Mary Anne Wilson - A Father's Stake

“And he has no legal interest in this land anymore?”

He has no interest in anything, period, except what he wants to do, she thought. Bitterness didn’t sit well with her, but she couldn’t seem to get beyond it. And she sure wasn’t going to tell this man about her father. “No, no interest at all.”

“That’s it? He just gave it you?”

“Yes,” she said.

* * *

SHOCKED WAS THE only way to describe how Jack felt. Michaels hadn’t wanted this ranch, so he gave it to his daughter? Just like that. Still, there had been something in her expression when she spoke about her father. Maybe sadness. Jack wished he understood her just a bit. He had to make her see it his way about the land. He had to know Grace Evans and what made her tick.

All he really understood was that Grace Anne Evans was the one with the prize. Charles Michaels was out of the picture. His daughter stood between Jack and what Jack wanted. And if he’d thought to recheck the deeding of the land before he came, he wouldn’t be standing here figuring out things on the fly.

“I’ve got a question for you,” Grace said, crossing her arms and shifting slightly to use his shadow to block the sun from her eyes.

“What’s that?”

“You said you were told I was coming here. So, who told you?”

That was a simple question and he didn’t hesitate. “Willie G. at the diner let me know.”

“You’re kidding me!” she said. “He told you about me?”

“Absolutely. He’s an old friend, and he thought I’d like to know someone was claiming to own this place. He’s very protective of this land and his people. Just ask him about the new entertainment center.”

She brushed at her hair, the tendrils that had escaped the high ponytail lifting in the gentle breeze. “I should tell you that he asked me if I was going to sell this place, and if I decided to, to let him know so he could make an offer on it.”

That didn’t surprise him. Willie G. saw the land as the peoples’ land, not possessed by individuals. They were just the caretakers. Since he’d found out about the ranch being lost, he hadn’t spoken to Jack’s dad. But finding a woman who claimed to own it, a stranger, must have set off all sorts of warnings in Willie’s head. “And what did you tell him?”

“That I wasn’t considering selling.” He saw her look around, her gaze taking in the house and outbuildings, then skimming the distant hills. “I don’t think I would ever sell it,” she said in a near whisper.

And it was legally hers. When Maureen had confirmed that Grace Anne Evans was indeed the owner of record, Jack had known right then that his quest had changed course dramatically. She was his target. She was the one he’d have to deal with.

“So, you’re keeping the land?” he finally asked.

“So far, yes, I am,” she said without hesitation.

“But if you find you don’t want to, that this place is too isolated or too hard to handle or not your taste, you’d be selling it, wouldn’t you?”

She turned away from him again to look at the house. “I don’t see any reason for me to sell.”

It couldn’t be sentimentality over her father that was stopping her. The man had never been here as far as Jack knew, and Michaels had only owned it for a month or so. He was surprised she wasn’t put off by the parched earth and obvious neglect. But she seemed pretty determined to stay, and he didn’t know what cards to play to make sure she didn’t.

He’d have a background check run on Grace Evans first thing, to figure out where she stood in life, then go from there. “Where are you from?” he asked.

She didn’t turn back to him, but kept staring at the old adobe house. “L.A.”

He’d been in Los Angeles for college and law school, so he knew most of the areas. “What part?”

When she told him, he frowned. The area she’d named was rough, on the edge of a high crime district. Maybe the ranch looked like Shangri-La to her.

She finally turned when he didn’t speak again. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Is Herbert Carson your father or uncle or something like that?”

“Father,” he said.

“I saw his name on the deed.” She bit her lip. “What I can’t imagine is why your father let this all go.”

“Me, too,” he said in a low voice. “But he did. And your father got the benefit of his stupidity.”

That brought a look of incomprehension to her face. “What stupidity?”

“You don’t think it’s stupid to gamble away a place that’s been in your family for over a century in a poker game?”

She knew all about it. It was there on her face, along with a slight blush. His father had bet the land on a single hand of poker, and her father had won it on a single hand. “You know,” she said, a statement, not a question.

“Yes, and my father was a drunk who fell off the wagon and lost any semblance of control.” He heard the disgust in his voice and didn’t bother trying to pretend it wasn’t there. “Just like that, it’s a done deal.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed with a slight lift of her slender shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want her sympathy. “Is your father a professional gambler?”

“Professional? I don’t know, but it’s a huge part of who he is.”

“He never wanted the land, did he?”

Her color deepened again. “He never wanted anything that held him down.”

“You wanted it, though?”

“I never knew about it until the attorney contacted me and told me he’d signed it over to me.” Her voice was not quite steady. “So, he gave it to me.” Her eyes lifted to meet his and he was taken aback by the intensity in them. “Actually, he owed it to me,” she said. “We have quite a pair of fathers, don’t we?”

He just stood there. This had gone off in a direction he’d never seen coming, and he knew that he’d hit the end right then. Until he could figure out what to do next. “I guess we do,” he admitted.

Grace motioned to the house. “I have to get my things inside.”

“Do you need help?” he offered.

“No, I don’t,” she said, then headed for the car.

“If you need to know anything about this place, just call me. I’m in the book.”

She had the trunk of the car open but stuck her head around it to look back at him. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

Jack waited a moment while she grabbed a small bag out of the trunk, then closed it. Without a glance at him, she headed for the steps and up onto the porch.

By the time he was back in the Jeep, ready to head down the driveway, he turned and saw Grace in the doorway watching him. She raised a hand in a vague wave, then disappeared inside.

In that moment, a memory flooded over him. His grandfather at that door watching three boys on their horses leaving at the end of a long summer’s day. The lift of one hand in a wave, the call out to them, “Straight home!” before he went inside and shut the door behind him.

Jack’s breath caught in his chest, and he turned from the sight of the empty doorway. His grandfather was gone, but he wouldn’t let his land be gone too. He’d find a way to get it back. He wished he hadn’t spoken to her about the poker game. That look of sadness in her eyes lingered in his mind, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He couldn’t let that stop him from doing what he had to do. And if things worked out, soon Grace could go back to L.A. with enough money to move to a better area of the city, and he’d get a huge chunk of his life back.

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