A Rancher's Pride

by Barbara White Daille

  Smiling, the judge raised his hand. “Not exactly what I’m setting forth this morning. Sam, the child’s here now, in your home. Let’s give it some time for the two of you to get acquainted. Six weeks, shall we say?”

  Kayla nearly choked holding back her protest. The judge turned to her.

  “Young lady, you’ve got all that time, you can stay here for the summer. Help take care of the child. And help her learn to get along with her daddy.” He looked from Kayla to Sam and back again. “The pair of you can make a genuine effort to show her the two most important adults in her life are in agreement. And while you’re at it, you might have a thought or two about finding some common ground.” He tapped his gavel on the desk. “I’ll award you both temporary joint custody—”

  “Judge—”

  “Your Honor—”

  “Shh!” Eyes wide, Ellamae slapped a finger against her lips. The gesture meant the same thing in both languages spoken in the room.

  “—unless,” Judge Baylor continued as if there had been no interruption, “I deem it necessary to make other arrangements.” He spoke slowly, giving ominous weight to his every word. “According to Sam, here, the mama’s ready to give up her parental rights. Seeing as that’s the case, it would not be outside the bounds of this court to place the child in a foster home until the matter is resolved.”

  Kayla swallowed her moan. Beside her, Sam covered his harsh indrawn breath with a cough.

  “At this very moment,” the judge went on, adding even more of a twang to his drawl, “I’m not inclined to do that. This bonding of the child with her daddy, getting to know each other…” He circled his hand in the air. “These things will take time. In the meanwhile, I feel it is in the best interests of the child to be in the care of both parties concerned.” His hand stopped in midair. His white eyebrows shot up and stayed in place. “Are we in agreement here?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sam spoke up.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Kayla added hastily.

  “Good. That’s settled. Ellamae, you put a notice on the calendar for another six weeks. And Sam, you give Sharleen my best regards. Let her know I’m looking for ward to a barbecue out at your place one Sunday soon.”

  Sam nodded.

  Judge Baylor rose.

  Becky looked over at them, and he smiled and waved.

  “Young lady,” he said to Kayla, “ask that little one if she knows who this man is.” He gestured to Sam.

  Unwillingly, Kayla complied with the judge’s request. Using her right hand, she pointed to Sam, then touched her crooked thumb and index finger to her chin. With her left hand tucked out of sight against her side, she crossed her fingers so tightly, her arm shook. Please, please, don’t let Becky know. The child’s confusion would confirm what Kayla had tried to prove all along.

  Her niece grinned, raised her open hand in the air and tapped her thumb on her forehead.

  Her heart breaking, Kayla dutifully voiced what Becky had signed. “She said Daddy.”

  “SAM. MISS WARD.”

  Sam stopped and turned. He should’ve known he wouldn’t get away without a dressing-down from Ellamae.

  Beside him, Kayla signed to Becky, who nodded and climbed onto a seat in the last row of benches. She swung her sneakered feet back and forth, the toes of the shoes almost touching the floor tiles.

  Sam’s throat tightened. Already so grown-up, and he’d never even had the chance to see her as a baby.

  Ellamae stopped in front of them, then peered over her shoulder at the door Judge Baylor had closed firmly in his wake. Turning back, she stared at Sam for a long minute. Ellamae had known him since birth and never hesitated to speak her mind. He braced himself. But to his surprise, she directed her words to Kayla.

  “You best heed what the judge told you about little Becky. He’ll expect your cooperation.”

  “That’s pointless—”

  Ellamae raised her hand, halting Kayla in midsentence. “No sense mouthing off to me about it, missy. You heard the judge.”

  “This is so ridiculous.”

  “This is a small town,” Ellamae corrected mildly.

  Sam couldn’t argue with her there. To tell the truth, he didn’t mind seeing the older woman taking Kayla Ward down a few pegs.

  “You best heed that, too,” Ellamae added, “and watch how you handle yourself with the townsfolk.”

