Chapter 37

Tabby was trembling. She closed her eyes, and pressed her stomach with her hand.

She knew the truth now. It had been corroborated by her additional investigation, and by Mr. Overheimer’s group as well. Amy, back in Jack’s Bay, had played into it, too. Her friend had taken it upon herself to investigate few additional details to ensure everything was correct, for her blood sister.

The truth was in. Quinn Raary, with all his loud and angry diatribes against Cole and his family, with all the times he’d attacked their honour, principles and ethics and screamed that they’d cheated him and his family of what was rightfully theirs—had been speaking the one hundred percent, utter truth.

Not that the Dawsons had been aware of it. Or that Quinn knew how to prove it.

But all of Dawson Ridges, except for a tiny pocket of land on one edge that was mostly creek and stone, one which even any self-respecting cow would refuse to traverse, rightfully belonged to Quinn Raary.

If it hadn’t been for Jedediah traveling a year before the transfer was to take place, being subsequently lost and never heard from again, the transfer would have taken place. All of Dawson Ridges, right now, would be part of Black Oaks Holdings. Wouldn't exist as a separate entity.

And with that land, Quinn’s wealth would be double what it was now.

It was an incredible windfall.

That was, if the information became public. And even then, if the Dawsons honored it.

They didn’t have to, she knew. Even though she had all the proof they needed that it had all really taken place, and that it was what Cole’s many times great grandfather had wanted, the statute of limitations had run out on it. Long ago. It was no longer binding.

But what would this knowledge do to all of them? To the family, the community?

And especially, to Cole? To the depression that had lightened, but that he still technically had?

A nightmare, Tabby thought. She looked out the window of her tiny cabin, watching to see when Cole’s familiar form would appear, coming through the forest toward her. Toward their evening, and the discussion of their future plans. It was tonight.

She held the piece of paper between her thumb and finger, stared at it. In some ways, it was only a piece of paper. Worthless.

In other ways, it was everything, to so many people. To the Dawsons; Jack, Molly, their family. Dax. All the hands.

And me, she thought, hugging herself hard. And to me.

The light coming from one of the lanterns she’d hung outside temporarily darkened, and there was Cole, at her door.

* * *

She barely touched the food he brought. It was probably delectable, but it had been tasteless to her.

“Okay, enough of this.” Cole took her plate, then sat on the ottoman across from her. He took her hands in his. “What’s wrong? Something’s really pounding at you. I saw it a few nights ago, now tonight. What’s up?”

The moment before the storm breaks out.

Damn, she knew it well. Often, in the dark at night, when she couldn't sleep, especially when she'd had all the fallout from her accident to relive again and again, she'd isolated those moments. The life defining ones. They were always present. After them, nothing was the same.

This time, she was going to be the one casting that moment on their history.

She scanned his deeply concerned eyes, the sincerity.

Hell, she thought suddenly. I think he really loves me.

Oh well.

“You know your family history, the one I’m working on.”

His face lightened at the mention of it. “Sure. Sorry I haven't been able to discuss it lately. There’s been too much going on. But we’re still on board. And now, I can actually pay you for it.” He smiled, glad at the prospect. “Let’s catch up on it on the weekend, okay?” He squeezed her hands.

This was going to be harder than she’d thought. She was already three quarters in shock, despite her earlier cheerleading talk to herself. “Cole. I found a paper.”

“A paper?” His face screwed up quizzically. “What paper?"

She found she couldn't say the words. She handed the photocopied sheet from her Dawson Family genealogy notebook to him. 

He gave her an odd look, as his eyes fell on the page. He read it, then stared at her.

Her heart fell. He really wasn't looking at her. He was looking through her. It had started. “What is this?”

She took a fortifying breath. “It’s a piece of family history I found. There’s a shorter account, and a longer one, repeating the same pledge. But this is the full text of the piece I need to show you.”

“Who the hell are Jedediah who’s it and Hezekiah blah blah? I know I have a great grandpa Jedediah, but this doesn't say anything about Dawson.”

She’d been ready for this. She handed him another sheet. “I found this one, previous to that one. It filled in an interesting piece of your family history. Also, it explains the one you’re holding now, too.”

She saw the moment he made the connection. His eyes widened, and she saw the whites of them. His body tensed. “No.” There was anger in it, but it was more like a wail, borne of fury and outrage and deep, deep insult.

He rose, and the papers fluttered to the floor. “This is garbage. It’s not possible. In fact,” he added, as he stalked around the room, “I wouldn't put it past Quinn to make this stuff up. Plant it. He’d do anything. You’ve seen how he is. He just keeps pushing, pushing…”

“I found this in the personal library of one Hilda Dunsmore. The corroborating piece of evidence was in the files of an Edwin Overheimer. The rest of it, without the names of your present-day family—that was kept out—was corroborated by the local genealogical Society.” She sighed a small, almost silent breath, then forcibly pulled herself up to a taller height. A bigger presence.

This was her report, and he had to take it serious, damn it. Comfortable, or not. It was the truth.

“It’s correct. You don’t have to do anything with this, Cole. It’s been corroborated, but it’s just a piece of paper from long ago. There’s no compulsion on your part to do a thing about it. In fact, Quinn doesn't even know it exists. He’s heard stories, vague things passed on from when he was a kid, old stories and such. But he doesn't know there’s proof, and he doesn't know for sure it’s real. This can stay between you and me, here and now, forever. No one knows the full range of connections. Only you and me. It can end, right here. Right now.”

She saw as he processed her words, the import of them. And was shocked.

“You mean lie? The hell I can do that now!” Rage bubbled in him. “For shit’s sake. Be a damn liar? Like that jerk?”

She didn’t say the obvious words to him.

He’s not a liar. He’s right.

Though they hung in the air, between them, nonetheless.

And he heard them. Must’ve. Because, suddenly, he grabbed his Stetson. Headed for the door, even as Sheba bounded out of his way.

“I can’t take any more of this.”

He fled into the chill of the night.