Beyond These Hills
Read Beyond These Hills Online
Authors: Sandra Robbins
HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota
Cover photos © Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc.; iStockphoto / WerksMedia
BEYOND THESE HILLS
Copyright © 2013 by Sandra Robbins
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Robbins, Sandra (Sandra S.)
Beyond these hills / Sandra Robbins.
pages cm. â (Smoky mountain dreams ; book 3)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4888-3 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4889-0 (eBook)
1. Mountain lifeâFiction. 2. Great Smoky Mountains (N.C. and Tenn.)âFiction. 3. TennesseeâHistoryâ20th centuryâFiction. I. Title.
PS3618.O315245B49 2013
813'.6âdc23
2012044762
All rights reserved.
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Contents
Cades Cove, Tennessee
June, 1935
T
he needle on the pickup truck's speedometer eased to thirty miles an hour. Laurel Jackson bit back a smile and glanced at her father. With his right hand on the steering wheel and his left elbow hanging out the open window, he reminded her of a little boy absorbed in the wonder of a new toy.
The wind ruffled his dark, silver-streaked hair, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as the truck bounced along. His eyes held a faraway look that told her he was enjoying every minute of the drive along the new road that twisted through Cades Cove.
If truth be told, though, the truck with its dented fenders wasn't all that new. He'd bought it a few months ago from Warren Hubbard, who'd cleaned out a few ditches in Cades Cove trying to bring the little Ford to a stop. Rumor had it he kept yelling
Whoa!
instead of pressing the brake. The good-natured ribbing of his neighbors had finally convinced Mr. Hubbard that he had no business behind the wheel of a truck.
Laurel's father didn't have that problem. He took to driving like their old hound dog Buster took to trailing a raccoon. Neither gave up until they'd finished what they'd started. Mama often said she
didn't know which one's stubborn ways vexed her moreâPoppa's or Buster's. Of course her eyes always twinkled when she said it.
The truck was another matter entirely. Mama saw no earthly reason why they needed that contraption on their farm when they had a perfectly good wagon and buggy. To her, it was another reminder of how life in Cades Cove was changing. Laurel could imagine what her mother would say if she could see Poppa now as the speedometer inched up to thirty-five.
Land's sakes, Matthew. If you don't keep both hands on the wheel, you're gonna end up killing us all
.
But Mama wasn't with them today to tell Poppa they weren't in a race, and he was taking advantage of her absence to test the limits of the truck. At this rate they'd make it to Gatlinburg earlier than expected. When she was a little girl, the ride in their wagon over to the mountain village that had become a favorite of tourists had seemed to take forever. Now, it took them less than half the time to get there.
She glanced at her father again and arched an eyebrow. “You'd better be glad Mama stayed home.”
Her father chuckled. “Do you think she'd say I was driving too fast?”
Laurel tilted her head to one side and tried to narrow her eyes into a thoughtful pose. “I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to let you know exactly how she felt.”
A big smile creased her father's face, and he nodded. “You're right about that. Your mother may run a successful business from a valley in the middle of the Smoky Mountains, but she'd just as soon pass up all the modern conveniences the money she makes could provide her. Sometimes I think she'd be happier if we were still living in that one-room cabin we had when we first married.”
Laurel laughed and nodded. “I know. But I imagine she'll be just as happy today to have us out of the way. She can unload her latest pottery from the kiln and get the lodge cleaned and ready for the tourists we have coming Monday.”
Her father's right hand loosened on the steering wheel, and his
left one pulled the brim of his hat lower on his forehead. “It looks like business is going to be good this year. We already have reservations for most of the summer, and our guests sure do like to take home some of her pieces from Mountain Laurel Pottery.”
Laurel frowned. There would be guests this summer, but what about next year and the year after that? A hot breeze blew through the open window, and she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. She mopped at the perspiration on her forehead before she swiveled in her seat to face her father. “Having the lodge and the pottery business is kind of like a mixed blessing, isn't it?”
He frowned but didn't take his eyes off the road. “How do you mean?”
Laurel's gaze swept over the mountains that ringed the valley where she'd lived all her life. Her love for the mist-covered hills in the distance swelled up in her, and she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “Well, I was just thinking that we get paid well by the folks who stay at our lodge while they fish and hike the mountain trails, and Mama makes a lot of money selling them her pottery. But is the money worth what we've lost?” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I miss the quiet life we had in the Cove when I was a little girl.”
Her father's forehead wrinkled. “So do I, darling, but you're all grown up now, and those days are long gone. Change has been happening for a long time, but our way of life officially ended twelve years ago with the plan for the Smokies to become a national park. Now most of the mountain land's been bought up by the government, and there's a park superintendent in place over at Gatlinburg. I guess we have to accept the fact that the park is a reality.”
A tremor ran through Laurel's body. She clutched her fists tighter until her fingernails cut into her palms. “No matter what we're doing or talking about, it always comes back to one question, doesn't it?”
Her father glanced at her. “What's that?”
“How long can we keep the government from taking our land?”
“Well, they don't have it yet.” The lines in her father's face deepened, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. “At the moment, all the
land that borders our farm has been bought and is part of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. There aren't many of us holding on in the Cove, but we're not giving up without a fight. I have a meeting with our lawyer in Gatlinburg today to see how our court case is going. You can get your mama's pottery delivered to Mr. Bryan's store, can't you?”
“I didn't know you had a meeting with the lawyer. Don't worry about the pottery. Willie and I can take care of that.”
A smile cracked her father's moments-ago stony features at the mention of her younger brother, who was riding in the truck's bed. “You make sure that boy helps you. He has a habit of disappearing every time I have a job for him. I sure wish he'd grow up and start taking on some responsibility around the farm.”
Laurel laughed. “Willie's only twelve, Poppa. When he's as old as Charlie or me, he'll settle down.”
Her father shook his head. “I don't know about that. He's always gonna be your mother's baby.”
Before she could respond, the truck hit a bump in the road and a yell from behind pierced her ears. Laughing, she turned and looked through the back window. Willie's face stared back at her. “Do it again, Pa,” he yelled. “That was fun.”
Her father frowned, grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, and leaned over to call out the window. “Be still, Willie, before you fall out and land on your head.”
Willie stood up, grabbed the side of the open window, and leaned around the truck door to peer into the cab. “Won't this thing go any faster?”
Her father's foot eased up, and he frowned. “We're going fast enough. Sit down, Willie.”
The wind whipped Willie's dark hair in his eyes. He was grinning. “Jacob's pa has a truck that'll go fifty on a smooth stretch,” he yelled. “See what ours will do.”
The veins in her father's neck stood out, and the speedometer
needle dropped to twenty. “If you don't sit down and stay put, I'm gonna stop and make you sit up here between your sister and me.”
“I'm just saying you ought to open this thing up and see what she'll do.”
The muscle in her father's jaw twitched again, and Laurel put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. How many times had she seen her no-nonsense father and her fun-loving brother locked in a battle of wills? Her father took a deep breath and shook his head.
