Elsie’s stomach churned. The memories loomed large, but that’s all they were—memories. They couldn’t harm her.
Graham put on his jacket over his sweat-stained shirt. “Your father didn’t tell you I was coming, then.”
She shook her head, unable to put any words together.
He buried his hands in his pockets. “I’ve thought about you many times over the years, but you wouldn’t return my letters.” He took several steps toward her, then stopped short, his eyes filling with emotion. “Now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to say.”
“Why did you come?”
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “After my father died last year, and then the business fell apart…” He lowered his head. “I wasn’t sure where else to go. Your parents had always been kind to me. I hoped we could be a family again.”
“Be a family?” The words tore at her throat. They hadn’t been “a family” since the fire.
He closed his eyes. In that moment, he appeared every bit the boy he’d been when she’d last laid eyes on him. He must be nearing twenty-five now. “I was a kid, Elsie. It was a foolish mistake. One that cost me dearly.”
“And cost my baby sister everything.” Her mouth tasted like fireplace ashes.
He fell silent, shadows gathering around his eyes. He took his hands from his pockets and spread them in front of her, the scarred palms evidence of his own part in her memories. “I’m praying we can get past it. Start over.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “I miss you, Elsie. You were the sister I never had. I’m hoping you can forgive me.”
She stepped back. “I can’t stop you from working here, Graham. But don’t expect anything more from me.”
* * *
Nate pushed wet branches out of his way as they climbed the steep slope of Mount Washburn. The leather boots clung stiffly around his ankles, rubbing at the skin on his heels. Tomorrow he’d add a second pair of wool socks. Captain Dahl had said they’d be hiking in snow, but Nate hadn’t envisioned waist-high drifts in late May. Thankfully, a sort of trail had been cut through the drifts by rangers on horseback. It had been difficult to imagine snow when the temperatures in Mammoth had been warm enough for shirtsleeves.
“A little farther, men.” The ranger called back over his shoulder.
Nate fixed his eyes on the stiff brim of the man’s hat, determined not to fall behind like so many of the others straggling along the path. He’d already heard the ranger and the captain talking about the crew’s lack of skills. Could Nate and the others help the fact that they grew up in the city? But he’d prove himself, regardless. He needed this opportunity.
Val Kaminski, walking in front of him, let go of a branch as he passed. The wet evergreen bough swung through the air, catching Nate in the jaw with a sound thwack, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Hey, watch it.” One bad step and he’d find himself rolling down the slope like a snowball.
The youngster glanced back and smirked. “Keep up, old man.”
Old man. Nate dug his toe into the ice and surged forward in an attempt to match strides with the mouthy kid. He might be at the top of the age range for the CCCs, but it certainly didn’t make him old. “Did you bother to shave this morning, Val? Or was that last week?”
The fellows behind him laughed, even as he bit back a second insult. He could talk circles around the eighteen-year-old, but he didn’t need to make enemies. The captain suggested Nate might be leadership material—and such a position could earn his family an extra five or ten dollars a month. It seemed far-fetched that anyone would view him as command worthy, but if there was a chance, he didn’t intend to botch it.
Val grinned, the remark not denting his good humor. “You seem on good terms with the ranger man. Any word as to what we’ll be doing here?”
A bead of sweat traveled down Nate’s spine, the exertion of the snowbound hike stoking his furnace from the inside regardless of his chilled feet. “We’re looking for bugs.”
“You’re fooling me.” The younger man squinted at him. “Bugs?”
“Didn’t you listen when Ranger Brookes asked for volunteers this morning?”
“My tata…” He grimaced. The Polish word had slipped out. “My father taught me to always volunteer for extra work. Makes you look like a go-getter.”
Sage advice. Nate squinted against the glare as the sun beat on the white snow. “Brookes said mountain pine beetles are attacking the trees at this elevation. We’re doing a survey to see how far they’ve spread.”
Val floundered in the deep drift. “But in the snow? Beetles wouldn’t be out now, would they?”
The ranger had stopped and waited for them. “You boys doing all right?” He glanced back to where the rest of the group of eight struggled up the mountainside.
“Yes sir.” Nate ran a gloved hand across his chin, hoping it would hide his panting for breath. “Lovely day.”
“It is at that.” The older man cocked an eyebrow. “Though I’m not sure your colleagues will agree. They look a little haggard.”
Nate shrugged off the canteen he’d been issued and loosened the cap. “I’m sure we’ll toughen up, sir.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” The ranger shoved back his hat and glanced at the treetops before turning his blue eyes back to Nate. “What was your name?”
Nate choked on his mouthful of water. “Nate Webber, sir.”
“What do you see, Webber?”
Nate glanced quickly at Val before turning to study the forest. What am I supposed to be looking at? “I see trees, snow. Birds?” He took a second swig from the canteen, his throat suddenly drier than sawdust.
Ranger Brookes folded his arms across his chest, his gold badge glinting in the light. “Look harder.”
Nate stilled. He wanted to impress the man, but he had no idea what Brookes was asking. He lifted his head, searching the forest for something unusual. The snow lay thick on the ground but had melted off the tree limbs. The forest cloaked the mountainside in a sea of green as it stretched upward toward the crystalline blue sky. No, wait…“These pines, they’re all evergreens, right?”
