The Rancher and the Redhead (4 page)

“He's got a new movie out, I see.”

“Yes, I know.
Apache Tears.
I actually did some of the preliminary sketches for the art direction. For free, of course. That's Jackson's style.” Shaking off the feeling of failure that remembering their relationship always evoked, she set down her glass and rose. “I've got to run. Call me if you think of anyone else who might want the housekeeper's position, okay?”

Minutes later Roni sped down the two-lane blacktop toward the Lazy Diamond, chewing her lip in worry. Could Krystal be right? Had she been doing Sam a disservice by monopolizing his time, to the detriment of any other relationship he might develop? Sam was such a decent man, he deserved a woman who would adore him, someone unlike Shelly, who'd appreciate his strong ties to the land and the little community he called home.

Forcing herself to look at the situation with brutal honesty, Roni had to admit that she'd grown to depend on Sam's steadfastness, his lazy humor, the easy, accepting friendship. Since her return, he'd been her sounding board and her shield against loneliness. Now the realization that in her need she'd been depriving him of the chance to find someone special filled her with guilty remorse.

Krystal was absolutely on target. Sam needed a wife and a mother for Jessie, but he was unlikely to find one with Roni in the picture. If she really loved Sam as a friend, then the most generous thing she could do would be to step back so that nature could take its course—even if Sam ended up with someone like Nadine Scott. The image made her lips twist in distaste.

Swallowing hard, Roni pushed the sensation aside. Whatever happened, Sam had to be free to make his own choices. Just as soon as they settled the housekeeper situation, she'd have to start disconnecting herself from her dependency on Sam—for his own good. It was the right thing to do. So why, then, did the thought weigh so heavily on her heart?

Roni was still struggling with this quandary when she parked the Jeep at the ranch house. Juggling two brown paper bags of groceries, she started up the porch steps, only to be met by the sound of Jessie's wails coming from the rear of the house.

She rushed to set her burdens down on the kitchen table, calling out as she went. “Sam, I'm back. What's the matter with Jessie?”

There was no answer but the baby's continued sobbing, and alarm raced down Roni's backbone. She hurried to Jessie's room, appalled to find her in her playpen, red-faced, alone and wailing as if her heart were broken.

“Oh, honey!” Roni's heart tightened at the upsetting sight, and her anger blossomed. Where the devil was Sam? How could he have left the child all alone? Lifting Jessie into her arms, she tried to calm the baby. “Hush, Jessie. Roni's here. It's all right.”

The tiny girl clutched at Roni's hair, arched her back and howled in earnest, giant crocodile tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

“Come on now, sweetie,” Roni said.

A quick check found Jessie's diaper dry, and an almost-full bottle in the corner of the playpen proved it wasn't hunger that fueled the baby's ire. Noticing the child's hot cheeks and sweaty neck, Roni carried her to the bathroom for a cooling cloth. But the damp washcloth only infuriated the child even further, and she kicked and squirmed and screamed in a pure tantrum of ill-tempered misery.

Feeling helpless in the face of such fury, her own frustration spilling over, Roni glanced out the bathroom window and caught a glimpse of Sam engaged in some task down by Diablo's paddock. Appalled, her own fury ignited, due in part to her inadequacy at dealing with Jessie's squalling, and in part to her incredulity at Sam's callousness and utter carelessness. Still holding the struggling baby, she stormed outside.

Sam heard her coming and laid the cinch straps he'd been mending across the top rail of the paddock. Even Diablo, Sam's ebony stallion, raised his elegant head from the hay bale he'd been investigating and pricked his ears toward the ruckus.

Pushing his straw cowboy hat to the back of his head, Sam frowned wearily and demanded, “Why did you pick her up?”

Roni stared. “What? She's screaming at the top of her lungs! Are you out of your ever-loving mind?”

Sam winced at Jessie's ear-piercing wails. “She's been at it all afternoon. Finally figured she'd have to cry it out.”

