Chapter Twenty-Eight
You’re telling me you slept together yesterday?
Slept, Lani. Key word there. Like actually slept. Best nap I’ve had in a while.
That’s actually really sweet.
What’s going on with you? I ask her.
I met a guy…
Spill!
At a family photo shoot. Said he was bored of lying on the beach with them, so we hung out. I took him to the shave ice shack and stuff.
And stuff??
Kinda kissed him…
Lani!
I know. Quick. But he’s gorgeous! And nice. That’s important too, right?
“I’m going to the grocery store,” Mom says, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
Lani! My lord. Gtg but let’s call later.
I wave from Grandma’s chair as Mom drives away and Cash pulls up in his truck. I’m up and at his side before he can close his door.
Yesterday, when I woke up in his arms, I told him about my back-up plan to sell some things from the barn if I don’t make enough with cherries and honey.
“You want to see the desk I told you about?” I ask. I graze his forearm with my fingertips. “I really want to show you what I was talking about yesterday.”
He stares at his arm. “Yeah, of course.”
I lead him into the barn and to the desk. I lift the roll top and look back to find him staring at my butt.
“Cash!”
“What? Sorry. It’s just…” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You. In those shorts… You look really good.” He blushes and looks at the ground. “What’s this from?” He picks up a small piece of shattered glass.
“This.” I lift the photo of Daisy from the desk. “I accidentally dropped it. She used to live here with her sister. Her sister, Dottie, was my great-great grandma – and you’ll never believe what they did.”
He raises his brow.
“They rode saddle broncs.”
“Really?” Cash says, handing me back the photo.
I watch his eyes dance as I pull out the articles I’ve read so far. It felt like an intrusion when I first looked into the desk, but now it feels like a mystery to be solved.
“I had no idea women rode broncs back then. Even now there are only a few. A lot of states don’t allow it.
I heard when the American Cowboy Association formed they tried to keep it diverse, but insiders made it very difficult for anyone different to keep competing,” Cash says.
“So groups formed their own rodeos. My mom’s uncle used to be a bull rider in the All Indian Rodeo Cowboys Association. What are these other things?”
“Oh, um … I haven’t had a chance to look at all of it yet.
” I turn towards him. He towers over me, my face to his chest. I think back to my talk with Mom and wonder if I’ve seen all this stuff before somehow.
The pearl necklaces made me feel like dancing, I feel the need to hold on to the bronze horse and Daisy’s saddle is warm and familiar.
I run my thumb over a fragile envelope. It’s not cream, nor yellow, but rather a beautiful colour in between that only comes with the passing of time. Inside are dozens of black-and-white and sepia-tone photos. Cash and I look through them with awe.
“Look at this photo,” he says.
It’s of a group of men and women all huddled together by the Pinto Valley rodeo stands. It’s a diverse group of some of the happiest-looking people I’ve ever seen. I flip it over. The rodeo gang, 1923.
“There are lots of people of colour,” Cash says quietly.
“Are there any other people of colour you compete with now?”
He shakes his head. “No, but there’s an Arapaho rider up in Wyoming who’s really famous – he rides in PRCA rodeos. Raises bucking horses too, just like I want to do.”
My eyes scan across each face in the photo.
I don’t say it aloud, but it echoes through my heart when I find Dottie’s face…
She’s the other woman I see in my dreams, I’m sure of it – the woman I imagined dancing with the pearls, the woman at the train depot, the woman on the other horse.
How is it possible that I know her face?
Sure, I suppose she has a look of Emery somehow – but we don’t have any photos of them in the house.
“Remember when you told me about your scar?” I venture.
“Yeah.”
“And how your mom said it might be an injury from a past life?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, the other day I was talking to my mom, and she told me she thinks I may be the reincarnation of this girl.” I point to the photo. “Daisy.”
“Really? Why?”
“Apparently, I used to tell her stories about Daisy falling from the cliffs, like the legend you know. I was a toddler. No one ever said anything to me about it.”
“Whoa, that’s… Whoa. I mean, my mom believes in it, but she’s never had any proof.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s proof, just a theory. My mom also said it could be my imagination, and that I feel the energy of this place deeply.”
“She may be on to something, though. Did you know dahlias are in the Asteraceae family of flowers?”
“I’m not following.”
“Asteraceae is the botanical name for the daisy family. Dahlias are in the daisy family.”
“Dead ass?”
