Friends, Family Join to Fend Off Flames : Defense: The ‘County-Line Boys’ team up and fight successfully to save property in Sherwood Lake area.

They called themselves the County-Line Boys, and when the Thousand Oaks fire began its march back from the sea Thursday, they dug in their heels and fought.

For two hours, the nine men linked by blood and friendship stood atop a brushy knoll in front of Gene Dennis’ house on Yerba Buena Road. They watched distant smoke become sheets of flame that rose like an army from the canyons, outflanked them, then roared by, eating up the last half-mile of brush between Ventura and Los Angeles counties.

It got so bad, Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Deputy James Grubb waded through the smoke on Yerba Buena Road and faced off with Dennis. “I can’t force you to leave,” Grubb told him. “But I have to take your name if you’re staying.”

The saga that came straight from the Old West began when the blaze first ignited Tuesday. For two days, Gene Dennis enlisted friends and family to clear a 250-foot firebreak around his modest ranch home. He moved out his horses and most of his possessions. The men watered down their clothes, donned goggles, wrapped bandannas around their mouths. They lined up like bandits, hoses hooked to a swimming pool and a 8,000-gallon water tank, and waited, sprinkling down the shingles.

“That’s what you gotta do if you’re family,” said Rocky Dennis, Gene’s brother. “You stick together. You’re drafted, like it or not.”

At 2:06 p.m., the flames crested a ridge just a half-mile west. The power went out. Trees burst into flames like gasoline-soaked rags. Ten minutes later, Engine Cos. 127 and 6 from Los Angeles rolled out their hoses and joined the line. Helicopters dropped buckets on hot spots that leaped ahead of the front like sentinels. A fireball emerged over the hillside where a house was supposed to be.

“It’s got Ben’s house, Gene! Oh, dude, it’s up and gone,” shouted Andy McMahan, Gene’s cousin, who shares the house at 14677 Yerba Buena Road. “Dude, it moved up that hill fast.”

At 2:37 p.m., flames were creeping down the last ridge and across a ravine to Gene Dennis’ home. The fire’s gusts howled across the knoll, sending a wooden bird-feeder tumbling across the yard. “Now this is not good,” firefighter John Sweetman said. “We can handle 10 m.p.h. winds, but not 20 m.p.h. in our face.”

A half-hour later, the grim-faced sheriff’s officer took Dennis’ name and left. Ridges disappeared behind the boiling smoke, and left the sun dim as a bug-light bulb. “It’s here guys,” Gene announced. “You tell them the County-Line Boys held the line.”

On the road behind them, firetrucks and cars began retreating toward the Los Angeles County line as flames raced across the road and burned up a ridge farther east.

Then it was over, and the nine defenders exchanged knowing grins, the everyday bonds of family, common jobs and hobbies soldered stronger. “I guess we were lucky,” Rocky Dennis said.

“We’re ecstatic,” Gene said. “My house is still standing and so are my trees.”