, because it hadn't reached this spot yet, but for what man had done. The total desolation of a mountainside stripped of its forest spread out to the left and right as far as he could see. All that remained of the trees that had once covered the landscape were
the dried-out trunks that had been left behind and debris from the ones that had been shipped out long ago.

He gritted his teeth at the giant swath man had cut through the Smokies, and he recalled telling Superintendent Eakin he wanted to help preserve these mountains so they could be enjoyed by people for generations. As he stared at what the lumber company had done and smelled the smoke that threatened to destroy even more, that resolve grew stronger. It was as if God had suddenly opened his eyes to where his future lay. He knew he would never be able to live anywhere but in these hills.

“Shaconage,” he whispered.

The man sitting next to him turned to him and frowned. “What did you say?”

Andrew pointed to the mountain. “The Cherokee called this the place of the blue smoke because of the haze on the mountaintops.”

“Well, it ain't very blue today, is it?”

Andrew shook his head. “Maybe we can help make it that way again.”

Lieutenant Gray stepped through the door at the front of their car at that moment and everyone sat up straighter in their seats. His mouth was set in a grim line as he let his gaze drift over the men sitting before him. Nobody moved.

He spread his feet in a wide stance and cleared his throat. “Okay, men, listen up. The engineer's afraid the fire may keep him from getting to the next spur, so he's going to turn the train around at this one. Before we get out, there are some last-minute instructions. Make sure the canteen you were issued before we left Townsend is securely attached to your belt. Sometimes that metal hook on the back of the cover can be tricky to get on. If you've had problems with it, let someone help you. It's very important that you have water when you face the heat from the fire. When you exit the train, there will be some Little River employees beside the train. They've been asked by the Park Service people to head up the digging of a fire line on
this mountain. They'll divide us into squads and take us to the spots where we'll be working. Listen to what they have to say. There are other firefighters spread out all across this section of the mountain range, but we probably won't come into contact with them. When you get off the train, you'll be given either a Pulaski or a shovel.”

“What's a Pulaski, sir?” The question came from someone toward the front of the car.

“It's a tool with an axe on one end and a grubbing hook on the other. The Park Service uses it as standard equipment now in fighting fires. Any more questions?”

A man at the front raised his hand. “Sir, do you know how long we'll be up here?”

Lieutenant Gray shook his head. “I have no idea. They're bringing in men from three more of the CCC camps in the park area, and I understand volunteers are coming in from surrounding towns. We're going to be spread out on this mountain, so you probably won't see me. Again, listen to the men who work up here. They'll let you know when replacements have arrived. Anything else?” When no one spoke, Lieutenant Gray took a deep breath. “All right. Let's get to work.”

The men rose silently, formed a single line down the aisle, and filed to the front. Andrew stood and checked the canteen that dangled from his belt before he stepped forward. When he exited the train, he grabbed the Pulaski a man handed to him and glanced up at the sky. The sun was now completely hidden behind the dark clouds of smoke in the air.

A group of men, Little River employees no doubt, stood beside the train and waited for the men to climb down. Andrew glanced over his shoulder and saw that a group waited at each car. He turned his attention back to the men who would lead his squad and the man who appeared to be their leader. If his soot-streaked face and ash-stained clothes were any indication, he'd been on the mountain for
quite a while. He unfolded a map he held and laid it on the ground. Andrew inched closer to hear what was being said.

Just as he reached the group, one of the men who had his back to him turned, and Andrew stared in unbelief into the face of Jimmy Ferguson. The surprised look on Jimmy's face was probably a reflection of his own. Jimmy's mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide. “Brady!” he said. “What are you doing up here?”

Andrew glanced up at the smoke-filled sky and then to the Pulaski he held. He suddenly felt ill-equipped to tangle with a wildfire. He shrugged. “I came to help dig a fire line.”

Jimmy stared at him a moment before he smiled and nodded. “Thanks. We need all the help we can get.”

“Laurel didn't tell me you were up here. I guess I should have known you'd go to work with Little River when you came back home.”

Jimmy's eyes grew wide. “Laurel? Where did you see her?”

“She was at the depot in Tremont. She's going back to Townsend when the train gets back.”

Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Did you see my mother and grandparents?”

Andrew shook his head. “No, she was alone.”

Jimmy closed his eyes and ran his fingers over his face. “Oh, no. Me and Pa were hoping they would go to Townsend. If this fire turns, it'll go right down to the base camp.”

Andrew's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He hoped that didn't happen before Laurel got on the train. “Then we need to make sure that doesn't happen.” He glanced over at the group of Little River employees who appeared focused on the map their leader had spread on the ground. “Who's in charge of our detail?”

Jimmy pointed to the man who knelt in the middle of the group. “My pa. He's the one assigning the locations right now.”

As if on cue, Jimmy's father stood and studied the group. “We're
going to lead you men up to a spot on the mountain where we're going to dig a fire line. When we get up there, we'll spread out to work. I'm in charge of this squad, so I'll be the lookout. I'll be monitoring your work as well as trying to keep you safe. If you're ready, let's go.”

Mr. Ferguson glanced at his son before he turned and started up the mountain. Everyone fell into step and followed as they climbed higher. As the path grew steeper, the air thickened with smoke and Andrew tried to stifle the cough that choked his throat. They climbed steadily for what seemed an eternity before Mr. Ferguson veered to the left and led the group toward the back side of the mountain.

