A Rancher's Pride

chapter Eight





Sam paced his bedroom floor and tried to swallow his groan.

Kayla didn’t believe him.

He could tell from her expression, from her halting words. From the way she’d reached out to him and then backed away as if he were something she wouldn’t touch.

That same contrariness he’d felt out in the yard before supper had him wanting to reach for her, too. Dang, but this arrangement of theirs seemed nothing but a lead-in to trouble.

It had taken all he was worth to walk away from her without first tracing his fingers down the length of her silky brown hair.

And without responding to his need to unload more of the truth.

He wouldn’t get anywhere with trying to talk her into giving up the idea of custody if she already held a long list of grievances against him. All the lies Ronnie had ever told about him—and there were a hell of a lot. To hear his ranch hands and the townsfolk tell it, his ex couldn’t come up with a straight story if they’d handed her a slide rule. No wonder Ellamae had automatically trusted he’d never known about Becky.

Kayla, on the other hand, would believe all the stories Ronnie had made up.

Worse, Kayla had seen all the times he froze when he came near his own daughter.

Yeah, the woman sure didn’t miss that.

Dumping more on her about Ronnie would only give her ammunition to use against him with the judge.

He had to keep custody of his daughter. Too much of her life had already been lost to him.

He left the bedroom and strode down the hall, determined to head downstairs and get outside, where he could mull things over. Having that woman in his house had done serious damage to his ability to think. But as he neared Becky’s room, his steps slowed and finally stopped just outside the open door.

Inside the room, Kayla and Becky sat on the floor with a picture book spread open on the rug between them. Kayla’s arms were raised, her hands skimming through the air in gestures he couldn’t begin to identify. Becky knew what they meant. She sat there, entranced, with her eyes bright and her mouth stretched in a grin.

He stood there, staring, unnoticed by either of them.

Kayla’s gestures grew larger, her face even more animated. And, for the first time ever, he heard his little girl laugh. The high-pitched, trilling giggle jolted hard inside his chest and made him struggle to catch his breath.

What he wouldn’t give to be able to make Becky laugh like that.

His chest tightened another notch at the thought, which had turned into an almost-silent plea. The truth was, he couldn’t give her what she so obviously needed.

At least Kayla could talk to the child—as she hadn’t hesitated to rub in since the minute she’d set foot in the house. But she wouldn’t be here for very much longer.

He’d see to that. The six weeks would pass before they could blink, he’d satisfy the judge’s crazy requirements and Kayla would go back to Chicago.

Finally, he would have custody of Becky. And he would do what was best for his child.

He stood in the hallway, looking into the room.

An outsider in his own home.

After one last glance, he turned from the doorway, his steps surer now as he went downstairs and into the room he used as an office. Without pausing, he crossed to the old-fashioned rolltop desk in the corner and sat heavily in the swivel chair behind it.

The desk, broad and solid, had filled the corner of this room in the ranch house for four generations. The cheap, mass-produced stuff they made nowadays could never measure up to this. Most of the folks he knew agreed. No surprise then, that Manny had asked him to create the new sign for the café.

Sam never begrudged his good friend the time and effort it took to design and make the wooden plaque that now hung outside the Double S. But in his heart, he knew he’d have done the same for anyone in town. The job had given him satisfaction, an extra channel for his creative energy, a way to distract him from his problems.

It had let him make another check mark on the list of things he did to get right with the whole of Flagman’s Folly.

Though he did those things to satisfy himself, to make up for the time he’d run wild as a teen, he couldn’t help but wonder. Did the judge’s spies ever hurry back to him with news of any of the good things Sam had done?

He shoved the rolltop’s curved front panel up in its track, revealing pigeonholes overflowing with papers and pamphlets and bills.

Luckily, that panel had been closed earlier when Kayla had come in to use his computer.

He looked at the pile of information he’d accumulated and thought again of Becky. Only two days since she’d come home, and he’d spent a lot of that time thinking. Had unearthed a lot of research. Had retrieved reams of data from the computer.

All that involved facts and figures.

He weighed the load of dry but critical information against the living, breathing, laughing little girl he’d just left upstairs.

