A Gentleman Ghost.

We had a great Fourth of July. Rode our horses up the north side of the canyon, crossed the river- which if you’ve ever crossed a racing river on horseback you know how fun it is- headed up to the old logging trail on the south side of the canyon to check on the cattle and returned to Sweetgrass Ranch and our bunkhouse. We cleaned up and drove to meet our daughter and son in law over at their ranch. We had a light lunch before we loaded up a few cases of ice cold beer and moved on to a barbecue at the next ranch over.

This is kind of like Amish country - any excuse to get together and talk weather, cattle, hay… I grew up in Iowa. Weather, livestock and crops are the main topics of discussion at any gathering- far less depressing than talking politics and the state of the world let me tell you. So while the adults shot the breeze, drank iced coffee and beer and played horseshoes, the kids swam in the pond, climbed trees and rode make-believe horses. There is nothing cuter than little kids in cowboy boots.

After a delicious barbecue, (and I did get the yummy recipe for iced coffee), we returned to my daughter’s house for a glass of wine and then drove off in the dark to Sweetgrass. I do mean dark. Super dark. Single-track rough rock road, deer, antelope, elk, bear… Oscar stayed alert. Besides he had to open and close gates.

We arrived in the dark and picked our way to the bonfire and the fireworks. Guitars were played, songs were sung, dances were danced, beers were drunk- not by us. I just want to make that clear. Neither Oscar nor I had more than a single glass of wine all day.

Eventually we returned to our cabin, the Bunkhouse.

The Bunkhouse

It’s one of the original buildings, the former home of the ranch hands. The Bunkhouse is a large one-room rustic cabin with a free-standing wood stove and a private bath. It’s great because it’s far from the main ranch house and the rest of the cabins so it’s super quiet- until the horses arrive at 5:30 a.m., but the sound of horses doesn’t bother me much. It’s actually kinda soothing.

Before the singing even ended, Oscar and I drifted off to sleep. I woke at some point, have no idea what time it was. I only know it was so dark in the cabin I could not… literally could not… see my hand in front of my face. I tried. I’ve never experienced such a thick heavy oppressive darkness in my entire life.

I got out of bed to pee. Left the lights off, reluctant to wake Oscar. I shuffled my feet along the floor in the direction of what I hoped was the bathroom, holding my arms out in front of me, waving my hands maniacally, worried I’d trip on the trunk at the bottom of the bed or hit my head on the edge of the closet or slam my knee into the cast iron stove.

Disoriented and lost in the darkness with no notion of where the bathroom was, I suddenly heard the bathroom door creak open. Creak all the way open. And I knew where the bathroom was. And I knew for certain Oscar and I weren’t the only occupants of the Bunkhouse.

(I’d already suspected we weren’t alone because of a shadow I’d seen against the shower curtain our first night in the cabin - the shadow of a man in a windowless room when Oscar was nowhere around. But I figured, what the hey…)

Anyway, I backed up until my legs hit the bed. I said, “Honey, sorry but I have to turn on a light.” He mumbled something, but didn’t wake.

Sure enough, the bathroom door, which had been closed tight when we went to bed, was wide open. I walked over and closed it. I spent the next ten minutes coming at the door from all angles, trying to get it to open again. I even hopped up and down. It stayed closed.

So I went on in and peed. Then I opened the main door to see if I could let a little more light into the cabin, latching the screen door to keep out critters like grizzly bears. Oscar thinks that’s silly because a little latch isn’t going to stop a grizzly, but to my way of thinking that little latch gives me just enough time to hide beneath the bed.

I was pretty freaked out, but I climbed back into bed and turned off the lamp. I figured it had to be a nice ghost. I mean I really was lost in the room, hadn’t a clue where the bathroom was, and he showed me where the bathroom was- opened the door for me like a real gentleman.

But here’s where it gets even more weird.

Oscar is not a ghost person. It’s one of the things I appreciate about him. He doesn’t see or hear ghosts and on those occasions when I do he makes me feel normal again.

He woke up sometime later. He too noted how pitch black it was in the cabin. He flipped on his digital watch. It read 4:00 a.m. Just then he heard the door to the tack room- which is right next to our door- open and close. Real quiet-like. And he got chills. Oscar never ever gets chills. He turned on a light, got out of bed and closed the main door to our cabin.

We both woke up when the weary wranglers stumbled into the tack room at 5:00 a.m. Oscar asked if anyone had been in there an hour earlier and they all shook their heads.

Everyone at breakfast talked about how unusually dark the night had been, as in couldn’t see your hand in front of your face dark. Thus ensued a discussion of the various ghost sightings around the property. Apparently there have been quite a few.

When I went back to the Bunkhouse I made sure to thank the ghost for his consideration.