The Rancher's First Love (6 page)

Sam was standing in the yard waiting, twisting the bracelet on her arm. It was a sign that she wanted to say something or get something over with.

Funny how memories collided, like a kid's coloring book with connect the dots, making it all a complete picture.

“I thought you might like to see those puppies,” she said, heading for the barn without asking if he wanted to follow.

He followed. His twenty-seven-year-old self wasn't much better at resisting her than his seventeen-year-old self had been.

Fortunately he had a little more experience doing the right thing.

“You're quiet,” she said as they walked into the barn that had probably been on the property a good hundred years. It was wood sided, weathered and smelled of hay, animals and age.

“Guess I am.”

The only real talking was going on in his mind. That conversation was all about Sam, her obvious aversion to church, his ministry and the solid truth that he wouldn't give up doing what he'd been called to do. So going down this path with her again could only lead them both back to pain.

Samantha stopped at a stall and looked over. Inside was the hound dog and her nine puppies. The door was open so that the mama could go in and out. She looked up at them with soulful eyes, her long ears hanging to the ground as she covered her puppies with her big head. The puppies squirmed and whined and fought to get close to her belly.

“What are you going to do with all of those puppies?” Remington asked.

She rested her chin on her hands that held the top rail of the stall. “I guess find them homes.”

“No one has claimed the momma dog?”

“No. I named her Lady.”

“Of course you did,” he said, smiling and leaning closer to get a better look at the puppies, and to be a little closer to Sam.

She surprised him by leaning into him, their shoulders brushing. She rested against him for a moment before clearing her throat and stepping away.

“I should let you go. They'll be waiting for you at Duke's,” she said.

“They'll know to start without me. I'm not in a hurry. Why don't you tell me what was going on today? When you got to the ranch, you looked like you'd had a bad day.”

She left the barn without answering. He followed, knowing she'd talk when she was good and ready. He remembered that about her. He realized there were a lot of things he remembered from that summer.

Her destination was a glider bench on the stone patio. There were flowers everywhere, climbing up the posts where bird feeders were mounted, hanging from hooks and growing in the beds that bordered the patio. The flowers were pretty, but mostly he saw a lot of plants that needed watering.

Samantha sat down and he sat next to her, setting the glider in motion. It settled into an easy rocking and she watched as butterflies hovered over a red flower. He waited. For some reason it felt as if he'd been waiting a lifetime for this moment.

Next to him she leaned back and looked up at the dusky, pink presunset sky. “It was nothing really. I just wish life could be a little easier.”

“Don't we all? Sometimes it helps to talk to a friend.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

He decided this was one of those trick questions where there wasn't any good way to respond.

“I think we're definitely friends. Or we could be.”

She laughed just a little. “Good answer, Pastor Jenkins.”

“Ah,
Pastor
Jenkins. And that bothers you?” He waited, wanting her to say that it didn't bother her.

“No. I don't know. Maybe. I'm not sure which box to put you in.”

“I'm a rancher, an agriculture specialist and a man of God.”

“A man of many boxes.”

“A woman with a lot on her mind,” he countered.

“Not so much,” she replied as she pushed her feet on the ground and set the glider back in motion. “I just have a lot of questions. I'm not sure how I fit here. I'm not at all sure what we're doing, sitting here together. Nothing is the same. Including us.”

She had a very valid point. “No, I guess we're not the same,” he agreed.

They were different people on different sides of the faith issue. They still had a huge chasm between them, their past.

He glanced at his watch. “I should go.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. Her hand touched his arm, just a brief connection, and then she stood.

“It's okay.” He reached for her hand and she walked with him to the truck. “I'm here if you ever decide you need someone.”

He reached out, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then he couldn't seem to move away. Her breath caught and he leaned in, thinking about how good it would feel to pull her close and kiss her the way he used to. But he didn't.

He dropped his hand and backed away.

“Definitely time for me to go,” he said.

“Yes, definitely.”

He came close to making a clean getaway, but as he reached for the door, another truck came up the drive.

“It's Jake,” Samantha said. As if he didn't recognize that big truck and the man behind the wheel.

“When I woke up this morning, I never thought it would be my last day on earth,” he half joked.