“Yes.” The corner of the man’s mouth twitched. “Go on.”
“Then why are there patches of red?” Nate pointed to a stand of trees ahead of them, his eyes caught by swathes of fall-like red and orange colors—in May.
Val lifted his eyes, studying the area Nate had pointed out. “I’ll be.”
Ranger Brookes clapped a hand onto Nate’s shoulder and squeezed. “Nice work, Webber. We might make foresters of you boys yet. If you learn to keep your eyes open, you can read the forest.”
Read the forest? Nate stared up at the pines where the discolored needles called out to him. Anyone with eyes could see the trees were sick. It was letters and words on a page that made no sense to him. Trees were pretty basic.
Val cleared his throat. “Is that from the mountain beetle you were talking about?”
From the speech he hadn’t bothered to listen to.
Brookes nodded. “Mountain pine beetle, yes. The larvae get under the bark and go to work on the trees. Most of our whitebark pines are already infested. I’m afraid in the next few years, we’re going to see large sections of this higher elevation forest denuded.” He shook his head. “And if it gets into the lodgepole pines, the whole park could be in trouble.”
A chill swept over Nate as the heat from the hike dissipated. “How do you fight it?”
“That’s where your crew comes in.” He jutted his chin toward the trees. “You’ll remove the diseased trees and see if it halts the progression. Otherwise the whole forest could die. And then a single spark could set the place ablaze.”
Nate gazed at the steep mountainside. “You’re talking about a lot of trees.”
“And that’s just this corner of the park.” The ranger swept th
e back of his hand across his forehead and readjusted his hat. “But thankfully, we’ve got you boys.”
“We’re here to work, sir.” Work. The word sent a charge through Nate’s blood. How long had it been? He might not be a hero like his older brother, but he could learn to swing an ax. “We’re ready and willing. Whatever you need.”
Ranger Brookes smiled. “Then we’re going to get along just fine.”
Elsie sat cross-legged on Rose’s bed as she knitted another row of stitches on the half-finished sweater. Most of the employees preferred living in the dormitories, but Rose had requested one of the older staff cabins behind the hotel. Even with the window thrown open, the musty odor of rodent urine hung over the space. The three girls had wrapped themselves in blankets against the cold spring air flooding into the room—but better chilled than overcome. Elsie fixed her eyes on the interlocking strands of yarn, the clacking of her wooden needles creating order from the chaos of her mind.
Mary flitted around the room like a hummingbird. “Just one shindig before we head to Canyon? Come on. What could it hurt?”
Rose grabbed a shawl from her trunk and draped it over her shoulders. “There aren’t very many of us here yet, Mary. How are we going to organize a party on such short notice? And where would we hold it?”
“But we really should welcome everyone back.” Mary dabbed a tissue to her nose. “How about a bonfire?”
“The evenings are still so cold.” Elsie shifted on the mattress, making the springs squeak. “How about a film night in the museum?”
“Too boring. We need to dance.” Mary held the blanket around her like an imaginary ball gown and waltzed, her steps in perfect time to the music streaming from Rose’s Victrola. “Maybe having the hotel closed is a blessing. We could use the Great Hall without having to worry about bothering guests. Do you think Mr. Nichols would allow a dance? It could be a reward for us getting the cabins all trim and tidy ahead of schedule.”
Rose leaned against the windowsill, staring out at the night sky. Their sweet friend had grown melancholy since losing Pete. “How many people are you thinking? There are only a handful of pillow punchers and wranglers here.”
Mary danced up behind Rose and nudged her. “There’s the CCC crew. And the new jammers. We saw how you were staring all doe-eyed at Elsie’s cousin.”
“I wasn’t. Why would you say such a thing?” Rose turned away from the glass as her voice pitched higher.
Elsie tried to ignore her distress. Rose was a bad liar. Of all the men she could pursue, why did it have to be Graham?
Mary rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your stockings in a twist. I’m just teasing.”
Rose hurried over to her trunk and grabbed more clothes to put away. “Well, don’t. Elsie’s not pleased to see him here, so that’s good enough reason for me to be cautious.” She held two garments against her chest, darting a glance at Elsie. “Right?”
Elsie released a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’d rather not talk about him.”
“Of course, you don’t have to tell us.” Mary cleared her throat. “If you don’t trust your best friends…”
Rose shot her a look. “Mary!”
“What?” She threw up her hands. “What did I say?”
Elsie slid forward until her feet hit the floor. “I’m going now.” She knew her friends too well. They would keep digging until they pried the whole story from her.
Rose dropped the clothes on the bed. “Don’t go, Els. We won’t ask again. Right, Mary?”
Elsie shrugged on her coat. “I should get home anyway. I need to help my mother get ready for bed.”
Rose looked surprised. “I’m sorry, Elsie. Are things that bad?”
Mary jumped up. “Should I come along?”
“Not tonight. But I know Mama would love to see you both. It always lifts her spirits. Maybe tomorrow?” She paused in the doorway, new resolve flooding her. “I think we should have that dance. We deserve some fun. But if you invite the jammers, wranglers, and the boys from the CCC camp, won’t we have far more men than women?”
