Beyond These Hills Page 8

  Andrew shook his head. “No, not right now.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to get settled and I’ll see you in the mess hall for supper. You’ll eat at the officers’ table.”

  Andrew set his bag on the small cot where he’d sleep and turned back to Lieutenant Gray. “Thank you for putting me up while I’m in the Cove.”

  Lieutenant Gray shrugged. “No problem. See you later.”

  With that the man turned and strode into the hallway. Andrew stood in the middle of the sparsely furnished room where he would be living for the next few months and looked around. Not like home, but it would meet his needs. A cot, a desk with a chair, a small table next to the bed, and a foot locker completed the list of furnishings. On the bright side there was a small closet where he could hang his pants and shirts. The best thing about the place, though, was that the camp had electricity, and the room was well lit with two lamps and an overhead light.

  He turned back to his bag and opened it. The framed picture lay on top of his packed clothes, and he pulled it out. He stared at the woman in the photograph and frowned. Lucy had given him the picture after dinner on his last night at home, and he’d promised her it would have a place of honor in his room. Now that he was here in the Cove, he wasn’t so sure he should have done that.

  Lucy really was a beautiful woman and a very rich one, with family who had helpful contacts in the political world, as his father was constantly reminding him. She and both their families fully expected him to propose. The perfect wife for him, they all said. A woman who could be a great asset in building her husband’s political career.

  If his father had his way, Andrew would not only marry Lucy, he would use every one of her contacts to help him climb the ladder of elected office all the way to Washington. There was only one thing wrong with his father’s plan. It wasn’t what Andrew wanted.

  Andrew closed his eyes and shook his head. Why couldn’t he make his father understand that? He’d told him over and over, but his protests did no good. Maybe he hadn’t been able to make his father understand how he felt because he hadn’t figured out yet what he did want in life. He was twenty-four years old with a degree in engineering from Virginia Military Institute, and he was drifting through life without a clue where he was going.

  He’d hoped his summer in Cades Cove would give him some time to think and figure out his future. He’d been in the Cove for less than a day, and he already had more questions than he’d had when he arrived. Already his expectations of the people living here had been shattered. The Martins and the Jacksons were nothing like his family. They didn’t have the wealth his father had accumulated, and the Martins’ cabin couldn’t begin to compare with the large home his family owned in the rolling Virginia countryside. Yet they had something his family didn’t. They were happy and content with what they had. And their love for each other was evident in every word they spoke and every look they gave each other.

  Now he’d come to take their way of life away from them and send them into an unknown world outside their mountain valley. The thought squeezed the breath out of him. How could he do that to them? How could he hurt Laurel?

  He glanced down at the picture he held of the woman who was about to become his fiancée. His hands trembled. The ridiculous thought popped into his head that he wished the face smiling at him was a dark-haired beauty with a long braid and flashing brown eyes.

  His hand tightened on the frame, and he closed his eyes. “Mountain Laurel,” he whispered.

  There might be a lot of things he was unsure of in his life, but one thing he was certain about. He had to know her better. No matter what she said, he intended to do just that. He didn’t know how, but he would figure out a way.

  The afternoon quiet made Laurel sleepy, and she nodded in the rocker on the front porch of her grandparents’ cabin. Noah had left, her father and grandfather had taken her brothers and driven over to the site of Cecil Davis’s cabin to see if it had been torn down by the Park Service, and her mother and grandmother were in the kitchen discussing a dress pattern. She and Granny had sat beside each other for the last thirty minutes without speaking.

  Laurel took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. “Are you okay, Granny?”

  “I’m fine, child. I just been a-sittin’ here soakin’ up my mountains. It’s one of my fav’rite things to do.”

  Laurel chuckled. “I know.”

  Granny rocked a few times before she spoke again. “It shore has been a beautiful Sunday in the Cove.”

  Laurel nodded. “It has. Everything is so green, and the air smells so good. It gives me a happy feeling.”