“How could you?” Roni railed, struggling to hold the flailing child. “You don't leave a kid alone like that. What if she's sick? Or hungry? Or—”

“Dammit, Curly, don't you think I've got sense enough to think of all that?” Sam's dark glower was mute evidence that he was near the end of his own rope. “Little bit started up not ten minutes after you left and squalled the whole time the county caseworker was here. I tried everything, and not a damned thing pleases her.”

“That's no excuse, Sam Preston,” Roni said, her tone accusing. “You left her!”

“Since all I did just seemed to make whatever it is worse, I thought I'd give her some space. Believe me, I could hear her just fine out here. I'm not a complete dunce.”

“No, just a heartless one!” Roni shouted to be heard over Jessie's crying. “You can't treat a baby like...like one of your damn cows. Of all the insensitive, moronic—”

“Curse it, that's enough.” Sam's expression was black as thunder, and his jaw thrust out at a militant angle. “You weren't here, and I had to follow my best judgment—which was working just fine until you came along and got her started again.”

“I did no such—”

“Don't try to second-guess me, Curly,” he interrupted brusquely, jabbing his forefinger at her nose. “When it comes right down to it, she's not your responsibility.”

Sam's harsh words landed like a physical slap and took Roni's breath. She stared at him, feeling the color drain from her face. Hot tears prickled behind her lids. With a small cry that was barely audible above Jessie's weeping, Roni turned and stumbled for the house.

“Curly, wait. I didn't mean—”

Choking, Roni didn't pause to hear the rest. Calling herself every kind of idiot, she tried to contain the hurt that bubbled over. The worst of it was that despite the affection and attachment for Jessie already blossoming in her unwary heart, Sam was absolutely right. She had no claim on the redheaded angel who was still making a devilish uproar. No bond of blood or commitment, and certainly no right—best friends or no—to instruct Sam on the upbringing of his new daughter. The knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Roni, stop!” Sam caught her from behind just as she reached the back door, his expression stricken. “Oh, God, you're crying. You never cry.”

“You'd better take her,” Roni said around a knot of tears in her throat. “I—” A sob stole whatever else she meant to say.

Cussing a blue streak, Sam shot a harried glance from side to side, then abruptly dragged Roni, still holding the baby, off the porch and toward his blue Ford pickup. Without further explanation he jerked open the door and thrust her inside. A child's car seat sat buckled in the middle of the seat.

“Here, strap her in,” he muttered, then pushed Roni's fumbling hands aside to perform the task on the screaming baby.

“Sam, what—? Please...” Distraught and unnerved, Roni tried to slip out past him, but he caught her, buckled her seat belt much as he'd done Jessie's, then slammed the door.

“Stay put.” His mouth was grim as he came around to the driver's side. “We're going for a ride.”

“I don't want to go anywhere with you!” Sniffling, Roni wiped her tears on the hem of her knit shirt and tried to glare at him. “What's so all-fired important about taking a ride?”

“Read it somewhere,” he muttered, starting the vehicle. “Supposed to be soothing to cranky kids or something.” He threw the truck into gear and tore down the dusty drive as if all the demons of hell were after them.

“That's if the baby has colic!” Roni shouted over the engine noise and Jessie's continued bellows of rage.

“What have we got to lose?”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Crossing her arms, Roni stared mulishly out the window and said nothing further.

Nearly thirty miles later, Jessie's screams had turned to soft snores. Sam slowed to a more reasonable pace, made a U-turn and headed back toward the ranch.

“I didn't mean it, you know,” he said finally.

Roni clamped down on her bottom lip to hide a betraying trembling, then forced herself to speak honestly. “It's true anyway, and I apologize. I overstepped my place. She's not my responsibility.”

“Roni, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded.” Sam squinted against the orange globe of the sun resting on the western horizon and ran his free hand down his square jaw. “The way you've pitched in, you've got a right to say whatever you think.”

Roni stroked Jessie's plump fist, taking care not to wake the sleeping baby. If Sam was offering an olive branch, she would be foolish not to accept it. “Neither one of us has any experience dealing with a little heifer as stubborn as this one.”

“She's put me through the wringer, all right. It makes me wonder...” He fell silent.

Something in the tone of his voice made her glance at him sharply. “What, Sam?”

