Читать книгу Menace at Mammoth Cave - Mary Casanova - Страница 6

“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. And here are my worldly possessions,” he said with a laugh, squatting beside a metal footlocker on the floor. He took a small key from his pocket, unlocked the trunk, and lifted its lid. Suddenly his face went white. Springing up from the open trunk, a coiled snake tucked its copper-red head, ready to strike.

“Get back!” Charlie yelled.

A strangely sweet cucumber scent filled the air.

Kit scrambled back, bumping her head on the bunk opposite Charlie’s. Aunt Millie stumbled, but righted herself. They all back-stepped carefully toward the door. In horror, Kit watched as the snake moved its arrowhead-shaped head and flicked its tongue. It spilled out of the trunk, its thick body crisscrossed with hourglass-shaped bands of gold and tan, and wound its way across the floorboards toward the far end of the barracks.

As soon as they were back outside, Charlie closed the door behind them. “Wait here, and don’t let anyone go in. I’ve gotta get somebody who knows how to handle snakes.”

Kit crossed her hands over her thudding heart, as if to keep it from leaping out. She scanned the ground nervously. If the snake could get into the barracks, it could certainly find its way out again. Then a new thought made her gulp in a big breath. The trunk had been locked. Which meant that someone must have put that snake in Charlie’s trunk on purpose.

Before she could find the words to tell Charlie, he was dashing across the lawn toward the baseball game. In a flash he returned, breathless, with the tall redheaded batter at his side. Between breaths, Charlie said, “This is Big Josh. Josh, my sister Kit and my aunt Millie. Josh is from around here, so he knows how to handle copperheads.”

Without seeming to rush, Big Josh disappeared into a shed, returned with a long forked stick, and headed inside the barracks. Kit heard the floorboards squeak and the sound of moving furniture. Then Big Josh appeared, holding the forked stick high. The snake’s head was gripped in the V, its three-foot length flailing. “Well, look what I caught for dinner.”

“You’re not going to eat it, are you?” Charlie asked.

Big Josh eyed the writhing body. “Thought you might want to taste copperhead, you not being from these parts.” He edged closer to Charlie with the snake held high.

“Hey, get that away from here,” Charlie warned, as Kit and Aunt Millie stepped back.

“Aw, I’m just razzin’ you.” With a laugh, Big Josh headed toward the woods and soon lumbered back with an empty stick.

“Did you—?” Kit began.

“Nah,” he replied. “I let it go. Them copperheads usually don’t look for trouble. And they keep down the rodents. Did you catch that cucumber smell?”

“Yeah, weird,” Kit said, keeping her distance. She wasn’t sure she liked Big Josh’s sense of humor.

“Copperheads give off that smell when they get startled. I guess it thought that trunk was home.”

“But how did it get in my trunk?” Charlie pressed.

A twinkle danced at the corners of Big Josh’s brown eyes, as his bushy eyebrows joined up in concern. “Somebody’s idea of a prank, I bet,” he said.

“Some prank!” Aunt Millie crossed her arms.

“A garter snake, that would be one thing,” Charlie agreed. “But a copperhead?”

Big Josh wagged his head of thick red hair. “Aw, you know how some guys are. I could think of any number who might—”

“But what if it had bitten him?!” Kit interrupted.

“I’d be over there,” Charlie said, pointing to the hospital. “One guy got bit in the ankle by a copperhead and his whole leg turned purple—swelled up like a melon.”

“Did someone pull a prank on him, too?” Anger built under Kit’s ribs—fiery hot—but she drew her lower lip between her teeth to keep from saying more.

“Nope,” Big Josh answered with a smirk. “That guy found that one all on his own down the road, moving a wood pile.”

With the snake gone, Charlie returned to his barracks for the arrowheads. “Now they’re your responsibility,” he said, putting them in Kit’s outstretched hand.

As she tucked the bits of chiseled stone in her pocket, she whispered, “Charlie, I think you should keep an eye on Big Josh.”

He laughed. “Oh, Kit. He’s a big puppy.”

But as they walked back to the aging red truck, Kit found it hard to let her suspicions go. “He handles snakes as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. If he could take the snake out of the barracks that easily, he could have been the one who put it in there in the first place.”

“You are a born reporter, Kit,” Charlie said as he tousled her hair. “But honestly, of all the guys here, he’s the last person I’d worry about.”

Kit climbed onto the truck’s front seat, between her brother and Aunt Millie. As they bounced down the road, sunshine blinked between leafy patches of deep green and open expanses of fields and farms. Kit waved to everyone they passed: field-workers, an elderly couple rocking on a porch, three teenage boys walking along the road. In return, she received mostly scowls and stares.

Her chest tightened. “Charlie, practically nobody waves back.”

“Yeah,” he said, hands planted on the steering wheel. “Not everyone wants a national park. Folks get paid for their property, but that doesn’t mean they want to sell. Some families have been passing on these places to the next generation for over a hundred years. I understand how they feel. Nobody wants to be forced from their home. But the government has the power to do it. It’s a law called eminent domain.”

“Why do the people have to leave?” Kit asked. “Isn’t Mammoth Cave National Park going to be all underground?”

“Nope. It’s the land aboveground, too.”

Kit gathered her thoughts and exhaled. “So the fire and the snake could be the work of somebody who’s angry…angry that their land is being turned into a park.”

“Maybe,” Charlie said. “Might be somebody’s way of getting back at the government.”

Kit’s thoughts tangled into a knot. “Charlie, I’m glad you have a job here. But…” Her eyes filled with hot tears. “I can’t bear the thought that someone is trying to hurt you. You should come home.”

Charlie shot her a glance and half-chuckled, but Kit could tell he wasn’t really laughing, just trying to make her feel better. “No,” he said. “I’m not running away. I’m doing important work here. And you’re here to have some fun. Still, I’m keeping my eyes open, and, while you’re here, you should, too.”

“I will,” Kit replied. “That’s a promise.”