Ever Faithful

by Karen Barnett

  Rose took the seat next to him on the sofa. “I’m jealous. As an only child, I didn’t have much family. It must have made for fun gatherings.”

  “Noisy.” Graham chuckled.

  “Speaking of noisy…” Mary shot Elsie a questioning glance.

  Elsie swallowed her bite of food. Evidently the girls were waiting to see if she would invite Graham to the dance. Determined to follow her mother’s advice, Elsie steeled herself. “Graham, the girls and I are throwing together a little party for all the savages. I hope you can come.”

  A shy smile brightened Rose’s face. “Do you like to dance, Graham?”

  His eyes settled on her. “You bet I do. And I’ll be there. I can’t wait to meet the rest of the crew.” He glanced at the others. “Hey, I’m supposed to practice driving one of the buses tomorrow. Are any of you ladies interested in a private tour of the park?”

  Elsie adjusted her seat. “I think we’re going to be busy putting the Great Hall in order for the festivities on Saturday.” She couldn’t miss Rose’s quick pout. Driving with Graham probably sounded like much more fun than scrubbing the hall, but she was too loyal to say as much.

  “I guess I’ll be tooling around on my own, then.” Laughter spilled in from the other room. Graham smiled, then continued. “I’m looking forward to the dance. How many will be there?”

  Mary gestured with her napkin. “We’re inviting the usual—the wranglers, the pillow punchers, heavers, pearl divers, pack rats, and so on. Oh, and the CCC boys. Elsie, I spoke to your dad earlier about our concerns that there might be too many of them. He said they could put the invitation forward as a reward for a small selection of the boys. Those who show themselves worthy of such an honor.”

  “That might cut out some of the riffraff,” Graham said.

  Elsie felt a flush of indignation. “Just because they were unemployed doesn’t mean they’re bums.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that. I was out of work for a long time too. But I heard this program was designed to clear the streets of rabble-rousers and ne’er-do-wells. To quell civil discontent in the Hoovervilles.”

  This new bit of information didn’t settle well with Elsie. These were the men she’d agreed to teach?

  The three rangers walked in from the other room as Graham finished his statement. Her father balanced a coffee cup in his right hand. “No one with a police record was eligible. It seems to me most of these boys are pretty decent stock, though undernourished and sadly out of shape.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, sir—the ‘decent stock’ part, anyway.” Graham corrected himself. “I’d hate to see these ladies led astray by any ruffians. Are you at all concerned about them consorting with the staff and visitors? At least the fellows working for the concessions are largely university students.”

  Elsie couldn’t help but study Teddy Vaughn as he leaned against the doorframe, listening to the conversation. His brown-eyed gaze seemed to take in everything and everyone but gave up little of what he was thinking.

  Her father cleared his throat. “Scripture tells us to show hospitality to strangers—‘for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’ ”

  Elsie wasn’t so sure about angels, but it did seem like there were a few gentlemen among the CCC crew. She’d already met one, at least. “I think the reward system sounds like a wonderful idea. We’d like to welcome them all, but it’s such a large group. Assuming we stay with the idea of a dance, we wouldn’t have enough ladies to partner with all those men.”

  Mary lifted one shoulder and smiled. “It sounds like a fun challenge to me.”

  Her father nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “It’ll give the men something to work toward. A little carrot as incentive, you might say.”

  Graham cast a glance toward Rose. “But should Elsie and her friends be used as that carrot?”

  “The social event is the carrot.” Elsie folded her hands in her lap. “And we can take care of ourselves.”

  Her father chuckled. “That’s my girl.” He turned to Graham. “And there’ll be plenty of other men there—the jammers, wranglers, porters, and such. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble. I’ll be sure the New York boys are on their best behavior.”

  Mary bumped Elsie’s arm. “And we’ll welcome them to Yellowstone in style.”

