A Father's Stake

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Authors: Mary Anne Wilson
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Family Life, RNS
the time, and it’s a full time job to regulate them.”
    “Do I have wells?” she asked, remembering the water rights.
    “Two for irrigation. They’ll probably need work before they’ll be up and running.”
    “There’s water in the house,” she said.
    “That’s from a small well near the house. The other two are straight irrigation wells.”
    She felt her smile falter a bit. “When I need them, I’ll get them fixed. As long as I have water in the house.”
    “I guess that will work.”
    “With a well, does that mean there aren’t any water bills?”
    She could tell her question wasn’t the smartest when she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes come and go. “Yes, there are no water bills, just electric bills. Although, if your windmills are still working properly, that should help, unless you’re going to irrigate all the feeding pastures.”
    Her mind spun. Feeding pastures. Windmills. There was so much she didn’t know. “I’ve seen windmills, or wind turbines, whatever they’re called near L.A. out by Palm Springs. They look simple enough, so there can’t be too much that can go wrong.” Another flicker of emotion crossed his face, but she couldn’t read it, and was pretty much glad about that. She couldn’t feel any dumber if she tried.
    “There’s lots, unfortunately.” As if he read her mind, he said, “The blades can turn, but if they aren’t serviced properly, well....” He shrugged as if it was patently apparent. “No electricity.”
    Obviously, that made sense, but she did have electricity at the house. “Good to know,” she murmured, and hoped the warmth she felt on her face came from the sun and not from her blushing.
    * * *
    J ACK SAW THE uncertainty shadow her face, and the color rise in her cheeks. Another score for his side. He’d thought the “dangerous life” discussion in the river bottom had been very effective. The disgust and unease in her expression were hard to miss. But now, she definitely looked worried, and he felt like a bully. He didn’t like it, so he pulled back a bit. No need to hammer her over the head with the truth of her situation. “Life’s a bit different in Los Angeles, I guess?”
    “I sure don’t have a well or snakes where I live,” she said.
    “Yes, but you have malls, the beach, entertainment, glamour, gourmet coffee shops selling five dollar lattés. Out here we’ve only got one coffee shop, no movie theater is closer than fifty miles, and just the beginnings of a casino complex. That’s in the future, and what we’ll get from that is a lot of gambling.” As soon as he said the words, he realized he never should have mentioned gambling. The color on her cheeks deepened, and Grace turned from him.
    “You know, I need to get back. I’ve got some things to do before I leave.”
    Any apology was left unsaid. “You’re going back to L.A. already?”
    “Yes, in the morning.” She turned and made her way carefully back to the sandy bed of the dry creek.
    Could it all be this simple? She came, she saw, she left, despite what she’d said about not selling? Now that he’d shown her what lay ahead, could he name a figure to buy the ranch and that would be that? He followed her down the path, his turn to focus on her slender hips and the way her hair in its high ponytail swung in time with her strides. Her running shoes were no longer purple and white, but filmed with dirt and silt. Not a country girl by a long shot.
    Silence hung between them until they reached the opening in the vegetation. He watched as she looked up at the wooden supports, trying to figure out how she’d get out. He came up behind her. “Here, let me help,” he said as he spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her up to get her footing so she could grab the wooden frame and pull herself out.
    When she was through the opening, she turned to look down at him, and he was thankful he was never one to blush. For a moment that feeling of her, light as

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