No, he couldn’t provide everything his little girl needed.

But he knew the first step he had to take toward finding someone who could.

He swiveled his chair around to face the computer on the table at his right elbow, opened his email program and started tapping the keys.



ALONE IN THE KITCHEN the next morning, Kayla paced the tiled floor.

Becky had gone outside to play on the back porch.

Sam had left the house early, even before she and Becky had woken. Downstairs, instead of the money she had expected to find, he’d left a note on the kitchen table.




Will meet you and Becky at the Double S at noon.





No, not what she had expected at all, from the stories Ronnie had told her about Sam’s self-imposed isolation. His unwillingness to go far from the ranch.

He was doing this to satisfy the judge. She had to remember that.

She’d left her cell phone on the counter. When it rang, she pounced on it. At the sight of Matt Lawrence’s number, her heart thumped erratically. She had talked to him the day before to give a rundown of what had happened in court. He’d had no news for her then. But now…

“Just checking in, Kayla. I’m sorry to say we don’t have anything to report yet.”

She didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad. In a way, she almost hoped Matt wouldn’t track Ronnie down. What if she got it into her head to take Becky back again? Kayla couldn’t deal with seeing her precious niece sent back and forth across the country between parents who didn’t really want her.

“I know you haven’t heard from Ronnie,” Matt continued, “or you’d have called me. She hasn’t gotten in touch with your parents, either?”

“No.”

“And no contact with Lianne?”

“No. Ronnie never keeps in touch with her.” Ronnie had never learned to sign with Lianne. She knew only the basics of communicating with Becky. “She doesn’t contact me very often, either,” Kayla told him. “She usually just leaves messages with my mom and dad.”

“All right, maybe she’ll get around to doing that. Meanwhile, we’re following up on the leads you gave us.” Kayla hadn’t known much to tell him about Ronnie’s private life, but she had managed to dredge up a couple of men’s names from memory. “Let me know if you hear anything at all.”

“I will, Matt. Thanks. And I should have asked already—how is Kerry?”

Matt’s wife, an art teacher, had missed the last few weeks of school when she’d gone on maternity leave.

“Getting cranky,” he told her. “She’s not happy with the enforced bed rest.”

Just what Sam had said about his mother. “Well, she’s got to take care of that baby. Say hi for me and let her know I’ll see her as soon as I get back to Chicago.”

There was a long pause, as if they were each wondering just when that would be.

“Sure,” Matt said finally. “Before we hang up, though, is there anything else I can do?”

Kayla bit her lip. He’d asked her already about doing a background check on Sam, and she had wanted to hold off for Ronnie’s sake. But time was passing, and though she planned to talk with Sam’s mother and friends and any of his neighbors she could, who knew if they’d be willing to tell her anything. She took a deep breath.

“I think it’s time to go ahead with that check on Sam. But, please, Matt, make sure it’s discreet.” If the judge found out she was trying to go around his orders, she might never get custody of Becky. “And let me know if you hear anything about Ronnie. I’ll do the same.”

She ended the call and jumped when a noise sounded from the direction of the living room. Matt’s mother stared at her from the archway. With a pang of guilt, Kayla wondered how long the woman had been there.

Though she had crutches propped under each arm, Sam’s mother leaned awkwardly against the door frame. Kayla had only gotten a glimpse of her when Sam escorted her into the house the other night. A petite woman in her early sixties with Sam’s dark hair shot with silver, bright blue eyes and a flawless complexion. Kayla suspected the lines etched around her eyes were caused by pain.

Her heart went out to the woman.

Crossing the room quickly, she pulled a chair away from the kitchen table. “Please sit down, Mrs. Robertson.”

“Sharleen,” the woman corrected with a Southern twang much softer than Judge Baylor’s. She lowered herself into the chair.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Kayla asked. “I could have helped you with the stairs.”

“Thought I could handle them myself.” She sighed heavily. “Thought wrong, I guess.”

“Becky and I just finished breakfast. Can I get you something? I’d have brought you up a tray, but Sam told me last night you didn’t want anything in your room this morning.”

“No. I’d planned to come downstairs. Just not quite this late.”

