A Rancher's Pride - By Barbara White Daille Page 0,58
all alone. And scared. You know she will. You know that more than anyone.
Kayla, I hate to say this but…
Lianne’s message trailed off, as if she was choosing her next words carefully.
She froze. Now what? Had Ronnie turned up? Was there even more bad news? Before she could tap out her question, her phone vibrated. Lianne again.
I think having me go away to school was harder on you than on me.
What are you saying?
I had friends at school. I was happy there.
You wanted to come home to us!
A pause, while Kayla held her breath. And then a long message from Lianne.
Yes, I wanted to come home to you all. But I have to be honest—I wanted to finish up my last few years of school at home, too. Being mainstreamed for high school wouldn’t have been right for a lot of my friends, but it was the right thing for me.
Kayla tapped furiously at her keys. That’s what I feel for Becky. It’s all about what’s right for her. And it’s not right for her father to send her away to school.
Then, Lianne said simply, you need to convince Sam not to do that.
WITH ONLY THE FEW SCATTERED hours of sleep she’d managed to get, Kayla felt grateful when Sam stayed quiet all through breakfast the next morning. She did need to talk to him, but first, she had to get her sleep-deprived brain to cooperate with her.
After they’d finished eating, Sam suddenly announced he was spending the day with Jack and his cowboys out in the high pastures.
Wherever they might be.
He was across the kitchen and out the door to the back porch before she could blink. Through the window over the sink, she saw him striding rapidly toward his truck.
She swallowed her surprise and tried to gather her thoughts before he had time to drive away.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to Sharleen and Becky.
By the time she reached the porch, he had already opened the driver’s door.
“Sam, wait,” she called. She hurried across the yard. “I wanted to talk to you about what you said yesterday. About sending Becky to school. If you do get custody of her, I hope you won’t go through with that. Not right away.”
He frowned. “What good is delaying it going to do? She needs to go to school. They said she needs to be keeping up with the signs she knows, and learning more.”
“That’s true,” she acknowledged, unable to deny it. He’d done his homework, all right. “But Becky’s been with you for such a short time. Sam—” She swallowed, her mouth so dry it felt as though she’d just sliced her throat with a knife. She didn’t want to force her words past the pain. She didn’t want to say them at all. But she had to. If she didn’t get custody, she had to make sure Sam did what was right for her niece. “Becky needs stability. She needs to be with her daddy.”
He looked at her for a long time, his eyes almost liquid silver in the early-morning sun. “She needs to be with people she can communicate with,” he said emphatically. “The school is a great place for her. She’ll be able to learn in her own language and have plenty of kids to play with.” He looked away, his jaw set firmly.
At the sound of the screen door slapping against the jamb, they both turned their gazes toward the house. Becky stood on the porch, several dolls and stuffed animals cradled in her arms.
As they watched, she came down the steps and went over near the barn to the play area she had claimed for her own.
“What Becky needs,” Sam said finally, his voice hoarse, “is that school. You ought to want that for her, too.”
She turned to him. “I do want it. I want everything for her, and more. And the school would be a wonderful place for her. I agree with you on that, too. But there will be time for the school later, if you still feel you want to send her away.”
Impulsively, she put her hand on his arm. He jerked at her touch, his muscles tightening beneath her palm. She dropped her hand and stepped back. She wanted to convince him of her sincerity, not drive him away.
Already, he had shifted closer to the driver’s seat.
As if keeping herself physically near would help close the emotional distance between them, she gripped the inside handle of the open door.
“Sam, please,” she said,