A Rancher's Pride - By Barbara White Daille Page 0,10
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