  Nate followed the men into the tent, dropped his bag at the foot of the bed, and collapsed onto the cot. Every muscle in his arms and back protested the long day wielding a pick and shovel at the park’s buffalo ranch. His hands were scraped and bleeding from removing old fencing. A few more weeks and he’d either be as tough as nails or shipped home in a box.

  The massive, shaggy bison had taken his breath away. Who knew such incredible animals could exist in today’s modern world—outside of cowboy shows, that is. The wrangler at the Lamar Buffalo Ranch said they’d started with around two dozen animals and now had over a thousand healthy head. Evidently the Wild West was making a comeback right here at Yellowstone as they tried to keep this impressive beast from going extinct.

  In his exhaustion, Nate floated on the sounds of the conversations filling the tent, including Moretti and Ricci nearby laughing and joking in Italian. He still had things to do before dinner, but another minute on his bunk and he’d be out, if he wasn’t careful.

  Mutt kicked the foot of the bed as he sauntered past. “Webber, you smell like a buffalo’s behind. Do us a favor and hit the showers.”

  “That’s what good, honest work’ll do for you,” Nate jabbed back. “What’s your excuse?” A hot shower would be welcome now, if he could manage to peel himself off the mattress.

  The raucous laughter was silenced by the sound of a clearing throat. The captain stood at the entrance, his hands clasped behind him.

  Nate scrambled to his feet along with every other weary man in the company.

  “Report outside, men. We’ve got a few items to discuss.”

  Nate buttoned his shirt, his stomach sinking. Did this mean the work hadn’t pleased their superiors? A few of the men were slackers, but most had labored diligently.

  The men fell into lines outside the tents, much like Nate pictured a military inspection, minus the discipline. He glanced about. Some of the men were shirtless, others slouched, most still bore the grime and sweat of the day on their skin and clothes. A pretty sorry-looking lot, overall. But it might be preferable to appearing neat and tidy after a long day’s labor. They were grunts hired to work, after all, not soldiers on parade.

  Captain Dahl stood at attention beside Ranger Brookes and Superintendent Toll. His face remained grim until the company’s shuffling feet and hushed voices quieted. He cleared his throat for a second time as he surveyed the ragtag collection of men. “You worked hard today. Some more than others.” He shot a glance down the row, his attention lighting on a few fellows in the rear of the group. “Ranger Brookes and Superintendent Toll have arranged for several large projects that we will be putting our backs into over the next few months, including trail repair, landscaping, and pine beetle control. I will be observing your work closely and watching for those who rise to the top. Leaders will be established, and we will find a variety of ways to reward hard work.”

  “Extra pay might be nice,” Val whispered.

  Red grunted. “Or time off.”

  Nate set his jaw, determined not to be drawn into the fellows’ antics.

  The captain folded his arms across his chest. “One mandate President Roosevelt has given us is that each man here should have an opportunity to educate himself. To that end, the government is restricting your labor to forty hours per week. That will allow you plenty of time for other activities including instruction and recreation. We are bringing in teachers and will be holding regular classes in basic subjects for those of you who have not had the opportunity to finish high school.” His attention skimmed across the gr
oup. “I imagine that might be a large percentage of you.”

  Nate swallowed hard, careful not to move his gaze from the captain’s face. So much for getting by completely on the strength of his back. Once again, his defective mind would be on display for the world to see. Perhaps he could manage to stay busy enough to avoid the classroom entirely. Could he volunteer for extra hours?

  “We will also offer training in various professional fields including machine arts, truck driving, forestry, and electronics so that you might find yourself more employable when you leave the three Cs.”

  Red rocked up and down on his toes. “Hot dog. Red Walsh, machinist.”

  Dahl studied the lines of men before him. “I have already asked a few of you to begin organizing recreational and entertainment activities. I expect to see baseball games, boxing matches, Friday night talent shows, and a camp newspaper in short order.”

  A stitch of tension seemed to evaporate from the gathering as a few hoots and a smattering of applause met the captain’s last statement. Nate relaxed. Sports and recreation would cut into any forced classroom time.

