Hystopia: a Novel
“Still do. It was said there were men who could hear a queen pine from a mile away and identify it by the sound of the wind through its needles. I’m one of them, he said.
The man’s name was Hank. He spoke of races to the land office through virgin forest. Tracts so brambly that men came out bleeding. The hardships of the lumber business, the corruption and the glory, stripping an entire state from top to bottom in a few years.
I’d just as soon be out here amid them than with just about anybody.
...He turned and looked at her with eyes intense and icy blue. At any moment he’d put his big hands on her, she thought. But it was good to be out in the forest. The trees—a second regrowth after the great scalping harvest of the last century, when the small-gauge lines fed the logs down into the mills, and in turn onto the steamers, and in turn to Chicago, where they went to market. The rails were gone but you could still find traces of their tie work, trails in the deep woods, and you still stumbled upon old encampments that were now nothing more than stone foundations and, when you dug with your trench shovel, the charcoal remains of sawdust fires.MoreLess
The man’s name was Hank. He spoke of races to the land office through virgin forest. Tracts so brambly that men came out bleeding. The hardships of the lumber business, the corruption and the glory, stripping an entire state from top to bottom in a few years.
I’d just as soon be out here amid them than with just about anybody.
...He turned and looked at her with eyes intense and icy blue. At any moment he’d put his big hands on her, she thought. But it was good to be out in the forest. The trees—a second regrowth after the great scalping harvest of the last century, when the small-gauge lines fed the logs down into the mills, and in turn onto the steamers, and in turn to Chicago, where they went to market. The rails were gone but you could still find traces of their tie work, trails in the deep woods, and you still stumbled upon old encampments that were now nothing more than stone foundations and, when you dug with your trench shovel, the charcoal remains of sawdust fires.MoreLess
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