The Rancher's First Love. Brenda Minton

of them is my cousin. And they’re bringing a real, live horse!”

      That got her attention. “They can’t bring a horse into the hospital.”

      An aid stuck her head out of the door to the room next to Parker’s. “Miniature horse. It’s approved.”

      Seriously? “Okay, they’re bringing a horse. That should be interesting.”

      “You think it’ll go to the bathroom, don’t you?” Parker asked.

      “Well, it is a horse. They aren’t typically house-trained.” She lifted him from his chair and placed him in bed. “Stay.”

      “I got myself out earlier.”

      She gave him a serious look. “Not without supervision, buddy.”

      The nine-year-old nodded. “Okay, not without supervision. But Danny was in here.”

      “Danny is ten. He doesn’t count.”

      She gave him one last warning look and headed back to the nurse’s station. “We have to move Parker closer to the nurse’s station. He escaped his bed again.”

      “You can’t stop determination.” Dr. Jackson grinned as he entered something in the computer. He was older and liked to remind them he’d seen it all.

      “No, but I can stop him from falling and getting hurt.”

      “Good luck,” the doctor said as he pulled on glasses and meandered back down the hall. He said after thirty years of practicing, he no longer got too excited about anything.

      But nurses did. That was their job. And right about now, all the nurses seemed a little too excited. It must have something to do with cowboys. If they’d grown up with her brothers, they wouldn’t be excited about a bunch of domineering, take-charge men in chaps.

      “So what are the cowboys doing here today?” she asked as she picked up a chart.

      “Rope tricks, the pony of course and just looking pretty stinking good,” Laura Struthers said, her voice ending on a whisper as she looked past Sam toward the door. “Wow. Those are some cowboys. Not the stinky, been-on-the-range-too-long kind, but the dressed-up, rugged, could-be-in-a-commercial kind.”

      “No thanks.” Sam studied the chart. “I need to get Patricia down to X-Ray.”

      “Doc said not until after the cowboys.”

      “She needs...”

      “Doc said.”

      “Fine,” Sam caved. “I guess we won’t do anything until the cowboys leave. But I’m going to check on Parker and make sure he’s still in his bed.”

      She headed down the hall, back to Parker’s room. When she stepped in, she froze. Not because of the miniature horse the boy was petting, but because of the cowboy standing at his side. There was something about the man standing next to the little boy’s bed. It was in his build, in the way he stood, controlled yet relaxed. It was his dark hair, the hand that rested on the boy’s arm and the way her traitor heart reacted, even without seeing his face.

      “Your granny says they’re letting you out of here real soon.” The cowboy spoke in a low voice that vibrated through Sam.

      “Yeah. And we’re moving to Martin’s Crossing.” That was news to Sam, but she couldn’t dwell on it. She had to escape. She backed away from the door.

      “Nurse Sam!” Parker yelled.

      She stopped in the doorway and peeked back into the room. The cowboy at Parker’s side had turned. It was him. Remington Jenkins in the flesh. And none too happy to see her. The feeling was mutual.

      But Parker had his blue eyes pinned on her and she had to respond. “Yes, Parker?”

      “This is my cousin. He’s a cowboy. I told you he was.”

      “Yes, you did tell me. And your cousin brought a pony to the hospital,” she accused.

      “He’s housebroke,” that same low, husky voice replied. She moved her gaze from the little black horse that came just above his knees to his face. His very familiar face.

      At seventeen he’d been the cutest thing she’d ever seen. At twenty-seven he proved that age could be a good thing. Drat the man for his steel-gray eyes in a suntanned face, dark hair and five-o’clock shadow that covered the smooth planes of his face.

      She swallowed. “Hi, Remington.”

      “Sam, it’s been a long time.”

      Yes, it had. He’d never rescued her the way she’d dreamed he would do when her brothers had sent her away. She’d pictured him arriving in his old truck, radio blaring. He’d open the door, she’d jump in and in her sixteen-year-old mind they’d drive off into the sunset, broke and homeless but happy.

      He hadn’t even written.

      “I didn’t know you worked here. Parker has talked about his favorite nurse at rehab, but I had no idea she would be my favorite nurse, too.” He gave her that easy, familiar smile of his, as if the past didn’t exist. Maybe for him it didn’t. Maybe walking away had been easy for Remington Jenkins.

      He wasn’t the first person who had no problem walking away from her.

      She breathed through the pain and managed what she hoped was a carefree look. For Parker’s sake, not his. “Yes, well, I have to get back to work. It was good seeing you.”

      It took everything in her to ignore the questions in Remington’s eyes. It took more to ignore the questions in her heart. Why now? When she’d come home and rebuilt her life, why was he here now?

      She hurried down the hall to the sanctuary of a linen closet. Inside that quiet space she closed the door and leaned her back against it. Alone and safe with her emotions, she closed her eyes and cried. She cried for little boys who would never walk again. She cried for everything she’d lost. Everything that ached inside her came out in hot, angry tears.

      * * *

      John Wayne followed Remington room to room. The tiny horse nuzzled children, sniffing their hands, closing his eyes and resting his head on their laps when they stroked his face and neck. John was a prize horse when it came to cheering up children. Remington had used him as a part of ministry for the past two years.

      The little horse would also serve as their victim when it came time to show the kids some trick roping. John Wayne knew a few tricks. He’d even learned to “play like a calf” when roped. He would drop to the ground and let the guys tie his hooves. He also prayed when asked. He would extend his front legs and drop his head to the ground. Kids loved a praying horse. So did most adults.

      Focusing on the horse and the kids helped Remington to ignore the obvious distraction of Sammy Martin. After all this time she still had the ability to undo his common sense. Her blond hair was a little shorter than it had been, but her blue eyes were just as blue and that pretty mouth... He smiled. How could a guy not remember strawberry lip gloss?

      Her dad had died about the time he’d gone to work at the Martin ranch. It hadn’t been a good time for the Martins. It hadn’t been the best chunk of his own life, either.

      He led John Wayne out of the room of a little girl who didn’t speak. She reached one tiny hand to touch John. At least she’d reacted. Dr. Jackson told him that was probably a small miracle in itself. He liked the doctor who had made this unit a possibility. The hospital, typical for small communities, had few patients. This children’s unit met a need and kept the hospital solvent. Most important, it gave hope.

      The rest of his cowboy crew waited in the activity area for him to make his rounds. The kids were being moved to that area as he led John down the hallway. He looked up, meeting the brief accusing gaze of Samantha Martin. Those blue eyes could sure shoot sparks at a man. He wondered if she ever thought that he might have a little bit of a reason to be upset,