Mary swished her skirt about her knees and grinned. “Exactly! No shortage of partners for us.”
Elsie headed out the door and let the starry night sky chase away her anxious thoughts. She wasn’t much for dancing, but it might be fun. Mary would be the life of the party, and perhaps the merriment would lift Rose’s spirits. Some of the other girls would be arriving tomorrow and the new crew of bus drivers would be a welcome addition. Except for Graham.
Maybe they should invite some of the park service staff too. The image of the newest ranger trailed through her thoughts. Her father mentioned that he’d had trouble making friends. Was that because he was so much younger than the other men? He might enjoy meeting Rose and the others.
She paused to gaze across the moonlit parade grounds as the rhythmic sound of water dripping off the hotel’s roof added to the music of the night. Spring was in the air, and the damp smell was delicious. Elsie sighed. If only the memories Graham’s arrival dredged up could melt away as easily.
* * *
Nate shivered, the heat from the morning calisthenics dissipating quickly as he stood in front of Captain Dahl. Nate fought the rising panic in his chest. Why had the captain singled him out?
Dahl drew a book from his pocket and passed it to Nate without a word.
Nate closed his hand over the book, its stiff green cover fitting neatly in his palm. “What’s this?”
“CCC handbook.” The man folded his arms, watching as the others dispersed and headed toward the showers. “As soon as we have enough, we’re handing them out to the crew, but I thought you might like the first look.”
Nate flipped through it. The tiny print might as well have crawled off the page and down his backbone. “Why, sir? I mean—why me?” Had Dahl realized he’d need extra time to decipher the pages? From the looks of the dense type, it would take a lifetime for him to piece together this many words.
“The men are already looking up to you.” The captain reached out and tapped the manual’s cover. “There’s a chapter in there about leaders and advisers. Read it. See if it interests you.”
Leaders? Nate could almost hear his father’s laugh. “There are plenty of other fellows—”
“And you’re not the only one I’ve got my eye on. But I observe, and I listen to what the boys say. Ranger Brookes also put in a good word for you. Told me you worked hard the other day and rallied the others to do so as well. That’s the type of attitude that’ll take you far in the three Cs.”
Nate managed a nod, words failing him. Had anyone ever believed in him before? How long would it take before he disappointed the man? Probably as soon as he realized Nate couldn’t read a page. He closed the small manual. “Thank you, sir.”
“You might decide you don’t want the extra work. And”—an easy grin softened his face—“it’s easier being everyone’s buddy than their boss. Take it from me; you can’t be both.” He turned and strode away toward headquarters.
The weight of the man’s expectations pressed on Nate’s shoulders until he was certain at least an inch had been stolen from his height. A few extra years of age and a good attitude—were those enough to make up for his many failings?
Nate pocketed the book and hurried back to the tent. Val and Red had already departed, but Mutt was still there, struggling to make his bed.
“If the captain makes me redo this one more time this week, I’m going home. Hospital corners are for…for nurses.” Mutt snorted, then wiped his nose on his cuff. “I ain’t got time for this.”
Moretti, at the next bunk, sniggered. “Remember the nurse at Camp Dix? I’d let her fix my corners anytime.”
Nate shoved the handbook into the small footlocker at the end of his cot, his stomach turning. Normally he’d join in with the rauco
us banter, if only to make a few more friends, but Captain Dahl’s words rang in his ears. He made his own bed and reached for his shaving kit. A hot shower would wash away the crawly sensation he’d had since he’d tried to focus on those handbook pages.
“Hey, Webber, think they got a camp nurse here?” Moretti called to him.
Nate turned and eyed the younger men. “Like they’d trust you with a lady nurse? I have a feeling we won’t be seeing anything but trees for months.” He headed for the tent door and paused. “But you’re in luck, Moretti…”
“How’s that?”
“There are lots of mighty purty trees.” Nate ducked through the door as the men laughed.
Panicked shouts from the direction of the new shower house made him double his pace. Men burst out of the long building in various states of dress and undress. Others lingered in the doorway, staring inside with mixed expressions of horror and amusement.
“What’s going on?” Nate joined Red and Val, both standing in the cold morning air clad in nothing but damp towels.
Red kept a tight fist on his covering, red splotches and gooseflesh mottling his pasty skin. “There’s some big, hissing…something in there. I nearly stepped on the monster.”
Globs of shaving soap still hung from Val’s jaw. “Raccoon. They hang out in the sewers back home. But boy, this one is big—and mad.”
Nowak, a hotheaded young recruit, grabbed a pitchfork and ducked inside.
“Hey!” Nate lunged toward him, fighting his way through the growing crowd. “Don’t hurt it.”
The man gripped the tool in both hands as he stood there in damp trousers, every vertebrae and rib showing along his bare back. A smear of red on the tines suggested he’d already gotten in at least one jab.
The tubby raccoon growled and spat as it cowered under one of the metal sinks. Was it the same animal Nate had spotted the first night at the latrine?
“Knock it off, Nowak,” Nate snapped. “Leave it alone.”
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