The Rancher's First Love (9 page)

Gus groaned. “I told you they'd talk to me like I'm five and you're the adult.”

“Gus, you aren't exactly being pleasant. Or mature.”

“Well, you try getting stuck with a needle, being wrapped up in a paper gown with no back and see how pleasant you are. And I didn't get lunch. My blood sugar levels haven't been right, you know that.”

“I'm going to get out of here so they can do the tests. I'll be in the waiting room.”

“You'll probably be at the cafeteria having fried chicken,” Gus called out to him as he left the room.

Remington highly doubted the hospital cafeteria had fried chicken.

When he got to the cafeteria, he found they did have a decent grilled fish. He ordered it and headed for a table at the back of the cafeteria. His phone rang as he sat down. It was his dad calling for an update. He filled them in, told them he didn't think they needed to fly home, then he dug into the surprisingly edible lunch.

When a tray plopped down across from his, he looked up. Sam glanced at the empty seat. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course you can.” His good Texas manners kicked in. He got up and pulled the chair out for her. She shot him a look over her shoulder, but she sat down anyway.

“How's Gus doing?” she asked as she cut up her baked chicken.

“How'd you know?”

“Duke called. He told me I might see you here.”

“He called to warn you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, he was worried about Gus.”

“Gus is okay. Well enough to argue and grumble.” He watched as she kept her head down as she tackled the chicken on her tray without seeming to really enjoy it. “Bad day on the children's side?”

She nodded and kept eating. One tear trickled down her cheek and she swiped it away. “I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this job.”

“It can't be easy.”

“It isn't.” She pushed aside her tray. “Rem, I'd like to share the letters and pictures with you.”

“Someday. Not yet.” He didn't even know why not. He guessed he needed more time to come to terms with the fact that he had this daughter out there somewhere. What if they crossed paths someday and didn't know it?

“Okay. When you're ready.”

On to lighter topics. “How did you like church?”

One side of her mouth kicked up and her eyes lost the shimmer of sadness. “I enjoyed it.”

“And Pearl?”

“Would that be the pianist?”

He laughed at the term
pianist
. “Well, you could call her that. She's eighty-six and she's a gem. She can't play a lick, but she thinks she can. And since no one else knows how, she's our gal.”

“I think she's wonderful,” Samantha said. He thought from her tone she meant it.

Sitting there across from him, she licked the chocolate off the top of a pudding cup. Her blond hair was pulled back with a headband, and she wore pink scrubs with teddy bears. If she had been any other woman, he might have asked her out.

If he hadn't been angry, still coming to terms with the news she'd given him the other day, he might have admitted to her, and to himself, that he still missed her. He hadn't realized it until she was back in his life. He couldn't say why she had this effect on him. But he also couldn't lie to himself. Samantha Martin mattered to him.

And that was a complication he doubted he needed.

“Why this job, Sam? Why nursing?” he asked as he finished up the fish.

She looked up from her plate. “I'm not sure. In high school I did a couple of semesters volunteering at a local hospital. My guidance counselor thought it would be good for me to connect and she said it would look good on college applications. So I did my time as a volunteer and I enjoyed it. When I got to college and it was time to pick a major, I picked nursing. I also studied physical therapy and psychology. I was something of a professional student for a few years. I graduated six months ago, worked in Austin for a while, and then came to Braswell.”

“You were in Austin?” he said, not sure why that hit him like a ton of bricks.

“For a few months.” She closed her eyes. “I should have called. I know I should have.”

“But you didn't.” He let it go and stood up. “I need to get back to Gus.”

“Remington—” she looked up at him “—I really am sorry.”

“I know.” As much as he wanted to hold on to his anger for a little while longer, he felt it slipping away.

They'd both been hurt. He didn't see a reason to keep holding on to the past or the pain.

They had a present to worry about and that had pushed the two of them into each other's lives. He guessed it was up to them to find a way to be friends and continue taking care of the people counting on them.

Chapter Nine

T
he sun was barely up when Samantha crawled out of bed Monday morning. She wanted to work with her horse and get some cleaning done before she headed in for her evening work shift. When she strode out the back door, she was surprised to see her brother Jake walking out of her barn.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she headed his way, her favorite coffee mug in her hand.

“I thought I'd saddle up that new horse of yours.”

She held up her free hand. “Stop. Right. There. My horse. My saddle.”

“But he's green and you don't ride as much as you used to.”

She wanted to ask him whose fault that was, but she didn't.

“Jake, I can saddle my own horse. I can ride my own horse. As a matter of fact I plan on riding him Saturday.”

“You think he's ready for that?”

“Only one way to find out.” She found that he had indeed already saddled her horse. Buzz was in the barn, cross-tied in the center aisle. “How long have you been here?”

“Thirty minutes. I fed your dog, too.”

She peeked in at Lady. “I'm not sure what to say other than, don't you have a wife and kids to take care of?”

“I do, but my wife is of the mind that my younger sister might need some attention.”

