The Rancher's First Love (7 page)

He disagreed, but he wasn't going to tell her. He guessed she probably knew she was wrong. “I would go with you, if you wanted.”

“I don't need someone to go with me.”

“Okay.” He left it alone. He was starting to see a pattern emerging. Sam the invincible, pushing everyone out of her life.

They drove a little farther as he tried to find the best way to break through the walls she'd put up. “What happened, Sam?”

“What?”

“After you left. What happened? I know it hurt because I lived it, too. But why the anger?”

“I'm not angry, Rem. I'm really just...”

“Shut down?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. No. I don't know. One day I'm happy and living my life. And the next I'm on a plane to an aunt who decides I need an altogether different life. Even my faith wasn't the right faith. I was a sinful, willful child, who needed to realize that God would probably forgive me, but it was going to take hard work on my part.”

“Sam, she was wrong.”

“I know,” she said, her voice soft. “But it felt as if she was right.” She pointed to an abandoned feed store. “You should pull in there.”

He didn't question her. He slowed the truck and turned into the dusty, empty parking lot. “Okay, we're here. Why are we here?”

She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “To talk,” she said. “I can't put this off any longer.” He knew that this was one of those moments. A moment of truth. And nothing would ever be the same.

Chapter Seven

F
or years Samantha had thought about how she would tell him. She'd written it down. She'd even prayed a time or two. Yes, she still believed. She just wanted God to be the God she remembered, not the vengeful, angry God that her aunt had introduced her to.

“Sam?”

His voice, familiar but stronger, deeper. She breathed in, wanting to breathe in his scent, his presence. Because after today he would have to work at forgiving her the way she'd been working at forgiving herself.

“When I left town,” she started, then she didn't know where to go next. She couldn't remember all of those well-planned speeches she'd written over the years. And saying it was so much harder than writing it down. Saying it out loud would make it all so real.

“I'm here and I'm not going anywhere,” he said.

She wished that could be true. “Rem, I was pregnant.”

The words were so loud, so harsh. She hadn't planned it that way. She'd planned to ease in, to say it gently. But it was out there between them, cold, harsh and painful. She'd closed her eyes, then opened them and looked at him.

He was staring straight ahead. He was beautiful. He was strong. He couldn't—wouldn't—be able to forgive this.

She wanted to touch him. She reached out to put her hand on his arm, then didn't because sometimes a person had to be alone with their pain, to come to terms with it.

“You were pregnant,” he said, the words holding all of the agony she had felt for so long.

“Yes. My aunt homeschooled me throughout the pregnancy. And when I had the baby she arranged the adoption.”

“A baby,” he said softly. “Where is our baby, Sam?”

“In Tennessee. She lives with a good family. They love her. She's safe.”

“It was a girl?”

“Yes. Her name is Marlie. I don't know her last name. But I have pictures. She'll be nine this year.”

He held up a hand. “Give me a minute. Right now I'm so angry with you, I can't see straight.”

His hands gripped the steering wheel and he leaned back, eyes closed, jaw clenched.

“I'm sorry.”

“You didn't think this was something I should know?”

She felt anger roll over her like a wave beating against the shore. “You think I was allowed to make any decisions? I was barely sixteen. I didn't have a say in anything. I didn't have your address or a way to contact you.”

“You could have found it. Gus would have gotten word to me.”

“Rem, Gus knew. My brothers talked to him. And then they decided my future. They told me it was best for me, for the baby and for you, if I gave her up. After all, you were getting ready to start college. You didn't need this, they said.”

“I would have been there for you.”

“I wanted you to come and get me. I waited,” she admitted. She'd never wanted him to know how desperate she'd been for him.

“We have a daughter.” He started the truck and pulled back onto the road. “I have a daughter and I'm never going to have a chance to know her.”

“I have pictures and letters from her adoptive family.”

He shook his head. “I don't want to see pictures or read letters. Not right now.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You should have told me. I understand you didn't have a lot of choices, but you haven't been a sixteen-year-old for a long time.”

“I know. I've thought and thought about the right way to tell you. But...” There had never really been a right way.

Dusk was settling when he pulled up to her place. The sky was hazy and bees swarmed as she got out of his truck. She stood there with the door open, looking in at him. He had every right to be hurt. She knew his pain, knew it because she'd experienced it ten years ago.

