Easton
The road stretched straight and even, gravel neatly packed down and bordered by a strip of grass on either side. Whoever had graded it knew what they were doing—no potholes, no soft patches waiting to swallow a tire. I rolled the truck window down as I drove, letting the clean mountain air pour in. Pine, cedar, and the faint tang of fresh-cut lumber carried on the breeze.
Kipp’s property sat about twenty minutes out from town, tucked at the base of a low ridge where the forest pressed close but left enough clearing for the builds. When I turned the last corner, the view opened wide, and I slowed to take it in.
Four A-frame cabins already stood completed, their dark wood siding and sharp triangular roofs cutting a striking line against the pale sky. They were neatly spaced,with gravel walkways connecting them, each angled just enough for privacy. Past them, two more frames rose from the ground—bare bones waiting to be fleshed out.
I parked near Kipp’s truck and climbed out, boots crunching on gravel. The place was quiet except for the steady thump of a hammer. It echoed across the clearing, quick and precise.
“Bout time,” Kipp called, straightening from where he crouched along the roofline of one of the unfinished frames. His cap shaded his face, but I caught the grin underneath. Sweat darkened the back of his shirt, and sawdust clung to his jeans.
“Wow.” I looked around slowly, taking it all in. “This isn’t some half-baked idea.”
“Damn right.” He hopped down with easy balance, landing lightly despite his size. “Four cabins finished, two more going up. Folks’ll come for a weekend, stay longer if they want. Cheaper than building their own vacation house, and they still get their slice of heaven.”
I nodded. He wasn’t bluffing—each finished cabin looked solid, their porches trimmed, windows reflecting the forest around them. The kind of place city folks would pay good money to disappear to.
It looked like he had already set up a couple of outbuildings, probably to store supplies. Man, he was serious. And I was seriously impressed.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked. “Work, I’m guessing. I have tools in the truck.”
Kipp grabbed a pair of gloves off the back of his Jeep and tossed them over. “Help me with rafters. These A-frames don’t put themselves up. It’s harder when it’s just me. I’ve got all the tools. I just need an extra body.”
I pulled the gloves on, the leather already broken in from use, and followed him over to the smaller cabin skeleton. The frame rose clean and tall, anchored by thick beams that smelled sharp with resin. A pile of pre-cut lumber waited nearby, stacked in perfect order beneath a heavy tarp.
We worked in rhythm. The structure took shape piece by piece, with every nail and bracket contributing to its strength. My shoulders burned from hefting beams, and sweat slid down my temple, but it was the kind of work that felt honest. It was the sort of work that I’d always been good at.
“You’ve been busy,” I said between breaths.
Kipp leaned on his hammer for a moment, surveying the cabins. “I put in hours here every evening after patrols. Game warden work keeps me on the move, but this? This is mine. Something I can build and leave standing.” He looked at me consideringly. “I know construction was always your thing, but I was paying attention.”
“I can see that. You’re pretty good at this stuff. Might be calling on you to help me out on some jobs.”
I meant it too. He’d always had a knack for anything to do with his hands. I doubted he had time to fill in on jobs or anything. It was interesting that both Wade and Kipp had chosen a career in law enforcement. There was no part of me that was interested in it, but they both seemed to have thrived. Kipp had been specific on his path. Levi had a friend who was a game warden in Washington State whohad come down once in a while. He’d talked to Kipp once about how to go about it, and he’d been sold. Anything where he could be outside was a win-win.
Kipp had always been like me in wanting to be outside where he could see the sky. He was five years younger than I was, but we’d always had an easy relationship. Kipp wasn’t one for town life and didn’t even like going in for his groceries. He was a solitary creature. Always had been. It was one of the reasons that the cabin idea had surprised me. I couldn’t imagine him having strangers around.
By midday, we had most of the rafters in place on the one-bedroom, the A-frame tightening into its final form. The sun had shifted through the clouds overhead, not really heating the clearing but giving it a nice glow until the scent of pine needles and warm sawdust seemed to hang in the air. Kipp waved me over toward a spot by the treeline. His tailgate was down. He had a cooler out with some sandwiches and water, where we wolfed down our food like we hadn’t eaten breakfast just a few hours before.
“Roofing next,” Kipp said, balling up the foil and tossing it back in the cooler. “We’ll set the plywood, then run tar paper before dark. I have shingles coming tomorrow. I’m hoping to get them roofed before we get another good rain. You know how it is.”
I did. In the Pacific Northwest, you were constantly trying to outrun the rain.
The afternoon bled into steady, focused labor. There was nothing like hauling sheets of plywood and driving nails to get your heart pumping. We lifted them onto the skeleton and held them in place while the other drovenails. The air filled with the snap of hammers, the scrape of wood, the low murmur of Kipp calling out angles and measurements.
By the time the sun tipped low behind the ridge, the smaller cabin’s roof was fully covered in plywood, the structure sealed enough to cast a cool shadow inside. We stood back a few feet, both of us breathing heavy, sweat streaking down our faces, and looked at what we’d managed in a single day.
Kipp set his hands on his hips, satisfaction settling across his features. “Not bad for a day’s work. I really appreciate your help, brother.”
“No problem.” I rolled my shoulders, muscles aching in that deep, spent way. “You weren’t kidding. These places are gonna be great. They’re small, but I love the floorplan.” They were cute as a button. I didn’t think that he’d have any issue renting them out.
He gave a crooked grin. “That’s the plan. Got to think about shoring up my rainy day fund.” He winked. “My salary isn’t bad, but a little investment on the side isn’t a bad call.”
“Definitely. This is a smart choice. I think that if you market it right, you can attract the kind of renters out here who aren’t a problem, and you can make some good money off these.”
The forest around us was shifting into evening now, shadows pooling under the trees, the chorus of crickets rising steadily. Kipp moved to a cleared patch near the cabins and where he had made a fire ring. There wereobviously bigger plans for the spot, but he had some felled logs for benches that were sanded smooth.
“Very rustic chic.”