“Smothering the wife, huh?” Samantha opened the door and stepped in with the dog and her puppies. Lady loved her stall, but she'd been getting out more, traipsing around the yard, sometimes playing at chasing a rabbit or squirrel up a tree. The puppies had their eyes open and were playing in the straw she'd put down for them.

“I'm not smothering my wife. But she did say she needed a break because I was hovering.”

Sam laughed. “I could watch the twins and sweet little Irene so the two of you could go out.”

Jake rubbed at his chin. “Now that's a great idea. I could surprise...”

She cut him off. “Do
not
surprise Breezy. I don't think she'd appreciate it. She had a baby that she can't stand being away from. Dinner, Jake, not a weekend away.”

“No, of course not.” He stood on the other side of the stall door. “You're right—you're not a kid. Still my kid sister, but I'm willing to admit that you're an adult. And one that I admire.”

“Thank you, big brother.”

He grinned. “But I still get to worry from time to time.”

“I can let you do that.”

He was used to worrying about them. Tall and handsome, he'd had to fight his own battles with their childhood. Breezy had broken down his walls and built the two of them a sweet place together.

Love and romance had been working itself through the hearts of her brothers for the past couple of years. Samantha had enjoyed watching them change, watching them let go. That didn't mean she was interested in the same fall. She was free now. She had her own place. She had her own job and her own life.

And she was horribly jealous. Not that she would admit it. They were all finding happiness, leaving her behind. She'd always felt just outside their circle, and now she felt that distance even more.

“Duke said Lilly showed him last night how she'd improved on Chief,” Jake said, watching her closely. “She said it was because you've been helping her.”

She gave Lady one last pat on the head and stepped out of the stall. “She's a great kid. She just needed a little help.”

“She is great.”

Samantha found a brush and walked up to her horse, running her hand down his neck and back, calming him. He was a little green, but he'd come around. She loved his spirit and the sweetness in his eyes. Sweet but with a little fire. She brushed the horse's buttery gold coat and waited for Jake to get to the real reason for his visit.

“Have you heard anything on Gus?”

“No, I don't have an update,” she answered as she ran a comb through the horse's tail, patting him on the rump and talking to him so he would know it was her positioned near his back leg. She'd been kicked once as a young teen and she'd become extracautious after that experience.

The horse stomped his foot to rid himself of a fly, and then swished his tail. She finished his tail and moved back to his neck, glancing at Jake as she dropped the brushes in the bucket.

“I haven't heard anything since yesterday. They were watching him but other than that, it was just about running tests and adjusting his meds.”

“He's a tough guy. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Samantha untied her horse and held the reins. “Jake, why are you really here?”

“We haven't had a chance to talk in a while.”

“I see, and you're worried about me? I'm not fragile. I'm not going to get caught in the barn with Remington Jenkins again. I can't think of anything else that would have you so concerned.”

“I don't think you're fragile. I'm also not worried about you and Rem. I know your job is tough. Oregon said you've got a little boy at the hospital who isn't doing well.”

That was an understatement. And why in the world did her brother repeating what she knew make her want to cry? She drew in a deep breath and shrugged a shoulder. “It's part of the job.”

Jake's blue eyes filled with sympathy. “I'm sorry.”

She raised a hand. “Jake, please. I'm good. I can't say that it's easy. It's actually horrible. It's the worst thing I can imagine about my job. But it is my job and I wouldn't trade it for anything.”

“Gotcha. But if you need anything...”

She nodded, conceding a small bit of herself to his brotherly strength. “I'll call.”

“I'll go. And if you do hear anything about Gus, let me know.”

“I'm not going to hear about Gus until I get to work. But I'll text you.”

An hour later, Samantha rode Buzz across the field at a pace that would have had her brother sweating bullets. She didn't care. The horse loved it and so did she. They loved the wind. They loved the earth beneath pounding hooves. As she headed back to the barn, she saw a dark blue king cab truck pulled up to her house.

She pulled in the reins a bit and the gelding slowed. But he wasn't happy about it. He pushed, trying to take the bit between his teeth. She kept him in hand and talked to him, soothing his ruffled feathers. He bunny hopped rather than settling into a nice easy trot. The motion was jarring and meant she had to keep him in hand because he would have bolted given half a chance.

She rode into the corral and dropped to the ground next to the horse. Remington was leaning over the fence, watching.

“Rem, I didn't expect you this morning.” Or any morning. “How's Gus?”

“He's mad, but he's doing okay. They want to keep him another day and run more tests.”

She cringed, thinking of Gus in the hospital. The poor nurses on that floor. They'd have their hands full. But that only distracted her for a moment, then it was back to reality, to Remington.

She led her horse through the door and into the barn.

Remington met her inside.

“I want to see the pictures.”

She clipped a lead rope to Buzz's halter, then answered him. “Oh. Okay. Let me put Buzz back in the field and we'll go inside.”

As she unsaddled and then brushed the horse down, Remington stood to the side watching. She tried to ignore him but couldn't. He leaned against a stall, studying her as she took care of her horse. His gray eyes were intense, the line of his mouth unsmiling and stern.

She led the horse to the rear door and turned him out to pasture. Remington grabbed her saddle and put it on the stand in the tack room. He hung the bridle and put away the brushes. All without speaking.

