A Rancher's Pride

chapter Sixteen





Sam slid the lengths of pine onto his workbench and flipped the switch to turn off the saw. As usual on a Saturday night, Jack and the boys had gone into town and he had the workshop in one corner of the bunkhouse to himself.

Or maybe not.

As the whine of the saw faded, footsteps tapped against the hallway floor. Kayla stepped through the doorway. He tightened his grip on the plank.

“Becky’s almost ready for bed, and she was wondering where you were.” Her smile seemed strained.

“Looks like you found me,” he said. Great answer. Tongue-tied and awkward as he’d suddenly felt, he couldn’t come up with anything better. Teasing her on the couch in the living room had been one thing.

Seeing her here in his workshop, the place he went to when he needed to escape, was something else.

“I followed the noise of the saw,” she said.

He nodded. Something Becky wouldn’t have been able to do. The thought hurt. “I’ll come over to the house in just a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She looked around the shop, seeming to take everything in. Her gaze lingered on his latest piece, a stallion he’d stained in a shade so dark it gleamed like onyx in the fluorescent light over the workbench. “This is beautiful,” she said quietly.

He shrugged.

“They’re all beautiful.” She indicated the plaques and carvings and inlaid pieces on the shelves lining the room. “All horses. And every one of them is running, like the horse on Becky’s headboard.”

“They’re free,” he muttered.

“And they’re alive?” she asked softly.

He dug his nails into the wood he still held. How had she caught on to that?

“Sam, what happened after the fire? To you, I mean.”

Carefully, he set the plank down on his workbench. He’d told her more than he should have this afternoon. Did he want to satisfy her question now? If he refused, would he discover she’d already found out the answer to that, too?

Better to tell her himself than to have her tell him whatever rumors she’d heard.

“After the fire, I went crazy,” he said bluntly. “My daddy had died and my mother was grieving and she was in no shape to ride herd on me. The judge tried. Gave me community service. But once I’d served the time, I started drinking, hanging out at the bar. Then I got bored and moved around some. That’s when I met Ronnie. Abilene, at a rodeo—as I might have told you. As I also might have said,” he added dryly, “that’s when I found myself hitched. It was a wild time and a wild ride, and I was a no-account fool.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely. It took me a while, but I finally settled down again.”

“Don’t you think you might have been grieving, too? For your father and—” she indicated the wooden carvings on the shelves around them “—for what happened that night in the barn?”

Without answering, he turned back to his workbench.

She waited awhile, then finally walked out.

He should have been glad she’d left him alone here in the only place he ever truly felt at peace. Yet at the sound of the workshop door closing, he had to stop himself from going after her. Where was his pride now?

He might have settled down again, but it seemed he’d gone right back to acting like a no-account fool.



SUNDAY MORNING. A PERFECT DAY for a barbecue.

Kayla wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Though the heat still hovered near the hundred mark, the recent wave of high humidity had broken. Once in a while, a cloud took it upon itself to scoot in front of the sun. She appreciated the occasional shady moments, but she had still made sure to slather herself and Becky with sunscreen over every exposed patch of skin.

She could have used something to protect the inside of her body, too. Namely, her heart. Sam’s story last night had just about broken it in two.

Thankfully, she had enough to do in the kitchen to keep her busy. If only the jobs could keep her far enough from the kitchen window to avoid her frequent sights of Sam. Out in the yard, he worked as hard as his cowboys did, setting up trestles and boards for tables, getting pits and spits and things she’d never heard of ready for the barbecue.

“Well,” Sharleen said, distracting her, “that’s it on the sweet tea and lemonade. We’ve made enough to fill a bathtub apiece.”

“Very true. Paper towels and utensils are done, too.” She’d layered them into the wicker baskets now ready on the kitchen table. Serving trays filled with condiments lined the counter. “I think we’ve crossed everything off the list.”

“Not a minute too soon, either.” Sharleen sighed. With the doctor’s okay, she had stopped using the crutches, but Kayla noticed she seemed in more pain without them.

“Let’s go outside,” she urged the older woman. “You can put your feet up, and we can see how things are going.”

She tapped the tabletop to get Becky’s attention, and the three of them moved out to the front porch.

Her niece reached between two slats of the porch railing and waved energetically at Sam and Jack, who now stood in conference near the barn. When Sam motioned for Becky to join them, she nearly flew across the yard.

Watching her, Kayla shook her head. “Those sneakers,” she said ruefully. Last night, Becky had decided to decorate her brand-new white sneakers, taking a purple marker and covering the pristine canvas with bright stars. “Well, at least she used a washable marker.”

Sharleen laughed. “Chances are, grass stains will cause more problems than the stars.”

Becky had reached Sam, who patted the top of the fence and made the sign Kayla had shown him for want.

Becky nodded eagerly, and he lifted her up to sit on the railing.

Again, Kayla shook her head.

Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, Sam had said not so long ago. Now that he had given in, finally, about learning to talk to Becky, it turned out he had no trouble at all picking up the basic signs Kayla had taught him the night before. He’d even admitted how much easier he found it to learn from her, rather than trying to understand the dictionary he had bought. She also suspected that, for days now, he’d been paying closer attention to her signs at the dinner table than she had realized.

