7

The day that Wyatt had told Jake that his daughter was coming home had been one of the most emotionally conflicting of Jake's existence. How long had he been wishing to see her again, dreaming of the day he could see for his own eyes that Samantha Forester hadn't actually disappeared off the face of the earth? And yet at the same time a part of him had always known that day would inevitably arrive, and dreaded it.

What if Sam hated him? He couldn't blame her; he hated himself plenty for what had happened. But somehow the thought of losing her friendship forever was even more awful than what he had let happen to her. It made his stomach turn.

There was one thing, however, that Jake Ely knew with absolute certainty: no matter how Samantha Forester felt about him, he was going to make sure that nothing like that ever, ever, happened to her again.

A few months after a Sam's accident, Wyatt had asked Jake to come work training horses for him. He thought Jake had a natural talent with them. Jake wasn't sure if he was good with horses or if he had just been fortunate enough to experience how they thought and felt. Either way, Jake had sworn off spirit walking. At the very least, he could take pride in the fact that whatever he accomplished with the horses at Riverbend Ranch was the product of his own sweat and blood. That was how he found himself on the back of a particularly fiery paint mare the day Sam returned.

This was a horse he and Wyatt had purchased at an auction to train and sell, and so far she was making Jake work for the profit. He dug the heels of his boots firmly into her flanks as she tested his balance with another buck. Suddenly she launched forth, careening around the corral at breakneck speed while throwing her hips out in wild kicks. Jake whooped loudly, unconcerned with her bad manners.

He heard the ranch dog, Blaze, barking in the distance.

Taking the reins firmly in his hand he pulled back, all the while using his legs to try to drive the mare into the bit. The paint threw her head upwards, refusing Jake's attempt to gain control.

"Come on, now!" he hollered at her as she tossed him back and forth in the saddle.

Planting her legs stiffly before her, the mare skidded to a halt. Before she had even come to a full stop she lowered her head and kicked out her hind legs as high as she possibly could. It was just enough to launch Jake from the seat of the saddle and sailing clear over her head through the air. He thanked his stars that the mare had launched him with just enough spin to send him sliding by the seat of his jeans instead of his head. A cloud of dust swirled around him.

It was only when the dust began to settle that Jake took notice of Wyatt's truck. The older man was already outside the vehicle with an ever-so-slight smirk on his face as he took in Jake's situation. Suddenly he heard the passenger side door close to reveal a girl with short, auburn hair. His breath caught. Since he was sixteen that would have made her around fourteen years old now, and aside from short hair and longer limbs, he was relieved that she was pretty much the same old Sam. Albeit a slightly more grown up one. He didn't fail to notice that her head looked fine, though judging by her short, choppy locks no one knew how to cut hair in San Francisco. He swallowed.

He watched as she took him in, trying to suppress the squirmy feeling in his stomach. An unimaginable warmth spread through him when Sam's face broke into a smile. "Oh Jake, what's wrong?"

That annoyingly sing-song voice of her called to his long-lost childhood.

He heard Wyatt say, "I'd say you missed a good chance to keep your mouth shut, Sam."

Rising to his feet, Jake dusted himself off. "Well if it ain't Samantha," he grinned. "Still skinnier than a wet weasel, aren't you Sam?"

He wasn't sure where the ability to teasingly converse with her so easily had come from, especially after two years of wondering whether or not she would ever speak to him again. He supposed it had never really left him. It had just been lying dormant within him, waiting to be re-awakened by the one girl who was peskier than a horse fly. That was simply the nature of their friendship. Yet a part of him wondered if it was only because it was easier. Because he didn't know if he had the strength to tell her how sorry he was for what had happened two years ago.

Grace Forester opened the front door of the ranch house and began making her way down the porch steps. He watched as his friend reunited with her grandmother. All this time he had felt only the strain of her absence on himself. He never really thought about how hard it must have been for her to be separated from her closest family like that. He knew with absolute certainty that as long as he had anything to do with it, he would never allow her to experience anything like that ever again.

After recovering from the shock of Wyatt giving Sam Ace, the smart-as-all-hell reformed mustang (he still wasn't sure why the girl who was only now returning from her brain injury recovery wasn't receiving a bomb-proof horse),the four of them made their way into the kitchen where Grace served them some of her homemade pie. It made him smile to see that Sam was genuinely happy to be home. Yet when they broke the news of the upcoming cattle drive to her, Jake didn't miss the flash of uncertainty on her face.

But naturally as soon as he even hinted at her lack of recent experience slowing her down, that sharp tongue of hers lashed out defensively. He knew better, but Sam had a way of stomping down fear beyond recognition. Some things just never change, he supposed.

Well, he thought. What better way to get used to riding again than spending ten hours a day on a horse?