For him, it was fresh and new.

“When you're ready to talk about it,” she said, gesturing to the cottage she now called home, “I'm here.”

“I'm not sure when I'm going to be ready to talk.”

“Okay,” she said, backing away from the truck to close the door. She paused, still standing in the opening. “Rem, I hope someday you'll forgive me.”

“I'll forgive you, Sam. I just need time to process this. It isn't every day that a man finds out he could have been a father.”

She closed the truck door and walked across the lawn, avoiding the house and heading for the barn, to the dog Lady and her puppies. As she watched them together in the stall, she heard a vehicle pull up. She stepped outside, groaning when she saw her brother Brody getting out of his truck.

She was blessed with three brothers, and they all had some say in her life. At least Brody, just a few years older, was easier to deal with.

“Hey, sis,” Brody called out as he headed her way.

Her gaze dropped to his uneven walk. He was limping again.

“Hey, Brody. How are you?”

He gave her a long, steady look. “Better than you.”

“What's wrong with me?”

“You never could cry pretty like some women. Your face is red and your eyes are puffy. Does this have something to do with Remington Jenkins?”

She shook her head and headed for the house. “No brotherly interference, please.”

“Then do you need a shoulder?”

When he got closer, she leaned her head on his shoulder for a few seconds. He gave her an awkward pat, and then hugged her.

“Okay, thank you. Now I'm good.” Surprisingly, it did help. “I told him.”

“About the baby?”

“Yes. It was never right to keep it from him.” She continued walking toward the house, Brody following next to her.

“No, it wasn't. How'd he take it?”

She opened the back door and stepped inside her air-conditioned house. The cool air felt good after the humidity outside.

“As well as expected. I'm sure he'll never speak to me again. And that's fine. We're too old to take up where we left off. Also, he's a little too much like my brothers.”

“Hey! What's wrong with your brothers?” he asked.

“They're bossy, overprotective and...” She looked up at him. His cowboy hat was pushed back and his blue eyes were kind. She loved him. “They're the best. But I don't need that. I don't want to go back.”

She was ready to move forward. She had a home, a new job and a life and relationships to rebuild in Martin's Crossing.

“I don't blame you. But sometimes our past somehow ends up in our future.”

“Just because it happened for you doesn't mean it will happen for me.” She loved her brother and his new wife, Grace. That didn't mean she was destined for the same happy ending.

“We all have a story, Sam.” He poured himself a glass of tea and headed for the kitchen table.

“Help yourself.”

“Don't mind if I do.” He eased himself into a chair and waited for her to join him. She worried that his rheumatoid arthritis was flaring, but she wasn't going to ask.

“Okay, you're drinking my tea and sitting at my table. What do you really want?”

He set the glass down on a napkin. “I'm going up to see our mom. I thought you might like to come.”

“She isn't my mother. She doesn't know my name. She doesn't even remember leaving me. I was a baby, Brody.”

She blinked quickly because she wasn't going to cry over Sylvia Martin and what she'd done to them all of those years ago, leaving without looking back. Never caring what happened to her children after she left town. Having another child with another man and abandoning her with her own father. Kayla Stanford lived in Austin. Samantha had developed a growing relationship with her sister, but sisters shouldn't have to get to know one another. They should have always had each other.

“Sam, don't do it for her. Do it for yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because forgiving her would help you get past it,” he said in the same soothing tones he used on an unbroke horse.

“No.”

“I'm going up there in two weeks. I'd like you to think about it.”

He was the most forgiving man she knew. He'd forgiven Grace for walking away from him. He'd forgiven their mother. She wanted a little of his ability to let go.

“I'll think about it.”

“That's all I'm asking.” He finished the rest of his tea and carried the glass to the sink. “Marty made a big roast. More than we could possibly eat. Do you want to come down? Bria is asking for you.”

“My four-month-old niece is asking for me?” She smiled at that.

“Well, she did coo something that sounded like Aunt Sam.”

She started to tell him no. That was her typical answer when pushed by her brothers to join them. But today the thought of spending time with Bria, holding her, listening to her sweet laugh, was appealing.

Spending time with Brody and his family would keep her mind off Remington. It would help her deal with the huge chunk of her heart that seemed to be missing.

