A Rancher's Pride

by Barbara White Daille

  “Show me,” she said, wincing at the breathless sound of her voice.

  Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, squeezed and released it a few times. “Like that?”

  Though her lips trembled, she forced a smile. “Just like that. And with a slight change of palm orientation—the way you turn your hand—you’ve just made one of the most important signs Becky knows. One of the first she learned. The sign for milk.”

  He shook his head and looked away.

  She held her breath, watching him. Whether he knew it or not, he was gently squeezing and opening the fingers of the fist he now rested on his knee.

  She felt a sudden heaviness inside her chest. How could her heart harden into stone and break like glass, both at the same time?

  “Give it a chance, Sam,” she urged. She couldn’t regret the pleading note in her voice. She was doing this for Becky.

  “One word isn’t going to get me very far.” He stared off into the distance.

  Again, she searched her mind for an argument that would prove otherwise. “What about that mama cow almost ready to give birth out in the barn? You said her calf would need a little time to get its legs under it, right?”

  He refused to look her way.

  She moved to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips to keep from reaching out. “You can’t expect to match Becky’s entire vocabulary in one easy lesson. And there are ways to communicate besides words, you know. You can learn those, too. Writing notes. Drawing pictures. Pointing. Gesturing. Even body language.”

  “Like this?” He rose from the couch and stepped forward to slide his arm around her waist, until she was braced against his chest. “And like this?” He tilted his head and looked down into her eyes. “And like this?” He matched his mouth to hers, kissing her with an intensity that sent a vibration all the way through her.

  Kayla couldn’t help herself. She’d dreamed of Sam’s kiss for too many nights now. She’d seen that vulnerability in his face. That fear in his eyes. The man was human, after all. And too much temptation for her to resist. She couldn’t just back off and walk away. Instead, she inched forward. He curled both arms around her, snuggling her close. He felt good against her, his hard planes a perfect balance for her curves, as if they’d been made to fit together.

  She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of his aftershave mixed with the faint aroma of wood shavings, a surprising combination—but a lethally masculine one.

  She couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over his broad shoulders and up his tanned neck and, finally, tangling her fingers in his hair. When she gave a gentle tug, bringing his mouth closer yet, he inhaled raggedly and teased her lower lip with his teeth.

  Suddenly, he backed away from her, leaving her hands in midair. Empty. She dropped her arms to her sides.

  “Listen,” he said, his voice rasping and deep, “it ought to be clear enough I’m never going to learn what it takes to talk to Becky. Why don’t we quit all this playing around, and you just stay here with her? That’ll solve all our problems at once.”

  “Stay here? You mean, permanently?” She choked on that last word.

  “Yeah. You want to be with her. You can live with her here. Why not?”

  “Why not?” she echoed.

  He looked at her without speaking. She stared back, holding his gaze for what seemed a long time—long enough, anyhow, for her to see the gleam of some kind of emotion brighten his eyes.

  Lust, probably.

  She hoped her eyes didn’t look the same. “I’ll tell you why not, Sam.” She moved out from behind the coffee table and past the end of the couch. Well beyond his reach. “I think you’re out of your mind.”

  AFTER A LONG, RESTLESS night, Kayla walked down the stairs the next morning with Becky by her side. She’d made sure to wait until her niece had gathered up her toys and was ready to leave her bedroom. And she had her seated at the table long before Sam entered the kitchen. Not because she was afraid of him or of how he would react. Because she was worried about how she would react when she saw him.

  When she’d left him last night, she had started away angry. The man was crazy. Certifiable, even.

  By the time she’d gotten upstairs to her room, the full impact of his insulting words had sunk in. He’d expected her to jump at the chance to pick up her life in Chicago and move in with him—conveniently getting him off the hook for having to find another caretaker for Becky. Or worse, to learn to talk with her.

  But it was only in the darkest hour of the night, as she tossed and turned, wide-awake, that the realization came to her. A realization she still didn’t want to admit.

  She had never in her life felt more hurt.

  The door to the back porch opened. At the stove, Kayla stiffened, tightening her grip on the frying pan.

  When Sam stepped into the room, Becky gave him a big grin. Kayla could have cried. Instead, she poured the eggs into the pan and turned on the teakettle.

  “Breakfast will be ready shortly,” she said.

  “Yeah. I’d have been here sooner to help, but I just got done showering out in the bunkhouse. That calf decided to make her appearance last night.”

  “Everything went okay?”

  She nearly shook her head at her own question. A few weeks ago, she couldn’t have cared less—or known less—about the birthing of a calf.

  A few short weeks ago, I hadn’t cared so much about Sam.

  Her quick inhalation turned into a gasp. She coughed, trying to cover it.

  He reached toward her, as if to touch her elbow. When he saw her expression, he stopped, leaving his hand hovering in midair for a long moment before dropping it to his side. Just as she’d had to do the night before when he’d backed away from her.

