A Rancher's Pride(24)

“Fine.”

“It ought to have been, I guess, since it was mostly your mother’s cooking.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a good cook.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And a good mother and grandmother.”

“Yeah, sure.” Unsmiling, he looked toward her. “What about you?” she asked, purposely adding emphasis to the last word.

“Am I a good cook?” He kept his tone light, but his eyes turned a cold gray as he locked gazes with her.

Her mouth went dry. She despised herself for having to clear her throat before speaking. “You know what I mean.” She glanced over at her niece and found her busy making a small mound of her peas, which she hated. Kayla turned back to Sam. “Are you even trying to be a father to Becky? You didn’t once get involved in our conversation.”

He shrugged. “You two seemed to be carrying on okay.”

“That’s not the point.”

He tossed his napkin down beside his empty plate. Then he stood, pushing his chair back so abruptly, the legs screeched against the wooden floor. “The point is,” he said, “you’re here to watch my child for a short time while my mother’s out of commission. It’s not part of your job to direct the talk at the supper table.”

She opened her mouth quickly—and just as abruptly closed it again. Becky looked up, turning her head from one to the other of them, her expression quizzical.

Smiling, Kayla signed to her that dinner was over and she should go play in the living room until dessert time. She nodded, happy to abandon the peas, and slid from her chair. Kayla watched until her niece had left the room, then took a deep breath and turned back to Sam.

Becky hadn’t understood what was going on.

Neither did Kayla. That flame of interest she’d felt in Sam out in the yard had been doused by a cold shower of genuine confusion. How could he have so little regard for his daughter? And how could he sit and ignore them both? If she’d ever doubted Ronnie’s claims about Sam’s behavior, she certainly had proof of it now.

She looked up at him. “Well, Sam,” she said finally, “who else will direct the conversation around here, if I don’t? You?”

“I’m not much for talking at mealtime,” he said.

“I noticed that.”

“Good.” He shoved his chair in, leaned toward her and almost hissed, “Then I expect you won’t have a problem remembering it.”



SAM COULD HAVE KICKED himself. He had blurted those words in anger, hadn’t really meant what he’d said. To tell the truth, he had a feeling most of his temper wasn’t directed at Kayla at all.

In the living room, he watched Becky playing with her dolls. She had them lined up along the couch and sat talking to them, her fingers flying.

The sight only increased his feeling of incompetence whenever he came near her.

He would never be able to sit and have a conversation with Becky. To teach her the things daddies taught their daughters. To read her a bedtime story, tuck her in and tell her he loved her.

Maybe things would’ve been a whole lot different now if he and Ronnie had done some communicating of their own. If he’d known about his daughter. But the marriage had turned so bad, so quickly, life around here had fallen into a state as unproductive as two armed camps on either side of No-Man’s-Land.

Maybe he could have handled things with Kayla better.

On second thought, judging by the way he’d stormed out of the kitchen after supper, maybe not.

From that direction now, he could hear Kayla clattering plates together. He hadn’t given a second thought to her when he’d walked away. Just as, now, she wasn’t giving even a first thought to what it would cost to replace a whole set of dishes.

Another thing she had in common with his ex.

If he didn’t want a new expense to add to the long list Ronnie had left behind, he’d better do something about Kayla.

Besides, he needed to make her forget the parting shot he’d taken as he’d left the table. If she ran with his comment to the judge, he could kiss any chance of custody goodbye.

The thought left him shivering in a cold sweat.

He threw aside the newspaper he’d pretended to read and jumped to his feet.

Becky looked up, her face taking on that same bewildered expression she’d had at the supper table. He gave her what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile.