Chapter Fifteen
“Hello?” I call out. It’s ridiculous to think someone’s in here, but I try again, more for my own sanity than anything else. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
There’s only silence. And I realize, now I’m inside, I’m not so afraid.
Something about the barn feels sad, but kind.
The door slams closed again and I flip the latch to keep it from banging.
I hold the lantern out as far as possible but can only see a couple of feet in front of me.
The shiny lacquered wood of the desk is brilliant under the light.
I sort through the desk and find a letter that draws me in. It’s dated before the newspaper article I read.
Daisy,
I wish you were here with me. I need someone to talk to. Some of the other girls are great friends, but nothing like you, sis. The thing is, I’m pregnant.
No one knows yet, except the dad. He’s the one I’ve been writing you about who’s on the circuit too. I’m going to take a break from riding broncs for now, but I’m going to travel on with the group. We may come home to get married. I cannot wait for you and Mama to meet him.
I hope you try out to ride next spring. We would have so much fun travelling the country and riding together. None of the rough stock are any worse than those wild horses Papa put us on, and you’ve always been a better rider than me.
Daisy, I’m terrified to have a baby.
Love ya, sis!
Dot
I find another letter.
June 19, 1923
Dottie,
I’m so happy for you! I think I will try out to ride broncs next year. I miss having you here. The new shepherd who’s taken over for Papa is nice. He’s about your age, but unlike you he’s quiet and keeps to himself.
I don’t mean to worry you, but there’s word around town the grazing wars are starting up again. Please don’t feel lonely. Me and Mama are always thinking of you. I cannot wait to meet your baby and be an aunt!
Love,
Daisy
These women were fearless. Dottie would have ridden shortly after having her baby. I can only imagine the grit that would take. I wonder if the shepherd Daisy is writing about is the same one who kept the photo of her in the sheep wagon.
I google grazing wars, Pinto Valley Colorado on my phone.
It populates more information than I can possibly read, but the headings are enough to get the gist. It was a brutal time with a lot of bloodshed when competition for range land and water between sheep and cattle ranchers turned violent.
I click my screen off, disgusted by the brutality.
I find an envelope tied in lavender ribbon. Inside is a letter dated a year later, shortly after their newspaper article.
June 2, 1924
Dear Mama,
Dot and I are doing well and having fun. Riding the train across the country is thrilling. We’ve seen places I never imagined existed. But nothing so far as beautiful as the ranch. I understand now why Grammy and Poppy wanted to settle there.
Dot and I have met women who attend universities and have very important jobs. The vote was only the beginning, Mama. I’m going to travel the world and attend college when we’re done rodeoing.
Neither of us have been hurt riding. I land on my feet most of the time. They sure do love watching us ladies. How are you doing? How is Joaquin?
With love,
Daisy
Joaquin. The name feels comfortable on my tongue as I whisper it aloud, almost familiar, but I can’t place that I know anybody who shares it. Is that who J was? Did he give Daisy the bronze horse inscribed with Te amo?
I can’t get enough of Daisy’s words. She loved the ranch, just like I do, and she had so many dreams all at once. I feel seen, somehow. Like I’m not quite as alone.
June 3, 1924
Mama,
I’m so happy to have Daisy with me on the circuit this year.
We go out at night, but I keep an eye on her like I promised.
Some would say she’s not being ladylike – drinking and smoking and being rowdy – but she’s having a wonderful time.
She can’t make heads or tails of how she feels about Joaquin.
Every time she drinks, she cries that she misses him, but then tells me she can’t get enough of being on the road and riding broncs.
There must be more to their relationship than you and I know.
You were right about becoming a mother – everything I think about revolves around Charlie. Thank you for taking care of him. Daisy and I will keep sending money home as often as we can.
Kiss and hug Charlie for me.
Missing you,
Dottie
Inside the next envelope are two letters.
The first is on thick, crisp paper:
June 24, 1924
My dearest girls,
The bees are doing beautifully, the alfalfa has bloomed, and the sheep are fat and healthy. Bonnie misses you both. She lays in your room awaiting your return.
I’m happy to hear people enjoy watching you ride. Your father would have been so proud.
Joaquin is doing well, though he and I feel as though our only job these days is fixing fence. Earl’s cows keep pushing their way in and tearing it down. They’ll eat all the grass if this continues, and the sheep will starve.