  “Now, I’d like you to direct your attention to Ranger Brookes for a moment, lads. He has an announcement I think you’ll welcome.”

  The ranger doffed his hat and clutched it to his side. “Men, I’m here to extend a special invitation.”

  A breeze swept through the camp with his words. Nate drew his eyes away from the snow-covered hills and jagged peaks in the distance and focused on the gray-haired man. He seemed so at home here that he was almost part of the landscape.

  Brookes studied the ranks, a smile toying about his lips. “It has come to my attention that the young people working at the hotel and campground are planning a dance for Saturday night to welcome the new and returning seasonal staff to the Mammoth area. Several of the ladies approached me recently about possibly extending that welcome to you boys.”

  Whistles and whoops answered the man’s announcement.

  He lifted a hand to quiet the celebration. “Not so fast. Not all of you will be attending. Your captain will be hand-selecting the best and brightest—the hard-working, respectful, and well-mannered men only. We want to put our best foot forward, so to say.”

  Best and brightest? Nate’s shoulders sank. He was about as bright as a burned-out bulb.

  Mutt laughed under his breath. “Webber and Red are out, then. Can’t have their ugly mugs representing us to the ladies.”

  Captain Dahl stepped forward. “You’ve heard it, men. We’ll deliver the invitations at mail call on Thursday morning. That leaves you two days to impress the socks off your leaders. Now, I’ve heard that the mess tent has rustled up some—”

  The captain’s words were drowned out by a growling engine. A stake bed truck barreled into camp and pulled up short. A young ranger jumped to the ground.

  Brookes rushed to his side. “Vaughn, what’s wrong?”

  “Fire.” His breath came in short gasps. “We need you, sir.”

  The superintendent joined them beside the vehicle. “Where?”

  “The western entrance, Madison River area. A roadside brush burn got out of control, sir.”

  “Fires already?” Toll frowned. “It’s only May.”

  Brookes glanced across the company. “Dahl, any chance your boys can lend a hand? We’re still short staffed until June. Vaughn could use some warm bodies—maybe twenty or so?”

  Dahl snapped him a quick nod before turning to the men. “You heard him, fellas. Volunteers?”

  A murmur went through the group as the men looked at each other with wide eyes. They’d already put in a long day, and the delicious smells from the mess tent beckoned.

  As soon as Mutt stepped forward, Nate’s blood pressure surged. The skunk only wanted to curry favor with the captain in order to step pretty into the dance on Saturday. Nate could care less about dancing, but that leadership post still dangled in front of him like a shiny red apple. What he wouldn’t give to send home an extra five dollars a month. If it kept his mother out of the breadlines and his brother out of trouble, he’d endure blisters and aches any day. He stepped forward.

  Val joined him. “Always volunteer, right? I told you what my father said.”

  “He sounds like a wise man,” Nate said. “Better than mine, anyway. Sticking your neck out in my house just volunteered you for a slap about the ears.”

  Red grunted and sauntered forward to join the line. “You fellas are crazy, but I’m not staying here by myself Saturday night. I aim to dance with all the pretty girls.”

  As soon as they had a suitable group, the captain offered them a grim nod. “We haven’t had time to school you in firefighting techniques. Webber, did you read that section of the manual?”

  A flush prickled up Nate’s neck. The book hung heavy in his shirt pocket. “No sir. I haven’t gotten to that one…yet.” He hadn’t gotten to any of it.

  Dahl gestured to a truck waiting near the camp gate, the same one that had returned them from fence removal earlier. “You fellows should have time to look it over on the way. And then keep your eyes on the rangers and follow their lead. No funny business. I want every man back safe in his bunk tomorrow—you hear?”

  “Yes sir.” Nate gulped. They scattered to retrieve tools and canteens before gathering beside the truck. Nate picked up his shovel, the wooden handle pressing into his blistered palm.

