A Rancher's Pride

chapter Two

Kayla’s cell phone rang, startling her. As she bolted upright on the couch and grabbed her shoulder bag, the mantel clock gently chimed the hour. Ten. Becky had been asleep since eight.

Sam had been gone nearly four hours.

Fuzzy-headed, Kayla dug in her bag for the phone. She must have dropped off about twenty minutes ago.

The quiet had unnerved her. Back home, there was always some type of noise in the neighborhood, even this late. Car horns, traffic, someone’s television blaring canned laughter into the night.

In Sam’s living room, there were only the sounds of the clock ticking and a little girl’s rhythmic breathing.

And the phone.

Finally she found it and flipped it open. Even half-asleep, she recognized the Chicago number. “Hello?”

“Kayla. Matt Lawrence.”

Matt, the husband of one of the teachers she worked with, was a good friend. Even more, he was a tough-fighting attorney who would lend a hand to anyone in trouble, in a heartbeat. “Thanks for getting back to me. I’m sorry to bother you and Kerry this late.”

“No problem. She told me you said to call no matter what time. What’s up?”

“It’s bad news. And I need your help.” Briefly, she filled him in on what she had learned such a short time before.

“And Ronnie just went off and left Becky?” He sounded shocked. “When was this?”

“Yesterday. But we didn’t find out until this morning—she’d left a message on my parents’ answering machine saying she would be out of town for a while and had brought Becky to her ex.”

Her mother had come into the living room from the kitchen, stunned after hearing the message.

Though Kayla had just arrived home from her conference, she immediately turned and raced back to O’Hare and jumped on the next flight to New Mexico, her mind consumed by one thought only—finding her niece.

She glanced over to where Becky lay sleeping on the couch, one doll tucked in on either side of her, the rest sitting in her charming Old West wagon.

How could Ronnie have brought her child to Sam after all this time? And why would she? Kayla could still recall the fear in her sister’s voice when she had called five years ago, begging for help to pack up her belongings and get away from the ranch. Away from Sam.

Just as they had started down the road, he had come out of the barn. Kayla had felt compelled to risk one glance over her shoulder. She’d wished ever since that she hadn’t looked back. The expression on Sam’s face had stayed with her all this time, too.

Roughly, she pushed the memories away.

Once she tracked Ronnie down, she would find out what had possessed her to leave Becky here.

“Where are you?” Matt asked.

“In New Mexico. Here with Becky. At her…her father’s house.”

“He’s there with you? Can you talk freely?”

“No, he’s not here. We’re alone.” She recounted what had happened since her arrival at the ranch, including Sam’s threat of a meeting with the judge the next morning. Simply repeating the words aloud made her shudder. She closed her eyes, trying not to groan. “Matt, he can’t get custody. He hasn’t had contact with Becky—or Ronnie—since the day she was born. But his mother claims Ronnie verbally gave Sam custody. What if the judge backs that up? What can I do?” She fought to keep her voice from rising.

“Listen to me, Kayla,” he said calmly. “What you can’t do is anything to make the situation worse than it is already. Don’t try to take the child anywhere until we get this checked out. Especially across state lines, or you’ll be facing serious charges you won’t be able to avoid. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” she said, wincing. The idea of fleeing with Becky had already occurred to her. Whether or not she would have followed through on kidnapping her own niece, she had no way of knowing—thanks to Sam Robertson’s trick with her rental car. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll see what I can do about putting a trace on Ronnie. Do you want me to do a background check on Robertson?”

Of course she did. Whatever she needed to do to take Becky home with her, she would do. Still, she hesitated. Did she have the right to open Ronnie’s secrets to everyone? Maybe that wouldn’t be necessary. “Hold off on the check, Matt. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.”

“Are you planning to appear in court with him?”

“You bet I am.”

“Good.” He paused, then added, “It would be best for you to see how things stand there. Go ahead and make your presence known to the judge. And don’t make any waves. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Call me on my cell phone once you know the details. You’ll probably have news before I will.”

“All right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks, Matt.”

Taking a deep breath, she ended the call. As she leaned forward to drop the phone into her bag again, car headlights pierced the semidarkness of the living room.

Sam Robertson had come home.

With suddenly unsteady hands, Kayla tugged at her shirt and brushed her hair into place. As battle preparation, it wasn’t much, but she had to do what she could to get ready. Because she was going to wage a war against the man.

To this day, the stories Ronnie had told her about him had the power to make Kayla shudder. Stories of his angry silences and then his verbal abuse and, finally, much worse… Kayla had seen proof of it herself, when she’d come to help Ronnie pack up and leave. Now, she had to find a way to take Becky home where she belonged—where she would be safe from this man—even if it meant fighting Sam and the judge and anyone else who tried to get between her and her niece.

Footsteps sounded on the front porch. She braced herself for Sam’s entrance.

The door latch rattled and, after a pause, a key scraped in the lock. The door swung open.

Sam stood haloed by the overhead fixture. The harsh lighting washed out his skin and left his face and eyes haggard.

