A Father's Stake (2 page)

“I didn’t want Mom to be in on it,” Jack muttered. “I really didn’t, but I couldn’t get her out, and....”

He looked from brother to brother. “Okay, this morning I found out that they don’t own this land anymore.”

Both brothers looked surprised. Adam said. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

“Dad lost it,” Jack said bluntly. “It’s gone.” He looked around the house, then back at his brothers. “We’re trespassing, in the eyes of the law.”

Adam shook his head, took off his uniform cap and hung it on the back spindle of the chair beside him. “It can’t be gone.”

Jack pushed the papers toward Gage and Adam. Swallowing hard, he finally managed, “Just read these.”

Both men hesitated, but mercifully didn’t ask any questions before picking up an envelope and taking out the four papers inside. Jack closed his eyes, not able to bear watching them read the words. He didn’t open them again until Adam spoke.

“Dad wouldn’t have done something like this, he wouldn’t.” He tossed the copy of the new deed onto the table top. “He couldn’t,” he muttered tightly.

Gage simply lowered his copy of the enclosed letter from the county offices and met Jack’s gaze. “How did you get these?”

“I finally put in the papers to switch the deed on the property. I know someone in the county offices, and she sent them to me, telling me I didn’t have any right to transfer it into my name since it wasn’t a Wolf property anymore. Dad took the land. He deeded it to a Charles Luther Michaels in June, the tenth to be specific, of this year. All legal. All very binding.”

“Just like that? Dad sold this place? That doesn’t make any sense. It’s a mistake, a county error. It has to be. Besides, he couldn’t do that without Mom’s signature and she’d never agree, no matter what.”

“I checked. He has power of attorney over all their financial dealings,” Jack said flatly.

“Why?”

“After everything he’s done in the past, she still trusts him!” Suddenly the anger and hurt were there again, and he couldn’t stop himself from hitting the table as hard as he could with the flat of his right hand. “It’s done. He did it. He took it and gave it away. No money changed hands. And do you want to know why he gave the land to that Michaels person?”

He didn’t wait for them to respond. “He was drunk and in a private high stakes poker match, and he put up the deed for this place on a bet, winner take all. It’s all there in the letter the clerk faxed to me.”

“And Dad told you the same story?” Gage asked, his shock still lingering on his face.

“No, actually, he looked surprised. June tenth was toward the end of his last bender, when he disappeared for two weeks. My guess is, he had one of his drunken blackouts. I doubt he even remembers the game.”

Adam looked up at him intently. “Why would he tell you to take the land if it was already gone?”

Jack ran both hands over his face. “Like I said, a blackout. He didn’t remember much of anything.” He looked at Adam. “At least he found his way to Rick Carter’s, his old banking friend who lives in Henderson, Nevada. Two days later, he was back here, refused rehab, but got a grip and seems to have been sober ever since.” He grimaced. “But who knows.”

“What about Mom?” Gage asked, barely above a whisper.

“I hoped she’d be gone when I got there, but she wasn’t, and she knew something was wrong. I managed to get Dad alone in the office, but Mom came in when she heard me yelling.” That broke his heart. “I can’t believe how many ways he’s hurt her and she’s forgiven him. I’m not sure she will this time.”

Jack swallowed hard before continuing. “She was crying when I left. I should have stayed for her. I should have never left her like that.”

“No,” Gage said quickly. “No, you shouldn’t have stayed. You’d said enough.”

Jack felt reproach in the words, but when he looked at Gage, he didn’t see any sign of criticism. Just pain. And he felt it too, for their mother. He could barely think about his father, crying, begging for her forgiveness, promising anything it would take to keep her with him. More empty promises, as empty as his vows to never drink again.

Adam sat back, his arms folded tightly over his chest. “Mom and Dad will have to deal with their own lives. We’ll be there, and Mom knows that, but we can’t change anything.”

Jack nodded, feeling an odd exhaustion now that he’d told his brothers about everything. “You’re right. For now.”

Gage sat back. “So, all we have to do is find this Michaels guy, make him an offer he can’t refuse and that’s that.” He made it sound like a foregone conclusion. “As for Dad, I don’t know what to do. He refused rehab when he got back, so that’s probably out. But we really need to talk to Mom about rescinding Dad’s power of attorney.”

“You two do it,” Jack said, not having the heart to even see his mother yet. “I’ll work on trying to contact Michaels. There’s an address from the original deed change, so I’ll start there.”

“Where is it?” Gage asked.

Adam glanced down at the letter on the table. “It’s in New Jersey. While you do that, Jack, I’ll run a background check on Mr. Michaels.”

Gage had picked up the letter and scanned it before he looked at one brother, then the other. “The one thing that doesn’t make sense to me is, if Michaels has owned the title for about a month, it seems odd that he hasn’t made his way out here, from New Jersey or even from Las Vegas right when he got the land. Even if it was just to scope it out and sell it? Wouldn’t he at least send someone to size it up and figure out what to do with it?”

