Hope.
Chapter 8
Yeehaw
Iwake up to goldenrays of early morning sun shining through the tiny window across from my bed in the small cabin. This is one of my favorite places to wake up. The cabin is so cozy. The walls are made of warm, stained logs with white grout in between. The twin-sized bed has one of the softest, most perfect mattresses I’ve ever slept on. It’s like being hugged by marshmallows all night.
The red plaid sheets make me feel like I’m at summer camp up in the woods. My view is of a wide open field with rolling hills as far as the eye can see, eventually dramatically rising up into gray, rock-covered mountain peaks, permanently covered in a layer of snow. It’s breathtaking. When I get home, I’m totally stealing some inspiration from this place.
I rip the covers off like a band-aid, knowing it’s the only way I’ll get out of bed, and drag myself to the bathroom to get ready for another day on the ranch. Today, I won’t be very busy. The crew will be taking care of rerouting some of the plumbing, which I can’t help with, and everything else has to wait until the plumbing and heating systems are completely finished so we can build around them.
I’ve finished the garden in the back and landscaped the front as much as I can for now. My plan is to bring my laptop and get some work done while I have the time. Go over the 3D designs I’ve made for the inside and see if any changes need to be made. Isabella sent over some photos of a few vases, a quilt, and a lamp for us to use in the cabin decor, so I’ll add those items to the renderings and see how everything looks.
Two coffees and a granola bar later, I’m jogging the mile and a half trail over to the ranch cabin. It’s a short enough distance I can roll it into my morning run without being tired all day long. Plus, I’ll be wearing workout clothing at this stage of the remodel anyway. My ponytail bounces behind me as I slow to a stop at the porch, catching my breath.
I’m used to high elevation in Idaho, but even the small distance has me breathing heavier than usual.
I end the workout tracking on my watch and head inside the cabin, pulling my backpack off to grab my laptop. Before I can sit at the makeshift work table I had the crew bring in, another ‘sparkle’ like yesterday glows in the fireplace. A small speck of light twinkling for just a second in large bay windows in the back of the house.
I’m on my feet in moments, rushing over to catch it before it goes away. Like before, the sparkle is gone in the blink of an eye, but I can’t help but notice it’s warmer over by the windows. Normally, I’d attribute that to the summer sun shining through, but it’s still morning and now I’m a little bit spooked by this place.
In the corner of the window sill, something catches my eye. There, burned into the wood in black, is an outline of the Grand Tetons. I recognize the famous local mountains immediately. The peaks are shaded very realistically, and at the bottom sits Jackson Lake next to a forest of tiny pine trees. I run my hand over the brand, but there isn’t any indent in the wood.
Movement catches my eye from out in the backyard. My head snaps up as Miles, dressed in his usual cowboy attire of jeans, boots, an old black t-shirt and backwards baseball cap walks along the fence. I sneak a little closer to the window to see what he’s up to this early. I’m always the first one here in the mornings. I like it that way, nice and quiet.
Miles crosses his arms, looking at the fence with disdain. He steps back and shakes his head. All of a sudden, as if he can feel me looking at him, his gaze snaps up and meets mine through the window. Caught again. He raises a hand up in a sort-of wave, and I wave back. I’m not sure why, but I feel the need to go talk to him and see what’s up. I can tell something is bothering him.
Opening the sliding glass door to the back porch, I step out into the cool morning air once again. Miles’s gaze is heavy on me still as I walk towards him at the fence. Stopping about a foot short of the remaining fence, I smile at him on the other side.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi,” he nods. I clasp my hands together, rocking forward a bit. What a shock, Miles isn’t a man of many words again today.
“How’s it going back here?” I say, hoping I’ll get more than a one word answer this time.
“Fine,” he says. So much for that.
“Okay, well, great. See ya,” I turn on my heel to head back to the house. I don’t have time for this. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s fine.
“Mac, wait,” he says. My stomach does a little flip when I hear him say that nickname in his deep voice. I internally scold myself for having a reaction at all. “Sorry, I’m just trying to figure this thing out. The entire fence is rotting pretty bad. I’m not sure how long it’ll even last once I replace the boards that the cows knocked down.”
“Oh,” I nod, turning back around. “I can let my crew know and maybe we can move some things around to make room in the budget for a new fence. If it’s as bad as you say.”
“No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I can still fix it,” he says, shaking his head. “It should have been replaced before you bought the property. This fence is older than dirt. Look, we have some extra fence boards in the barn. If you’re okay with wooden slats instead of logs like it is now, I can take all of this down and start on a new fence. It shouldn’t take too much time.” He reaches down and grabs a log from the ground that used to be part of the fence. “See this? It’s practically falling apart in my hands.” The inside of the wood is indeed crumbling, turning gray from years of weather.
He wants to fix my fence for me? Not just fix it, but build an entirely new one? I can’t exactly say no to that. I wouldn’t have to compromise on anything budget-wise, and my crew could stay focused on the cabin.
“Okay, sure. If you want to fix my fence, I won’t complain. The slats will look better with the cabin’s siding anyway,” I say, flashing him a soft smile. I swear for just a second his cheeks turn pink.
“I’ll finish taking it down today, then tomorrow start digging for the new posts,” he says decidedly, analyzing the rest of the fence. His forehead crinkles in thought, and I can imagine him going through the day’s plan in his head.
“Thanks, I really appreciate you doing this,” I say. “And thanks for talking me up at dinner the other night.”
He turns back towards me, catching my eye. “I just told the truth. The garden looks good.” Another half smile.
“It was nice meeting Parker the other night. Does he join you guys for dinner every Sunday?” I ask.
“Not every week, but most of the time he’s there. And, you’ve met him before. He has gone with me to Salt Lake City for the auctions every year since he started here.”