Everything seemed to be falling into place for him.

The thought was bittersweet.

“I’m going to start putting the trays out,” she told Sharleen.

Now that she’d succeeded in getting the other woman comfortable and off her feet, she needed to go back to work. She had made sure to get up early that morning to do her share. Not one person from Flagman’s Folly would be able to call her a slacker!

She had just returned to the kitchen when she heard the front door close again. She moved through the archway into the living room to investigate. Sam knelt in front of the entertainment center, pulling boxes from its lower section.

“You could have told me you needed something from the house,” she said, crossing the room. “I’d have been happy to get it.”

“No problem.”

She looked down at the boxes. Checkers and chess and other games for the kids to play with. “If I’d known you’d had these,” she said, “we could have been playing them all along with Becky.”

“We still can.” He rose, his arms filled with boxes, and pretended to leer at her. “And we can try some other games once she goes to bed.” Laughing, he walked to the front door.

She followed, frowning.

By the time she reached the porch, he was already disappearing around the corner of the house.

Along the road from town, a procession of pickup trucks and cars approached the ranch. The residents of Flagman’s Folly were about to arrive. Suddenly, her throat felt dry and her hands damp.

As she had told Lianne, everyone she’d met seemed to like her. Everyone but Judge Baylor, the one person who held her fate in his hands. One of these vehicles could be bringing him here. Bringing him closer to a decision.

The judge’s imminent arrival had twisted her nerves tighter by the hour.

Sam’s attentions only made everything worse.

No matter how much he joked with her, no matter how many signs he was willing to learn, she couldn’t let him get to her. Theirs was a temporary relationship. She couldn’t forget her permanent goal.

One of the pickup trucks pulled to a stop at the side of the road. The others lined up behind. Children seemed to spill from every vehicle. Seconds later, the yard filled with people and chatter and the smell of good food.

She glanced over toward Becky, who now stood leaning against the fence. When she caught Kayla looking her way, she hooked her index fingers together briefly, then quickly reversed the hand position several times.

“Friends.”

Nodding, Kayla bobbed her fist in the air and fought back tears. For Becky, there wouldn’t be any undercurrents, any history behind her conversations today. Becky, at least, would have a fun, carefree time playing with the children she’d taken the class with at the arts center and with others she would meet this afternoon. And Lianne had called it right—their niece certainly wasn’t shy.

Kayla was no pushover, either. She straightened her shoulders, uncurled her clenched fingers, and smiled at the women coming toward her, their hands filled with carrying bags and casserole dishes.

“Good to see you, ladies,” she said brightly. “We’ve got tables set up in the backyard.”

As she ushered them past the house, she glanced at the people still streaming from the long line of vehicles at the side of the road. No sign of the judge so far. Maybe something had come up, and he wouldn’t be able to attend the barbecue today.

Could she be that lucky?



NO SUCH LUCK.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, the judge had not only made his entrance, he had become the hub around which the entire barbecue revolved.

Kayla should have known.

Worse, when the last sticky hand and face had been wiped with the oversize paper towels they’d used as napkins, the last ear of corn had been chewed to the nub, and the last dessert crumb had disappeared, the judge leaned back in his chair—one brought especially for him from the front porch—and grinned a barbecue-eating grin.

“Good stuff, huh, Judge?” Sam said.

She could have kicked him under the makeshift tabletop.

“Right tasty,” the man agreed. He turned to Dori, seated beside him. “That caramel custard thing was just about this side of pure bliss.”

She smiled.

Manny, on her other side, leaned forward. “She makes magic with pastry, my Dori.”

“That she does.”

“What do you say, Judge?” Sam asked. “You up for a round of horseshoes?”

“Sam,” Kayla said sweetly, “we’ve just finished eating.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“I think it might be.” She widened her eyes, all innocence. “Don’t you think Judge Baylor might want some time to relax?”

“Relax?” The judge sat up. “Who needs time for relaxing? What are you trying to pull here, young lady?” He laughed, but the laserlike gaze he shot her way made her shiver. “I’ve got to burn off some of this food and get myself ready for seconds on those sweets.”

Beside her, Sam smiled. He held his index and middle fingers in the shape of a V, palm inward, near his eye. “See?”

She gritted her teeth and ground her heels into the dirt beneath the table. Yes, he’d turned into a quick study. And at the moment, a huge annoyance.

It wasn’t the horseshoe game that bothered her. And she didn’t want to turn Judge Baylor against Sam. She just wanted the man here, where he could see her interacting with Becky. Not over at the other end of the yard bonding with her niece’s father.

“Let’s go, young Robertson,” the judge said. “And anyone else fool enough to think they can take me on.”

Sam stayed long enough to turn to Kayla. “Keep an eye on Becky, okay?”

“Nothing to worry about,” she assured him. “She’ll be fine.”

Following in the wake of every adult male in sight, he made a beeline down the length of the yard to the spot he had designated for the horseshoe toss.

