The Rancher's First Love (10 page)

She laughed a little. “The nurses were beside themselves last night. He charmed them, and then he growled, wanting to go home.”

“I'm surprised he didn't convince one of them to give him a ride back to Martin's Crossing.”

“I went down to see him last night,” Sam told him. “He tried to bargain with me. If I'd take him home.”

She didn't finish and he could guess some of the things Gus offered. Land. Cattle. Remington.

“That's Gus. He never misses an opportunity.”

“No, he doesn't.” She moved her hands across the top of the box and he watched, somehow mesmerized by that gesture.

Common sense told him he should go. So he got up from the table, fully intending to make a clean break of it.

“Let's go out to dinner.” Where had that come from? So much for a clean break.

“You and me?” One side of her mouth lifted in a smile.

“Why not?” He guessed this was where he got shot down.

“Because there are things that shouldn't be revisited. A few years ago I found my best friend from grade school. Talia. She lives in San Antonio now. I thought we could get together and talk about our childhood, our friendship. We'd been best friends for years. And now, as adults, we have nothing in common. She works in the fashion industry. Her husband works in banking. She doesn't remember swimming in the creek and the snapping turtle that almost got her foot. I don't remember painting jewelry in her bedroom. We've moved on. It was uncomfortable to realize we no longer had a friendship.”

“I'm not asking to be your best friend or to read your diary,” he said.

Together they walked to the door. Her hand reached for his. He took it, and then pulled her close.

“I know you're not,” she said, her mouth dangerously close to his. “We can't go back.”

“I agree, Sam, there's no going back. And who would want to? I'm not asking you to go back. I want to move forward. I'm asking if we can see who we are now.”

He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. She didn't pull away. Instead her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He softened the kiss, hovering over her lips, and then brushing across her cheek. She sighed, and he pulled her close so that her head rested on his shoulder.

“I don't want to go back, Rem. I don't want that pain all over again. I don't want to miss you again. I don't want to make mistakes that can't be undone.”

“I know,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I know.”

She pulled back. “I don't want to be the person who can't live up to your expectations.”

It should have been easy to tell her that this time they wouldn't make mistakes. This time they'd do everything right and they wouldn't hurt each other. What if he was wrong? What if they went down this road and found out they were two different people who wanted different things?

Chapter Ten

T
he alarm for room 212 went off as Samantha sat behind the desk finishing paperwork. She glanced at the monitor, at the flashing light and her heart ached. “Danny again.”

Samantha pushed aside the papers and hurried down the hall. When she entered the room Danny was shaking his head, pushing away his mother's hand. His poor mom. She tried to comfort him, rubbing her hand up and down his arm, telling him it would be better.

Danny moved away from her, his face tightening in pain. “No.”

“Danny, it's okay.” Samantha glanced at the monitor, at the vitals that continuously flashed. A monitor his mother probably never stopped watching, no matter how often they told her to ignore it and focus on her son. That monitor meant life. It meant a blood pressure that was either too high or too low, it meant a heart still beating. It meant breaths still being taken. And every beep, every pause, caused a parent's heart to stop.

“It hurts,” Danny cried, his hand rubbing his leg.

“I know, sweetie, I know. I'm going to up your pain meds and we're going to turn down the lights a little. Let your mom hold your hand. Let her pray.”

He reached for Samantha's hand and squeezed. “Stay?”

“I'll stay.”

She closed her eyes as Danny's mom prayed. For wisdom, for the right treatment to help her son, for strength for her family. For the staff. Samantha felt Danny's fingers relax in her hold. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He had closed his eyes and though his jaw was still clenched he seemed calmer.

“I'm okay,” he whispered. The pain meds were already at work. His mom's prayer had calmed him.

“Of course you are,” she assured him, and he managed a smile. “You're going to be fine.”

He nodded and glanced at his mom, who looked away but not before Sam saw the tears pool in her eyes and break free. She kept Danny busy, talking in quiet voices until his mom regained her composure.

“I could call someone,” Sam offered, taking herself by surprise. “A minister. Danny, would you like it if Remington Jenkins stopped by tomorrow if he isn't busy?”

“Would he?”

“I think he would.” She looked to Danny's mother.

“That would be nice,” his mom said.

Samantha left his room, waiting until she was in the hall to brush away her tears. As she stood there, taking deep breaths and getting hold of herself, a hand touched her back.

The other RN on duty, Annie Jeffers, glanced her way. “You okay?”

Samantha shook her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, not really. But I will be.”