  Granny’s eyebrow arched and she directed a somber stare at Laurel. “Are you sure you feel good? I thought you seemed kinda down and out after Andrew left.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Granny. I didn’t care one way or another when he left.” Laurel’s fingers curled into her fists, and she clasped them in her lap.

  “Well, you coulda fooled me. My eyesight may not be as good as it used to be, but you looked right disappointed when you come back from seeing the puppies and found out he’d already left. I figured you was upset ’cause you didn’t get to tell him goodbye.”

  Laurel sniffed and shook her head. “Why would I be upset? Andrew Brady means nothing to me.”

  “Well, that may be so, but I could tell he was right taken with you. He must’ve asked me a hundred questions ’bout you during dinner.”

  “A hundred? Now, Granny, I think you’re exaggerating.”

  Granny laughed. “Well, maybe a bit, but he did talk about you a lot. And he shore looked at you plenty of times.” She reached over and grasped Laurel’s hand. “There’s nothing wrong with that, darlin’. You’re a pretty young woman, and he’s a good-looking man. It’s natural that you’d want to be friends.”

  Laurel shook her head. “He said he wants to be friends with me, but I can’t do that, Granny. He’s here to take our land and our homes. If he has his way, I’m scared of what will happen to us. I have to think of him as my enemy.”

  Granny sighed and squeezed her hand. “He’s not our enemy, darlin’.”

  “But Granny, he works for the government and they want to take our homes from us.”

  Granny rocked a few more times and stared toward the mountains in the distance. “I been a-readin’ my Bible all my life and trying to be more like Jesus. And I gotta confess, I done had a time trying to figure out what He’d want me to do about this mess we find ourselves in. Sometimes I get so mad at the government I can’t stand it. Then I think about how so many died to give us the freedom we have in this land, and I feel guilty. I’ve had a hard time figuring out which is the right way to feel, but I think I know now.”

  “What is it, Granny?”

  “I read in the Bible where Peter was a-talkin’ about honoring your government leaders, even the bad ones, even when you disagreed with them. He said that no matter what is done to us, believers were to be honorable.”

  Laurel leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes as she twisted the end of her braid between her fingers. “I think Poppa and Grandpa have been honorable, a lot more than I would have been in their places.”

  “They have been,” Granny said. “That’s because they know it’s the right thing to do. The Bible says even when we have disputes with the government we are to treat those in charge with respect. We can dislike what they’re doing without hatin’ ’em.”

  Laurel gripped the arms of her chair, her body rigid, and faced Granny. “But what if we suffer because they’re wrong?”

  “Suffer? Child, we don’t know what suff ’rin’ is compared to the early Christians who were killed for their beliefs. Fact is, we’ve had it mighty good for a lot of years in this here valley. Now we have us a disagreement with the government, and we don’t know what’s a-gonna happen.” A sigh rippled from her mouth. “And I’m a-feared I may not like the outcome. But I cain’t let that influence me. All I can do is what God would
have me do—be more like Christ and show Him in my actions. That’s what all of us need to do.”

  Laurel thought about what Granny had said for a few minutes before she responded. “That’s what Poppa and Grandpa have done, isn’t it? I’ve wondered how they could be so kind to the government people that keep showing up here. They’ve always been respectful to them—just like they were with Andrew today. I’ve seen the strain it’s put on Poppa at times, and I wondered why he kept being so nice. Now I understand.”

  “Your pa is a fine man, Laurel. I knowed he was gonna be when he was a little boy and tryin’ so hard to be the man of his family after his pa died. This argument with the government’s been hard on him, maybe more so than anybody else in the Cove. Because deep down he knows we won’t win.” She paused and stared back at her mountains. “So we keep tryin’ to hang on to what’s ours, but we don’t take it out on people like Andrew. Just try and remember Andrew didn’t make this here problem anymore than we did. We just happen to have dif’rent notions about the outcome. But no matter what happens when this thing is settled, I want folks to say we acted like Christ in ev’rything we did.”