She laughed, a sweet sound that made him almost glad to be caught by Jake Martin. “I won't let him hurt you.”

“I'm holding you to that.”

Jake's truck stopped and he got out. His gaze settled on the two of them. Remington couldn't help but feel as if he was in some kind of déjà vu.

“Remington,” Jake said as he walked up to them. “Guess I'm not surprised to see you here.”

“I followed Sam home. The battery in her truck is bad.”

“We'll get that checked tomorrow. Thanks for helping her.”

“That's my cue to leave,” he said. Man, the Martin ego didn't fade with time.

“I'm not telling you to leave,” Jake said without a hint of a smile.

“Right. But I've got to go anyway. My family is waiting for me at Duke's.” He ignored Jake and let his gaze settle on Sam. “If you need anything...”

“Thank you,” she said with a look that reached deep down, to feelings he thought he'd left behind.

It was all in the past, he told himself. But standing there next to her loosened something inside him, made him wish she was part of his present.

Chapter Six

O
n Saturday, Samantha hauled Lilly and her horse to the rodeo grounds for the second time that week. She stood inside the arena, watching as her niece brought her horse around the last barrel and headed for the home stretch. The gelding stumbled a bit and Samantha's breath caught and held, her heart thudding painfully, as she watched her niece wobble and fight for control.

And get control. She let out the breath she'd held and shook her head. Lilly didn't give an inch. She kept that gelding on track and brought him on home, reining him in as she passed the finish line.

“You look a little pale, Aunt Sam,” the cheeky girl said.

“I think you just shaved a few years off my life. But you did great.”

“So what's holding back my time?”

Samantha thought about it, reliving the ride in her mind. “I think you're pulling back a bit after the third barrel. Lean in over his neck and loosen up on the reins. Let's try working on that. Next time.”

“But...”

Sam stopped her. “We're not going to wear your horse out.”

A truck rattled down the rutted driveway. They both turned to look and Lilly chuckled. “That's trouble with a capital
T
, my dad says.”

“Your dad doesn't know everything.”

“Dad said he's probably in town to stay and that's rotten timing.” Lilly dismounted, landing lightly on the ground next to her gelding, Chief.

“Really? He said that, did he? Anything else I should know?”

Lilly grinned big, managing to look a lot like her dad. “Yeah. He also said at least you're an adult now and not his problem.”

Samantha shook her head. “You're incorrigible.”

“I looked that up and I know what it means.” Lilly grinned. “And I probably am. He's heading this way.”

“He doesn't know when to quit,” Sam murmured.

Lilly laughed at that. “So he's incorrigible, too.”

Samantha groaned. “Go put your horse in the trailer.”

“I'm not sure if I'm supposed to leave the two of you alone,” Lilly said. She looked from Remington to Sam and back again.

“Lilly, I'm twenty-five and you can leave me alone. Please.”

“Fine, but if something happens, it isn't my fault.”

Lilly walked off, leading her big red gelding by a chunk of mane. She spoke softly, talking to him as if he was her best friend. The horse nuzzled the girl's dark hair and she laughed. Samantha looked away from the happy pair and focused on the man heading in her direction. Years ago when she would see him in cowboy boots, jeans, a T-shirt and hair damp from the shower, she'd nearly swoon. Her mood would brighten. Her heart would ache with happiness because he loved her.

She'd wanted that love. Desperately. She'd wanted to belong to someone and to know that someone belonged to her. Yes, she'd had her siblings, but they hadn't really been able to give her what she needed. Someone of her own. And he'd been there.

After ten years, she'd learned that no one person could supply what she was looking for or be responsible for her happiness. Happiness had to come from within.

“Saw you from the road,” he offered as he drew closer. “I thought I'd see how the lessons are going.”

“She's doing great. I think she'll ride next week in the junior division.”

“Good for her.”

Sam didn't know what else to say. They'd come close to kissing the other night. That wasn't something she wanted to discuss. Even though she had spent a lot of time thinking about it, wondering what it would be like, telling herself it was the wrong path to take.

“I guess I should go check on Lilly,” Samantha finally said.

Remington reached for her arm, stopping her. “Sam, would you like to go to Austin with me.”