“Ready?” he asked as he closed the door to the tack room.

As she would ever be. “Yes,” she answered.

She led him across the yard to the back door of the house. When she reached to open the door, his arm shot out, pulling it open for her. She said thank-you, but she didn't know if he heard. It was difficult to push the words past the tight lump in her throat.

She flipped on a light in the kitchen, more out of habit than necessity. Sunlight poured through the windows, adding its own light and warmth. Remington stood just inside the door, unmoving, unsmiling.

She didn't know what to do so she poured them each a glass of tea. Remington moved to the table in the center of the room. He pulled out two chairs and took the glass of tea she held out to him.

“Have a seat. I'll get the box.”

He nodded, and she watched him sit down. They used to be more than this, more than two strangers who didn't quite know what to say to one another and didn't easily fit into each other's lives.

That was then
, she thought.
This is now.

* * *

Remington waited at the kitchen table while Samantha went to her room to rummage around for pictures. He heard several thumps, then some muttering. He chuckled as he listened. That took him by surprise because he hadn't been too happy with her since she'd told him about their daughter.

He was still coming to terms with the news and still trying to decide how he felt about Samantha. When he'd first met up with her at the hospital, he'd thought maybe this was their second chance. And then obstacles had piled up. Church, his ministry and now the daughter she'd been forced to give up.
His
daughter.

When she returned, he stood and took the box from her hands. He brushed a cobweb from her pale blond hair and his heart pretty near caught fire at the way her hair felt and the catch of her breath when he touched her. He hadn't expected that, not when he'd spent the past few days being about the angriest he'd been in his life. He swiped the cobweb on his jeans and took a careful step back, away from danger.

“I think there's another box but I'm not sure where it is.” She took a seat. “I'll find it. Maybe at Jake's.”

He sat across from her, the box on the table in front of him. For all intents and purposes he was about to meet his daughter. He rested a hand on the box, not quite ready to delve into the contents.

Sam was watching him, her blue gaze steady but a little apprehensive, if he had to guess. Anger got tangled up with admiration, the two emotions seeming completely at odds. She'd gone through a lot and she'd done it alone. She'd been a kid and she'd handled the hard stuff. Yeah, he admired that.

It would be easy to get caught up in what should have or could have been. None of that really mattered now.

“Well?” she asked.

He opened the box. She sat in her chair, her teeth sinking into those cotton-candy lips that had always distracted him. He let himself be distracted for a moment. It was easier than pulling pictures and letters from the box. Her breath trembled and he knew he wasn't doing much better.

He pulled out the small packet inside and instantly saw himself in the little girl who looked up at him from the picture on the top of the stack. She had dark hair and blue eyes. Her chin. She had Samantha's chin. She had his nose with the slightest bump. His mom said it came from their Native American ancestors.

He kept sifting through the papers and photos, finding more. There were pictures of a baby with a sweet grin, and pictures of the first day in kindergarten. He lifted a letter and read about first words and first steps.

The letters were written by a woman who said she was a teacher in an elementary school. Her husband was a doctor. They lived in a small town. They loved their baby girl.

His baby girl. His and Samantha's. This lady called her daughter a gift, an answer to prayer.

He and Sam had made a mistake. They'd rushed into a relationship unguided and unsupervised. They'd felt all kinds of love. But now he could look back and say with certainty it had been all kinds of teenage hormones.

It had taught him a lesson, that summer. One he'd taken to heart. He no longer rushed. He no longer took chances. He gave respect, because he hadn't shown Sam the respect she deserved.

After looking at the pictures a few more times, he put them away and he looked at the woman sitting across from him, dry-eyed but a little bit lost.

“She's beautiful. Like you.”

She shook her head. “Don't. Not right now. Please.”

“Right. I'm sorry. You did good, Sam.”

“Sometimes I think that. Sometimes it feels like the worst thing ever. But I always come back to good.”

“Do you think she'll ever want to meet us?” He'd been thinking about that a lot. In nine years she'd be eighteen.

“I don't know. I promised I would never look for her. But they will give her our information if she should ever want to find us. But even if she wants to meet us, I know I won't ever be her mother. She's been raised by people who love and cherish her. They're her parents. I get Christmas cards and photos to update my album. I'm really okay with that.”

“You gave her life. That's a gift. And you gave them a child they couldn't have.”

“Okay, let's stop now. I'm not a hero. They left me empty armed and crying in that hospital. I wasn't thinking about the great gift I'd given a childless couple. I was thinking that everyone in my life had let me down and left me alone. I was thinking some very mean things about you. I would have changed my mind. If they'd given me half a chance I would have told them to bring her back. But then, of course, she would have been raised by a teenage girl who no more knew how to be a mom than she knew how to be a lion tamer.”

“And now?”

“Now I know that she has a beautiful life and I'm okay with what I did. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes, I am.” He didn't hesitate. After seeing the pictures and reading the letters, he truly was.

She let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a long time with that box between them. “I should go. Gus is going to be released this afternoon. Or he hopes he is.”