“We had pancakes, and I’ve got batter left.” She opened the refrigerator door. “It’ll just take me a minute to make some.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Kayla got to work, heating up the skillet again, setting a place at the table and pouring a glass of orange juice. It didn’t take long at all before she had a plateful of pancakes ready.

“Hope these are the way you like them.” She smiled as she set the plate in front of Sharleen. “I’m sure it’s a little awkward having another woman cooking in your kitchen.”

“When it’s a woman who’s out to make trouble for my family, it is.” The twang had disappeared completely. Sharleen Robertson’s voice and blue eyes had turned colder than the container of orange juice Kayla had just picked up to return to the refrigerator.

She set the juice carefully on the shelf, then closed the door quietly. She turned to the table again. “I’m not here to make trouble,” she said. “Only to do what’s right for Becky.”

“Sam wants that, too, you know.”

“I don’t know that, for sure.” She swallowed hard, but curiosity won out. Against her better judgment, she blurted, “He said he didn’t even know about Becky.”

“That’s right. Neither of us did. We hadn’t heard a thing about that little girl until Ronnie brought her here and left her.”

Kayla wondered. Maybe Sharleen had known nothing, but Sam…? How could she believe him, against all Ronnie’s claims?

The sound of a dog’s bark distracted her. The noise had come from the backyard.

She moved over to the screen door and saw Becky outside with one of the ranch animals, a puppy. He looked like a Labrador-shepherd mix. His body and nose were dark, his face tan. A large dark patch of fur completely circled one eye, giving him a permanently startled expression.

Kayla smiled.

She looked over at Sharleen, who had started in on the plate of pancakes. “I’ll be right outside with Becky if you need something,” she said.

Out on the porch, she sank to the top step.

When Becky saw her, she snapped her fingers and pointed. Dog. She covered her eye with her hand. Pirate.

Kayla laughed. A good name for the little pup. And so nice for Becky to have a friend.

Keeping a watch on the clock, she let the two play together. After a while, she looked through the screen door again and found the kitchen empty. Sharleen must have made her way into the living room or up the stairs again without help.

As the morning wore on, Kayla glanced more and more often at the time. She wanted to be in town at the Double S long before Sam arrived.

It might take a while to get Becky cleaned up. She and Pirate had spent their time running back and forth across the yard and tramping around the barn.

Kayla waved Becky over to her.

The sooner they got to the café, the more opportunity she would have to talk to Dori. To find out what the woman could tell her about Sam. Because, obviously, Sharleen Robertson wouldn’t say anything but good about her son.

Much as Kayla understood that, she felt frustrated by it, too.

Somehow, she’d have to find someone who would open up to her about Sam.



AS SHE NEARED THE DOUBLE S, Kayla eased her foot off the gas pedal. Slowing to a crawl, she almost unwillingly glanced toward the front of the building at the sign Sam had made. Creative and quirky and wonderful. All things that the man himself was not.

From the backseat, Becky squealed. She had seen the café, too. In the rearview mirror, Kayla saw her tap the fingertips of her right hand against the palm of her left. Her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline.

“Cookie?” Becky asked.

And the message said, obviously, she wanted one.

“We had all those sweet pancakes at breakfast this morning,” Kayla told her, signing the sentence in the language her niece would understand.

And Becky did. Still, she ran those same fingertips she’d used to sign cookie down the length of her T-shirt. “Hungry.” And she grinned.

Kayla rolled her eyes. She had always made it a point not to spoil the child. Not too much, anyway. But Becky sure knew what buttons to push.

Yet it had been a long while since breakfast. And Becky had expended a lot of energy playing with Pirate that morning.

Besides, the cookie would keep Becky occupied while Kayla talked with Dori.

After parking the car, she released Becky from her booster seat and ushered her through the doorway of the Double S.

Most of the tables and booths in the café were filled with customers. Becky ran ahead to the dessert case. Kayla crossed to the counter at the rear of the room. Maybe she should have come earlier, instead of letting Becky and Pirate have their fun. Dori might not have a chance to chat immediately, and Kayla would risk Sam walking in during the middle of their conversation.