Then he stepped back to help his mother maneuver through the doorway. She moved slowly, on crutches.

Kayla hurried across the room. “Can I—?”

“I’ve got it.”

At his curt tone, she stopped short.

His mother looked at her through eyes heavy-lidded with pain.

Sam merely glared. After a quick glance at Becky, still lying sprawled in sleep, he turned his attention to his mother. “Do you want one of the couches tonight?”

“No,” she said, her voice faint. “My bedroom.” When Sam reached for her, she attempted a halfhearted protest.

“You’re in no shape to manage those stairs by yourself.”

Kayla could see the truth of that. She stepped back and returned to the couch. Hands clenched on her knees, she waited while Sam carried his mother to her room.

A while later, she heard him on the stairs again, his boots loud on the uncarpeted wood. He entered the living room and halted several feet away from her.

The only light came from the overhead she had left on in the kitchen.

He looked at her, gave a curt nod. “You got my message?”

“Yes, from Jack.” The ranch manager had stopped in several times earlier and at one point had relayed the news. “He told me the emergency room had a crowd. I hope your mother didn’t have to wait long in pain.” When he said nothing, she added, “And I can see they’ve given her something to help her sleep.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at the mantel clock. “It’s late. You’ll stay the night. You can head out first thing tomorrow.”

A statement, not a question. And very grudgingly offered. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t leaving the next morning, no matter what he wanted. He definitely wouldn’t like it when he found out what she had planned.

Much as she hated the idea of his mother’s suffering, she knew the disruption to Sam’s home life had played right into her hands. Any judge would have to see that.

Sam looked over at Becky.

Even in the low lighting, Kayla could tell the rugged lines of his face never changed. Suddenly, she no longer cared what he thought. Still, it took a surprising amount of effort to drag her gaze away. Weariness, that’s all. Lack of sleep had slowed her reactions, made her feel slightly dazed.

“Couldn’t get her to bed?” he asked.

“No.” She forced a civilized tone. “She was over-stimulated after watching you leave in such a hurry. And then from learning about your mother.”

“You told her?”

“Only that her grandma wasn’t feeling well and you’d taken her to see a doctor.”

He nodded.

Becky had nearly bounced off the couch in her excitement at having Kayla there, too. But he wouldn’t want to know about that.

“By the time I could get her settled down to eat, she’d gotten overtired.” Kayla had found enough food in the refrigerator to make a light dinner for them both. Afterward, she played with her niece until the time came for her to change into pajamas and brush her teeth. But when Kayla put both hands together near her cheek, making the sign for bed, Becky unexpectedly balked. “I decided to let her curl up here with her dolls, figuring a few hours on the couch wouldn’t hurt. Eventually, she dropped off to sleep.”

She’d told herself she didn’t want Becky upstairs in an unfamiliar house, anyway. The truth was, she couldn’t bear to have her niece separated from her again so soon.

“Well,” Sam said, “let’s get her up there now. I’ll show you where you can bed down for the night.” He lifted the sleeping child from the couch and cradled her against him.

This time, as he looked down at her, his expression softened. His eyes gleamed. Silver-gray in the soft lighting and so much like Becky’s, those eyes clearly revealed his thoughts. They showed feelings Kayla didn’t want to see and emotions she didn’t want to believe a man like Sam could have.

Her throat tightened.

He turned slowly away.

Blinking hard, she grabbed the two dolls from the couch and followed him, giving herself a stern lecture. A man who had ignored his daughter for her entire life, who had treated his wife the way he had done, didn’t deserve Kayla’s sympathy. Or her respect. Or anything else.

She stopped by the front door only long enough to grab the overnight bag she’d taken out of the trunk of the rental car earlier that evening. Another bone of contention. She clenched her jaw in annoyance, thinking again of how he’d trapped her on his ranch.

He turned on the light at the top of the stairs. She forced her jaw to relax and quietly followed him to the second floor. Now wasn’t the time to call him on his trick.

She skimmed her free hand along the oak railing, which ended in an intricately carved newel post at the head of a broad, open hall.

They passed a closed door. His mother’s room, Kayla assumed, as all the other doors stood open.

Stopping at the next room, he eased sideways, careful of Becky’s head and feet as he carried her inside. The matching youth bed and scaled-down dresser proclaimed this a child’s room.

She hurried forward to turn down the comforter so Sam could set Becky on the bed. As she looked at her niece, she felt determination fill her again. That little girl had stolen her heart the first minute she’d seen her. Kayla would do whatever it took to make sure Becky had what she needed—including pressing her advantage in this unexpected situation.

She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat. Eager for any distraction, she ran her fingertips along the headboard of the bed. Across the width of it had been carved an intricate design of a horse in full gallop, his mane streaming out behind him. “Beautiful,” she said sincerely. “I’ve never seen a design like this before.”

“Thanks.” The word came grudgingly.

Kayla finished tucking her niece in, placing the two dolls on the pillows on either side of her. “Amazing that she slept through being carried up here,” she murmured.

