Chase the Clouds Page 6

  She shivered in the saddle, suddenly realizing that the rain had turned into huge, wet flakes of snow. To her the month of April meant spring weather. But to her dismay, the visibility deteriorated rapidly, and in just a few minutes she had trouble seeing. Altair whinnied worriedly, prancing to the left toward the towering mountains that were suddenly obscured by a thick curtain of snow pushed along with gusting winds. The flakes were partly made up of ice, and they stung Dany’s face. Bowing her head, she tried to protect herself as she urged Altair into a canter.

  Another horrifying thought occurred to her: They were at eight thousand feet in the Sierras. Gradually, old stories of freak snowstorms in the Rockies came to life in her memory. The wind was howling around them, and snow was collecting in inches. Altair was frantic, tossing his head skyward and lunging against the confines of the bit, wanting to get home to the safety of his barn. Grimly, she decided that she had no choice; to allow a risky gallop in the blinding snow would invite a fall and he could break a leg. She had to fight him every inch of the way and pray to God that they didn’t get lost.

  Only one thought comforted her—this horse knew the way home. She allowed Altair just enough slack on the reins to sense his way toward the ranch. Her hands lost all feeling, and ice collected on Altair’s muzzle and eyelashes. A series of small hills rose like gray shadows in front of them, and Dany slowed the stallion even more; the snow was now four inches deep and continuing to accumulate at a frightening rate. Luckily, the thoroughbred was a trained hunter and knew the consistency of the ground beneath his hooves. At one point, they slid sideways, but gingerly Altair collected himself and made a half leap, landing in a bank of drifting snow. Dany called encouragement to the stallion, continually patting his neck and crooning to him. She was frightened but believed in the intelligence of the horse to find the ranch.

  Suddenly, Altair pitched forward and Dany was flung over his head, landing with solid impact in a mound of snow. The stallion scrambled shakily to his feet, blowing hard, his head hanging from the exertion of the trek. Dany shook her head, thankful for her hard hat, feeling a depression that had been made in the side of it. She must have struck a rock. Crawling to her knees, she reached out, picking up Altair’s slippery reins. She reeled against him momentarily, blackness closing in on her, clutching at the saddle, until it passed. Oh, God, she thought dazedly, what if I don’t get him home? What if he breaks a leg out here because of my stupidity? Those thoughts forced her back into the saddle. She leaned forward, trying to shield herself from the screaming storm. Altair hung his head, more content to continue at a plodding walk through the knee-deep snow.

  Dany gave a cry of relief as she saw the shadow of the stud barn suddenly appear before them. Slipping off Altair, she collapsed against the door, pounding on it weakly with her fist. Altair whinnied loudly, his bugling cry soaked up by the blizzard.

  She felt the door give and struggled to stand as several men rushed forward.

  “Dany!” Sam thundered, lifting her upward.

  “Thank God,” she whispered, pulling Altair within the warm barn. “Sam, Sam, you’ve got to look at Altair’s leg. We fell…maybe a mile from here.” Her voice was weak, trembling, and she clung to him in order to remain standing.

  “I’m not worried about the damn horse,” he growled, forcing her around to face him. “I was worried sick about you! Are you all right?”

  “Just a headache.” Her teeth were chattering.

  Sam handed the reins over to Jake. “Get him rubbed down. I’ll come out later and check his legs.”

  “Right, boss.”

  “Can you walk?” he demanded.

  Dany removed the goggles and hard hat, her fingers nerveless. They dropped to the floor, and she bent to pick them up. “Give me a moment,” she whispered thickly. “My hands, Sam. I can’t feel a thing.”

  “Leave that gear. Jake will bring it in later. Come on, let’s get you inside and get these wet clothes off you.”

  Her black hair had become unknotted during the fall and hung in thick, wet ropes about her shoulders. Martha brought blankets up to her room and peppermint tea laced with hundred proof whiskey. Dany shook so badly that she could barely undress herself. Her fingers seemed frostbittten, and she sat on the bed as Sam un-buttoned the rain slicker and then her blouse, pulling them impatiently off her cool skin. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her teeth chattering every few seconds.

  He gave her a dark, angry look, pulling off her riding boots, sending them flying across the floor. “Why didn’t you tell Martha where you had gone?”

  She gave him a blank stare. “I did—”

  “God, Dany, we looked everywhere for you. The moment I got home this morning I knew the weather was going to turn sour. Martha said you went out to get Altair used to the water. How far did you go?”

  She shivered convulsively as he jerked a heavy woolen blanket around her skimpily clad form and then helped her to the bathroom. “I—I think you call it the Bluff.”

  He groaned, shaking his head. “That’s nearly thirteen miles away. Are you telling me you came all the way back through that?” he asked disbelievingly, making her sit on a stool while he turned on the faucets to the bathtub.