  Laurel scooted out of her chair and eased onto the floor at Granny’s feet. She leaned forward and laid her head in Granny’s lap like she’d done so often when she was a little girl. The soft stroke of Granny’s fingers on her hair filled her with a longing for childhood days when she thought her family could make everything in her world right.

  No matter how much she wished, though, she wasn’t a child anymore. She was a woman with three strong women in her life. Maybe someday she would be like her grandmother, mother, and Granny. She hoped so.

  “Thank you, Granny. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  Maybe it was possible for her and Andrew to be friends. There was something about the young man from Virginia that fascinated her. At least she’d thought so before she knew who he really was. Now she knew why he had come to the Cove and her emotions were tangled in a heated battle. Her head told her to keep her distance from the young man whose brooding eyes made her pulse race, but her heart still whispered that her first impression had been right.

  Chapter 6

  On Monday morning Andrew whistled a familiar tune as he drove toward the farm he’d chosen for his first visit. A map of Cades Cove with the locations of the farms still to be purchased lay in his briefcase. He’d studied it so much he knew exactly where every holdout lived. This morning’s visit would be to the Ezra Nash farm. The Nash family had farmed their land for generations and Ezra had been outspoken with other agents who’d tried to talk with him. Andrew hoped today would be different.

  He pulled into the yard of the neat cabin and looked around. It sat at the end of a road off the main loop. The view of the mountains from the yard was one of the most magnificent he’d seen since arriving in the Cove. He stepped out of the car and took note of the outbuildings. A barn and what he supposed to be a henhouse and a smokehouse sat to the rear of the cabin. A long open-sided shed in the field next to the house looked like it contained beehives. He’d heard that some of the best honey in the mountains came from Cades Cove, and he made a note to get some before he went back home.

  Andrew climbed the steps to the front porch and peered through the screen door. The front door stood open with a cast iron doorstop pressing it against the inside wall. Andrew knocked and called out. “Hello, anybody home?”

  Footsteps sounded from the back of the cabin and a woman appeared behind the screen. She wiped her hands on her apron and stared at him. “Can I help you?”

  “Mrs. Nash?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Andrew Brady with the Park Service. I need to talk to your husband. Is he home?”

  Her eyes narrowed and she glanced over her shoulder. “Ezra, somebody from the Park Service here to see you.”

  A tall man wearing overalls appeared next to her. “I’m Ezra Nash. You wantin’ to see me?”

  Andrew smiled. “Yes sir. I’m Andrew Brady, and…”

  “You that feller wanting to git my land?”

  Andrew cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way. I’m here to talk to you about selling.”

  Ezra’s face hardened into angry lines. “My land ain’t for sale. Not today. Not any time in the future. Now get off my porch ’fore I throw you off.”

  Perspiration popped out on Andrew’s forehead. “There’s no need for threats, Mr. Nash. If you’ll just listen to what I have to say…”

  The man’s hand pushed on the screen. “Ain’t no threat. It’s a promise. Now git off my porch.”

  Andrew backed toward the steps. “All right, if that’s the way you want it. But I’ll be back.”

  “Don’t bother coming back. I ain’t changin’ my mind.”

  Andrew retreated down the steps and to his car. As he drove out of the yard, he glanced back. Ezra Nash, his body rigid and his hands clenched into fists, stood on the porch glaring at him.

  A shaky breath trickled out of Andrew’s body. They’d told him the people who hadn’t sold their land would be difficult to deal with, but he’d been sure he could handle them. Now he wasn’t so sure. Over the next few days he had visits planned to Thomas Bennett’s and Joseph Prince’s farms. He hoped they’d be different. For now he thought he’d better head back to the CCC camp and reevaluate his approach to the good folks of Cades Cove.