“Worn-out from playing.”

She shook her head. “Completely exhausted,” she corrected. “She must be. Becky’s sensitive to movement and normally wakes up at a touch.”

From the other side of the bed, Sam turned as if to leave.

Quickly, she glanced around the room. “There’s no night-light in here.”

He shrugged.

She looked at him pointedly. “Most small children don’t like to sleep in total darkness. For Becky especially, in a strange house, it would help for her to have some extra light.”

He nodded but kept going, murmuring over his shoulder, “We left the hall fixture on last night.”

That was something, anyhow. Probably his mother’s idea.

She followed him out of the room.

On the other side of the hallway, he went ahead of her into a spacious bedroom. On the wall opposite them was a deep bay window. To their left, sliding doors indicated a wall-to-wall closet. “All yours. For the night.” After gesturing at the bed, he walked away, evidently not planning to say another word. He had gone through the doorway before she could think.

“Excuse me,” she said.

He turned back.

She took a deep breath. Everything hinged on how she worded what she needed to say. On how well she could convince this man of her sincerity without letting him guess her ulterior motive. “I know you’re planning to go to court tomorrow. I don’t think you’ll get anywhere. You’ve never had custody of Becky before. You’ve never even seen her until yesterday.”

“And whose fault is that?”

She couldn’t get into all that now. She wanted to convince him, not provoke him.

“Now your mother’s incapacitated, for who knows how long. How can you possibly take care of Becky?”

The look on his face told her he couldn’t. But he rallied, saying bluntly, “I’ll find a nanny agency.”

“What good will that do? She needs someone with more training than your usual babysitter or nanny. Someone who can talk with her in a language she can understand.” The stiffness of his posture said he knew this already. She pressed home her advantage. “What are the chances the agency can fill those requirements?”

“I’ll worry about that when I see the applicants.”

She struggled to keep her voice level. “We talked about this earlier—I asked if Becky could understand you. Do you know any ASL at all?”

Of course he didn’t. She’d bet her last school paycheck for the summer on it.

Reluctantly, she considered his defense. Sam Robertson had never seen his daughter, but that shouldn’t matter. He could have—should have—learned to sign so he would be ready to talk to her when they met. If they ever met—

She stopped in midthought. Where was she going with this mental argument with herself? Of course, she knew how important it was for people to be able to communicate with Becky. But she also knew what Sam was like.

Now, he stood squinting at her, as if trying to focus across a great distance. That and the sudden chill in his expression startled her. She wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her. After a moment, she squared her shoulders and changed her tactic.

“Obviously you don’t know ASL.” He looked blank. “American Sign Language. You don’t know how to sign, do you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Her grandmother doesn’t know how to talk to Becky, either, does she?” Kayla asked.

No squinting from him now, just a hard, cold-eyed look as he stared her down. A muscle in his cheek flexed. “The two of them manage just fine.”

The two of them. No mention of himself at all. Or of his mother knowing ASL. Everything she’d seen and heard only reinforced what Ronnie had told the family about him.

Sam Robertson was uncaring to the bone, except when it came to money and working day and night on this ranch.

And it only confirmed what Kayla had feared. Becky had no one here who could communicate with her, no one who truly loved her.

She tried to soften her tone. But she couldn’t.

“Your mother’s not able to take care of Becky,” she continued, “and won’t be for the foreseeable future. You can’t get a qualified caretaker. What are you going to do with Becky in the unlikely event a judge sides in your favor? Keep her stranded out on this ranch with no one who can talk to her?”

He said nothing, and she barely stopped herself from thumping her fist to her forehead, little finger held upright in the sign for idiot.

Panic pushed her on. “You don’t even know her,” she said, her voice breaking.

Again, he stayed silent.

He wasn’t going to let her walk out of here with Becky. She could see that now. It had been foolish even to think she had a chance.

That didn’t mean she had given up or even given way. Her determination was as strong as ever. Becky deserved that. Becky deserved everything any other child had.

Father or no, Sam had never been a parent to her niece. So Kayla would do whatever needed to be done.

She moved to stand directly in front of him, forcing him to look at her. To listen. Just as she would when Becky—in one of her infrequent stubborn moods—refused to give Kayla her full attention.

She would offer him one last opportunity to do the right thing.

“You’ve got a problem,” she said flatly. “But we’ve got the perfect solution right here. I can communicate with Becky. And she’s known me as far back as she can remember. Let me take her home with me.”

He narrowed his eyes, now gleaming in the light. “No way in hell.”

She swallowed her instinctive response.

“Fine,” she said in a clipped voice, blinking back angry tears, hanging on to control as firmly as she could manage. She couldn’t worry any longer about trying to convince him of anything. Only Becky mattered. “I’ll be going along with you to court tomorrow morning. We’ll see what the judge has to say about a man who wants to condemn his four-year-old daughter to solitude.”

Barely registering Sam’s shocked expression, she stepped back and slammed the bedroom door in his face.