A Rancher's Pride(13)

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.”