The Rancher's First Love by Brenda Minton Page B

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.
    â€œSam, don’t do it for her. Do it for yourself.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause forgiving her would help you get past it,” he said in the same soothing tones he used on an unbroke horse.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI’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.
    â€œI’ll think about it.”
    â€œThat’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.”
    â€œMy four-month-old niece is asking for me?” She smiled at that.
    â€œWell, 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