Fortunately, after just a few minutes, Dori bustled across the room toward them. “Good morning. You’ve come for more of my sweets, yes?”

Kayla laughed. “Since Becky has her nose nearly glued to the dessert case, I guess I have to admit she has, at least.”

“Very good.” Briskly, Dora turned to pour a cup of tea for Kayla. “I am happy to see you.”

She soon settled Becky on the stool next to Kayla’s with a chocolate-chunk cookie and a glass of milk in front of her. “Sam is at his ranch this morning, I’m sure. A very hard worker, that man.”

“Yes.” Kayla leaned forward eagerly. Dori couldn’t have given her a better opening. “He doesn’t seem to leave the ranch very much at all.”

“Now he does, more than he did before. But there was a time…” Dori’s eyes looked sad, her face grave.

“You mean…?”

“When he would not come in to town at all. When he wouldn’t talk to anyone, after his wife went away.”

Kayla swallowed a groan. This was not where she’d expected the conversation to go. Worse, thinking of that time only reminded her how much Sam resented her for helping Ronnie. How much he hated her for wanting to take Becky from him now. She pushed the thoughts away. She should be focusing on what she needed to do to accomplish just that, not on how Sam felt about her.

“But if he never bothered to spend any time with his wife…” At Dori’s incredulous expression, she faltered.

“What is this, not bother? He works hard on his ranch from morning to night. For his wife. And now, for his little girl.”

They both looked at Becky, who had pushed hard against the counter to make her seat swivel in a circle.

“I know,” Kayla said, “but—”

“He’s a good provider,” Dori interrupted, nodding emphatically. “Like my Manny. Is that not right?” She directed the question to the person who had just slid onto the stool on the other side of Kayla’s.

Kayla turned quickly to find Ellamae, the court clerk, looking at her.

“If you’re talking about Sam Robertson, Dori, you’re one hundred percent right. Now he’s grown-up and gotten over his teenager ways, you couldn’t find a better daddy this side of the Mississippi.”

So Ellamae was fighting her, too, in her own way. She was probably here this morning directly from the judge’s courtroom, trying to find out anything she could to help Sam.

The two women began an intense discussion about a new item on the menu.

Kayla took a deep breath and let it out. Of course these women would support Sam. He’d probably deceived everyone in town. They wouldn’t know about all the things Ronnie had said, about the way Sam had treated Ronnie and rejected Becky, about all Sam’s lies.

Look at that story he had told about not even knowing he’d had a child. No matter how Sharleen defended him, Kayla couldn’t believe that. Ronnie had contacted Sam repeatedly, hoping he would want to get in touch with his daughter. Finally, after years of no response, she had stopped trying.

Yet, knowing all that, Kayla had let herself get swept up in thinking crazy thoughts about him yesterday afternoon. Then she had almost let herself reach out in sympathy last night. She’d come so close to falling for that hurt look in his gray eyes.

Her thoughts wavered just as her words had faltered at Dori’s disbelief. Had Sam really tricked everyone into thinking he was so wonderful?

Or had Kayla been the one deceived—by Ronnie?

Before she could even begin to recover from that shocking thought, Becky cried out. Kayla recognized it as a sound of happiness.

It wasn’t Becky’s cry or Ellamae’s satisfied nod, but the thud of boots on the hardwood floor of the Double S that made Kayla’s spine stiffen.

Slowly, as Becky had done, she swiveled her own stool to face the room behind them.

Heading across the café came the one person she had feared it would be.

Sam.

Beside her, Becky tapped her thumb against her forehead, then waved her hands palm up in the air. She made the signs over and over again. The words rang in Kayla’s head as clearly as if Becky had spoken them.

“Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here.”

The sight of her niece’s elated grin nearly broke Kayla’s heart.

She forced her gaze to the other side of the room again, only to see Sam rapidly closing the space between them. Unable to stop herself, she found herself meeting his eyes. A tiny shiver ran through her, but when she tried to look away again, she couldn’t.

If Sam planned to stay home from working on his ranch very often, they could be spending a lot of tension-filled time together.

Six weeks suddenly seemed an eternity.

She wondered if she would survive them.