  Kayla frowned, and Sam just knew a sarcastic response hovered on her lips. Fortunately for her—because she definitely didn’t want to go locking horns with Ellamae—a vibrating noise came from the bag slung across Kayla’s shoulder. She dug into the bag and pulled out a cell phone. While she didn’t actually smile, her face relaxed.

  She was a hell of a good-looking woman—when she wasn’t glaring at him. For a minute there, as she’d fought with the judge for Becky, he’d forgotten himself and stared at her in admiration. She had more spunk and spark than Ronnie had ever had—cool, beautiful Ronnie who’d turned into the coldest, conniving-est…

  Well, she didn’t matter. Neither of them did.

  After the momentary lapse while looking at Kayla, he came to his senses. This, he reminded himself, was the woman who had flown to his wife’s side years ago and had helped take his yet-to-be-born child away from him.

  Now she was trying it again.

  Seemed every time she showed up, he stood to lose something.

  She waved the phone at him. “I’ve got to answer this message,” she said. “I’ll go outside with Becky.”

  Sam took a step forward. Again, he knew what to expect, and there it came, the blue-eyed glare meant to freeze him in place.

  “Right outside,” she said emphatically, pointing into the hall. A long window seat lined the wall opposite the courtroom.

  Reluctantly, he nodded.

  She gestured to Becky, and the two of them left the room.

  She’d barely taken her seat when Ellamae turned to him. Again, he readied himself for her lecture. He had only a second to wait.

  “And you, mister.” She poked a bony forefinger into his chest. “You shouldn’t need any convincing at all about what I’m trying to say. The judge has got strong opinions about kinfolk and will want that little girl to get to know her daddy. He’ll expect you and Miss Ward to be out and about with the child.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Like he had the time—and the money—to spend the next six weeks escorting that woman around town. “I don’t need to put Becky on parade to get to know her.”

  “You don’t think so?” She sighed in exasperation. “Are you thinking at all right now, boy? How do you expect the judge to find out if you’re following his order or not? My suggestion—take the child to town as much as you can. That’s the only way word will get back to him.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Sam!” Her voice rose. “I’m telling you, with your history, the judge is not going to make things easy for you.”

  Sam glanced quickly into the hallway. Kayla’s eyes met his. She didn’t look away, waver, or even blink, just stared him down. Only the need to keep his past in the past kept him from snapping back at Ellamae’s words.

  “That’s not all,” she continued now.

  He noticed with relief that she had lowered her voice, though it still held an urgent tone. “What it boils down to is, he wants that child to get comfortable with you. And you to do likewise with her.”

  Ellamae narrowed her eyes, but that did nothing to hide the concern in them. As she often reminded him, she and his grandmother had cut their baby teeth together. Ellamae claimed that gave her more right than most people to interfere in his life.

  “You come from a long line of pigheaded Robertsons, Sam.” Her expression crumpled, along with the pretense of stern reproach. She put her hand on his forearm and shook it. “Don’t let that stubborn streak cost you. The judge can be just as obstinate, and he’s got a long memory. You know well enough about that.”

  Sam stiffened. Yes, he knew. He’d made a bad ch
oice way back at age seventeen. A choice that had set him on a wrong road. That had led to a whole list of stupid decisions, including turning wild as a teenager and eventually winding up married to a woman he couldn’t trust.

  He’d come close to getting thrown in jail, and only Sharleen’s pleas and the recent death of his daddy had bought Sam any leniency from the judge at all. And though his mother had forgiven Sam for everything, he had never forgiven himself.

  Ellamae edged closer to him and lowered her voice even further. “Between you, me and these four walls, boy, I’ll warn you. I’ve no doubt this child is just as much a surprise to you as she is to the rest of us. But you can’t just expect to show up in court six weeks from now and think the judge’ll hand over custody to you. He’ll have spies everywhere in the meantime, reporting back to him on your actions.”