“Yep. Did your mom know that when she named you?”
“I … I don’t know. I don’t think so.” I absorb his words. My name has always felt unique, too unique most of the time, but now it feels like a piece of a puzzle, helping me understand.
I lay the photos down and find a stack of envelopes tied with a sapphire-blue ribbon. I pick at the tightly tied knot and pull out the first letter. The handwriting is delicate and loopy.
September 15, 1925
Daisy,
Please tell me how your travels are going. I can be sure you are breaking records and riding out the best of them. Mama is well and I’m healing, but I will never walk the same again. It’s hard to bend, but I help Mama harvest the garden while Charlie covers himself in dirt.
The cattlemen have been quieter. I believe they are running out of ranches and shepherds to target. Mama and I sleep with pistols under our pillows, and Joaquin keeps as close to the house as he can at night. We rarely go into town, hoping that being out of sight will keep us off Earl’s mind.
Love,
Dottie
“Look at these,” Cash says, handing me two full pages of newspaper.
Most of the first page is filled with a photograph of Daisy blowing a kiss to a rodeo crowd with a bronc in the background.
Cash points at the heading. “She won World Champion at Madison Square Garden. It tells about the bronc she rode and how she wanted to win for Dottie.”
“Let’s get everything off the desk so we can properly see what’s here,” I suggest.
“And we can organize it into categories, open the letters to see who they are from and then make a timeline based on the dates.”
“Um, yeah… That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I laugh and elbow him.
We begin separating everything into piles on a ratty old blanket I lay on the ground. It’s all so beautiful – the colourful ink stamps on the envelopes, the antiquated colour of the paper and the delicate array of ribbons.
Cash and I work quietly around each other.
I find a small group of envelopes with an emerald ribbon encircling them.
Unlike the others, there isn’t any writing on the envelopes.
I put them to the side and make a mental note to come back to them.
Then, as I pull out the rodeo publicity poster, the one with both sisters on it, a leather journal appears.
Tooled into the bottom corner is a daisy, no bigger than a nickel.
I ruin the quiet vibe. “Cash … look!”
He cocks his head. “Open it.”
I untie the knotted leather strap binding the journal closed. The first thing I notice is that the handwriting is tightly written in perfect cursive. Cash and I sit cross-legged by the documents, almost on top of one another, and read the journal.
“It starts in 1923 – that was before Daisy started rodeoing,” I tell Cash.
May 17, 1923
I find myself watching Joaquin constantly. He’s only been here for a couple of weeks, and we haven’t talked about much other than the sheep he tends, but his presence is magnetic.
“Joaquin?” Cash points to the journal. “That was the name of my great-great-great-uncle who worked here!”
Dots are connecting in my mind, creating familiarity that comforts and frightens me all at once. “Your great-great-great-uncle who was a shepherd…”
“That must have been him!”
We read on:
August 19, 1923
After helping pick fruit down in the valley, Joaquin agreed to getting paid in trees, then he gave them all to me. He and I have shared many wonderful moments together, but I’m confused by such a grand gesture.
We worked together, planting a hundred in all.
There are sour and sweet cherries. While we planted, he hummed a beautiful song.
I asked him what it was, and he said it’s a song that helps calm the sheep – a lullaby, but he doesn’t know the translation to English.
He believes singing to the trees will help them grow.
After they were all in the ground, he brought out a guitar-like instrument and sung the whole thing to me and the trees.
Instead of calling me Daisy, he says “mi flor” – my flower.
My spine tingles. “Cash,” I exclaim. “You sing like that too. And the instrument…”
“The charango,” Cash says. “My dad played it when he told me the story of Joaquin. Do you think it’s the same one?”
“It’s got to be. This is amazing!” I shake the journal excitedly. “I mean your ancestor, my ancestor, they were in love right here on this very same ranch.” I hug the journal to my heart and beam. “This may sound crazy, but it feels to me like they’re still here somehow.”
“I don’t think it sounds crazy at all.”
“Ahh! I’m so excited about this.”
“I can see that. You’re practically vibrating.”
“Want to take a quick break and blow off some steam?” Before he answers, I take him by the hand and pull him off the ground.
Outside the barn, I start running and pull Cash’s hand to keep up.
Out of breath, with burning legs and lungs, we make it to the pond.
I stay on the other side, opposite the hives.
“You shouldn’t be this close to the hives,” Cash says, pulling me back the way we came.