“Austin? With you?” she repeated back to him.

One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Yeah. To Austin. With me. I have to take John Wayne to a group home for foster children. I thought you might like to go with me. I'd like it if you did.”

“Do you remember in
The Little Mermaid
,” a voice piped up behind them, “when all the sea creatures sing about kissing the girl. You know the song?”

Lilly had reappeared.

“Lilly, I'm warning you,” Sam said in a low voice that she hoped sounded authoritative.

Remington laughed. “Lilly, you're my favorite Martin.”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “Thank you. You're my favorite problem.”

“Enough,” Sam warned. She couldn't avoid Remington forever. He was standing there, waiting, smiling. As if he thought they'd just pick up where they left off.

But they couldn't.

“Come with me, Sam.” He stepped a little closer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his gray eyes.

“I have to take Lilly and her horse back to the ranch. I have laundry and housework.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He winked, matching it with a grin. “I never thought you were a chicken.”

“I'm not. I'm just very busy.”

“Yes, laundry. I heard. Or you could go with me and meet some great kids. It's your choice.”

“You're not playing fair.”

He laughed. “You're right, I'm not. I'll get John Wayne loaded up and meet you at your place in an hour.”

“I'll be ready.” She sighed.

An hour later she heard his truck pull up to her house. She pulled on her boots and grabbed her purse. And then she slowly walked out the front door, trying not to seem overeager. He got out and opened the passenger door for her.

Her gaze locked with his. It was easy to get lost in those gray eyes, especially when he was close and his hand touched hers. No. She wanted to say the word, but she didn't. She couldn't.

“Sam?”

If she pulled away, he would let her go. She didn't pull away. Not when he took a step closer. Not when her heart reacted with a painful squeeze.

She closed her eyes. Then common sense returned with a vengeance. She shook her head and backed away.

“No.”

Remington let out a breath. “You're right. I know you're right. There was a moment there, though, when it felt...”

She shook her head, cutting him off. “No, don't. We had something ten years ago. We can be friends now but we can't go back to the way it was.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“Because it hurt too much, Rem. It hurt to be sent away. It hurt to be all alone.”

“Who says I'm walking away?”

“No one. But who says you're staying?”

He pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I guess I'm saying that.”

“But we've changed. We're older. We should definitely be more mature,” she said. “We're in two different places. Spiritually we're worlds apart right now.”

“Care to explain?” He said it so easily, as if the balance of their relationship wasn't hinged to the question.

“I shouldn't have to spell it out. You're in ministry. My faith has been eroded. It isn't broken or gone, just badly bruised.”

“I've considered that. I know the smart thing to do would be to walk away before either of us gets hurt. But, Sam, I can't. Not until I know what is or isn't here between us.”

“You're not making this easy.”

He grinned and reached to open the truck door for her. “I don't plan on making it easy.”

* * *

The group home in Austin housed fifteen kids of various ages. Several workers were present. Remington led John Wayne around the backyard of the facility. They'd done a few tricks, talked to the children. Now they were socializing. He guessed that was always his favorite part of an event. He loved watching expressions on the children's faces when John did various tricks. They were always in awe of his four-legged partner.

But getting to know the kids, hearing their stories—that was the part he most enjoyed. Sometimes his heart got a little banged up in the process. In the hospitals there were stories of disease, lifelong struggles, hope and fear. In homes such as this one he heard about the worst of humanity. Children who were left to go hungry, were beaten or abandoned.

But now they were safe. They were fed. They were happy. They told stories the way veterans recounted war.

In a quiet moment he looked around, searching for Samantha. He spotted her on a swing, a little girl sitting on her lap. Sam pushed with her feet and the swing moved just the slightest bit, back and forth. The little girl, maybe four years old, looked up at Sam as if she was the best thing ever. He agreed with her.

He headed in their direction, John Wayne trotting obediently at his side. Then suddenly they were stopped. John froze. Remington looked down at the boy who had hurried to catch up with them. He wrapped his arms around John's neck and the horse stood without moving, the boy's thin arms hugging him tight.

“I want a horse like this one,” the boy said. “I'd change his name, though.”

