Page 93 of Cherry Tree Ranch

I check the titles. Kaylee checks the land leases and deeds. There are titles to tractors, heavy equipment, vehicles, trailers, four-wheelers and snowmobiles. It seems endless. Kaylee flips through the leases until a few brittle ones at the bottom catch our attention when they crackle.

She separates them from the rest and we read the first aloud in unison, “Homestead certificate No. 188. Attached to it is a quit-claim deed.” We read the next and the next.

I explain to Kaylee that many homesteaders abandoned their land and others were pushed out. Earl bought or blackmailed people into getting the deeds when they left.

“This one says he bought it for only five dollars.” She frowns.

The last of the papers says something different: Land Deed.

My eyes dart across the deed. It’s for a parcel that’s eighty acres. I don’t understand until I get to the bottom where, written in loopy cursive, is the name Dorothy O’Connor.

“Hey – that was my great-great-grandma’s name.” I flip it over in Kaylee’s hands. “Earl William Drake,” I say slowly. “This is a deed for the top corner of my ranch.”

“OK…” Kaylee draws out.

“Look, eighty acres, south-west corner. My great-great-grandma Dottie sold Earl part of the ranch. She and Daisy were desperate to keep him off their backs and away from their sheep. She sold him part of it…” I trail off.

“Why not the whole thing?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m wondering.”

I peer down at the deed. It’s dated 1927. “She sold it to Earl after my aunt Daisy died.”

I crack open my soda as my mind whirls. I can see that Kaylee’s is too. She looks like I did when I first opened the desk in my barn, only a lot sadder.

She uses the tiny key to open the desk drawer next. We sift through notebooks and ledgers, boxes of envelopes and paperclips. There’s nothing significant. Nothing about Earl. After we put everything back, she tries to push it closed. It’s jammed, so she yanks it towards her and the drawer frees, sliding completely out of the desk.

It falls to the concrete with a loud metal clang. We scramble back to avoid it hitting our toes. The impact throws several things to the floor but also pops up a divider in the drawer. It completely covered the bottom of the drawer. We hadn’t noticed it before. Kaylee tilts it up and peers underneath. We widen our eyes at each other.

“There’s a big envelope under here.”

The envelope is labelled, Ranch Docs 1920s. Without hesitation, she dumps the contents on the desk. She flips through the notebook, the crisp pages fluttering as they fan out.

Kaylee stops on a page in the notebook dated September 1926. Her eyes scan the page and she flips to the next, reading frantically. Her hand flies to her mouth and her gaze bolts up to mine.

“What?” I push my shoulder against hers, desperate to read the pages.

“I don’t know what to say. Dahlia, you were right about this Earl guy.” Her hand trembles. “No wonder my mom kept this a secret.”

She pushes the notebook towards me and I read at the same frantic pace. Earl wrote about it all – how he killed Joaquin with his lariat, lassoing him off his horse. How he tricked Dottie into selling a piece of her land, the piece containing all the water rights for the ranch. He wrote: Stupid woman. She was too distraught by Daisy’s death to pay attention to what she was signing away. I don’t even need the water. It will all go into the basin.

And finally, I read: Daisy can’t say no to me any more. I drove her and her sheep off the cliffs. Before she fell, she tried, and failed, to shoot me.

I swallow the emotions building in my throat. Daisy was murdered. After reading her note to Dottie, I was sure she had taken her own life – gone to the mesa and ended it before Earl could find her. There’s both relief and tragic pain in knowing this was not her choice.

Kaylee blinks quickly and wipes her eyes. I give her a moment and don’t watch her cry. Instead, I spend the time piecing it together: 1927 was the year after Daisy and Joaquin died. Dottie was all alone, except for Charlie. Everyone around her had died by the hand of the same man. Selling that piece kept her and Charlie alive, and kept the ranch in our family. But without its water rights it would never be the same again – and so the “curse” began.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“My ranch isn’t cursed,” I say. “I have to go. I have to tell Cash.”

Kaylee reaches for me as mascara-stained tears streak her cheeks. “Dahlia? I have one more thing I need to say.”

I take a tissue and dry my eyes and hand her one too. “I’m not sure I can handle anything else right now.”

“I understand. I just need you to know that I’m sorry for how I acted when we first met.” She offers me a watery smile. “This has been the hardest year of my life. Cash and I only dated for a little while before Billy picked us up. But then the social media piece exploded. The image we put out there was so … perfect and flawless, and even if it wasn’t real, it made me feel like everything was OK somehow. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone finding out the messy truth. So, when you came along, I took that out on you, and I’m sorry.”

I meet her desperate eyes. “Kaylee, you’re really nice. People are going to like you for you, not only the image you put out there.” I hug her and she cries on my shoulder.