Three hundred acres of prime grazing land, with water rights, wouldn’t be cheap if it went on the open market. “No one’s been out here, I don’t think, and we would have heard if someone in town was asking around about the ranch.” Jack exhaled as he raked his fingers through his hair. He actually felt a bit more settled now that he’d talked to Gage and Adam. He motioned to the documents on the table between them. “Take what you need, Adam. I’ve got the originals back at the office.”

Gage was the first one to stand. “I can ask around about deals like this going down, and what can be done.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s too late to call any of this illegal. It’s not.”

“No, it’s not, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be some leverage brought to make sure, when you find him, that Michaels would be more compliant with your request to purchase it back from him.”

Frowning, Jack just shrugged. “I appreciate whatever either of you can do to help out.”

“Done,” Gage and Adam said in unison.

The three brothers stepped out into the afternoon heat, the sky a true blue overhead. They stopped by Gage’s horse, and as Jack rubbed the large animal’s silken muzzle, Adam asked, “What about Dad? Are you going to talk to him again? ” Jack knew his tone was tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I don’t want any kind of contact with Dad for now. He can’t make up for any of this. I just want this land back from Charles Michaels.”

Gage reached for his horse’s lead, and with a glance at each brother, walked off toward the trees. Adam slipped into the cruiser and gave Jack the hint of a salute, his forefinger tapping the brim of his uniform cap before he drove off down the dusty driveway, another cloud of dust in his wake.

The slight diminishing of stress was gone as soon as both brothers were out of sight. Jack felt the tension return. He shouldn’t have yelled, or threatened his father. He shouldn’t have done anything in front of his mother. She didn’t deserve that.

He locked the door and then dropped down heavily onto the stone step again.

As his gaze skimmed over the land spread out before him, memories of his grandfather herding cattle and sheep came to him. He could almost see him, the dogs yipping at the heels of the stock, dust rising and his grandfather bringing up the rear. He could hear his sharp whistles to the dogs, altering their patterns, an old-fashioned herder’s staff in one hand.

This ranch was their family’s heritage and his father had gambled it away. There would be no new memories created for future generations. Jack couldn’t let that happen. He wanted to make a life for himself right here. His father had fought for sobriety, and had lost the battle several times, but the war was not over. Win or lose, that part was up to him. All Jack could do was try his best to get the land back. And to make that happen, he needed to find Charles Luther Michaels.

CHAPTER TWO

T
HE
TRIP
FROM
Los Angeles to Albuquerque, New Mexico was the first time Grace Evans had ever flown in her twenty-six years. As she stepped out of the terminal with her suitcase and overnight bag, she spotted a tram she was supposed to use to pick up her rental car. Half an hour later, she was in that car, a red compact, and heading out of the terminal parking lot toward her future. At least she hoped it was her future—her daughter’s and her mother’s as well.

Her world had been turned upside down, and she still didn’t know if this trip would lead to something more than a huge wish on her part. It had all started two weeks ago. After a double shift waitressing at the diner, she had been exhausted as she’d headed to the tiny, second story apartment she and her family shared in a less than gentrified area of Los Angeles. All she wanted was a hot bath after ten hours on her feet.

She’d found her mother in the living room with a stranger. The man probably wasn’t much taller than her own five-feet-two-inches and was sitting in the rocking chair. Grace had immediately noticed the assortment of papers spread on the low coffee table.

The stranger stood when he saw her, smoothing the front of his elegant dove-gray suit.

“I am Ethan Vaughn, with the Seals, Silkirk and Vaughn Law Firm.” Grace barely had the time to acknowledge her mother’s strained expression before he took her hand and said, “I am representing your father in a legal matter that concerns you.”

She’d just stared at him. Her father? She looked around, then let go of his hand and sank onto the couch by her mother. Reclaiming his seat in the rocker, he’d leaned forward, picked up a couple of papers and handed them to her.

The first one she read was a deed for a three hundred acre property in New Mexico, outside a small town called Wolf Lake. “What is this?” she asked, then stopped as she saw her name on the deed. She stared at it, certain she was hallucinating.

“A property deed and....” He motioned for her to look at the next sheet of paper.

The hallucination expanded. In her hands was a cashier’s check for fifty thousand dollars attached to a verification letter that had her name on it. She’d shaken her head, then turned to her mother. Gabriella Michaels touched her daughter’s knees. “It’s yours,” she said in a shaky voice. “It’s all yours.”

Mr. Vaughn had spoken then. “Your father wanted me to bring these to you.”

Charles Luther Michaels had disappeared from Grace’s life when she was about three years old. The man had been there one day, and gone the next. No goodbyes, no arguments, no warning.

