“Drive him in his rental and park it near the hospital and come back.” He says as he turns to leave, but then he stops. “How’s my granddaughter?”
“She’ll be okay, dad.”
He nods and continues walking to the door with Mason on his heels.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ELLY
I’VE BEENpacing 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 commercialcarts 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 accordiondoor 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 longerowns 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.