  Nate followed Red, Val, and the others as they tossed gear into the empty truck bed and then hauled themselves in. The rangers had promised a long bumpy ride, so Nate unfastened the blanket roll from his shoulder and used it as a cushion for his already sore back as he leaned against the wooden slats. He folded his arms and lowered his hat across his face, hoping to catch a little shut eye on the trip.

  Red elbowed him. “Hey, what about that book Dahl was going on about? Ain’t we supposed to read something before it gets too dark to see?”

  “Right.” Nate dug into his pocket, slid out the small green manual, flipped it open, and thumbed through the pages.

  Mutt dropped onto the floor across from him, his legs jutting out toward Nate. “What’s it say? Don’t get burned?”

  “It probably says fools and fire are a deadly combination.” Nate skimmed the headings. Fire started with the letter F. He knew that much, anyway. He ran his thumb along the bold titles. The letters blurred as the vehicle jounced down the dirt road.

  “So what’s it got?” Val glanced over his shoulder, a bit like an overeager puppy.

  Mutt leaned back and used his rucksack for a pillow. “Read us a bedtime story, Webber.” He snorted. “Better you than me, though. I get motion sickness trying to read on the road.”

  Good thought. Nate shoved the open book toward Val. “Yeah, me too.”

  The kid took the manual and squinted at the small print. “I don’t think a chapter on fishing is going to help, Nate.” He thumbed through the pages before jabbing his finger at a different section. “Wildfires. Here it is.”

  “Checking to see if you were paying attention,” Nate muttered, fixing his gaze on his boots.

  The young man glanced up at him for a brief moment before returning to the words.

  Nate leaned back and closed his eyes, listening as Val droned his way through the chapter. A few pages in, he stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Nate opened his eyes.

  Val flipped through a few more pages and frowned. “It only talks about why wildfires are bad and how much damage they do. It doesn’t say how to fight them.” He lifted his gaze. “In Brooklyn, there are fire wagons and pumper trucks. They got those here?”

  Red shoved his hat back. “They got us. Bucket brigade, maybe?”

  “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.” Nate pressed fingers against his weary eyes. “But with all those trees, it’s going to take more than a few men with b
uckets.”

  Evening passed into night, a dark cloak spreading across the sky, speckled with stars. The truck’s bouncing causing Nate’s head to ricochet off the panel wall several times along the journey. Even so, he managed to grab a few snatches of sleep, his mind drifting from waking to dreaming and back again with little knowledge as to which was which. Eventually he’d gathered his pack onto his bent knees and laid his head against the rough canvas, like a schoolboy asleep at his desk.

  After several hours the vehicle rumbled to a stop, throwing them all against each other like so many dominoes. The growling engine cut out, plunging them into silence. Val got to his feet and stared out the back. “Oy vey,” he whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Nate to hear.

  Every muscle in Nate’s neck seemed to complain as he straightened and rolled to his knees. Hoisting himself higher, he peered between the truck’s slats for a look. The glow of the burning trees sent a jolt through his system. It looked like the devil himself had taken up residency in the forest. The red and orange glow crept along the lower part of the forest, reaching into the tree’s limbs in only a few places, but the searing light and heat kicked his heartbeat into a crazy rhythm. He grabbed his gear and shovel and clambered off the truck with the others.

  The ranger met them around the side. “Leave your blankets and food here. Make sure your canteen is full. Grab a Pulaski from the crate in the back of my truck. We’re going to clear a firebreak and see if we can cut this thing off here before it progresses farther into the park.” He hurried off to where a couple of men and a team of horses busted a path through the vegetation.

  “What in the world’s a Pulaski?” Mutt strapped a canteen to his belt.

  Nate strode over to the park truck and spotted a box of double-edged tools waiting for them. “I’m guessing he’s talking about these.” Turning the wooden handle over in his grip, he tested the weight of the ax-and-hoe combination.