A Father's Stake

“Hey, bro, what can I do for you?”

“Did you get the information I asked for about Grace Evans?”

“I actually just got through running it. We had another demonstration out by the site of the new casino and I didn’t get back until a half hour ago. People are just crazy when they get in a group like that.”

Gage’s construction contract to build an entertainment center halfway between the main highway and town still had people upset, although they were gradually coming around. “What did you find out?” he asked, sitting up and moving to push back against the headboard.

“I’ve got it right here.” Jack heard rustling. “Okay, here goes. Grace Anne Michaels Evans is twenty-six, no college although she applied to an art school in the area, but didn’t finish the enrollment process. She got married to a Jerald Evans, had a daughter, Lilly Joy, six months after the marriage dissolved. Jerald Evans is now in Maine, remarried and some sort of big rig operator. Grace works at a diner in L.A., not a good place, and seems to have taken a temporary leave while she comes out here.

“She lives in a small rental apartment with her mother, Gabriella Michaels, and her daughter, and two weeks ago, her bank account went up to almost fifty thousand dollars thanks to one deposit. Most of it is still there.

“Never been arrested, has just a couple of traffic tickets, and, oh, I forgot, she was born in L.A., and seems to have stuck pretty close to that area most of her life.” He exhaled. “A real city girl, it looks like. Not one you’d think would be coming out here to set up camp.”

Fifty thousand dollars. Another gift from her father? A born and bred SoCal girl, and she was going to live out here.

“Hey, you still there?” John asked.

“Yeah, just thinking about what you said, about the city girl thing.” A germ of an idea was forming. “Why would she want the hard work of ranch life? No malls, no drive-thru on every corner.”

“Maybe she thinks it’ll be good for the child?”

“Yes, that could be what she’s thinking about.”

“So, what are you going to do now Michaels is out of the picture?”

“I figure Grace Evans might need a guide to show her around the land, so she can see how large it is, how much work and money it would take to keep it up, and maybe, if she’s offered enough to go back to L.A., she just might accept and leave.”

He heard John’s low chuckle over the line. “I’m thinking that your thinking might be spot on.”

“It’s all I’ve got right now,” he admitted.

“Okay, count me in if I can help.”

“Thanks,” he said and hung up.

He looked around the shadowy loft, thinking again how convenient it was to live above his law offices, then got up and crossed to the window. The town was “rolling up its streets” for the night, few people in sight, only the odd car making its way slowly down Main Street. In his opinion, there was no better place to grow up and live out your life than in Wolf Lake. He’d have to make sure he didn’t give voice to that opinion when he was around Grace Evans.

* * *

GRACE BARELY SLEPT. It was due, in part, to all the excitement after her long conversation with her mother, and in part, concern, since Parrish was sleeping in the stables. He seemed nice, but she’d locked the doors, anyway, just to be safe. After finally eating the turkey sandwich from Willie G’s, she’d soaked in the claw-foot tub, staying in the comforting water for so long, she almost fell asleep. But when she actually got to bed, she was wide awake. Her mind played and replayed the day’s events. The part with Jack Carson made her uncomfortable, so she thought instead of the first glimpse she’d had of the house. The fresh air. The clear skies and sprawling land.

By the time she felt the tug of sleep it was midnight, and she gave in to it willingly. Dreams wove in and out of her mind. So many memories. Her father, a giant in her three-year-old eyes, hugging her, rolling a ball back and forth with her, his smiles, and then he was gone. Her mother tired from working two jobs, yet having time for her, always.

The day an envelope had come with her name on it, then opening it to find it was just a flier from a kid’s store, not a letter from her father. Then high school, meeting Jerry, knowing almost from the first weeks of their marriage that she’d made a mistake, trying to make it work until he found out she was pregnant and walked out. Her first glimpse of Lilly as the nurse laid the baby in her arms, and the instant love she had felt.

So many things, both good and bad, mingling, then coming here, seeing the house, feeling that peace for a few seconds, that sense of home, and meeting Jack. Sadness touched the dream. He wanted the land. She knew that, but he couldn’t have it. She wanted it. She had to have it. He’d never realize how desperate she was. She would make a home here, a place Lilly could always come back to, always.

A noise sounded, a strange cry, and Grace woke instantly, bolting upright in the dark room. The iron bed creaked and groaned as she shifted to listen. Then she heard it again. A coyote howling. It made her shiver and she lay back down, pulling the covers up high to her chin. She stayed like that until dawn, then knew she wouldn’t sleep again. She got up, padded barefoot to the kitchen and looked through the rest of the cupboards.

Apparently Parrish had stocked some staples, even a small jar of instant coffee. She got out a mug, heated water in a saucepan and made herself a cup, then headed back to get dressed. Between sips of coffee, she dressed in khaki shorts, a loose blue shirt and her sandals, then headed for the front porch.

The air had a coolness to it, despite the heat from the day before, and she could hear the sound of birds off in the distance. The sun was inching up from the east, washing the land in cool light, and she stayed where she was for a long time, just looking and listening and making plans.

Finally she stood, took her mug into the kitchen and grabbed her camera. She needed photos to show her mother and Lilly. Going back down the step to the drive, she took several shots of the stables. Then she headed down the drive to photograph the stone pillars at the entry with the ranch name. The ground was rough, and she felt it through her sandals. Next time she’d wear running shoes.

At the road, she touched the rough letters of the sign with her fingertips. Would they keep the same name? Or would they think up one all of their own. She kind of liked that idea. A sound caught her attention, a cry, no, it wasn’t a cry. It was the soft whinny of a horse. She turned but didn’t see anything at first. Then around a curve in the road, a rider appeared on a huge, butterscotch horse. The rider, a big man with a dark Stetson on, nudged the horse into a brisk pace when he saw her.

She thought of heading back up the driveway until she realized she knew the man. Jack. He waved to her and called out, “Good morning!”

She watched him dismount and take the reins in one easy motion. The horse was massive, all muscles, and towered over her. Nervously, she kept her distance. “Good morning,” she said to Jack.

He took off the Stetson, and hooked it on the saddle horn before turning to her, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “You’re up early.”

She raised the camera. “Taking pictures of the place.”

“I’m actually glad to meet up like this. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Please, not the land,” she thought, but just nodded. “About what?”

“Do you ride?” he asked.

“Some.”

“I was wondering if anyone was going to show you around the land, the boundaries, that sort of thing?”

She hadn’t thought about doing anything other than walking. “Not yet.”

He shrugged, the shoulders of his white shirt straining under the action. “I understand that this is your place now, and since I’ve lived on this land all my life, I thought I could take you around and answer the questions you must have.”

His offer made a great deal of sense. She knew she’d never see it all if she went on foot. “I don’t want to take you away from your work,” she said.

“No problem. It’s slow for me now, so I have time on my hands.”

“Then, I would appreciate it, but I don’t have a horse.”

“Okay, but do you have time now to take a short hike, just enough to get your bearings?”

“Sure, that sounds fine.”

He looked down at her feet. “Do you have anything more substantial than sandals?”

“Of course,” she said. “Let me go and get changed.”

They walked together up the driveway, the horse following docilely. As Parrish came out of the stables, Grace ran up to the house. She dug out her barely used white and purple running shoes and went back outside.

Jack had tied his horse to the stone pillar, which was apparently a hitching post, and put a bucket of water in front of the animal. Parrish was nowhere in sight. Jack looked up as she came toward him, the Stetson back in place, shadowing his face. She motioned to her shoes. “How are these?”

He eyed them. “They’ll do.” He looked toward the house. “Let’s go ’round back and head out that way? It’s not too rough.”