  “Hasn’t he always?” Sam muttered.

  She glared. “Look, bad blood between the two of you or not, you have to admit the man’s got a heart. Otherwise, you’d have spent time rotting in jail. And he won’t tell you this, so I’m saying it to you myself. He’s keeping that child’s welfare—and only that child’s welfare—in mind. He’s got to hear folks have seen you around town, acting like a real daddy with her.” She slapped his forearm. “And don’t you dare risk losing your little girl just because you and missy out there in the hallway don’t see eye to eye.”

  Nodding grimly, he looked toward the hall again. Kayla sat holding her phone in front of her, her thumbs tapping rapidly over the keypad.

  He stiffened, wondering just what message she was sending. And who she was sending it to.

  Ellamae patted his arm and turned away.

  Feeling suddenly unsteady, Sam gripped the top of the high wooden bench his daughter had occupied a few minutes ago. Somehow, in just a couple of days, his entire life had gotten thrown into an upheaval. He had to get things settled again.

  Ellamae would find a way to spread the news of his child’s existence to everyone in the county. He knew it. Folks would get over the shock the minute they met Becky.

  That was his job.

  Ellamae was right. His history in this courtroom went back far enough to hurt him. Small towns had long memories, and folks around here held competitions to prove how far back they could dredge up old news. Judge Baylor had them all beat, with a memory older than dirt and longer than the Rio Grande.

  Sam would do whatever it took to get the judge to rule in his favor. Even though it would mean making one hell of a sacrifice.

  He looked at the woman seated outside in the hallway, her head down as she tapped away at her cell phone.

  He had her to thank for this whole predicament.

  Chapter Four

  TEMPORARY JOINT CUSTODY!

  Incensed, Kayla keyed the words in all capital letters on her phone. She knew her sister, Lianne, at the other end of the wireless connection, would understand Kayla’s emotion.

  Lianne knew how close Kayla was to Becky. How much Kayla loved their niece. Lianne loved her, too, though she hadn’t spent as much time with her. She didn’t feel responsible for Becky.

  She didn’t feel, as Kayla did, as if she were Becky’s second mother.

  TEMPORARY JOINT CUSTODY! She read the message again, then continued, This is crazy.

  Not crazy, the answer came back. Good for you. You can see her every day.

  In Sam Robertson’s company.

  Compromise. That’s life.

  Kayla bit back a laugh. My life, maybe. What about his? A pointless question. I never expected him to argue with me over Becky. I planned to just pack up her belongings and come home. Well, if I have to keep fighting, I will.

  But she couldn’t dispute the judge’s order.

  And what about Sam’s obvious suspicion that she would run off with her niece? He’ll never give me time alone with Becky.

  Except…

  Thumbs over the keypad, she froze. Could what she’d just realized really be true? She thought hard, nodded once and continued keying furiously.

  I need to convince Sam to let me live at the ranch.

  His mom’s laid up, isn’t she? Lianne shot back.

  Kayla almost laughed aloud. You’re one step ahead of me! An excuse to stick close to Becky AND Sam. A chance to find something to sway the judge in my favor.

  Again, Lianne caught on. Dig up some dirt on Sam. So the judge will give you Becky.

  Yes!

  Devious, Lianne responded. I like it.

  Me, too.

  Staying close to Sam would buy her time, and with luck she’d find evidence to use against him. Her conscience twinged, but she firmly pushed the feeling away. This was for Becky’s sake. She couldn’t leave her niece with a man Ronnie said wasn’t a fit father.

  She didn’t know how the child’s own mother could have done that, either.

  Shaking her head, she texted, Any word from Ronnie?

  Not yet.

  Maybe Matt had found her already.

  But Kayla knew, no matter what she learned from Ronnie, she would have to win this battle on her own.

  One after another, ideas clicked into place. She could fight for her niece by working her way into Sam’s life. By finding out what she could about him from his mother and the men who worked on his ranch. From his neighbors and friends in town. From the man himself.