“That's what we keep telling ourselves. It'll get better. Or we'll get used to the pain. Why don't you clock out and head home? I can handle things until the next shift gets here.”

“I shouldn't.”

“Go. I'm the charge nurse and I'm telling you to go home and get some sleep.”

“I won't sleep,” Samantha admitted.

Annie Jeffers, tall and thin, brown hair shot through with gray, smiled knowingly. “No, probably not. But you can unwind. See you in a few days, Martin.”

“Thank you.”

Fifteen minutes later Sam pulled up to her little house. For a few minutes she sat in her truck, enjoying the quiet, the darkness. A full moon illuminated the field and the lawn. The house and barn were dark. She could see her horse moving slowly through the field, grazing, then lifting his head to look around.

She should go riding. It had been years since she'd gone riding this late at night. A full moon and clear skies were almost an invitation to take a midnight ride. But she didn't want to go alone. And Brody, her favorite companion for a midnight ride, was at home with his wife.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through numbers, stopping at a familiar name.

It seemed like a bad idea even as she dialed.

It seemed like a worse idea when he answered.

“Sam, is everything okay?” His voice was husky, half-asleep.

“I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be asleep.”

“No. It's okay. What do you need?”

She pulled the keys out of her truck and got out. “You won't believe me if I tell you.”

“Try me.” She pictured him smiling as he said it.

“I want to go riding.”

There was a long pause and she imagined him rubbing his hand over his face, trying to wake up. “Riding?”

“Yes, riding. It's a full moon and a clear night. It's like daylight out here.”

“Bad night?” he asked with more intuition than she would have liked.

“Just the usual,” she replied. Riding was one thing; turning to him was something else altogether.

“I'll be over in a few. Do you have a horse I can ride?”

She didn't. “We can ride double on Buzz.”

Another long pause. “I'll bring a horse.”

He showed up fifteen minutes later with a truck and trailer. Sam had already saddled Buzz. The poor horse looked confused, but he was a good sport, standing tied to the fence, occasionally trying to reach for a blade of grass that he couldn't quite get to.

Remington backed his horse out of the trailer already saddled. Sam's attention flicked from the dark bay to Remington. He hadn't shaved and the shadow of dark stubble gave him a rugged appeal. His gray eyes were still sleepy. He looked young. And sweet. In his faded jeans and dark blue T-shirt he looked as if he might have just stepped out of her dreams.

“Ready to go?” he asked as he closed up the trailer and led his horse around to face her.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Sam, it's really okay to need a friend.”

She swung into the saddle and Buzz sidestepped. She handled him, holding the reins steady, and then she glanced back at her riding companion. “I know that, Rem.”

“I'm not sure if you do.”

“I have friends,” she insisted.

“I know.”

She settled into the saddle and reined Buzz toward the open gate. “Close that behind you.”

“Will do.”

The field before them looked like ribbons of silver in the bright light of the moon and with a breeze blowing the grass. Remington brought his horse up next to Buzz.

“You were right—it's a perfect night for this.” Remington eased his horse a little closer. “I wasn't sure when you first woke me up. Sleep felt pretty good.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It's okay. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this.”

“I haven't done this in years. Not since... not since the last time we went.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Remington reached for her hand. “Stop.”

She looked up, met his gray eyes. He'd left his hat behind and his hair curled ever so slightly.

“Stop what?” she asked.

“Stop thinking so much. You're worrying yourself to death. You wanted this ride to relax, to clear your head, right?” He waited for her to nod. “Then stop thinking and enjoy the ride. We may never have this night again, so enjoy it.”

He was right. In a few hours it would be morning and this night would be gone forever.

“We should have brought fishing poles.”

He grinned, white teeth flashing against dark skin. “What a good idea. It's always fun to fish in a creek with no fish.”

“We used to,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, we did.” He reached for her hand and she let him take it.

For a long time they rode in companionable silence, their hands clasped, their horses walking almost shoulder to shoulder.

“What happened tonight?” he asked as they circled their horses back around, toward her place.

“Do you think you'd be able to stop by and visit with Danny and his mom? Tomorrow. Or as soon as you can. They would both appreciate it.”

“Yes, I can stop by,” he said quietly, his hand squeezing hers.

She nearly melted with emotion but couldn't let go. She didn't want to start sobbing. She didn't want to let go and drown in grief. She had taken this job knowing what it meant and what she would have to learn to handle. But there were things a person couldn't prepare for, things one never learned to deal with.

“Thank you,” she whispered as his hand continued to hold on to hers.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I'm good.” She released his hand and let her horse break into an easy lope. With the wind in her hair and the horses' hooves eating up the ground, she felt a little freer, a little less tied up in knots.