He sighed, bouncing his fist on the steering wheel. “If I'm doing the right thing. That social worker, Mrs. Veatch, asked some pretty tough questions.”

A trickle of fear made Roni's voice querulous. “Like what?”

“Like if I'm ready to be a single parent. If taking Jessie, even with the best of intentions, is right for her.”

“What else would it be?” she demanded, her eyes growing wide with a premonition of disaster.

“Selfish.” Sam's blue gaze flicked to Roni, then snapped back to the highway. “Am I doing this for myself or for her? Maybe Jessie deserves a real family, with a mother and father, somebody who can offer her something more stable than a cowboy's life.”

“What are you saying?” Roni whispered. “You'd put her in a foster home?”

“That was one suggestion. But there are plenty of couples who're dying to adopt. She could have all the advantages....”

“Give her up completely?” Roni couldn't hide her dismay.

“It's not something I'd do lightly. But, dammit, Curly, I just don't know if I'm cut out for this, and Jessie needs two parents.”

Rather desperately, Roni said, “You might get married again.”

“Old bachelor like me?” Sam grimaced. “Not likely. And I don't exactly have a sterling record in the marriage department anyway.”

“That wasn't your fault,” she muttered, chagrined anew that her presence might have played a part in his failure to find another partner. And now Jessie could pay the price, as well. “And what about your promise to Alicia?”

A muscle worked in Sam's lean jaw, and his eyes narrowed, picking out the turn to the Lazy Diamond. “I said I'd take care of Jessie. Finding a stable home environment where she can grow up secure and loved is the best way for me to keep that promise.”

“You don't have to decide right now, do you?”

Her words were so strangled with tension that Sam glanced sharply at her.

“Do you?” she demanded, feeling brittle.

“No.” They'd reached the ranch house, and now he parked the truck and turned on the seat, meeting Roni's anxious gaze across the top of Jessie's car seat. “But I'm going to think on it hard.”

Roni slumped with relief, then hid her reaction by releasing Jessie from her harness. The exhausted baby was limp, her cherub's mouth parted in the soft breaths of slumber and she made scarcely a murmur as Roni lifted her free. Sam had come around to the passenger side by this time and helped Roni climb out. His hand was warm on her upper arm, holding her still as he looked down into her face.

“I'm depending on you to help me figure this out, Curly. No matter that I'm already crazy about the kid, I've got to do what's best for her in the long run.”

Roni caught a tremulous breath. “I know, Sam.”

He gave her arm a brief squeeze that was part thanks, part encouragement, and they went inside. Roni hadn't made it halfway down the hall when the phone rang. The baby on her shoulder jumped, then begin to mewl fretfully. Sam cursed and hurried to the kitchen, catching the receiver up before the next ring. Gratefully, Roni sought out the platform rocker in his bedroom. Rocking and singing softly as daylight fled and the room grew shadowy, she was much relieved when Jessie gave a tired sigh and settled back down.

After a while, Roni heard Sam hang up, and when he appeared in the doorway a moment later, a peculiar expression etched his rugged features. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

She gave him a curious look. “What? Who was that?”

“Maybe the answer.”

Roni's voice was soft, to avoid waking the child she cradled in her arms, but her tone was wry. “Spit it out, Sam. You know your laconic cowboy persona drives me bats.”

“About Jessie.” He crossed to where Roni sat and swept callused fingers over the tiny girl's russet curls. “That was Mrs. Veatch. She says the Newtons have reconsidered. They're missing Jessie like crazy and want to begin adoption proceedings.”

“No.” Roni's heart lurched, and her arms tightened involuntarily around the child.

“Curly, we've got to be practical about this.”

“Cold-blooded, you mean?” Roni's expression was fierce. “I won't believe it of you, Sam. Tell me you don't care about Jessie. I dare you.”

“I'll be damned if I let my emotions cloud what's best for her,” he said.

“See? You can't deny it, because you already love her as though she was your own flesh and blood.” Gazing down into the sleeping child's rosebud face, Roni felt a wave of emotion pulling her under, forcing her to admit the truth. She gave a small, breathless cry of surrender. “And so do I.”