  She could investigate Sam on a local level. And maybe find out enough to avoid bringing everything about Ronnie’s life with him into the open.

  She thumbed the keypad again swiftly. Already talked to Matt Lawrence. He’s trying to locate Ronnie.

  Good. Now—what to tell Mom and Dad?

  Kayla pressed her lips together and hit the keypad without hesitation. Will be back soon—with Becky.

  Sounds great. Need me? Lianne asked.

  Always. Just texting the word brought a lump to Kayla’s throat.

  They had spent so many of their childhood years apart when their parents sent Lianne to a school for deaf children. Kayla had been heartbroken by the separation and feared she and Lianne would never have an “always” together. When Lianne had returned home for her high school years, Kayla had been elated—and proud to introduce all her friends to the sister she looked up to.

  Kayla shook off the memories.

  I can handle it here, she continued. I could use some clothes, etc., though. Will email you a list. Can you overnight a box to me?

  Sure. On standby. Good luck.

  Sam exited the courtroom and stopped in front of her. A scowl darkened his features, and he gave an impatient look toward the outside door.

  Kayla knew she would need all the luck she could get, starting now.

  She texted a quick goodbye and stowed the phone in her bag. Then, hastily, she rose to face Sam, hoping at least to put them in equal power positions.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t measure up. He stood a head taller and his shoulders seemed a mile wider.

  Before either one of them could speak, another man walked down the hall. As he moved to pass them, Sam stepped forward to give him more room. The man continued on his way.

  Sam stayed where he was in front of Kayla. Much too close in the narrow hallway. Much too disturbing to her peace of mind.

  Funny. She’d never suffered from claustrophobia before, but all of a sudden she found herself almost choking from a lack of air.

  She gripped the strap of her shoulder bag and sucked in a steadying breath. “We need to talk. But there are too many people around here. Can’t we find somewhere more private?”

  Sam hooted a laugh, throwing his head back and gesturing widely with his arms.

  Becky looked up at him.

  “Private?” he repeated. “Honey, it’s obvious you’re a stranger to Flagman’s Folly. There’s not a place in town where people don’t hang around with their ears flapping, trying to catch everything that’s going on.” He leaned even closer, and the scent of mint-flavored toothpaste reached her.

  She shuffled b
ack a step. The window seat caught her behind the knees. She had nowhere else to go. And not a sensible word of reply in her brain. She blurted the only thing she could think of to say. “Don’t call me ‘honey.’”

  “Fine. But I’ll call your bluff on that request for a talk.” Spiky dark brows, a match to his midnight-black hair, nearly met above his eyes as he glared down at her. “I’ve got plenty of things to say to you, too. And I guarantee you’re not going to like any of them.”

  KAYLA FUMED SILENTLY in the passenger seat as Sam maneuvered his dust-covered pickup truck away from their parking spot in front of Town Hall.

  “I might as well start introducing Becky around town,” Sam said, sounding both irritated and determined.

  She glanced back at her niece and got a stranglehold on her door handle. If only it were a lever for an ejector seat that could catapult them both to Chicago in the blink of an eye.

  She had thought—hoped—that Sam would refuse to follow orders and that she could set the good example and win points with the judge.

  “It ought to be fairly quiet at the Double S,” he continued. “And it’s right down the street. We can talk there and have a drink while we’re at it.”

  “A drink?” Her jaw dropped.

  He looked at her fleetingly, then back to the road in front of him. His mouth curled in a sarcastic smile.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, unable to hold back her outrage. “You can’t take a child into a bar. They must have laws against that, even out here in the wild, wild West. Just as they have laws for child seats in moving vehicles.”

  Fortunately, Kayla had come prepared—for what she had thought would be her quick return to Chicago. Now she looked pointedly over her shoulder at the booster chair she had strapped into the backseat. Becky held her doll close to the half window, allowing her to see the sights, too.