  “Yeah,” he said, “everything went okay. The mama’s fine. Baby, too. Already up on her feet, taking her first steps.”

  You could be, too, Sam.

  He hesitated. “About last night. I’m sorry.”

  Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down at the frying pan, trying to concentrate on breakfast. She didn’t want to think about last night. About Sam’s body against hers in that tight space between the couch and the coffee table. About that insane suggestion he had made.

  She looked across the kitchen. Despite how uncomfortable Kayla felt with Sam beside her, she couldn’t help smiling at her niece. Becky had her head down, her eyes intent on her drawing pad. Matt’s wife, Kerry, the art teacher, said Becky had the determination and drive to become a good artist someday.

  The reminder of the lawyer made the smile slide from Kayla’s lips. She should be on the phone with him now, not standing here waffling over how to respond to Sam. Before she could figure out what to say, he spoke again.

  He ran his hand along the edge of the counter, not looking at her. “Wasn’t thinking last night, I guess. Or, more likely, I was thinking—and doing—all the wrong things.”

  She scraped the spatula across the pan, stirring the eggs. They looked about as scrambled as her emotions right then. But she wouldn’t let him see how much his crazy idea had hurt her. “I suppose I should apologize, too,” she said, forcing a cool tone. “I guess we were both doing the wrong things.”

  Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look his way.

  This time, when she glanced over toward Becky, she managed to catch her niece’s eye. She lifted her hand to her mouth, fingers cupped, then gestured with that same hand held palm up. “What do you want to drink?”

  Becky squeezed her fingers into a fist, and Kayla’s heart suddenly felt as if it had been squeezed tightly, too.

  “Milk.”

  The sign she had shown Sam the night before.

  Before she could move, he opened the refrigerator door and reached in. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a plastic gallon-size jug. She stared at him. He met her eyes and froze in place.

  Her heart seemed to tighten again, and for a long moment, she struggled to blink back tears.

>   The man might be nuts.

  But maybe…just maybe…there was hope for him yet.

  “It’s all right,” she said softly, unable to ignore the stunned look in his eyes. “Just like that baby calf of yours, you’ve taken your first step.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam got through breakfast. Somehow. He felt like he’d eaten in his sleep, and not only from getting up so early for the birth of the calf.

  Kayla was quiet all through the meal, too.

  Neither of them responded much to Sharleen’s attempts at conversation. Finally, she gave up, saying she and Becky would be out on the front porch. But as they left the room, she glanced back over her shoulder. Sharleen knew something was up between the other two adults.

  He knew exactly what was bothering Kayla. She had nailed it the night before. He was out of his mind, all right, or else he’d never have blurted out that dumb suggestion. Crazy as a loon, for sure—over Kayla Ward.

  The thought almost made him drop the glass he’d been loading into the dishwasher.

  If that kiss they had shared…that kiss he had started wasn’t enough to tell him the woman was trouble, the reminder of her last name definitely shouted it loud and clear. He needed to get away from her.

  “I’m going out to check on that calf.”

  She just nodded.

  But when he left the kitchen and went down the back porch steps, he heard the door open and close again behind him. He stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t talk to her right now. He felt too churned up. Too raw. Things were happening he wasn’t prepared for, and he hadn’t the first clue what to do about them.

  But he’d already made a mess of the situation. Ignoring her would only make everything worse.

  Slowly, he turned back.

  To his surprise, he found Kayla had not followed him out onto the porch, after all. Becky had. She stood on the top step, looking up at him with those silver-gray eyes so like his own.

  He stood frozen, just as he had done when he realized he had understood her request for the milk.

  He’d understood her.

  Kayla was right. It was a first step in building a relationship with his baby. And now he was being offered another one. If he wanted it.

  If he could get up the courage to go for it.

  He’d missed so many opportunities to be with his daughter. Been denied so many chances to spend time with her. How could he let another one slip by?

  “Hey, Becky,” he said softly, “want to go look at a brand-new calf with me?”

  He knew she couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t understand. Would she take him on trust, anyway?

  Barely able to breathe, he held out his hand to her.

  For a second, his entire body trembled. A very real tremor that shook him down to his boots as he waited to see how his daughter would react.

  In another second, he knew.

  She looked up, her eyes sparkling in the morning sunshine, her face so innocent. And she put her hand in his.

  His eyes blurred. He blinked again and again, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t seem to make them clear. With his free hand, he rubbed both eyelids, hard.

  Becky came down the steps, her fingers still wrapped securely around his.

  Shortening his stride to match hers, he led her across the yard and over toward the barn. He’d show her the new calf and its mama. Bring her out back of the barn to see the chickens. Take her for a ride on the calmest horse in his stable.

  All of a sudden, he had a whole list of things he wanted to show Becky.

  He had a lot of lost time to make up for.

  KAYLA STOOD AT THE SINK, looking through the kitchen window and feeling the need to wring her hands like the heroine of an old silent movie. Some heroine she was.

  Sharleen had gone up to her room after Becky had left with Sam. It had been more than an hour since then, and it was taking all Kayla’s willpower not to go track them down.

  Becky could handle herself with Sam, that much she knew.

  Reverse the roles, and she wouldn’t place any bets on Sam. He’d been so resistant to learning to sign.

  She had watched through this window earlier, when he had left the kitchen and Becky had followed. When he had reached out and his daughter had put her small hand into his. His daughter.

  Kayla gripped the edge of the sink, trying to anchor herself. Trying to stop the thoughts that were whirling in her head.

  The fear that she could lose Becky. The knowledge that she was weakening when it came to Sam. She couldn’t lose. And she couldn’t weaken, couldn’t give in. Any indication of backing down, and he’d be all over that like ice cream on a summer sidewalk.

  Through the window, she suddenly saw him emerge from the wide doorway of the barn. Alone. But as she watched, she discovered he held a horse’s reins. As he walked slowly forward, she saw the horse appear, too.

  With Becky sitting upright in the saddle.

  Kayla’s heart seemed to leap to her throat. She rushed across to the back door and out onto the porch.

  “Sam,” she hissed, afraid that yelling his name might startle the horse.

  He looked her way, put up a hand to stop the animal and waited while she crossed the yard toward them.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “What it looks like. Taking Becky for a ride.”

  “On a huge horse like that? She’s too little to be up on him all by herself.”

  “No, she’s not. Heck, kids around here start to ride practically before they start to walk.”

  “Well, she’s not from around here and she’s not used to horses.”

  “I am.”

  She wanted to wipe the smirk from his face. “That horse is three times as tall as Becky.” At least, it looked that way.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. The mare’s a cream puff. I’ll give you a ride on her next, if you want.”

  She scowled at him. “That offer’s about as funny as the last one you made to me. Will you please take Becky down?”

  “Why? She’s having a great time.”

  Becky did look happy, way up there on the horse’s back. That didn’t make Kayla feel any better. For all her insistence over the years that her niece needed to be independent, that the child could handle herself, there were some situations she just could not manage. Kayla felt sure this was one of them. Though you couldn’t tell it by the grin on Becky’s face.

  “Sam.”

  Instead of doing as she had asked and taking Becky down from the horse, he put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up, settling in the saddle behind her.

  “There. Now she’s not all by herself.” He did something with the reins that made the animal turn and start walking away. He looked at Kayla over his shoulder. “We’ll be fine,” he assured her.

  “Sam,” she said from between gritted teeth.

  Another flick of the reins, and the horse started off at a trot. Becky gave her an excited wave goodbye.

  Clutching her hands together, Kayla watched them go. She wasn’t overreacting. She wasn’t.

  But in her heart, she knew she was. Not to the fact that Becky was up on the horse, but that Sam had ignored her request. Had taken her niece away from her, despite the protest she’d made.

  Was this an omen of what was to come?

  The thought turned her hands to ice. She could barely open the screen door. Once she’d grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen counter, she had to fumble to punch the buttons.

  “Answer, answer,” she muttered when the ringing began at the other end. To her relief, a moment later, she heard Matt’s voice on the line.

  “Matt,” she said, gulping, trying desperately to calm herself so he wouldn’t know how agitated she was. “Just checking in. I wanted to see if you’d found out anything yet about Sam.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was planning to call shortly. I finally got some info on that suggestion you had about an incident when he was a tee
nager.”

  “You did?” She gripped the cell phone more tightly. At last, she was going to find out something that would give her custody of Becky once and for all. “And—?”

  “And it turns out, he’d almost done jail time when he was seventeen. He set fire—accidentally, he claims—to a barn on a neighboring property.”

  She gasped. “No one was hurt?” Despite the news and what it might do to help her cause, she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. The thought of Ronnie’s accusation ran through her mind. She pushed it away, hard. The judge and Ellamae had shown her that wasn’t true. She trusted Sam.

  Yet, he had just gone off, alone, who knew where, with Becky.

  She shook her head. Everything was all right.

  “No one was hurt,” Matt confirmed.

  She gave a sigh of relief.

  “But it’s still not good, Kayla. Half the livestock inside the barn died from the smoke. The barn was considered a complete loss. And the family had no insurance to cover any of it. From what we were able to gather, Robertson’s mother made restitution for her son, but the Porter family holds a grudge against him to this day.”

  Kayla closed her eyes against a sudden painful stinging beneath her lids. How awful for that to happen. And how terrible for Sam to have to live with it. It had to have been an accident. She refused to believe he could do something like that on purpose. Not Sam, who lived on a ranch filled with animals.

  Now she could even understand his reluctance to have Pirate on his property. The dog belonged to that family next door.

  Refusing to believe in Sam’s guilt only increased her own. She knew she would use this information against him if she could.

  She had to.

  “What happened after?” she asked Matt.

  “He got off lucky. He was sentenced to a substantial number of hours of community service and had to report in to the local judge weekly for quite some time.”