“Why do you think you have to get through it alone?” Remington asked as they slowed their horses to a walk.

“It's less messy this way, wouldn't you agree?” Because if she didn't rely on people, they didn't let her down. “Rem, I'm good.”

Buzz stopped when Remington's horse came to a halt.

“If by good, you mean good at shutting people out, I agree.”

“I don't mean to,” she said. “It's a habit.”

“Break the habit. They say if you do something new for twenty-one days, it becomes a new habit.”

She laughed at that. “I think that's a bogus theory.”

“Why not give it a try. Twenty-one days of letting me into your life.”

“Oh, so the habit I'm supposed to form is you?”

He grinned and she almost gave in. “Would I be such a bad habit?”

“Yes. It took me years to break the Remington habit the last time around.”

“This is our present, not our past. Why not see who we are now?”

He moved his horse a little closer and her senses filled up with his presence, his clean soap scent, his smile. How could she see the sweet tilt of his mouth and his carefree wink and not capitulate just a tiny bit?

“Twenty-one days of trusting me. Sharing with me. Getting to know me.” He eased a little closer.

“But what happens at the end of the twenty-one days?” She didn't want to find herself ten times lonelier because he would be gone again.

“You'll realize that you're no longer alone. You will realize you have family to call on and that you have friends in this town. You'll realize you have me.”

“Having you is the part that scares me, Rem. Not being who you want me to be scares me,” she whispered as he leaned in close and brushed his lips against hers. The kiss stopped her words and she froze, afraid to breathe, afraid she'd wake up and he'd be gone.

She was afraid to hope. And yet she wanted to hope. So very much.

* * *

Remington kept his word and stopped by Danny's room the next morning before checking in on Gus. The boy and his mom were sitting together on the edge of his bed, crutches nearby. They greeted him, but he could see that Danny's mom had dark circles under her eyes and looked as if she'd probably cry at the drop of a hat.

“Danny, my friend, you're looking good.”

“Thanks, Pastor,” Danny pointed at his leg, amputated below the knee. “It's been pretty sore.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Have you been using the prosthesis at all?”

Danny shook his head. “No. And now they think there's more cancer.”

Danny's mom choked back a sob. Danny reached for her hand, only ten years old but going on fifty.

“I'm sorry to hear that.” He pulled up a chair and sat across from them. “I'd like to pray with the two of you. But I'd also like to bring a friend to visit. His name is Duncan. He's a world-class cowboy and you might have something in common.”

Danny grinned at that. “I'd like that.”

“Good, I'll give him a call today and see when he can visit. And I want you to do something for me. I want you to remember that God is more than able to get you through this. And when you're troubled, remember that if you ask for peace, He'll give you more peace than you can imagine.”

The words seemed simple, too simple. But Remington believed them, and more than anything, he wanted Danny and his mom to find that peace to help them through this situation. He prayed with them, and when he left he thought they looked a little more optimistic.

When he got to Gus's room he found his granddad showered, shaved and wearing his own clothes. He looked up from the bag he was packing and gave Remington a hard stare.

“Good grief, son, you look like something a dog wouldn't even bother dragging home.” Gus made a face to reflect the words.

“Gee, thanks, Gus.”

“Are you sick?” Gus eyed him a little more closely. “You haven't taken to hard drink, have you? That stuff will rot your liver.”

“I don't drink.” Remington sat down in the chair next to the bed. “I was up late last night.”

“Did you have a date?”

He smiled at the memory. “Not exactly.”

“Did you see that little Sammy Martin? She's a pretty thing. You know she came down to visit me yesterday evening. She looked about wrung out. She must have had a hard time at work.”

The words flew out before he could stop them. “She did.” Gus's eyes narrowed.

“Well now, that's something, isn't it?”

“It's nothing, Gus. We're just friends.”

“Right, and my left foot isn't bigger than my right.”

“Everyone has one foot bigger than the other.”

“Well, it's still a true statement.”

Remington didn't even try to make sense of that. “Are you about ready to head home?”

“That's a silly thing to ask a man who's been locked up for a couple of days.”

“You aren't in jail,” Remington reminded.

“It sure feels like jail. I don't see you volunteering for time in this place.”

“I'm not sick.”

“Of course you're not.” Remington smiled at the woman standing there, looking as if she hadn't been up all night, too.

Samantha stepped into the room, her blond hair pulled back, pink gloss on her lips and blue scrubs with a cartoon character he probably would have recognized if he had kids.