“Change his name! What else would you call him?”

“I don't know, but I've never heard the name John Wayne and I think he should be called Midnight. Or King.”

Remington bit back a grin and tried hard to keep a serious expression on his face.

“Well, John Wayne just happened to be one of the best cowboys ever,” he explained. “He was an actor in movies about the Old West.”

“Old West?” A girl had walked over to them.

“Yes, ma'am. He played Rooster Cogburn.”

They looked at him as if he came from Mars. “But you said he was a cowboy. How'd he play a rooster?” the little boy asked.

Finally Remington laughed. “He didn't play a rooster. That was his name.”

“You could have named John Wayne, Rooster,” the girl offered.

“Yeah, I guess I could have.” He scratched his jaw and kept a serious face. “But then he wouldn't be John Wayne.”

“I still like Midnight,” the boy said with conviction.

“Midnight is a real good name. I think if I get another horse, that's what I'll name him.”

The boy grinned big. “And you'd bring him here so I could see him.”

“I'd definitely bring him here to visit.”

The girl patted John's neck. “I think John Wayne would like a friend.”

“He's got me,” Remington offered.

The girl rolled her eyes. “You're a person. He needs horse friends.”

Samantha appeared at his side, her new friend still holding tight to her neck. “I agree. John needs horse friends.”

“You're not helping,” he whispered.

She laughed, and her blue eyes sparkled, but he saw remnants of unshed tears, as if the heartache of the little girl had become her own.

“I'm trying,” she said. “Here comes Mrs. Baker.”

Mrs. Baker was a widow with a heart for kids. She said this house full of little ones kept her young, kept her heart in the right place. They anchored her.

“Children, it's time to say goodbye to Remington and John Wayne. We have to clean our rooms before dinner,” Mrs. Baker announced.

The children groaned and Remington noticed little arms tightening around Sam's neck, holding on for dear life. Mrs. Baker noticed, too, and headed their way.

“I'll take Jalee.” Mrs. Baker reached for the little girl who clutched Sam.

“I want to go,” Jalee cried. “I want to go.”

Samantha closed her eyes as the little girl was pulled away. Her arms slipped to her sides and Remington saw the tear trickle down her cheek. He reached for her hand and she laced her fingers through his. Mrs. Baker gave him an apologetic look.

“Thank you all for coming. I do hope you can come back again.”

“We'll make it a regular visit, if that's okay with you.” Remington pulled John up to his side.

“We'd love that. I'll give you a call.”

She walked away, rounding up the children and herding them inside. The workers helped, taking smaller children by the hands.

“Are you okay?” he asked as they headed for the back gate.

Sam nodded. “I'm good. I just didn't expect that.”

“No, of course you didn't.”

They reached the driveway where his truck and trailer were parked. He gave her the lead rope for John Wayne as he opened the back of the trailer. Sam led John to him and the little horse stepped right in, heading for hay and water that were always waiting for him at the end of an event.

It didn't take five minutes to put away their props, close up the trailer and head out of town. They were driving when Sam spoke up.

“I'm sorry for being so emotional,” she apologized.

He glanced her way and saw that she was looking out the window. “No need to apologize. I get that way, too.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. How could a person not get emotional, seeing those kids and hearing their stories?”

“You're a good man, Remington Jenkins. And I'm sure you're a wonderful pastor.”

“Thank you. I think that's a compliment.”

“It is.”

“Then you'll come sometime, to Countryside? I'll let you sit in the front pew and make fun of me.”

“Oh, that's tempting.”

“But no?”

“Maybe someday. When you're least expecting it.”

He drove a little while without talking, then he had to ask. “The little girl, Jalee. She reminded you of yourself?”

There was a long stretch of silence on that long stretch of road.

“Yes,” she said. “That little girl reminded me of myself. I know how it feels, to want a mommy to hold on to. A mommy who isn't there. But that little girl has Mrs. Baker. I'm so glad she does.”

“Have you considered seeing your mom? Gus said she's in Dallas in a nursing home. Duke found her?”

“Yeah, she's in a home. She has dementia. And of course everyone thinks I need to see her. I need closure. But I don't. I'm fine. I don't need to work through this.”