Chapter Thirty-Two
ELLY
I’VE BEEN pacing the floor of this damn hotel room all morning. After I let myself break down last night, I decided I wasn’t going to just let it end like that. I’ll take the files to them and see if Gray will talk to me, I’ll do what I need to do to explain to him.
I went to the front desk to find out what room Harris is in so I could get my files back. But he didn’t answer the door.
Apparently, the hotel staff Harris bribed to get into my room is not one of the front desk people.
It didn’t matter what I said to the person at the desk this morning, I was not getting a key to his room without his permission.
Each time I knocked on his door last night, I listened for any hint of movement on the other side, but there was only silence.
Deciding to give it another try, I get off the elevator to find a maid cart propping his door open. It’s one of the commercial carts with trash bags attached to it and little holders in the handle. A keycard is sitting in one of those slots. Perfect!
A glance around the room tells me he is still checked in, but where is he? There is no sign of him in the room, but I see my files and laptop with other paperwork and his laptop on the small bar in the kitchen.
Clearing my throat to get the maid’s attention, I say, “Excuse me.”
She jumps and swings around to face me. “Yes, ma’am?” A retractable string with keys and cards clipped to it is on her chest, swinging around with her.
Pointing in the direction of the stairwell around the corner, I put on a concerned face. “Someone spilled a whole cup of coffee in the stairwell, just on the other side of the door. I almost slipped on it, I would hate for anyone to fall on the stairs and get hurt.”
“Oh, no. Thank you, ma’am. Excuse me.” She pushes the cart into the hallway and grabs a roll of paper towels as she walks away. The door to the room clicks shut as I’m walking away.
“No problem.” I chirp and pretend I’m going back to my room, but once she’s around the corner, I turn back.
Grabbing the keycard from the cart, I slip into his room and go right for my files. There are numerous articles with Native American tribal policies and laws printed out and scattered around his laptop. I grab my file and laptop as I quickly scan what he’s been looking at.
There are sticky notes with scribbles on them stuck to the printouts. So many printouts.
What are you doing, Harris?
Knowing I’m running out of time, I grab all of them and stack all the files on top of my laptop so I can get out before the maid comes back. Just as I am about to grab the handle of the door, the lock clicks and I jump behind the folding accordion door of the open closet.
The maid is mumbling to herself as she walks back in. “Don’t have time for pranks. This entire floor has to be done before lunchtime.”
Watching her through the crack of the door, I wait for her to turn her back to me and I slip out and drop the keycard back in the cart.
Back in my room, I look over the printouts and notes from Harris’ room.
He was basically researching the history and stipulations of the ownership of the land the Harlow’s own.
Copies of old documents are mixed in, the oldest of which is dated in 1875, half hand-written and half typed with an old typewriter with uneven letter strikes on the page.
Not being familiar with Native American history or the reservations, most of what I’m reading is foreign to me. There is a deed for a land allotment to a Cherokee native and his spouse, a piece of paper attached to it is a copy of the allotment being transferred to a woman named Ahyoka in 1887.
I wonder if she was a granddaughter?
Another deed copy is registered to Major Benjamin Louis Harlow in 1875 for twelve hundred acres awarded for his service in the U.S. Army. Attached to that is a copy of the land map, which shows the two properties were neighbors.
The land allotment for the Native and his family is less than half the acreage awarded to Major Harlow, but the property lines butt up against each other. Each piece of property is outlined with a different color marker and notes are scribbled around the page.
Falling into the rabbit hole of the history of the Harlow Ranch turned out to be fascinating.
Based on the paper trail, Major Harlow and Ahyoka married, combining their properties.
Ahyoka’s land became Major Harlow’s property because of the laws of the time, but he signed a contract with the Cherokee Nation that states if he or his lineage no longer owns the land, the Cherokee Nation keep all the mineral rights and half of any commercial income that might be earned by the land.
Laying everything out on the floor of my suite in chronological order, it’s clear the Major endeavored to ensure his family was protected from the U.S.
Government and their habit of ‘restructuring’ things.
Ahyoka’s enrollment on the tribal roll when she lived in an encampment ensured the protection of the Cherokee Tribe on her and her descendants.
They made a perfect team.
The better part of the morning is spent looking over deeds, marriage licenses, birth records and basically learning the entire history of the Harlow ranch.
My stomach growling pulls me out of my travel from the 1800s to the twentieth century.
Reaching for my phone, I decide I need to start taking pictures of documents and saving them.
Double damn it! My phone’s dead, I forgot to charge it last night after everything that happened and then crying myself to sleep.
Grabbing my charger, I plug in my phone and then use the room phone and call down to the front desk to see if they have a small scanner I can use in the room. Looking at the time, I realize I never had breakfast this morning, and it is past lunchtime, so I put in an order for room service.
Four hours later, I have a scrupulously neat and arranged digital file for all the paperwork I stole from Harris.
I pat myself on the back for using my very expensive, advanced business degree my father paid for researching every land law and contract law I could think of for the Harlow’s benefit.
I skimmed through the Native American Land Governance, but I would need a whole other degree and a lot more time than just an afternoon to familiarize myself with all that.
So I stop at a quick print store to make copies of everything and put together what I can to ensure the Harlow’s have nothing to fear from my father’s company.
When I pull up to the Harlow Ranch, I park next to the giant trucks that are sitting in a line in the round driveway. It’s just after dinnertime and my heart is racing in my chest. After the little showdown yesterday because of Harris, I’m hoping Gray will talk to me.
When I left the hotel in my new rental, the butterflies in my stomach felt like they were trying to punch through my gut. With each mile, my stomach has twisted, and my chest is so tight I keep taking deep breaths to fight back the worry that’s gripping my spine.
Shutting the passenger door, I get a good grip on the stack of folders I’ve rubber banded together. I look up to the porch and my heart lodges in my throat. Gray is standing on the porch alone, he looks even better than he did yesterday.
His ball cap is on backward, and his green and black flannel is open, his gray t-shirt tucked behind his belt. I stop in my tracks and suck in a breath, he looks angry with me still. His hands are hanging loosely on his hips, and I think of how rough they are, but how tender they can be.
“What are you doing here, Elly?” His voice is sharp and my heart cracks. Blinking away the burning in my eyes, I take a deep breath to keep myself focused.
Taking a few steps to the front of my rental, I clear my throat and lift the folders in my arms a few inches. “You, uhm, left without the files I promised to you.”
The screen door opens behind him and Mr. Harlow steps out onto the big front porch. “Afternoon, Elly.”
Reluctantly breaking the staring contest I’m having with Gray, I look behind him. “Hi, Mr. Harlow. I brought the files I promised. I was hoping to explain a few of the documents if you have just a minute.”
He looks at me for a moment, but I can’t get a read on him. I wonder if he is angry with me as well. “Come in.”
Gray’s shoulders slump a little, knocking little cracks in the facade of indifference I’m trying desperately to hold on to, and when I move my gaze back to him, he looks away in the distance behind me.
The lump in my throat is threatening to choke me and making it impossible to swallow. I nod my head. “Okay.”
When I get to the steps, Gray is still avoiding eye contact, and he steps to the side as I walk past him, like I might burn him if I touch him. The smell of smoke and sandalwood makes tears prick the backs of my eyes, but I smile and follow Mr. Harlow into the house.
He leads me to his office, where I set the folders on the large desk that looks like a ring from a giant tree trunk. As I am setting them out in order, Mason and Gray come in behind me.
Mason takes his usual spot leaning against the window frame, his gaze scrutinizing, and I don’t turn around to confirm it, but Gray is behind me against the door.
I can feel his eyes on me, and it’s making it impossible to focus.
I want to feel the same affection I felt from him yesterday morning, not the anger that’s needling my back in waves right now.
Mr. Harlow is standing on the other side of the desk and is watching the folders. “That’s a lot of paperwork.”
Clearing my throat again, I flick my eyes up to his with a smile and look back down at the first folder.
“Yes, I spent the day getting this organized. I have the folders separated and labeled by the documents inside of them. This folder,” I set my hand on the first folder, “contains copies of the land deeds and changes made to the acreage over the last hundred years dating back to 1887.”
Gray’s feet shuffle behind me and his scent curls around me.
“This folder,” I set my hand on the next one, “contains land and contract laws that pertain to your case and will be helpful if or when you get your attorney involved.”
“Why would we get our attorney involved? Have you or your boyfriend already done something that would bring it to that?” Gray’s deep voice is closer than I thought, like he was looking over my shoulder and the anger laced in his tone cuts through me like a hot blade.
Mr. Harlow’s eyes meet mine in question, and the only change in Mason is that his gaze moves from the folder under my hand to mine. I can tell they both have questions, but maybe the tension between Gray and I are stopping them from asking.
I turn to Gray and tip my head back to make eye contact.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s an angry co-worker who wants my job.
” I whisper, my eyes locked on his. His face is a blank mask and the only reaction I get is the tick in his jaw.
I want to tell him more, but not in front of an audience.
“I think he has been trying to build a case, but he can’t find a loophole against you, your ancestors made sure the land was out of reach of anyone outside the family. ”
The silence in the room is so thick it’s practically suffocating me. My fingers are itching to touch his face, but I resist the urge and curl my fingers into my palms at my sides.
“What’s this other folder?” Mr. Harlow’s voice breaks through the tension.
Gray’s eyes slide to his dad and I look down at his chest. He’s already shut me out.
Trying to dislodge my heart from my throat, I clear my throat again as I turn around to face Mr. Harlow.
“This folder is thinner because it’s what I could find regarding Native American Land Governance that can help you, but I’m sure there’s more.
There was so much, and I was trying to quickly get these to you. ” I let my voice trail off.
“Thank you, we appreciate that you drove all this back out here.” Mr. Harlow’s eyes flick over my head to Gray for a moment and then back to me.
I think that’s my cue to leave. Taking a deep breath, I smile my signature smile. “Of course. You can call me if you have questions, or need anything. My card is in the first folder.”
“Will do, Elly, thank you again.” Mr. Harlow says and holds his hand out to shake.
After shaking Mr. Harlow’s hand, I turn to Gray, but he turns and opens the door to the office. My heart sinks and I walk past him to the front door. The house is unusually quiet and I’m wondering if everyone is hiding because I’m here.
Gray reaches around me and opens the front door. This is it. This is the last time I’m ever going to see him, and panic grips my spine. When I get to the top step of the front porch, I turn around to see if he will talk to me, but he beats me to it.
“Did you have anything to do with setting Marley’s stable on fire?” His voice is harsh, and he narrows his eyes slightly, focusing on me.