Page 84 of Cherry Tree Ranch

He puts his hands on his hips, winded from walking uphill, and gazes at the long crease in the ground.

He lets out a long breath through rounded lips. “Look at how the plants are growing along it. They’re chokecherry and willow. Those grow around water.”

I shadow my eyes and walk the line a little further. The ranch, no matter how barren and burnt, still looks beautiful to me from up here.

“I’ve never been up here before. It looks like an old ditch.”

“Sure does. If your family used to hay the fields, they must have had water rights. Daisy and Joaquin never would have gotten the cherry trees started without water.”

“Why wouldn’t the ranch have water rights any more?”

Cash’s eyes narrow and he picks a chokecherry. It’s small and dark and wild. Nothing like my cherries, but they make my heart ache all the same.

“Sometimes they get sold off.”

Cash and I trudge on as the sun gets higher and hotter in the sky. It looms above, burning my eyes. I hold my hand up to block the light. It’s so bright it’s making it difficult to look for Blue across the heatwaves.

“Cash?” I say, my voice catching. “Do you think we’ll find him?”

He stops and stands in front of me, his tall, lean body blocking the sun.

“We’ll find him. How you holding up?” He pulls the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead and wipes the moisture away on his jeans.

“Not well.” Doom creeps across my every thought. “I’m so mad at Emery for telling my dad about the debt.”

He curls his fingers up to his chest and presses his knuckles with the other. A couple of them pop as he presses his lips in a flat line. “You may not want to hear this, and I’m not one to talk since I’m an only child, but I think you and Emery have a lot more common ground than you think.”

My eyes nearly bug out with surprise. “How so?”

He counts on his fingers as he explains, “You both grew up in a world of uncertainty. You walk on eggshells with your dad, and you don’t know how your mom’s illness can shift. I think your sister chose to live with your dad because there was stability in what he was able to provide. And you’re both fiercely protective of the people you love.” I’m about to rebut when he splays his hands out in defence. “Hear me out. You were protective of her when your dad ruined her birthday plans, and she wanted to protect you from losing the ranch. It was a risk to tell your dad, but I agree with him that she did it because she worries about you. She must have thought he would help you pay the taxes.”

One side of his mouth turns into his cheek as he waits for my reaction.

My chin falls to my chest. “I think you’re right.”

He places a warm palm below my jaw and lifts my face. He considers me as his forehead meets mine. His fingers push into my hair under the nape of my neck and softly he says, “That’s just how I see it.”

We walk and walk until my feet blister from sweat rubbing against my heels. Blue’s tracks turn up into more scrub oak. Cash leads the way and turns to grab my hand.

“Follow me through,” he says.

I watch his feet as he guides me through the maze of limbs. When we come out of the other side of the brush, something cool tingles on my face. I squint up at the sky and see dark clouds.

I tug at Cash’s sleeve. “Look.” We point our faces up and let the cool drops refresh us for a moment. Quickly, a growing grey blanket of rain closes in.

“Come on!” Cash starts up the hill. “We’ve got to get a higher vantage point. The rain’s going to wash away his tracks.”

Startled at this realization, I run, catching up and then passing him. I need to know where Blue is. I can’t lose anything else right now. Each step I take is calculated to avoid the cactus and sagebrush.

He gives me a reassuring smile and wraps me in his arms under the cover of a lone juniper. I shove my face into his chest, and we hold one another through the gusting bursts of rain, the warmth of our chests creating a haven against the storm around us. When the rain lets up, Cash and I search the ground. The tracks have disappeared.

“We have to keep going. We’re already out here,” I plead, and he doesn’t argue.

Mud cakes my shoes as I follow him to the crest of the hill. I stretch on to my tiptoes to see down the hillside. Below is a basin a couple of miles wide. Patches of scrub oak grow as tall as houses. Cottonwoods weave through the creek bottom, creating a neon-green ribbon amid the hunter-green shades of the juniper forest. There are small meadows in the middle of it all, scattered here and there, the grass tall and thick, waving in the breeze.

And that’s when I see him, grazing below. A grin breaks over my face and I jump up and down. Sweet relief settles into my bones like honey melting on a hot raspberry muffin.

“There he is!” I yell.