“He’s restless,” her mother had explained more than once. “He needs to be on the move, and he’s not equipped to be a husband or a father.” The words had meant little to a tiny girl who didn’t have a daddy anymore, and though the tears had long since dried up, she had never quite lost that deep longing for a family.

When her own marriage had failed, she wondered if she’d deliberately picked a man like her father to try and prove to herself that she could make it work. But she’d been wrong. So very wrong. Her daughter Lilly, now six, hadn’t even been born when Jerry Evans said he couldn’t do the whole family thing. Her mother’s mistake had become her own, and the only good thing out of the mess was her daughter. Grace had listened as Mr. Vaughn explained that the deed and money were hers if she wanted them. If not, they could go to charity. She’d almost laughed at that, although she’d recognized that the laughter would have bordered on hysteria. She was close to being her own charity with a child to support.

As she drove now into the afternoon sun, the New Mexico countryside passing by unnoticed, her mind refused to settle. By the time Mr. Vaughn had left the apartment that day, she’d known that no matter what the reason behind this sudden windfall, it was hers, and she could make the life she’d always dreamed of for her little family.

Maybe Lilly could go to a school that didn’t require security guards at the doors, even for kindergarten. The air had to be cleaner out here, the streets safer. As the miles flew by, she was getting closer and closer to the end of her own personal rainbow. New Mexico. She’d never thought much about it before, except for the city of Taos far to the south, an artists’ mecca. But that had been in her teens, when she’d had dreams of being an artist after she graduated from high school. Instead she’d ended up as waitress at The Table, a down-on-its-heels diner.

She exhaled. The owners were talking about making the diner into a bikini bar, giving the area yet another dive. Now she wouldn’t have to figure out how to get another job in the city or worry about how she could make her boyish figure fill out a bikini. She shook her head at that thought. She’d been getting a bit desperate before Mr. Vaughn suddenly appeared in her apartment.

She glanced at her bag on the passenger seat and smiled. If this worked out, she wouldn’t ever be desperate again. She had images of rolling pastures and maybe a horse or two, some cows and chickens, definitely a dog and a cat. Everything she’d never had and never would have in her Los Angeles neighborhood. Clean air, clear skies, safe surroundings. It all sounded like a fairy tale to her.

She just didn’t know why the euphoria she’d had while planning this trip had deflated a bit since she got on the plane. She felt a tinge of fear now that all this might just be her own fantasy. After all, her father had never owned anything, he’d never wanted to. No money, no land, nothing like that.

That afternoon in her apartment, she’d looked from Mr. Vaughn to her mother and voiced her confusion. “I don’t understand any of this. Is he dead?”

Mr. Vaughn had shaken his head immediately. “No, he’s not.”

“Then why did he send you?”

“Honestly, I believe he didn’t want any direct contact, just to make sure you got the land and the money.”

That had brought anger and pain in equal measure. She hadn’t missed the soft gasp from her mother. No contact. A slap in the face. But Grace hadn’t been stupid enough to let the attorney take the deed and check back.

There was a note her father had sent with Mr. Vaughn for her. “It might explain things a bit,” the attorney had said.

The words were burned into her mind, and she could almost see the single sheet of paper with the strong writing on it.
“Never did nothing for you, Gracie, never could. Thing is, I’m no father, never meant to be and it scared me. I knew, as much as you would hate me for it, the best thing I could do for you and your mother was to leave and keep away. I loved you both, as much as I was able to love anyone, but I never could be tied to much of anything. I had some good luck recently, and I have no use for what came with it, so I want to offer it to you. Maybe it can make up in some way for what I never could do for you.”
The note wasn’t even signed.

Pain still came with the memory, but she realized it was as close to an explanation for all of this as she’d ever get. Mr. Vaughn had tried to clarify things. “Why he did this is the one thing I can’t explain to you, but I can assure you that all of this is yours, and it’s up to you what you decide to do with it.”

Her call. A fortune in land and money, and it was her call. Why her father had done it shouldn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that it could change her life, her daughter’s life and her mother’s life.

She drove past Santa Fe, barely glancing at the city. Her only thoughts were on getting to Wolf Lake, then driving on to her property. The deed included buildings and water rights. Mr. Vaughn had explained it was near an Indian reservation, but the three hundred acres was totally private, unencumbered by liens or mortgages, and it had been empty for a few years, maybe three or four.

The person her father had received it from was a man named Herbert Carson. The land where the ranch was situated had been part of a land grant in the eighteen hundreds to the Wolfs, then deeded to the Carsons after Jackson Wolf had died.

When she’d looked at her mother, silently questioning what she should do, Gabriella had simply nodded. “Let him do it for you. He owes you that much.”

