A Rancher's Pride(6)

“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.