“Well.” Frowning, she stared after them. “Not one of them seemed to have a problem figuring out where to go.”

“They know already,” Dori assured her. “Every year, Sam sets the horseshoes there.”

“Yeah,” Ellamae said with a laugh. “As far as they can all get from the kitchen and still seem sociable.”

Kayla frowned again. Good thing she’d applied fresh sunscreen, or by tonight, she’d have red-and-white stripes from sunburn on her forehead. “You mean the women do all the cleaning up? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Oh, we plan it that way,” Sharleen told her, “else we wouldn’t have a chance.”

“A chance…?”

“At Dori’s desserts,” Ellamae explained. “We get first crack at the next round of ’em.”

“Oh.” Kayla smiled. “Well, that’s not such a bad idea, after all. I wonder how the judge will feel about it?”

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Ellamae said with a wink.

“And,” Dori added, “we have the time to share gossip.”

“Even better,” Kayla said, crossing her fingers beneath the table. “Who’s going first?”

But by the time the dishes were out of the way and the second round of desserts begun, she’d learned nothing of interest to her. While the news of who’d been caught substituting commercial jam for homemade at the last county fair had horrified the women of Flagman’s Folly, it didn’t do much for Kayla’s curiosity about Sam.

On the way home from town yesterday and in his workshop last night, he had shared more than she had dared hope about his past. The people of Flagman’s Folly didn’t know the full truth behind the fire. A little glow warmed her at the knowledge he had trusted her with his secret. And she would never break his confidence. Still, she couldn’t deny her need to learn everything about him that she could.

She was ashamed to admit that need had gone beyond wanting to find something to use against him. It had turned into a strong desire simply to know more about him—especially as she now didn’t trust anything Ronnie had told her.

Near the barn, a child laughed. A metallic clang rang out, the sound of a horseshoe hitting its mark.

The women drifted into smaller groups. Kayla found herself alone with Ellamae. Before she could say anything, the older woman turned to her.

The court clerk must have taken lessons from the judge. Her own laserlike gaze went through Kayla, too. “Just what are you up to, missy?”

Kayla blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that phone call I got at the court the other day. Some city dude from up north, asking questions about Sam.” She leaned forward. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

The hair on Kayla’s arms prickled. More than likely, the caller had been Matt or one of his associates. But she couldn’t know for sure. She shook her head.

“Well, Sam’s business is Sam’s business, y’hear?”

“I hear,” she said agreeably, knowing she shouldn’t push the issue right now. Or maybe at all.

Ellamae’s attention wandered to the field north of the house. “Looks like we got us a challenge going,” she said, effectively changing the subject.

Kayla followed her gaze. Most of the kids, from kindergartner age on up, had begun to gather in the field.

From across the yard, Kayla caught Becky waving at her. Her niece knew something was up. She curved all her fingers and tapped the tips together, one hand against the other.

Nodding, Kayla repeated the sign. “Ball.”

After pointing to herself, Becky wiggled her hands, thumbs and pinkies extended. “Me, play.”

Kayla nodded again. Smiling, she watched Becky run off to join the crowd.

A few of the women drifted over to rest their elbows on the top of the fence separating the field from the yard. Kayla followed.

With the sun now lowering and caught behind one of the clouds, the air was cooler than it had been all day. A light breeze stirred the wild grass growing around the fence posts.

The kids had begun to pick sides for their game. As she waited, Kayla nearly forgot to breathe, feeling as nervous as any mother would to see her child waiting so hopefully to be chosen. Not to be left till last. To her relief, Becky didn’t stay on the sidelines for long. Soon, she was out there in the middle of the field, holding her own.

“She’s a feisty thing,” Ellamae said approvingly.

“How old is she?” asked one of the women.

“Four,” Kayla answered.

The woman had a child that age, too. A son. Idly keeping an eye on the kickball game, they shared funny stories and traded helpful hints about raising children, though the other woman did most of the talking.

Kayla knew a lot about Becky’s life, but the conversation proved how far she still had to go. What would it be like to know all the details about Becky, the way that woman knew about her son? To be with Becky every day and witness her joy at every new thing she learned?

What had it been like for Sam to miss all those years with her?

No wonder he couldn’t forgive Kayla for taking his daughter away.

No wonder he didn’t think of her now as anything but unpaid help—and a potential playmate.

Fighting a wave of hopelessness, she forced her attention back to the woman by her side.

Out in the field, the children laughed and shrieked. From the far end of the yard, horseshoes clanged again and again. On the steps of the bunkhouse, Jack sat strumming a guitar.

A loud yell suddenly interrupted the pleasant sounds.

“Hey, why didn’t ya look where you were going?” a boy shouted. “We told ya to get out of the way!”

The anger in his voice made Kayla and the other woman look over toward the field. Most of the kids had gathered into a ragged circle in the middle of the play area. A few stragglers ran up to join them.

In the gaps between the children’s legs, she could see someone sitting or lying on the ground. Just a brief glimpse of a child’s foot covered only by a white ankle sock.

Outside the edge of the circle lay a sneaker, all by itself.

A grass-stained sneaker. Decorated with purple stars.