boat glided up to shore, and a man in coveralls lowered a ramp. Charlie drove the pickup onto the ferry and parked. Then the man turned a crank that pulled the ferry along a cable that stretched from one bank to the other. The moment the ramp touched ground on the opposite side, Charlie drove off the ferry and up the winding road.
“You act like you do this every day,” Kit said.
“Because I do. I ride across with other workers,” he replied. “We work all over the park. I’m going to show you our base camp.”
The road wound up the hill, past farm after farm, some boasting herds of cattle and sheep, some with fields of towering corn, ripe for picking. Other farms looked hard-hit, their fields brown, their barns and houses crippled with age.
“Charlie,” Aunt Millie asked, “what kind of work do you do here?”
“While one camp works below in the caves, constructing new stairs and paths, the other three camps work aboveground getting things ready for a national park.”
“Doing what?” Kit asked.
“Planting trees. Stopping soil erosion from over-farming. Building new park buildings. And razing houses and barns.”
“Raising?” Kit asked. “You mean building new ones?”
Charlie tilted his head, as if he didn’t want to say. “Unfortunately, just the opposite. There are almost six hundred families who live on the land that will become the park. They are all going to have to clear out eventually. It’s a slow process.”
He gazed ahead, as if picturing every single family in the area. “We dismantle houses, barns, and outbuildings all over the park’s fifty-three thousand acres,” he said, his tone somber. “We take ’em down board by board and reuse everything we can in new structures around the park.”
“Oh.” Kit thought about her own comfortable house. What if someone forced her family out and then took it down board by board? She felt a pang under her ribs. A tinge of homesickness—and something else, too. Empathy. She remembered how narrowly her own family had escaped losing their home. Her heart went out to the hundreds of families in the area who wouldn’t be as lucky.
Charlie slowed the truck to a crawl and pointed out his window. Beyond a line of barbed wire, a wide swath of scorched earth stretched to charred, leafless trees beyond. A single stone chimney rose up from a black heap that had clearly once been someone’s home.
“What happened?” Kit asked.
“It was arson. Someone set fire to it,” he said, shifting the truck into a higher gear.
Kit looked back at the charred remains. “How do you know it was on purpose?”
“The firefighters found an empty turpentine can not far from the house. Anything doused in turpentine will burn like blazes.”
“But why…?” Kit wondered aloud.
“That’s what I’d like to know. The family had already sold to the park and moved off their land. Our crew was about to start taking down buildings. Instead, we had to spread out over dozens of acres, clearing underbrush, putting out embers, and digging ditches so the fire wouldn’t spread. Now we’ve still got to clear out all the debris. It’s put us behind schedule, but that’s not the worst of it. If the winds had been different, that fire easily could have spread to our camp.”
Aunt Millie murmured, “Oh, dear.”
Charlie kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel. For a few moments, he didn’t say a word. Then he glanced at Kit. “Don’t worry, Kit. I’ll be fine.”
Kit chewed on the inside of her lip. How could she not worry? As much as she wanted to visit the cave, there was something else she wanted even more: to find out who was causing trouble and putting her brother at risk.
chapter 2
A Surprise at Camp
“HOME SWEET HOME,” Charlie said as he drove under a sign that read “Maple Springs CCC Camp.” An American flag flapped at the top of a wooden flagpole, as if greeting them. Charlie parked in a gravel lot under the shade of large oaks.
As they hiked in to the camp, Kit glanced at the many buildings. She drew a deep breath, half expecting to smell smoke even this far from the burned farm, but instead her nostrils filled with the fresh scent of new wood.
“Charlie,” Kit said, “if that fire had spread here, these wooden buildings would go up in a flash!”
Charlie motioned for them to follow. “Let’s not focus on that. Come and see the camp. The whole place is laid out like a military camp, with thirty guys to every barracks. We wear old army uniforms and each have a single trunk for our belongings.”
Outside a building marked “Hospital,” a young man sat on a bench. Crutches leaned against the wall behind him. He looked up from his open book and waved, a cigarette between two fingers. Kit waved back.
Charlie opened the door to the building marked “Recreation Hall” so Kit and Aunt Millie could peer inside. A few guys played pool, and another fellow worked behind a counter. “We can buy candy, sodas, and playing cards here,” Charlie told Kit and Aunt Millie.
At the edge of camp, a group played baseball. Crack! The batter—a towering, red-haired young man with broad shoulders—connected with the ball and sent it flying toward the surrounding woods. Cheers rose up from the field. “Run, Big Josh! It’s a homer!”
Charlie nodded toward the game. “Baseball. It’s a favorite pastime here.”
“And eating, I bet,” Aunt Millie said, patting the picnic basket on her arm. “I packed lunch.”
They found a picnic table near a red water pump. Kit’s stomach growled as Aunt Millie set out a feast of cheese and salami sandwiches, sugar cookies, apples, and homemade pickles. But even as she filled her plate, Kit couldn’t help thinking about Charlie’s safety. Who had set the fire? And why?
As they finished lunch, Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Hey, before I forget, I have something for you. I found a few arrowheads while I was digging trenches, and was told I could keep them. I want to send them back with you. I don’t want to lose them. Wait here; they’re in my barracks.”
“Can we go with you?” Kit asked. “I want to see where you live.”
The edges of Charlie’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Okay. But you two will have to wait outside,” he said, forefinger raised, “until I see if anyone is inside sleeping or changing.”
Like the other barracks, Charlie’s was long and rectangular, with simple wooden steps leading inside. He tripped over a backpack draped with a pair of socks drying in the sun, then stepped in and pulled the door closed behind him. A moment later, the door swung open and he waved Kit and Aunt Millie inside. “The coast is clear.”
Kit followed her brother between two rows of neatly made bunk beds and past a woodstove that sat halfway down the aisle. Charlie stopped at the bed just beyond the stove and patted the top bunk.
“Here’s home.