  Dany closed her eyes, trembling uncontrollably now. “Y—yes. Sam…I’m so—so cold,” she whispered.

  He straightened up and put his hands on his hips. “I’ll get Martha to help you,” he said gruffly.

  As the feeling started coming back to her fingers, she felt like crying. Martha’s tough exterior melted as she continued to dip Dany’s blue fingers back into the water. “This is the only way, Dany. I’m sorry it hurts so much. We caught it just in time. Why, if you’d gone fifteen or twenty minutes longer, you might have lost them. You’ll feel better soon. Here, have another drink of this tea. That’ll warm your innards up.”

  Dany peeked warily up at Sam as he reentered the room after she had managed to dry off with Martha’s help. She had found a long flannel nightgown and gotten it over her head, wanting nothing more than the warmth that the bed offered. Martha hurried down to the kitchen to warm up some beef broth.

  “How’s Altair?” she squeaked, her throat still feeling constricted.

  “He’ll be fine. He came out of this mess a lot better than you did.” Sam shook his head, pulling a chair up to the bed. “Lady, you get in more trouble than a yearling colt does, you know that?”

  “Ever since I came west, Sam, I’ve been nothing more than a liability. Maybe you ought to let me go back home—back East where—”

  He growled, “This is your home for now.”

  She looked at him sharply. “You mean you’re still going to force me to show Altair?”

  “Do I have a choice?” he asked dryly. “I have to get my money back from all the medical bills you’re incurring.” He stared at her. “Are you always so accident-prone, Dany?”

  “Normally, no.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, really. How could you know that at this time of year we get freak blizzards?” He reached out, capturing her hand. “I went crazy trying to find you, Dany. I had seven men out on horseback searching for you until the snow started. And we had to come in. I couldn’t afford to lose someone else to this damn storm.”

  “I need an easterner’s survival guide to the West, Sam,” she muttered, completely shaken by his gesture.

  “Starting tomorrow, I intend to give you a short course in it, believe me,” he answered grimly. “How’s your head and nose feel?”

  “I’ve got a slight headache is all. My nose survived fine,” she admitted, feeling the warmth of his presence freeing her at last from the fear that had shadowed her trek home to the barn. “I just wonder if my stay here is going to continue to be so eventful.”

  Sam groaned, getting to his feet. “I hope not.”

  “Sam, you should have seen Altair,” she began. “He went through all kinds of water situations! He balked a little at first, but gradually he was going through them like a c
hamp. He trusted me enough to let me guide him through them. And you should have seen him on the way home! He’s so surefooted. I’ll tell you, I’m not going to worry about riding that horse in a muddy eventing field. He’s the kind that will fall on his nose or hindquarters to get up and push on. He’s simply magnificent.”

  Sam rested his hands loosely on his hips, enjoying her enthusiasm. “Dany, you damn near got killed out there less than two hours ago and now you’re bubbling about that stallion.” He sighed. “Well, I guess I should have known better. But it proves me out—you are a rider as well as a trainer.”

  Six

  “You didn’t hear what I asked you at the kitchen table downstairs earlier. I wanted to take you into Placerville at first opportunity and get you some Western boots, a hat and wrangling jeans. Since the doc has put your work duties on a thirty-day suspension, I thought you might let me introduce you to how a rancher makes a living.”

  There was a hint of excitement in Sam’s voice, and Dany smiled. She had been resting up for two days now, and Sam’s enthusiasm was catching. “You mean you’re going to make a cowgirl out of me?”

  Sam laughed. “Hardly. With your past accident record, I think it best you sit astride a good quarter horse and just watch. We’ll be taking the main herd up to high pasture very shortly. It’s an eight-day trek into the heart of the Sierras. Juan will be bringing the chuckwagon along, and we’ll be eating and sleeping out under the stars. How about it?”

  A tremor of excitement coursed through her, and she sat up a little straighter. “But what about Altair? Who will exercise him?”

  “He’ll be my personal riding horse on the trip.”

  The shock was apparent in her expression, and Sam provided an explanation.

  “Dany, long before he ever became an eventing horse, he was a cow horse. Remember?”

  She laughed. “I don’t know of another eventer who has such a background except for Nautilus.”

  Sam rose, smiling. “Wait till you see him work. I might even let you climb aboard and cut a cow or two on him. It’s an experience you’ll never forget.”

  Dany stood, walking at his shoulder until they came to the door separating the suites. “It sounds wonderful, Sam. I don’t know how good I am at camping because I’ve never done it before.”

  “No Girl Scout training?” he teased warmly, looking down at her.

  She grinned. “None. I think I’ll be a liability.”

  “Never,” he whispered, reaching out and caressing her pale cheek.

