A Rancher's Pride

chapter Three


Unbelievable.

Kayla took a second glance around the town square of Flagman’s Folly, which looked like the backdrop of every cowboy movie she’d ever seen. A row of hitching posts circled the perimeter of the square. Well-used horse troughs lined each of the pathways leading to the buildings in the center of the grass-filled area. Instead of water, the troughs now overflowed with some kind of prickly-looking cactus. Pretty, though, with their bright yellow blooms.

She shot a sideways glance at Sam, who looked very prickly himself. Earlier that morning, at the ranch, he had thrown out every argument he could, but Kayla stood her ground.

She would appear with him in court, and that was that.

Holding tightly to Becky’s hand, she followed Sam up the steps and through the wide double doorway of the Town Hall. Their footsteps echoed loudly on the wooden floor as they walked across the entryway.

In the courtroom, the judge ruled from behind a massive wooden bench set beneath a revolving white ceiling fan.

One look at the Honorable Lloyd M. Baylor, and Kayla felt her confidence wilt. She was no tough, thorny desert cactus.

More like a water-starved bouquet.

The man could easily pass for a throwback to a Western movie judge himself, with his hair styled into a thinning white pompadour. An aging Elvis impersonator, minus the sideburns. Through the unfastened neck of his black robe, she could see a shirt collar held together by a string tie ending in hammered silver tips. When he prepared to leave the courtroom, it wouldn’t surprise her a bit to see him buckle on a low-slung belt carrying a couple of six-shooters. Meanwhile, behind the desk, he wielded his gavel like a weapon.

Even as Kayla settled Becky in the first row of spectators’ benches, her hands began to tremble. What were the chances a good old boy like that would favor her over the outstanding citizen standing before him?

Sure enough, from the lofty height of his bench, the judge’s bright blue eyes lasered in on Sam, giving preference to the local over the outsider. “And what brings you to my courtroom on this fine morning, young Robertson?” he asked in a slow, Southern drawl.

Worse, his words held a familiarity that made Kayla stiffen with dread. After quickly signing Okay? to Becky, who nodded her response, Kayla hurried to Sam’s side.

“Now, Judge.” The court clerk, a wiry older woman with faded brown hair and lively eyes, stood near his elbow. She leaned even closer and said, “You know just what this is all about. And you’ll want to get a move on with it, else you’ll be late for dinner.”

He raised his brows and made a show of pulling back the robe’s sleeve to look at his watch. “Ellamae, it’s nine-fifteen in the a.m.”

She beamed. “My point exactly.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s get this show going, then. But, first, we’ll mind our manners.” The judge turned in Kayla’s direction. “Morning, young lady. And exactly who might you be?”

She took a deep breath and plunged in. “I’m Kayla Ward, Becky’s aunt.” She pointed to Becky, who sat playing with her doll. “I’ve come here to take her home with me.”

“You can’t,” Sam said. “She’s mine, as of two days ago. And I intend to make the situation permanent. Judge, I want full custody of my daughter.”

Kayla gasped. She hadn’t expected him to state his case immediately. “No! That’s not right. He hadn’t even seen Becky until—”

“Yeah?” Sam countered. “You can just thank your sister—”

The judge banged his gavel and the noise startled them both into silence. Kayla dropped her hands to her sides.

Judge Baylor had slammed his gavel firmly enough to cause Becky to look across the room. He waggled his fingers at her and smiled, as if he’d only wanted her attention so he could say hello. She grinned, waved and returned to playing with her doll.

The judge sat back and focused on Sam again. “Young man, this is a court of law,” he intoned. “You’ll keep a civil tongue here, unless you want me to hold you in contempt.”

Kayla fought a sigh of relief. Maybe her chances weren’t as hopeless as she’d thought. “One for my side,” she murmured.

“Sorry, Judge.” Sam’s tone sounded contrite, but she couldn’t find a bit of remorse in the steely gray gaze he shot her way.

“And you, young lady.” She snapped her head up to meet a second pair of unyielding eyes. “My hearing’s good as it ever was. If you don’t mind, I’ll be the one keeping score in this courtroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Your Honor’ will do me fine.” He looked briefly toward the spectators’ benches before turning to Kayla. “You’re countering this man’s request. On what grounds?”

She swallowed hard, then said in a rush, “I want full custody, Your Honor. On the grounds that Mr. Robertson is not fit to take care of Becky.”

“You what?” Sam loomed closer. “And the hell I’m not—”

“According to Ronnie—”

“Who couldn’t tell the truth if she—”

Bang!

“Second warning.” The judge glared at them both. “And as Ellamae here can attest, you won’t want to pay the penalty that comes of making it to number three. I’m surprised at you, Sam Robertson. With all your shenanigans, you, at least, ought to know how I run my courtroom.”

Shenanigans? What could that mean? Sam had a history of trouble? Possibly even a court record? Kayla made a mental note to find out more about this. To find anything that would give her some leverage without having to make Ronnie’s story public.

The judge set the gavel down on the bench. “Now, it’s my understanding you’re here fighting for the responsibility to care for that child sitting in the first pew. Let’s get at this another way.” He looked at Sam. “Your request for custody’s come up fairly suddenly. The ink’s barely dry on Ellamae’s paperwork. Now, exactly how did all this come about?”

Sam explained the details of Ronnie’s appearance at the ranch with Becky and Sharleen’s story of the conversation.

The judge frowned. “I can’t take steps on something this serious just on your mama’s word. Or on that other woman’s say-so. These things have to be handled properly. Legally.”

“But, Judge, her mother agreed to turn responsibility for her over to me.”

