The Rancher's First Love. Brenda Minton
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those years had she ever heard from him.
That summer she’d learned an important lesson about love. Remington had said he loved her. Her brothers had said they loved her and that’s why they’d sent her away. Her mom should have loved her. She’d left when Samantha was little more than a baby.
Now it was all just water under the bridge.
“Sam?” The quiet, husky voice broke into her thoughts.
So much for letting go of the tension. She faced the man who had broken her fifteen-year-old heart.
“Remington, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t want to figure out the past. I’m building a future for myself. I have a job I love. I have a home, my family and a life I’m reclaiming. Don’t make this about what happened before, because I don’t want to go back.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I know. I promise, I’m here to talk about the future. Sit down, please.”
She paced a few steps away from him, then faced him again. “I don’t want to sit.”
“Stubborn as always.” He grinned as he said it, his teeth flashing white in his suntanned face.
“Not stubborn. I just don’t want to sit down.”
“I’m sorry they sent you away,” he spoke quietly. In the distance coyotes howled and a train whistle echoed in the night. His words were soft, shifting things inside her that she didn’t want shifted. Like the walls she’d built up around her.
“Me, too.” She rubbed her hands down her suddenly chilled arms. “I wasn’t prepared to see you today.”
She opened her mouth to tell him more, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Not tonight. There was more to tell him. She’d tried to write him a letter. More than once she’d sat down with pen and paper and tried to tell him everything that had happened. At sixteen she hadn’t found the right words. At seventeen she’d wanted to put it all behind her. As she got older, she’d convinced herself he didn’t need to know.
Maybe Aunt Mavis had been right. They’d been kids ten years ago. What did two kids know about love and forever? It had been a learning experience. A mistake.
“We should talk.”
She gave up and sat down next to him on the metal tailgate. “Rem, I’m just not ready for this. I know I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with what happened, but I’m just not ready to talk it all out with you yet.”
“I’m sorry. I always thought eventually we’d run into each other here in Martin’s Crossing. It took longer than I expected.”
She pulled one leg up, resting her chin on her knee. “I always looked for you. When I came home for breaks, I’d drive by Gus’s, thinking you might be there.”
“I looked for you, too. Now it seems as if we’re both back in town for good.”
She looked up, surprised. “For good? You’re staying here?”
In the light of the street lamp she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Gus needs my help on the ranch. And now Parker and his grandmother are moving in.”
“So you’re moving here?”
“I’m going to pastor the Countryside Church and run the ranch.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. It was all well and good to see him at the hospital with a horse named John Wayne. She’d never expected him back in Martin’s Crossing. Back in her life.
* * *
Remington let the silence linger around them. He guessed they both had their memories of that summer. From his point of view, he’d been a kid who’d fallen hard for a pretty girl. They’d been young and they’d gone too far too fast. He’d faced the wrath of Jake and Duke Martin. They’d run him off the ranch and out of her life, letting him know he wasn’t welcome on Martin land, or near their sister. Gus had sent him back home to his folks, and their ranch near Austin, where his mom told him to learn from his mistakes.
Samantha Martin. Sitting next to her now on the tailgate, he felt the past coming at him like a steam train. Her arm brushed against his, her soft scent tangled with the breeze and attempted to drive him crazy.
Common sense told him not to go back down that road. He remembered all too well how it had felt to be sent packing. As an adult he doubted her brothers would be his problem. No, if he had any intentions of pursuing her, she’d be the one sending him away.
“Pastor Jenkins?” she said it with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Yeah, surprise.” He shifted to look at her. “There I was in college studying agriculture and taking a class on the Bible that was meant to be an easy A. Instead I found something I’d been missing. I didn’t mean for it to be a career.”
“I haven’t gone to church in ages.” Her voice was soft, a little bit lost and all kinds of hurt.
He didn’t know what to say to that. He knew she probably had her reasons for not going to church and he didn’t want to push for answers. He’d learned a hard lesson a few years ago about dating, and found out that if two people lived on opposite sides of the faith fence, it was difficult to make a relationship work.
They sat there a few more minutes. “Parker is your cousin?” she asked.
“Yeah. I guess you know his parents died in a car accident?”
“Yes, I knew. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. It’s going to be tough on him. And on his grandmother, my aunt Lee.”
“But they have you. And Gus.”
Yes, they had him. He hadn’t really planned this, coming back to Martin’s Crossing. Life was funny that way. It never really went according to plan. At least not his. At seventeen he’d planned on marrying the woman sitting next to him.
“How is your granddad?” she asked, dragging him back to the present.
“Slowing down, but he’s good. He’s recovered from his stroke and thinks he can still outwork me. My mom worries about him.”
“It’s good that you can be here to help him. To help them.” Meaning his aunt and Parker.
Her fingers momentarily closed over his, then let go.
He hadn’t expected that. He also didn’t expect her to hop down from the tailgate and take off. He watched her go. She didn’t head for her truck. Instead she headed down the street, walking slow and easy.
“What are you doing?” he called out to her.
She glanced back, a finger pressed to her lips. Okay, silence, he got that. He followed her. Suddenly she was on all fours, peeking under the truck parked in front of Lefty Mueller’s woodworking shop.
“Come here, sweetheart. Come on,” she said in a sweet tone that would have had him crawling through hot coals to get to her.
“What...”
She shot him a look and shook her head. Right. No talking.
He saw what had drawn her attention. A pregnant hound dog, skin and bones but about to whelp any day. The dog whimpered, then crawled out from under the truck. Sam sat back on her heels and the dog nuzzled into her lap, all big brown eyes and long ears.
“What are you going to do with her?”
Sam held the hound’s soulful face in her hands. “Take her home.”
“Duke and Jake will love that.”
“Duke and Jake don’t have a say in the matter. I’m not going to ask their opinion on every decision I make.”
“Or any decision,” he muttered, heading for his truck.
“You’re