Chapter Seventeen
Monsoon season has been lurking, and the damp air is evidence of its impending arrival. I can hear Blue huffing and running around. The energy on the edge of the storm is getting him stirred up. It’s too bad Luna isn’t here to keep him company.
Despite how chilly it is, I’m drawn to the barn tonight, to escape into the historical world and pick at the puzzle I’m compelled to solve. I need to understand Daisy’s death, the legend and the curse.
First, I head towards the saddle, pull down the blanket embroidered in a rainbow of colours and drape it over my shoulders to keep warm.
The roll top glides open. I stare at the letters, the stacks of envelopes neatly organized with different coloured ribbons and the newspaper pieces folded neatly.
It’s like being in a candy shop. I can’t decide what to read first, and something new is waiting inside each envelope.
I start with the next letter from inside the lavender ribbon. I lift the envelope flap, which feels brittle from years of solitude.
August 15, 1924
There’s a letter and an article inside. The letter is from Daisy to Dottie. Dottie was in the hospital, severely injured after a bronc fell back on her. The article describes people’s growing concerns, especially after Dot’s accident, about women riding broncs, saying it’s too dangerous.
I sigh. Isn’t it dangerous for anyone to ride broncs? I feel a flutter of recognition when I see the nickname on the next letter.
Daisy, Mi Flor,
Clara told me of Earl’s proposal. I beg you, please do not accept. We haven’t known each other long, but I care for you deeply. I don’t want to see you get hurt. He is not a good man.
The days pass slowly as I await your return.
Con carino,
J
My phone buzzes atop the letters. The sound is muffled and I almost miss Lani’s video call. I slide the answer button with Joaquin’s letter still in my hand.
“Hey!” I say, excited to share my new finds.
“You’re in the barn again?” she asks.
“Yeah. Where are you?” I ask. There’s a ton of background noise – big waves crashing, wind gusting, and people cheering.
She shows me her view: windsurfers are flying across the waves with neon pink, yellow and orange sails.
“Ho’okipa,” she says. “Windsurfing capital of the world.”
“Nice!” I smile at her, wishing I could meet her on the beach, if even for a day. “Going to give it a go?”
“Nah, these people are pros. I mean, look at those frickin’ waves. They’re epic.”
“They are epic,” I say, watching a rider catch the lip of a wave before it curls. They fly into the air and disappear on to the backside.
“Any new finds over there?” Lani asks.
“Well, Joaquin loved Daisy. You were right. That Earl guy wanted to marry her, but just for the land. I looked him up. He had one of the largest cattle ranches in the county. Most of it he got by blackmailing people and killing off their sheep.”
“Jeez. How did killing their sheep help him?”
“It was their main source of income. Without the sheep, they couldn’t afford to start over. They had to sell their land, and he was the one who bought it. There was an article on the internet about how crooked the judicial system was. He never got in trouble for what he did.”
“There’s a whole mini drama in that desk of yours. Wait, Dahlia, look!” Lani turns the phone down the beach. Arching over the sand and waves is an iconic Hawaiian rainbow.
“That is too pretty. That’s it – I’m coming. I’m selling the ranch and buying a bungalow on the beach. We can retire and never worry about money again.”
Lani laughs. “Yeah right. You’ll probably live on that ranch for the rest of your life.”
I chuckle. “Maybe. But I’m also going to see the world first.”
“Bet. We’ll do it together.”
“I miss you!”
“Miss you!” She kisses at the phone.
I go back to the letters. I can see Joaquin was beginning to love Daisy.
It dawns on me I’ve only seen what’s on the desk.
I’ve neglected to look in the desk. I pull the top drawer open and find it filled to the brim with rodeo publicity posters.
The sisters are on a couple of them. Some of the posters are very plain with only entry fees and dates, but the larger the city, the more colourful and decorated the poster.
Under all the posters is a small wooden jewellery box.
Carved into the underside of the lid is, My sister, my best friend.
Inside there’s a bundle of pearls strung together.
I pull at the strand and it’s unexpectedly long – so long, it’s knotted about three quarters of the way down.
As it comes out, another identical one appears underneath.
I hold the necklace over my head and let it fall against my neck.
The pearls are cool against my skin. They are real, with little grooves, ridges and bumps.
“These must be worth a fortune,” I whisper to myself. “Between these, the saddle and the desk—”
But the words coat my tongue with bitterness. It’s hard to think about selling these treasures any more. I’ve become attached to it all.
I hold the necklace away and give in to the urge to swing the end in a circle.
The girl from my dream in the hospital with the brown curly hair flashes in my mind.
This time she’s not on a bronc, but I imagine her dancing in front of me with the strand of pearls round her neck.
She waves me to the dance floor and jives with her hands splayed out, kicking her feet forward and back.
The black fringe on the bottom of her dress swings side to side.
I carefully place both necklaces in the box, wishing I didn’t have to leave them behind. I close the desk, take the lantern and return the blanket, carefully covering the saddle. Then I return to the house. The only light on is the one above the kitchen sink, a sure sign Mom’s gone to bed.