The campsite was only a few miles away, but the roads were so bad, the trip took close to an hour. As we jolted along, I strained to see what I could. At first the rutted road ran straight, but then it angled off and became a double track that followed close to the edge of what Nate called a coulee.

It’s what I knew as a gully—Texas was full of them—only this one was cut deeper than most I’d seen, threading between steep banks.

“Rain cut this?” I asked Nate.

“Rain combined with melted snow. Even dry as it is around here, springtime flooding can be a problem,” he answered.

The truck made a sharp turn, plunged down one side of the coulee with a suddenness that made my stomach lurch, and then climbed up the far side, its wheels spinning in the dirt.

We came out on a field dotted with stacks of lumber and headed for a cluster of tents at the far side. Most were small, cone shaped, and dark, but lights glowed inside a large, rectangular one, and as soon as we pulled up before it, a man came out to greet us.

He was an old guy—well, maybe not old, but older than Major Garrett, anyway. Not a soldier. “About time!” he said, “I was just wondering if I’d have to eat the missus’ chili all by my lonesome.”

“Hello, Pops,” the major greeted him. “What’s this about Mrs. Jensen?”

“Oh, she brought over things so the young pups would find a good meal waiting. Got word the mess sergeant who’s been assigned here won’t get in until later. And I’m supposed to tell you he’ll be bringing another couple of enrollees with him.”

“I heard,” the major said. “I brought along gear for them.”

Over supper, we got to know Pops—Lester Jensen was his name, but he said we might as well call him Pops, since everybody else did. Once around the table, he’d learned all our names.

Supper was chili served in the mess kits we dug out of our barracks bags. I said, “This is about the best chili I ever ate, even in Texas.”

Pops said, “The secret’s in the meat. It’s elk. Anytime you want more, you just go into town and look for the café. The missus runs it, and never a day goes by she don’t make chili fresh.”

“But you work here?” Sam asked him.

“I do,” Pops answered. “I’m what’s called a LEM. That’s for local experienced man. The CCC’s got me on the payroll same as you.”

“Pops will be helping guide the construction work,” Major Garrett said, “and after that he’ll be staying on as a project foreman. You can thank him for having your tents set up.”