“And my responsibility is to the court—and, by extension, that little girl. Now, you’re telling me that ex of yours is giving up the child, after so many years?” The judge frowned. “Unusual, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll tell you. It’s downright unusual.” He swung his gaze back to Kayla. “And it’s even more peculiar, at least in my courtroom, to have someone besides a parent put a foot into proceedings like this one. You, ma’am, feel the need to contest the mama’s wishes? And the daddy’s?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Kayla said, an uncalculated tremor in her voice, “I do. I’ve helped raise Becky since the day she was born. I love her, and I want her with me.”

She could hear Sam’s exhalation. The back of her neck prickled as if his breath had touched her. Trying to block out all thoughts of him, she took a half step forward. She needed to focus on the one person in the room who could give her what she wanted.

“Your Honor,” she continued earnestly, “my niece is deaf. Becky needs someone to watch over her who can communicate with her, something Sam—Mr. Robertson—isn’t capable of doing.”

Sam closed in on her again, clenching his hands into fists. She wouldn’t have much more time to state her case before he exploded into speech.

“I’m a teacher, Your Honor. What’s more, I teach American Sign Language, the only language Becky knows. I have a deaf sister and learned to sign with her long before Becky was born. I can talk with her. Sam can’t. Besides,” she rushed on, “he doesn’t have a relationship with her. He’s never had one. They’re strangers to each other. Becky doesn’t know him at all.”

Judge Baylor stared at her for a moment, then gave an understanding nod and glanced over toward Becky. Kayla’s heart suddenly felt lighter. She didn’t dare look sideways.

Finally, turning back to her, the judge said, “The child and her daddy haven’t seen each other in years, and now you want to take her away?”

“I—” Kayla’s throat tightened at his unexpectedly accusing words and tone. She had to swallow hard before she could speak. “Your Honor, she’s been with me, with my family, since birth.”

“True enough.” He nodded. “And it seems to me only fair for her daddy to take his turn. Now’s the perfect time for him to get to know his little girl.”

“But, Your Honor—”

“Sounds great—”

This time, Judge Baylor simply lifted a finger, forcing them both into silence. He stared down at his hands, now folded on the desk in front of him.

The only sound came from the whirring of the fan above them, a rhythmic swishing noise that seemed to echo the pulse beating in Kayla’s ears. The judge wouldn’t make Becky stay with Sam. He couldn’t.

At last, he spoke. “Let’s not rush into things here. The child herself needs some exposure to her daddy’s life, something she’s never had a chance to experience. She can meet some of the folks out in the community, too.” He smiled. “We’ve got us a nice little town here, if I do say so myself. And I know everyone will welcome that little girl with open arms. After all, she’s part of the history of Flagman’s Folly.”

“Your Honor, please,” Kayla burst out. “With all due respect, Becky doesn’t understand about history.” Near the judge’s elbow, the court clerk swung her hand across her throat in an emphatic cut-it-off-now warning, but Kayla felt too upset to care. “Besides, what is the point of having her get to meet people? I don’t intend to stay here with her. She’ll go back with me to Chicago. And—”

“Forget that,” Sam yelled. “Becky’s not going anywhere.”

The gavel slammed again. Kayla would have sworn the blades of the overhead fan jumped from the vibration.

The judge slapped his hand on the bench. “We seem to have lost track of the fact that I’m the one who makes the decisions around here.” Slowly, he shook his head. “Young Robertson, I’m ashamed of you. And you, as well, little lady. That’s a child you two are fighting over, not a roping calf you’re chasing to see which one of you can bring her home.”

Judge Baylor’s face had turned red with anger.

Ellamae, the court clerk, gave a resigned shrug and stared at the floor.

Kayla looked away, blinking hard against a sudden rush of tears.

Beside her, Sam shifted uneasily.

The judge was right. But how could she not fight for Becky? How could she not look out for her niece’s welfare, something Becky’s own father had never done?

“As I see it,” Judge Baylor began again, “for all intents and purposes, Becky’s mama abandoned her little girl, and here you both are wanting to tear the child apart in my courtroom. I won’t have it.” He glared. “I won’t even entertain a thought about that child’s future until her present life has had a chance to settle. That’s not a matter for negotiation.” He rapped the gavel again. Then he stood, bracing his hand on the bench, looming over them.

Kayla stiffened to attention. From the corner of her eye, she could see Sam doing the same.

“Let me just add,” the judge said, his voice ringing through the courtroom, “that I will look unfavorably upon noncooperation. From either party.” He stared them down in turn.

Kayla wiped her suddenly damp palms against her pant legs, then grasped the fabric and held on tight. She fought to hold her tongue, too. The man might be only a caricature compared to the several judges she’d met socially in Chicago, but he wielded the power in this courtroom. She couldn’t afford to get on his bad side.

If she hadn’t already.

“Now.” He sank back into his leather swivel chair. “Obviously, at the present moment, we’re not within spitting distance of a nice, happy resolution. Neither of you will walk out of here today with the outcome you desire.” He cleared his throat and glanced toward Becky. “But we do have the child to consider. In my estimation, there’s only one reasonable and beneficent thing I can do in her regard.” He stared at Kayla and Sam again. “And we do want reasonable and beneficent where that child is concerned, do we not?”

They all nodded, including Ellamae.

“All right, then. I’m going to table both requests for full custody. For the moment. Until we track down the mama and look into the matter further.”

“I have someone trying to locate her,” Kayla said eagerly.

“Very helpful, I’m sure,” the judge drawled, raising his brows. “And young lady, you said you’re a teacher?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” she replied, her heart soaring.

“And you teach sign language up there in Chicago?”

“Yes! Yes, I do.” She clasped her trembling hands in front of her.

He beamed. “Well then, I ask you, what could be more perfect? You’re off for a bit now, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, I am. And it is a perfect time, Your Honor. I would have all summer with Becky in Chicago. All the time in the world to be with her and—”

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 choice 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.