Ranger

The parking lot was empty.

There were two permits logged for that week, both solo hikers with clean forecasts.

I sat in my truck for a few minutes and then I drove on.

The mountains are still good country.

Most of what lives up there will not hurt you.

What did hurt us is over.

The man is in a cell in a concrete building 200 miles from here, and he will die in that cell.

And when he dies, he will be buried in a county plot in the town where he grew up, next to the grave of the father he used to go fishing with, and the cycle that he made will close.

That's all I have to say about it.

Thanks for listening.

I worked three summers as a fire lookout in my state, 12 weeks each summer.

A small wooden tower at 10,300 feet, on a peak I'm not going to name.

If you know fire lookouts in the American West, you can probably narrow it down to maybe a dozen peaks that fit the description.

I'd rather you didn't.

Here's what the job is, in case you've never thought about it.

You sit in a 14-foot square wooden room with glass on all four sides.

There's a fire finder in the middle, a tool called an Osborne, with a ring map of the whole district.

You line up smokes on it and call in the bearings.

That's the job.

You watch for smoke.