CHAPTER FOUR
GRACE STOOD ALONE in the great room of the house, and felt close to tears. She was tired. She hadn’t slept well since Mr. Vaughn’s visit, and now she was here. She’d just never expected someone like Jack Carson to show up. He was upset about the loss of his family’s land. She understood that. Even worse that his father had been drunk and lost it in a poker game.
When she’d first arrived and seen the house, she’d felt like jumping up and down and yelling, “It’s mine, all mine!” Now all she wanted to do was cry. She hugged herself, trying to shake off this sudden depression, and quietly examined the room in front of her, taking in every detail. Heavy beams zigzagging overhead, tile floors well worn with age, rough plaster walls, and a fireplace surrounded by comfortable leather furniture. Everything fit perfectly together. Five minutes later, she’d discovered three decent size bedrooms, one empty, one used as storage for furniture and boxes, and the last containing an old iron double bed along with a sturdy dresser. White sheets and a deep turquoise blanket were folded on the bare mattress, and two pillows were stacked by the linens. The main bathroom had a pedestal sink and a claw-foot tub with a shower over it. The second bathroom was tiny, with just a small shower, sink and toilet.
Heading back to the great room, she crossed instead to the low archway that led to the kitchen. The square room was small but held an old refrigerator and stove. Counters ran along the side wall with a large sink under one of the two windows. A table with four chairs sat beneath a third window on the back wall beside a door to the outside.
She opened the first cupboard and found plates and cups and some well used pots and pans. When she tugged on the back door, her breath caught at the view, a wide swath of bare land between two stands of towering pines. Far in the distance majestic mountains rose, their sheer sides streaked with angular shadows. There were no sounds of traffic, no smell of fumes, and although dusk was close, the sky was overwhelmingly beautiful, without a single cloud in sight. The air had cooled, and she could make out the low hum of insects and the rustle of distant leaves.
This was incredible, like a dream that had somehow become real. The land, the house, the sky, the air—she felt that peace again, just as she had before Jack showed up, along with a sense of belonging. As she stood there staring at the beauty of the land, a huge weight slipped off her shoulders. She felt as if she could breathe easily for the first time in a very long while. She was sorry for the way her father had obtained this ranch, but she was going to make it something special.
She went back through the house to the front porch and sank down on the stone step. Taking out her cell phone, she tapped out her mother’s number, got her voice mail, and almost blurted, “Get out here as soon as you can. We’ve got a home and I need you and Lilly here with me!” But she stopped herself.
No, she’d wait until she could talk to her mother directly. And until then, she’d absorb as much as she could of this place. She looked up and was surprised to see someone by the stables. The man turned, and with a wave, came up the drive toward her. Raw-boned, gray-haired, with narrowed eyes in a deeply tanned face, he stopped a couple of feet away from her. Pale amber eyes remained narrowed on her, but he held out his hand.
“I’m assuming you’d be Grace Evans. The name’s Parrish. I was hired on as cleaner and caretaker, at least for now, and I apologize for not being here when you arrived.”
When she shook his hand, she could feel the calluses and the sureness in his grip. “That’s okay,” she said as she drew back.
She spotted an old pickup truck parked right where Jack’s Jeep had been sitting before. It was oxidized, maybe a green or blue, she couldn’t tell, but it almost blended in with the barn. “You got any luggage you need inside?” he asked.
“There’s one more bag in the trunk,” she said, and before she finished speaking, he was heading for the car. He popped the trunk and took out her last suitcase while she hurried to collect her purse from the car seat. “So, where are you from?” she asked as they got to the door.
With the toe of his lug-soled work boots, Parrish pushed the door open and went in before her, setting her luggage inside to the left of the door. “All over, but right now I’m bunking down in the stables,” he said, turning toward her. “If you need anything, come on down and get me.”
“I thought you might be from the town or close by.”
“No, Ma’am, just lucky enough to get paying work for a while.”
“Mr. Vaughn hired you?”
He looked confused. “No, Ma’am, a property management company over in Santa Fe. I came out yesterday early to check things out and put new locks on the doors, although, from what I’ve heard, around here locks are pretty much optional.”
She liked hearing that. “It’s safe?”
“Like I said, from what I heard.” He turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at her. “I’m heading back to town to get the rest of my supplies. Anything you need me to get for you?”
She had the sandwich from Willie G.s’ till in the car, and she couldn’t even begin to think what she might need beyond that. She’d wait until tomorrow and go into town herself. “Not right now,” she said, “but thanks for asking.” Her last words were spoken to his back as he ambled off toward the stables.
Grace watched him slide back one of the doors and disappear inside. Right then, her cell phone rang in her pocket. She took it out, looked at the LCD screen and smiled. She hit the green button and put the phone to her ear as she walked back into the house. “Hello, Mom,” she said, excitement returning in a rush. “You won’t believe what’s here.”
* * *
JACK WAS UP late that night, his mind going over and over his unplanned meeting with Grace Evans. He had a feeling he’d only get one good chance to get her to agree to sell, and he didn’t want to blow it. But he needed information, and he hadn’t gotten the call with it yet.
He glanced at his bedside clock. Midnight. He reached for his cell phone and lay back in the big poster bed. After punching in a number, he stared up at the shadowy ceiling as he listened to the rings. On the fourth one, the Chief of Police answered. Jack knew John had the night shift, but he thought he’d be out driving around or sleeping in the back room. “Hey, John, it’s Jack.”
“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?” Jo
hn 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.”
She got his meaning. “I’m used to walking,” she said, “so don’t worry about it being too rough.”
“Good to know,” he said, but she didn’t miss his slight suggestion of a smile.
She fell in step with him, skipping a bit to keep up as they went around the house. “Is your horse okay back there?”
“Gizmo? Sure, he’s a patient sort,” he said, giving her a look with his dark eyes.
Grace almost missed her step, but managed to keep up with Jack as they headed toward the massive pines. As they got closer, she noticed a worn path that cut through the stand.
Jack
motioned to it. “This way,” he said.
She hurried after him into the dim light of the woods, the silence broken only by the muffled sound of their feet stepping on the spongy layers of fallen pine needles. The scent of earth and pine was pleasant as they made their way without speaking. Then the light began to get brighter through the lacing branches, and they headed up a rise that Jack took easily. At the highest point, she realized they’d changed direction somewhere along the line. They were facing directly west, she thought, the sun behind them, and she got a good idea of the way the mountains almost circled the lowlands.
She motioned to the rolling brown land slightly below them, the trees much more sparse here. “What is this?”
“A small part of the...of your ranch and some of the best grazing land this area ever saw.”
There was no trace of anything in the brown earth an animal could graze on. “But, it’s dead.”
He exhaled harshly. “Looks that way.” She thought for a moment the cryptic comment was all he was going to say. “This was the way my grandfather found it when he came down from the Rez to make a home here,” Jack said at last. “Dead. Nothing growing. But he worked all this land, building it from nothing, until it was able to support sheep and cattle and his family, all seven kids. He was known for his breeding stock, and this grazing land was the best in the area.”
His eyes never met hers, but stayed on the land sprawling out ahead of them. “What happened?” she asked.
His sigh was heavy. “My grandfather turned ninety and hated having to be helped to do anything. As strong as he was all his life, he couldn’t keep this place going, and he wouldn’t accept help. So, he gradually worked less and less land, and concentrated on the breeding part. But that died off, too. He didn’t want anyone to work the land without him there, and we honored his wishes until he was gone. He passed away at ninety-two and the heart just went out of this place.”
A Father's Stake Page 5