After that, there had been a blur of signings on the dotted lines, making arrangements to have the check deposited in her account, then figuring out how she could go and look at everything to check it out. Now she was close, so close, and nervousness was building in her. Mr. Vaughn had said there was a house on the property, but he had no idea what condition it was in. Even a search on Google Earth had shown lots of land, roads cutting through it, dark stands of trees, outbuildings, maybe a barn. Details were lost in the aerial photo.

She rode in silence as portions of her father’s note came to her. “...
the best thing I could do was leave and keep away. I had some luck...make up in some way for what I never could do for you.”
Good luck was all the deed and the money were to him.

She’d been so worried about Lilly’s school, worried about saving to move to a better location, worried about her job disappearing. Now she had a place to go, and fifty thousand dollars in the bank. All thanks to her father’s luck. That probably meant gambling, though it seemed far-fetched that three hundred acres of land could be payment for a gambling debt. But that was all her father had known about making money. Find a game, get the upper hand and know when to fold.

Her world had always felt a bit unstable, ready to tip upside down in a second. And she’d been holding on for dear life. But now, she had the means to let go and have a life, a stable life. A real life.

* * *

J
ACK
GOT
HIS
horse out of his parents’ stable around dawn and rode off before he saw anyone stirring. He’d spoken with his mother on the phone only once since the confrontation with his father, hearing determination in her voice to make the best of what had happened. He’d hated it when she’d apologized to him for the land being lost to them, as if it was her fault.

He hadn’t had any contact with his father over the past six weeks, and that was fine with him. He didn’t want words and promises. They were too easy to speak and impossible to back up.

He spent most of the day up in the high country, visiting a few friends on the Rez, then headed back down in the middle of the September afternoon. The heat was at its peak, but more mellow than it had been for a while, and the day was bright and clear. When he approached his parents’ land, he hesitated, then road past, farther east, and a short time later cut between the worn stone pillars that marked the drive to the old ranch.

He slowly headed up the incline of the packed dirt trail to a smaller rise that hid the old house from view. He wound around, past the stables, and the house appeared. He was trespassing again, he knew it, but he had to come. Just one last time until he could be here legally again.

He drew up by the hitching post, dismounted and secured his horse. Instead of going inside the house, he sat down on the stone step where he’d waited for his brothers back in July when he’d felt as if his world was going to end. It had come darned close, but it hadn’t ended. His determination to get this land back one way or the other kept him going,

Now frustration was driving him. The problem was, he’d found out plenty about Charles Luther Michaels, except the most important things—where he was and how to reach him. They knew he was basically a drifter and a professional gambler, moving constantly from place to place. The papers he’d sent to the address listed on the legal documents with an offer for the property had been returned. By the time a private investigator checked out the address, a boarding house in a small city near the Jersey shore, Charles Luther Michaels had been gone for two weeks.

Adam had found a criminal record for the man, a few DUIs, public disorder, minor confidence charges, vagrancy, misdemeanor assault on a casino bouncer, all scattered around the country, one in Canada. But all of them had been more than five years old. Jack and his brothers knew he’d been in Las Vegas in June, but that led nowhere. The game had been “private,” which meant big spenders in a private suite in one of the hotels and unreported to any gambling authority. They couldn’t find anyone who would admit to him being there. Privacy for big spenders was everything in that city. But it meant the man had enough stake money to get in the door, and he’d walked out with whatever cash he’d won along with the deed their father had thrown into the pot.

Michaels was out there somewhere, they knew that, but the man left no tracks. That frustrated Jack to no end. Somewhere along the way he’d come to believe that healing the tear in the Wolf family heritage by regaining the lost land would mean he could heal his own wounds. But unless their luck improved and they found Michaels, he didn’t know what would happen with the land and with him.

He flexed the tension in his shoulders as he glanced at his horse, then over to the stables. He frowned and looked back to his horse. Something was different than the last time he’d come here, but he couldn’t figure out what. Then he knew. The dead weeds in the gravel edging the drive had been cleared, but only in front of the house. He went down to take a closer look, and found lugged tire tracks. Glancing around first, he followed them down the slope to the end of the abandoned stables.

Booted foot prints in the dust led to the hay doors, and he followed them along the side of the stables to the doors to the stalls. A new lock glistened in the sun. Jack stared at it then spun around and broke into a run, heading across the dry weeds and packed earth and up the shallow hill to the drive. He took the stone step in one stride and stopped in front of the door to the house.

A new key lock with a dead bolt above it had been installed there. Going to the nearest window, he cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the streaked glass into the great room. Nothing had changed. Dust covers were in place, and as far he could tell, nothing had been moved. He went back to the door and pounded on it. “Hello! Hello? Anyone here?”

When there was no response, he stopped, suddenly feeling like the trespasser he was on the land he loved. He stood at the top of the step, unsure what to do. Someone had been here to make sure the property was secured. Possibly Charles Michaels. Or had he hired someone to come out and check on things, then change the locks?