For the first time Andrew caught sight of the fire. He swallowed back the fear that rose in his throat but couldn't take his eyes off the flames that rose from the forest at the far side of the adjacent ridge. The man in front of him glanced over his shoulder. “That's a right scary sight, ain't it?”

Andrew nodded. “It is.”

“You think it might get this far?”

“I don't know.”

A stick crunched under Andrew's foot, and he glanced down at the dried remnants of the logging operation that littered the ground. The ground around them was a tinderbox just waiting for a spark. He stared up the mountain and a second thought struck him. The logging operation had stopped about halfway up, and giant trees covered the upper half all the way to the peak.

A sinking feeling washed over him, and he stubbed his foot on the exposed root of a tree that had once stood in that spot. He glanced down at the dried ground under his feet and then up the mountain to the tree branches bending in the wind. The truth hit him like a punch in the stomach. If the fire spread this far, it could ignite on either side of them and leave them trapped between two deadly forces.

He hardly had time to process the thought before Mr. Ferguson held up his hand for them to stop. He pointed to a rock outcropping
to the right and moved his arm in a straight line to his left. “That rock is our anchor point. We're gonna start digging there and cut that line all the way across here. For you not used to a Pulaski, don't raise it over your head to swing down. That just wastes energy, and it's dangerous. Bend slightly at the waist and use chopping motions. We need a line about twelve inches wide all the way across with the dirt taken all the way down to the mineral soil.” He cast a worried glance at the fire that appeared to have moved closer since Andrew first spotted it. “If we can get this line dug and if the wind don't get stronger, we may be able to make this fire burn out. Any questions?”

When no one said anything, he nodded. “Then let's get to work.”

The men spread out across the area Mr. Ferguson had indicated. Andrew took up a place on the line and nodded to the man beside him and then to Jimmy, the next man down. Jimmy jerked his head in the man's direction. “Hey, Brady. This is Glenn Carter. He works for Little River, but he grew up in the Cove. His folks sold out and moved a few months back.”

Andrew stuck out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Carter.”

He nodded and shook Andrew's hand. “You too.”

Without further conversation they set to work. For a while the sound of picks and shovels striking ground echoed across the mountainside. Andrew glanced up from his work from time to time to watch as the fire crept closer. It had now reached the trees in the middle of the neighboring ridge and appeared to be spreading unchecked closer to their location.

After about an hour of digging, Mr. Ferguson signaled for everybody to take a short break. Andrew, Glenn, and Jimmy walked about ten yards uphill from their work position and dropped to the ground. They each pulled their canteens from their belts and took a drink before anyone spoke.

Jimmy held his canteen and motioned toward the fire. Its tongues were licking at the sky. “It looks like it's playing leapfrog the way it jumps from one tree to the next. I've never seen anything like it.”

Just then swirls of dust and debris kicked up all around them as
a huge gust of wind ripped across the mountain. Andrew closed his eyes and ducked his head as dirt peppered his face. “It's this wind,” he yelled. “If this keeps up, that fire's gonna be on top of us.”

A loud explosion split the air, and Andrew jumped to his feet and stared in the direction of the sound. He stood wide-eyed and unable to move as the whole mountainside facing them lit up like a fireworks display. Huge sparks propelled by the wind rocketed across the sky and spewed a trail of fire in every direction. Within seconds the whole area fanned into one huge inferno.

Jimmy and Glenn hopped to their feet, and the three watched in spellbound horror as deadly flames whizzed through the air and landed in the tree-stripped area they had climbed to reach this elevation. As the missiles hit the dry debris left by the loggers, the sparks ignited and raced across the ground.

Mr. Ferguson and the work detail were already running toward the spreading flames. His voice could be heard yelling at the men. “Hurry! Shovel dirt on this fire!”

Jimmy rushed down the mountainside with Andrew right behind him. As he ran, Andrew glanced over his shoulder and spotted Glenn Carter sprawled face-down not far from where they'd sat minutes ago. He skidded to a stop and ran back to Glenn. The man was clawing at the ground in an effort to push himself into a sitting position.

Andrew sucked in a breath at the sight of Glenn's leg. Halfway between the knee and ankle the lower half of Glenn's shin jutted outward at a forty-five degree angle from the upper half. His foot lay wedged underneath the loop of a tree root that protruded from the ground. Andrew dropped down beside him. “What happened?”

Pain contorted Glenn's face, and he groaned. “I snagged my foot on a tree root. I think my leg's broken.”

“I'll cut you free.” Within seconds Andrew had cut the tree root away. Andrew glanced over his shoulder at the spreading fire behind him and then back to Glenn. “Your leg's broken all right. Don't move. It'll only make the pain worse. I'll go help put out the fire, but I'll be back for you.”

Glenn's face turned pale, and he raised his head enough to dart a glance at the men below them frantically shoveling dirt. “Okay.”

Andrew whirled and ran to join the men in what appeared to be a futile effort. He chopped at the earth with his Pulaski and scooped the loose dirt onto flames that seemed to be spreading faster than they could contain it. A sudden wind rushed across the ridge and fanned the flames higher.

From where he worked further down the mountain Mr. Ferguson stopped, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled. “Men, this fire's about to get out of our control. We need to get out of here before we're trapped.”

More projectiles of fire sailed through the air and landed inches away from Andrew. Searing pain shot through his body as his shirt sleeve blazed. He dropped to the ground and rolled until the flames died. Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. He stared up into the face of Jimmy Ferguson.