A Rancher's Pride - By Barbara White Daille Page 0,56
ground.
STANDING IN THE AFTERNOON shadows on the east side of the barn, Sam swung his ax against the rotted tree stump, again and again. He’d put off getting rid of this stump for a long while, but somehow, today seemed like the right time to do the job. Hot and tiring work, but not as hot as he felt inside.
Almost a week had passed since the get-together with the folks from town. He had gone back to working his ranch but had stuck close to the house, often bringing Becky to the barn with him while he’d taken care of chores there.
He kept thinking back to that afternoon of the barbecue, though. The day had about come to an end, as it was. Just the second round of desserts, the gathering up of dishes and kids, and the goodbyes. Becky had to spend part of that time with an ice pack resting on the scrape on her head. Still, she didn’t seem bothered by it.
And that wasn’t what made him hot under the collar now.
He took another whack at the stump and left the ax buried deep. Like the feelings he’d been trying to hide. Guilt and anger and a whole lot more.
Luckily, Becky’s fall had been exactly what Kayla had said, nothing more than an accident. The problem was, he should have been watching his daughter himself, instead of trying to stay away from Kayla. Sitting on the bench beside her that afternoon had made him see things more clearly. Had made him glad to run off to throw a few horseshoes.
Why had he been avoiding her, and not keeping an eye on his child? Because of the way Kayla took care of Becky. Because of her insistence on teaching him to sign. Because of their near kiss on the couch. And because of the kiss they had shared. Put all that together, and you had the truth right there.
Yeah, sitting next to her that afternoon had given him a heads-up. Had made him realize he’d fallen for the woman who wanted to take his child away.
Kayla was right. He really was crazy.
He yanked his bandanna from his jeans pocket and dragged it across his brow. If only he could erase the thoughts inside his head just as easily as he wiped away the sweat outside.
As he lowered the cloth from his face, he saw Kayla standing by the corner of the barn. She hadn’t been there a minute ago. But she sure was there now, standing with her hands tucked into the pockets of her denim shorts.
He got rid of the bandanna. Grabbed the handle of the ax and started to work it out of the wood. Anything to keep from looking at her.
“Sam.”
So she wasn’t going away. He shrugged. It was as good a time as any to let her know the decision he’d made. He gave the stump another ferocious wallop. Finally, he met her eyes. “Your way isn’t going to work, Kayla. No matter how much you want it to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve learned a lot besides those few signs you’ve shown me. Being with Becky has taught me she needs to be with people who can communicate with her, who can take care of her full-time. In her language.”
“That,” she said forcefully, “is what I’ve told you all along. It’s exactly why I want her home in Chicago with me.”
“Not if I have something to say about it. Besides, that still wouldn’t be enough.” He shook his head. “Face it, Kayla. She needs more than I can give her. More than even you can provide. She needs a dozen of you in her life, every day.”
The idea had been nagging at him all these weeks now, and seeing Becky lying on that field the day of the barbecue had only brought it home to him. “She ought to be surrounded by friends who can talk with her and play with her in a way they can all understand. So that no one, including Becky, will get hurt like she did that day.”
“It was only an accident, Sam.”
“Yes, I know that. It was also the spur I needed to get me moving.”
He could see her back straighten, her shoulders stiffen. “Moving toward what?”
“Toward doing what I need to for Becky.” He yanked the ax free. “You don’t have to worry about her, about her classes, or about her having an interpreter. I’m going to get her everything she needs.”
Even in the shadows, he saw her