“It’s OK. Trust me. The pond is huge – look at it. We’ll stay over here.” Right now I’m willing to risk being this close to the bees. Mom and Dad will never find out.
“Over here and do what?” he asks, frustrated with me as we walk.
“Do you remember what you said you’d be doing on a hot day like this when I was stung?” I ask as we get to the dock.
He raises his eyebrows, takes off his ball cap, and scratches his head. “I believe I said, ‘I’d be swimming buck naked on a scorcher like this.’”
“Yes, yes you did. And today is even hotter. And…” I can’t wipe the smile off my face. “You promised in the pizzeria closet that you’d do whatever I want.” I playfully tug at the ends of his shirt and nod my head to the water.
“You want to swim?”
“Yep.”
“All right. Let’s do it.” He peels his shirt over his head and tosses it on to the dock. He inhales quickly and puts his hands on his hips. “Now you.”
I bite my lip and take one arm out of my shirt at a time. When I’ve got it up to my neck I take a slow breath, close my eyes, and pull it off. “Your turn. Shorts off.”
He scratches his head and he clears his throat. “No shorts? You going in buck naked?”
With my thumb on the button of my shorts I reply, “No! I’m keeping my underwear on, but I think you need to keep your promise.”
“I made no promises,” he says.
“Fine. But don’t go running your mouth with grand ideas if you don’t plan on following through.”
He feigns annoyance. “OK, Ms High and Mighty, just take off your damn clothes.”
We take off our shorts and act like we’re averting our eyes. I catch Cash stealing a glance at my chest and he blushes.
“Want to jump?” he asks.
“Uh yeah. I guess so. Or … we could slide in slowly.”
He narrows his brow in confusion.
“I’m terrified of falling is all.” I cross my arms over my bra.
“You’re afraid of heights?”
“Just falling. It’s a different phobia.”
“I’m scared of snakes.” He does a whole-body shudder. “Want to jump together?”
I nod and he looks at my hand. I uncross my arms and lace my fingers in his. Then we jump at the same time.
I sink until my toes touch the muddy bottom of the pond. I open my eyes to the murky water. As I come up for air, a wake circles Cash. I pull hair out of my face and kick against the frigid water. Cash comes up. His eyes are wide, and his smile is even bigger. Water drips off his nose and chin.
This wasn’t a good idea. All I want to do is swim up to him and kiss him. I swim backwards and look away.
“So, if you’re afraid of falling, I guess that rope swing over there is out of the question?”
“Have at it, but nope, not me,” I say.
He puts his head down and does a crawl stroke to the dock.
I stare at his muscular half-naked body as he lifts himself up.
He strides confidently to the rope swing and climbs on to a tree stump.
He puts his legs round the rope and swings out over the water.
The water from his fall splashes all over my face.
He backstrokes to me and wipes a drop of water from my nose. I dip my head back in the water and slick my hair down with both hands. When I look up, he’s biting down on his bottom lip and staring at me like I’m the most interesting thing in the world, making me feel more naked than I already am.
“What are you doing?” I demand when he squints mischievously and dips his mouth and nose underwater.
He pops up and squirts water from his mouth at me.
I draw back. “Yuck, that’s pond water.” He swims closer and squirts water at me again. “Cash!”
His eyes are fixed on me, and he stays low in the water like a crocodile.
When he comes up again, I reach out to block the spray, but he grabs my hand and pulls me through the water.
Laughing, I glide against him and grab his shoulders.
Our legs kick against each other until he pulls my legs round his waist. His warm skin feels like heaven, and my heart races.
My eyes trace over his face. As his arm curls beneath me and he boosts me up, I inhale the fresh smell of his wet hair. I squeeze my legs more tightly to keep from slipping. He swallows and his eyes find mine.
When I trace a flat hand down his temple to his cheek, he turns his face into my palm. He holds my hand there and gives it a soft kiss. Then he lifts my wrist to his mouth and places a kiss on the tender underside, then to the inside of my elbow.
“Hey, that tickles,” I giggle.
“This?” he asks playfully, and leans in to kiss my sensitive collar bone.
“Cut it out,” I beg, though a thrilling shiver runs over my skin.
He goes in one more time, but I splash a handful of water at him, accidentally spraying it in his face.
“Oh, now you’re really in trouble,” he teases.
I push off his waist and turn to my stomach, taking quick strokes towards shore. I giggle and swim as he paddles quickly after me.