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“Sorry, no.” Why did he keep telling her he was sorry?
“Then why are you here?” she asked, trying to stand taller, but failing.
“I told you, waiting for you, as long as you’re Grace Evans.”
She shook her head, as if nothing was making sense to her at that moment. “I don’t have a clue who you are, if you’re not a handyman or a caretaker.”
“Sorry,” he said, inwardly cringing at that word again. “Neither. I’m Jack.”
“Okay, Jack. I need to know what this is about, or I’m going inside and I hope, for your sake and the other drivers on the road, that you’ll drive slower on your way back to wherever you came from.”
He was a bit surprised at how such a tiny woman had no problem standing her ground. She’d had an edge from that first moment he’d approached her. He understood being careful with strangers, but she seemed to have an added toughness, despite her delicate appearance.
“I was told that someone named Grace Evans was coming here.” He paused a moment. “And I’m pretty sure you’re Grace Evans.”
“You spoke to Mr. Vaughn?” she asked.
In this whole mess he’d never come across anyone named Vaughn. “No, I didn’t.”
“I don’t get it, then,” she said, cocking her head to one side. He’d run out of time. He was an attorney who could figure out a million ways around a legal case, and yet he was losing this woman. She was ready to kick him off the ranch, so he gave up any sort of attempt at finesse and simply spoke the blunt truth.
“I came to meet you and find out how you got this land and what you intend to do with it.” That was simple enough, he thought, and actually felt a bit relieved to get it out there.
* * *
GRACE DIDN’T ANSWER his question. She stared up at him, then took a step back. “I don’t know who you are, or why you think I’d share my personal business with you, but one thing I learned growing up was not to talk to strangers.”
She knew she was bordering on rudeness, but she didn’t even know his last name. And she was edgy, and tired from sleepless nights, then the flight out and the drive to the ranch. And she still hadn’t eaten much more than a few French fries. And she felt a bit light-headed.
“I’m Jack Carson,” he said without preamble and held out his hand to her.
Carson. He had to be a relative of the man who had owned this land before her father got it. Okay, she could deal with this. She met his grip, which was warm and firm. “Grace Evans. Not that you don’t already know that.” She drew her hand back. “And this is my land. I own it.”
“You purchased it from Charles Michaels?” he asked, tucking the tips of his fingers in the pockets of his Levis.
“He’s my father.” She saw a flash of something like surprise cross his face, then it was gone. “And I didn’t buy it from him.”
“You’re not the legal owner?”
“Yes, I am. He signed it over to me.”
“Why?”
“He’s my father, I told you that. He gave it to me. He said he didn’t have any use for it, so I should have it.”
“Where is he now?”
That seemed an odd question, but she didn’t mind answering it truthfully. “I don’t know. All of the land business was done through an attorney in Los Angeles, Mr. Vaughn.” And that was all she was going to say. She would never tell anyone that her father hadn’t even wanted to see her or Lilly.
“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.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_cec99985-fec1-5677-948e-a53e81c000d2)
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.”
