Page 58 of Ember Meadow
Parker laughs, closing the lid of the crate. “Miles isn’t that scary, trust me. He just acts like it so you’ll think he’s always watching.”
“Iamalways watching.” A familiar low voice rumbles through my bones as he walks up from behind Parker. His eyes flit over to me for a second, lingering just long enough to cause heat to rise up to my cheeks.
“There you are, buddy. Great timing. I was just telling the fellas here they have nothing to worry about. Everything’s super safe this year. Right, guys?” Parker looks expectantly at the group of cowboys, his megawatt smile shining on his face.
There’s a chorus of grumbled yeses from the guys. Miles and Parker share a look that I’m sure communicates a thousand words before Miles reaches up and scratches his beard. He’s trimmed it again, shorter each time. It’s no more than a bit of scruff now.
“Alright, Reed, Wes, you go with Parker to take the crate out to the field. There are markers where it’s safe to set the fireworks off from. Please pay attention to those. Everyone else, you know what to do,” Miles instructs before heading back into the barn.
Parker, Reed and the concerned cowboy from earlier who I assume is Wes tie up the crate to two horses waiting in the corral next to us. I catch up to the rest of the group, walking towards the back of the big red barn.
“Hey Katie, glad you could make it,” Raife drawls. I met him on Branding Night, one of the many ranch hands at Lone Pine. He’s one of the younger cowboys at the ranch, just barely twenty-one. I remember thinking he’s probably quite the lady killer with his tan skin, bright blue eyes and dark brown curls.
“I had to see this for myself. I heard it’s been quite a dramatic event the past few years,” I chuckle.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Raife’s hands slip into his pockets as we approach the back patio of the barn. The two girls that were out front before are stringing lights across posts covering the patio, while the rest of the cowboys move over some tables from inside the barn. “Miles wasn’t super excited about trying it again this year, but Parker can be pretty convincing. I guess we’ll see how it goes.”
Wow, I guess all of the guys are a little worried. I’d be worried too if Miles was my boss.
“Miles doesn’t seem like a big fireworks guy,” I laugh.
“Actually, Parker tells us stories all the time about how when they were younger, it was Miles’s idea to do fireworks on the ranch. Apparently he used to plan out an elaborate show each year all by himself, and piss off Walt in the process,” Raife says.
“I can’t imagine that, he’s so serious now.” But I can imagine it. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, four years ago. That fun, spontaneous side of Miles that doesn’t come out any more.
Someone calls Raife’s name from inside the barn. He flashes me a swoon worthy smile then heads inside to help the guys setup.
I look around, taking in the view from behind the barn. The barn is on a tall grass hill overlooking a big section of the ranch. I can see almost where Ember Meadow is from here, already glowing from the rays of the setting sun.
The Grand Tetons in the distance tower over the ranch, creating a feeling of protection. Almost like nothing can harm this beautiful place with the watchful eye of the jagged, gray peaks. The smell of sage fills my lungs in the light summer breeze.
My gaze travels across the ranch, past a small group of cattle, nothing more than a few black dots in a golden field. I can see the guest cabin, just a bit further into the field from the main road. Behind it, the Old Cabin, so far it’s almost to the horizon.
Is that a light on in the Old Cabin? I squint, trying to make it out from here. There’s definitely a light on upstairs.
Shit.
I must have left it on when I stopped by last night to grab some papers from my desk. That means it’s been on all day long.
“Hey Raife,” I call out. “I’ll be right back, I left one of the lights on at the Old Cabin.”
“Alright, we’ll save you a sparkler,” he says from the patio behind me.
Walking back to my car, I glance one more time into the barn windows. Still no Miles. I was hoping to clear the air with him a bit since we haven’t talked since I threw myself at him the other night in a drunken haze. Maybe I’ll catch him later.
I throw the car in drive and head back down the dirt road to the Old Cabin. I almost trip running out of the car once I pull up to the front porch. I’ll just be quick. In and out. Then back up to the ranch. It’s already starting to get darker outside, and I don’t want to miss the fireworks.
My heart rate picks up as I make my way upstairs to the room I saw the light on in. But when I get there, it’s dark. No lights on at all, not even a lamp. The window is open, however.
How odd. I never open the upstairs windows. I’m never up here to use them in the first place. I wonder if maybe someone did the other night when I had my friends over. Or maybe it’s been open since the crew was working up here.
I rush over to the old wooden window frame and shut it carefully, double checking the room for any lights on before I head back downstairs. A familiar black brand is burned into the wooden window sill, one I’ve seen multiple times around the house but still haven’t gotten used to. This time, it’s a much more intricate design.
In the corner of the window sill, a rectangle shape of swirls and lines makes up a sort of tribal looking symbol. Every other brand I’ve seen on the cabin has been western-themed, but this one is completely different. The design is etched into the wood darker than the others, as if it’s new. Maybe it’ll stick around longer.
This cabin is freaky. IswearI saw a light on from the cabin, and now another symbol stamped into the wood. I just wish I could find some sort of pattern, a reason these things keep happening.
I shrug, heading back down the spiral staircase. At least I checked, I suppose. No harm in making sure the lights are off.
