Page 57 of Ember Meadow
And, because I made a complete and total fool of myself, I’m avoiding him for the time being. Which has been pretty easy to do since he hasn’t been to the cabin yet. This week is the Fourth of July, so I’m sure he’s busy with other things or maybe taking some much needed time off. Maybe I should take some time off. Clear my head.
“Oh Walter, that reminds me,” I say, grabbing my bag from the floor. “I found this the other day, and I think it’s yours. It was lodged in one of the floorboards by the fireplace.”
I fish out the photograph I found of the Autry family when Miles was a kid. I’ve been meaning to give this to Walter, but it keeps slipping my mind. He takes the photograph from me, eyes sparkling as he gets a good look at it.
“Oh yes, this was quite a while ago,” he chuckles, smiling down at the image. “Miles was still a little guy. And I was a spring chicken. This brings back great memories.”
“Did you spend a lot of time out here? I noticed the cabin in the background. It looks like it’s in great shape in that photo,” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Yes, we loved taking Miles on horseback rides out here when he was a boy. And he always loved the place. Until a bit ago, I suppose. It’s a special place for Isabella and I too. When she came up to Wyoming for the first time to work in the national park, she had arranged with my mother to stay with us for the summer. I’m not sure how they got in contact, something like an exchange student situation I believe. We lived in the cabin back then. As soon as I laid eyes on her that summer, I couldn’t stay away.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“She was something, I’ll tell you that,” he laughs. “She sure didn’t make it easy on me. It was all meant to be in the end, nothing either of us could do about it. But this cabin had a lot to do with it. Isabella used to say there’s some sort of old magic in the very bones of this place. It’ll lead you where you need to go, whether you want it or not.”
His words rattle around in my brain as I soak them in. I’m not one to believe in anything like that, but I also wouldn’t ever discount it just in case it is true. Not to mention, I’ve thought before that this cabin has a mind of its own.
“Anyway, I’m glad someone like you came along to bring it back to life. As much as I’d like to keep it forever, it was time to pass it along to continue its adventures with someone else.” Walter pockets the photo, stepping towards the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for letting me come check up on the place.”
“Anytime,” I smile, walking him out the door. A pang of jealousy echoes in my chest knowing that Miles gets to have Walter as a father. He’s such a good man, cares so much about his family and everyone else he knows. He’s only known me for two months, yet in that time he’s been kinder to me than my own parents ever have. I’ve never felt so welcome in a place.
“I hope we’ll see you next Sunday for dinner,” he calls out as he walks back to his old rusty pickup truck in the driveway.
“I’ll be there. I just wasn’t feeling very good yesterday.” Technically true.
“Yeah, it seems Miles wasn’t feeling good either. Maybe you had the same bug,” he says with a wink. My cheeks heat as guilt settles in my gut like a rock.
I wave goodbye as Walter pulls out of the driveway and heads back up to the ranch house. The sun is just about to reach its golden hour. I’ve been at the cabin far longer than I should have today, but time gets away from you when you’re reliving one single night over and over again in your head.
I can’t remember the last time I was that drunk. Never, probably. And of course, it had to happen around Miles of all people.
Sighing for the hundredth time today, I turn around and collect my things before walking back up the dirt road towards the guest cabin. I don’t have it in me to run today, and I’m in no hurry to get anywhere.
The sky is a wild array of pinks, reds, oranges and yellows when I finally get back home. I set my things inside then go back out to the small front lawn and lay out on the grass staring up at the sky.
There’s not a more beautiful place in the world to be laying on a ranch alone.
Chapter 21
Fire
The Fourth of Julyon a ranch in Wyoming is just different. Even back in Idaho, where I thought we had pretty fun celebrations, it was never this much. All of Jackson Hole is transformed for the week.
I went all the way into town yesterday morning to get a coffee drink that’s mostly milk and sugar because I’ve missed it, and was unprepared for the level of festivity this town has.
American flags everywhere, red white and blue ribbons hanging from the shops, fireworks painted in every color on wooden signs. And tourists. So many tourists. Codie assured me it’s like this every holiday, for said tourists. Either way, I’m soaking it all up.
Parker texted me about the fireworks show the ranch hands put on up at the barn every year. I spent the morning of Fourth of July in Jackson Hole with Codie and Morgan at the parade, catching candy thrown from the rodeo horses like we were kids. We even walked to The Dust Jacket afterwards and picked out a new book for each other.
It’s been a perfect day.
My boots hit the gravel of the road leading to the barn as the sun is just starting to dip behind the tall, gray peaks. I decided to lean into the festivities with a navy blue tank top sundress, my brown cowgirl boots with the white flowers embroidered all up and down the sides, and red and white ribbons tying up my two braids cascading down my shoulders.
I make my way over to the group of Lone Pine Ranch cowboys, all suspiciously standing over a big wooden crate. There are a couple of other girls here, girlfriends of the ranch hands I assume, Parker, Reed and the others. But Miles is nowhere to be seen. Yet.
“I told y’all, it’ll be fine. I promise. I got the extra long flares this time, and Miles cleared the tall grass last week. We’ve got about a dozen hoses ready at a moment’s notice, and I already wet down the grass all day with the big rotating sprinkler. Safety first,” Parker is saying as I join the group.
“Alright, I just don’t want to get in trouble with the boss man again is all I’m saying,” a cowboy I don’t recognize says, his brows furrowed with concern. I peer over the edge of the crate and immediately understand the sentiment. Parker has ordered some of the biggest fireworks I’ve ever seen in my life.