  By Wednesday, Andrew was ready to throw up his hands in surrender and slink into Washington like a defeated general returning from war. What was he thinking when he took this job?

  From five hundred miles away in the nation’s capital this job appeared to be just a matter of tying up a few loose ends. For a smart college boy who’d been one of the best at getting his point across on the school debate team these mountain folks would be easy pickings. He had figured it might take him a month—six weeks at the most—to get the signatures of the twenty-four remaining families on the bills of sale.

  Now he was here, and it was nothing like what he’d thought. His visits on Tuesday with Thomas Bennett and Joseph Prince had ended as badly as had the one at the Nash farm on Monday.

  Now it was a new day, and he was on his way to Nate Hopkins’s farm. He knew the elderly man was a widower with no family left. He had to realize that selling his land and settling somewhere else where he could be close to neighbors would be the best thing for him.

  Andrew pulled to a stop at the small cabin where Nate lived and looked around. The front porch sagged, and the roof looked like it needed repairing. The fields surrounding the cabin hadn’t been planted this year. All appearances pointed to the fact that Nate could no longer keep up with the work required to run this farm.

  Andrew made it about halfway to the front porch before the door opened and a wiry little man with stooped shoulders stepped outside. A few strands of white hair framed his bald head and his mouth was barely visible behind his bushy white beard. Andrew’s eyes widened, not at the man’s appearance but at what he held.

  Nate’s finger curled around the trigger of a shotgun that he had pointed straight at Andrew’s head. “Get off my land, government man!” he shouted.

  Andrew took a step back. “Please put the gun down, Mr. Hopkins. I just want to talk with you.”

  “I don’t have time to talk to nobody a-wantin’ to steal my land. Now git!”

  Andrew held out a hand and shook his head. “Now, Mr. Hopkins, I know you’re not the kind of person who would murder a man in cold blood. Please put the gun down and let me talk to you.”

  The man’s forehead wrinkled, and he nodded. “You’re right. I’m not gonna kill you. Couldn’t live with myself if I took a man’s life.” His eyes shifted to Andrew’s car, and he aimed the gun at the front tires. “But I shore don’t mind killin’ your car. I reckon this old gun could do a lot of damage to a good-lookin’ car like that.”

  “Please, Mr. Hopkins, don’t do that.”

  He raised the gun and took aim. “I
reckon you got ’bout thirty seconds to git in that there contraption and hightail it outta here. And I’m a-countin’. One, two, three…”

  Andrew ran to the car, cranked the engine, and roared out of the yard. As he pulled onto the road, he heard Nate Hopkins’s voice once more. “And don’t come back.”

  Seething at how he’d let the elderly Mr. Hopkins make him run like a frightened rabbit, he sped along the Cove road on his way back to the CCC camp. He needed to talk to somebody about how to approach these stubborn people. But who? Most of the men were out on work crews, and the ones left behind had jobs to complete at the camp. Even Lieutenant Gray was away from his office today.

  At that moment a familiar cabin came into sight, and the answer popped into his head. Simon Martin was the man to give him advice. He knew everybody in the Cove better than anyone else did. Granted, he didn’t want to see Andrew successful in making his friends sell their land, but at least he could explain what it took to get them to have a conversation with him.

  He slowed the car and turned into the yard of Simon and Anna’s cabin. A voice from the front porch greeted him as he climbed out of the vehicle. “Well, if it ain’t our visitor from Washington. Good to see you, Andrew. Come up on the porch and keep an old lady comp’ny.”

  He laughed, climbed the steps, and sat down in the rocker next to Granny. “Thanks, Granny. You’re the first Cove resident I’ve seen today that’s had a kind word for me.” He leaned over the arm of the chair and frowned. “You don’t have a shotgun hidden anywhere, do you?”

  Granny threw back her head and laughed. “Land’s sakes, no, boy. But in my day I could shoot as straight as any man in the Cove.”

  He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door to the cabin. “I stopped by to see Simon. Is he here?”