* * *

After dropping Sam off at her place, Remington headed home. When he got back to the Rocking J, he traded his truck for the farm truck. He checked the toolbox in the back for the supplies he needed and headed for the field. He needed to pound something, and he figured fixing fence would do the trick.

He had a daughter. But he didn't. His mind wouldn't calm down. He wanted to know her. What color was her hair? Did she have his gray eyes, or Sam's blue eyes? Did she laugh the way Sam laughed, all out, nothing held back? Did she have a good life? Was she loved?

When he reached the section of fence he knew needed serious attention, he stopped the truck. The fence sagged and most of the posts leaned. What the place needed was new fencing. A lot of new fencing. But repairs would have to be enough for now. He got out and headed for the toolbox on the back of the flatbed. He dug out gloves and the tools he would need. He'd brought a few new posts to replace the ones that were bent or missing.

The ranch had gone downhill in the past couple of years. The family figured Gus had been having ministrokes for a while before the stroke that hospitalized him this past winter. Remington's grandfather's poor health was the only explanation for these deteriorating conditions. The fences, the barns, even the cattle—everything needed attention. Remington had worked for the State Department of Agriculture, but he'd left the job because this place, Martin's Crossing, the church and helping his grandfather, all felt right. It fit him better than a government job.

He pulled on his gloves and tackled the fence. The loose fence posts needed to be reset. He went to work, pounding them firmly back into the soil. The sun had started to sink on the horizon and the air cooled somewhat. He pounded fence posts until his muscles ached and perspiration trickled down his back.

With each strike he tried to force away the anger brewing inside him. He should have known he had a daughter. Someone should have told him.

He'd lost her before he'd ever had her. He tossed the fence-post driver to the ground and brushed a gloved hand across his face. He was stretching barbed wire to reattach it to the post when the sound of a vehicle heading his way caught his attention. He clamped the wire, attaching it to the post, and turned to watch Gus pull up. Remington pulled off his hat and took a deep breath. Cool wind blew across the field, bringing a hint of rain in the air.

Gus got out, surveyed the fence, studied Remington, then tugged on his bushy gray mustache. Bowlegged with his jeans hanging loose, Gus headed his way. “Thought I might ought to check on you.”

“Did you?” Remington picked up the tools and tossed them into the box on the back of the truck. He'd have to finish Monday. By then the rain would have blown over, some of his anger with it. Gus approached, his left leg seeming to drag just a bit.

“Yes, I did,” Gus said. “I didn't expect to find you as surly as an old bear. What's the matter?”

Remington took a deep breath and said a prayer. He didn't want to lose his temper, not with his grandfather. Gus might be a bit misguided, but he was good as gold and always did what he felt was right. Taking in his sister and her grandson was one of those right things.

“I'm a little bit angry.” Remington sat down on the back of the truck. Gus leaned against it, not bothering to try to take a seat.

“I thought you were in Austin at a group home? So what's got you all worked up?”

“Sam came with me. On the way home I got some unexpected news.” Remington brushed a hand through his hair and avoided looking at Gus. “I found out I had a daughter.”

Had
. Not have. Past tense. And it riled him all over again.

Gus stood there silent, his hand tugging on his mustache, his face shadowed by his wide-brimmed hat. Finally he nodded. “She told you.”

“Yeah, she told me. I should have known sooner. I should have known when it happened.”

“What would you have done differently? She was sixteen and you were just starting college. You were both too young. You made a mistake. And it would have been a bigger mistake for the two of you to settle down as parents.”

“Shouldn't that have been my decision to make?” Remington said the words quietly, but man, he wanted to shout. He wanted to give in to temper and outrage. To pain. “How did you all decide that I couldn't man up and be a father and husband?”

“Guess we just made a decision, Rem. It felt like the right thing to do. And I can't say that I'd do it any differently.”

Remington shook his head. “At some point you could have told me.”

“I guess I could have,” the older man sighed. “But time has a way of getting away from us. We think we'll do something, and then time goes by, and then it seems like it might be best to let it go.”

“It was my baby, Gus.”

Gus rested a hand on Remington's arm. “I know that and I'm sorry.”

Remington nodded, pretending he didn't feel a little dampness in his eyes. He watched as cattle in the distance moved toward the pond. The clouds overhead dropped a few fat raindrops and thunder rumbled across the hills. “I guess we should head in.”