The Teton Mountain, autumn air came early with a bite. So, we made our stop at Squirrel Meadows Cabin for the night.

The ranger’s old-time Franklin Stove was ready for a fire. We chopped some kindling, lit a match, and watched the flames grow higher.

We warmed our hands, then held our boots up to the stove for heat. I finally rubbed some circulation back to my cold feet.

The rustic old guard station was now feeling toasty warm. The cowboys knew they’d weather out the night’s oncoming storm.

Our Coleman propane lantern gave the needed light to see. It must have been nostalgia, least a feeling over me.

I gazed around the quarters, not a plug-in on the wall. No internet to check on and no cell phone use at all.

I only could imagine ‘bout this cabin long ago. Two rangers eating biscuits, prob’ly made from sourdough.

Were they eating steaks of venison or rations from canned beef? Did the youngest get a sip of gin that later caused him grief?

They prob’ly talked about their lives. The young man still alone. The older ranger said this was the only life he’d known.

I’m sure he told the young buck, “Just keep thinkin’ ‘bout your work. Those gals are mighty pretty, but they’ll drive you plumb berserk!”

They finished up their supper, dumped the coffee from the pot. Then they turned in for the evening, sleeping bag and army cot.

Now, I know we’ve come a long, long way. They say it’s better now. But tools which made life easier changed innocence somehow.

So, the Squirrel Meadows Cabin is preserved for me and you. But, does this cabin miss the past, the life old rangers knew?

Bryce Angell has lived around horses his entire life and is a registered nurse in Idaho Falls.