Charlie is growing like a weed. He’s sitting up on his own. Bonnie loves smothering his face with slobbery kisses, and he giggles and grabs her fur. They are the best of friends. Don’t worry, Dorothy. He won’t remember you’ve been gone.
I love you, darlings,
Mama
I frown, recognizing the name “Earl” – the man who wrote the forceful letter, trying to marry Daisy and join their ranches.
The second letter is scrawled on a blank page torn from a book:
Daisy,
Mama Clara asked me to bring her letter to the post office when I came to town for supplies. I hope you don’t mind, I slipped this in too and paid the postage.
I am off the mountain for two days. Your mama is good to me – the sheep wagon is comfortable and she stocked plenty of good food. Your photograph keeps me warm at night.
Tending sheep is a lonely job, but Bonnie helps keep watch. She and Estrella are my two best girls while you’re gone. Please be safe. I miss seeing your smile.
Sincerely,
J
No way! This is him. This is J. Joaquin, the shepherd.
You were right about the desk. I found out who J is, I message Lani.
When she doesn’t respond, I read two more letters.
July 12, 1924
Dear Mama,
I promise we’ll be home in time to harvest the honey. We are on to the Prescott, Arizona Frontier Days, Elk City, Oklahoma and then to the famous Pendleton Round Up in Oregon. You’ll never guess who is on the publicity poster for Prescott. Me and Dottie! I’ll mail a copy as soon as we get there.
Have you paid Earl yet?
Daisy
July 27, 1924
Daisy,
Things aren’t good here. Sheep are being poached all over the county.
I haven’t paid Earl yet. I had to repair the sheep wagon, and now I need more money.
If it suits you, I’ll sell the ring. He’ll never know, but I want you to understand.
Even the people who’ve paid him are losing sheep and he’s increasing his demands.
He and his masked vigilantes have earned themselves a new name – the Night Riders.
The only reason we’re being spared is because of the obsession he’s had with you since you were a kid, Daisy. He still believes he’ll marry you and join our ranches. We have to keep it that way.
Love,
Mama
My eyes widen. “That’s really messed up,” I whisper to myself.
I pull my phone out once again and type in night riders next to grazing wars. The images tab shows men with guns on their hips and white masks over their faces. My vision snags on the name “Earl” in a photo caption.
Lani sends a message back. It’s four hours earlier for her, so she’s still up. Don’t keep a girl waiting…
I take a picture of Joaquin’s letter.
I’m so jealous. I want to be there reading old love letters with you.
Is it a love letter exactly?
Her photo keeps him warm at night?? Come on. Love letter for sure. Did she love him back?
Definitely. She wrote love on the photo she gave him. It’s not all love letters in here though. You know that Earl guy I told you wanted to marry Daisy? He was one sick dude. Look at this:
I send the old photo of Earl and his men. In the caption it tells about Earl W. Drake’s gang, how they killed sheep by driving them off cliffs, and the herders they tied to trees.
Damn. That’s dark. And this guy lived next to Daisy and Dottie?
Yeah. Pretty scary. On a positive note, how’s Maui?
Hot. How was picking cherries with Cash?
Hot.
For real??
Yeah. The weather’s hot here too!
I sigh. What am I doing out here in the middle of the night? If I don’t get back to bed, I won’t have energy to pick and preserve cherries tomorrow. I tidy the letters and close the barn door firmly on the way out. The wind has calmed.
When I settle in bed and close my eyes, ready to finally get some rest, my phone vibrates again.
Same time tomorrow?
It takes a moment for my brain to register – it’s Cash.
What are you doing up at this time? I say.
What are YOU doing up at this time? he texts back.
I’ll tell you sometime, I reply, thinking of the stories I’m uncovering in the barn.
Then I worry I sound like I’m being deliberately flirtatious and blush.
I probably shouldn’t be messaging somebody’s boyfriend in the middle of the night.
He shouldn’t be messaging me. You were sweet to help today, I follow up quickly, but I’ve got it tomorrow.
No really, I’m happy to. I had fun.
Me too.
So, is that a yes?
I drink in his willingness to help me, believing, if only for a moment, there’s hope for the ranch. With his help, I’ll pick and sell a lot more cherries.
Yes. Same time.