Inheritance [Michael Jackson FanFiction]

Chapter 4

As we rode along the trail, I stole a glance at Grace, her face lit up by the sunlight. There was a softness in her features. Her hair ruffled by the wind framed her face that carried an innocent charm. Her dark amber eyes held a mix of determination and a hint of vulnerability.

"She's cute." I thought, noticing the gentle curves of her features. The innocence in her face hinted at a simplicity that intrigued me. There was a certain quality to her that spoke of an untarnished past, unlike everyone else around here.

But as my staring lingered, I noticed a shadow behind those eyes — an unspoken sadness. I couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy. Grace carried the weight of her father's legacy. As she spoke, the shadows of her past played in the depths of her eyes, and it stirred something protective within me.

I mean shit, her dad died right in front of her. This ain't just about finding some inheritance. It's her way of dealing with the pain, trying to make sense of it all.

And then there was me. Out of all the people in the world, Arthur Wellington, the wealthiest man in Blackstone, hell, probably the whole west side, put his trust in me. It struck me as odd. I'm an outlaw, a criminal, and yet he's banking on me to look after his daughter.

It's not the first time he's done something unimaginable. That nutjob banker went against the law and put himself between me and the hangman's noose. Everyone wanted to see me dead, but he saved my life and jeopardised his own. Back then, I couldn't quite figure out what was driving him, but it's starting to make a twisted kind of sense now.

"You know ... I think your Father knew someone's after his money," I spoke up, breaking the heavy silence. I could feel Grace's gaze fixated on the side of my face. "I reckon he wouldn't keep you in the dark about all this unless he had a good reason."

I could tell she was thinking about what I just said. Her eyebrows knitted together, a subtle pucker forming on her face as she delved into deep thought. Something that I caught onto, the night she came to the ranch.

"He kept me in the shadows about a lot of things, even went so far as to hide who my mother is. I used to believe it was for the best," she sighed. "Now, I wish he hadn't."

"Your pa, he was a wise man, Grace," I remarked, leaning against my saddle, squinting against the sunlight. "Sometimes, secrets are kept with good intentions, but they have a way of stirrin' up trouble."

"At least if he told me, I would know who to watch out for."

I let out a breath. "I'm sure you'll know soon."

Turning in my saddle to face her, I shielded my eyes from the sun with a raised hand. "And you won't be doing it alone, Grace. We'll face whoever comes our way together." I tried to reassure her.

A faint smile played on her lips, gratitude reflecting in her eyes. "Maybe you're not such a grouch after all."

I chuckled at Grace's remark, the corners of my own lips twitching into a smile which I can't stop.

"Excuse me?" I feigned offense, placing a hand over my heart. "You wound me, Grace. 'Grouch' is a mighty strong word. I prefer to think of it as 'selectively sociable.'"

She laughed, which blew any attempt of me hiding my smile out the water. "I was starting to think you've gone soft."

A low chuckle escaped my lips. I couldn't remember the last time something genuinely amused me, not since that damned day in Blackstone. Maybe I had been a bit too serious back at the ranch. Grace sure as hell didn't deserve that.

The wind stirred the dust around us, and I squinted at the distant horizon, where the sun painted the land in warm shades. "Stiff-necked," I mumbled, it's like some city slicker term. "Guess that's what folks might call it."