  Dany felt the roughness of his fingers against her skin, and a tingle shivered through her body. He was so close. So dizzyingly masculine. She was mesmerized by the silvered fire deep within his darkening eyes as he hungrily studied her. Her lips parted and her breathing became shallow. Unconsciously, she leaned her cheek toward his hand, feeling its very fiber.

  Reluctantly, he dropped his hand. “You get some rest, Dany,” he ordered thickly. “We’ll talk more of this tonight at dinner.”

  She stood there awkwardly, feeling as if the sun had suddenly left the sky. She closed the door quietly, walking thoughtfully back to the couch. He could have kissed her then, just as he had outside her door before he had left for San Francisco. Touching her lips, she found herself wanting him to take her into his arms again. The admission startled her. Looking at her watch, she realized that it would be five hours before she saw him again. And somehow, that was an excruciatingly long time to wait for his return.

  * * *

  It was well past eight that evening when Sam entered through the kitchen, carefully placing his muddy boots outside the door. Dany had shared dinner with Martha much earlier and was helping her clean up the dishes. She noted the tiredness in Sam’s eyes; there were smudges of gray shadowing beneath each one.

  “Go get cleaned up, Sam, we’ll warm up your dinner.”

  Sam managed a small smile of gratefulness as he leaned over, placing a kiss on Martha’s hair. “Thanks. I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Dany dried her hands on the towel, leaning against the draining board. “Did you have problems, Sam?”

  “Yes. But I’ll tell you more about it later.” He glanced over his shoulder at the small table. “Will you join me while I eat dinner?” he asked.

  Dany colored. Martha raised one eyebrow, watching her expectantly. “Well—yes, if you want.…”

  Martha had gone off to bed, and Dany had just finished setting the table when Sam appeared silently at the door.

  “Smells delicious,” he said, sitting down.

  “I’ll bet you’re starved,” she said, placing the steaming portion of lamb’s ribs on the blue and white porcelain plate.

  “Beyond starvation,” he promised fervently. “Sit down,” he coaxed. “I can wait on myself.”

  “Let me,” she protested. “Martha says you fend too well for yourself. So sit there and I’ll bring over the mashed potatoes and peas.”

  A lulling warmth settled pleasantly over the kitchen as she served the vegetables. There was something elemental and relaxing in sharing dinner. Without another word, Sam dug hungrily into the food. For the next fifteen minutes, very few words were traded, while Dany fussed over the dishes and made a new pot of coffee. Standing at the sink, she stole a glance over at him. His hair was dark and gleamed wetly from the recent shower. He had traded the dirty chambray shirt and jeans for a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt. She marveled at the contrast between the dark hair on the back of his hands and the cotton material. He glanced up, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

  “Delicious,” he murmured.

  Dany filled his ceramic mug with coffee. “Thank Martha. All I did was volunteer to peel the potatoes.”

  “Food cooked with love always tastes better,” he persisted. “Let’s have our coffee in the study.”

  She trailed behind, a cup balanced between her hands. Sam motioned for her to sit on the couch facing the blazing fireplace. Curling up comfortably on it, Dany acknowledged that the intimacy of the atmosphere was inducing her to relax. Sam leaned his tall body up against the mantel, sipping his coffee.

  “You looked right at home in the kitchen,” he commented, a hint of mirth in his low-pitched voice.

  “I love to cook,” she confided. “And I haven’t had a chance to do much of it in the last few years.” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “In my case, cooking helps me relax after a long day of fighting with headstrong young colts who think they know more than I do.”

  “I guess that for you, kitchen work isn’t a drudgery that some women feel it is.”

  Dany laughed fully. “After shoveling and mucking out stalls for three-quarters of my life, Sam Reese, you know kitchen work is preferable!”

  He laughed. “Come on, you have to agree that there’s something therapeutic about cleaning out stalls. Admit it.”

  “Oh, you’ll get no argument there. I like stretching my muscles and working up a sweat.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not very feminine, huh?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t like women who are lazy. I enjoy someone who relishes hard physical labor as much as I do. I like sharing the beauty of this place with someone who can stand and watch the sun rise over the Sierras or sit on a rainy afternoon and listen to the rain fall.” He smiled self-consciously, his voice vibrant with conviction and his eyes darkened with the passion behind his words.

  Dany was moved by his sudden admission. She was secretly thrilled at being allowed to share some of his innermost thoughts about himself and what made him happy. And incredibly, she felt herself agreeing with his personal philosophy completely. The crystalline moment shimmered between them as they looked at one another.

  Sam finished off the coffee and went to the liquor cabinet, pouring two brandies. He came over, handed her a snifter and sat down near her on the couch. Leaning back, he placed his booted feet up on the ponderosa pine coffee table in front of them and exhaled softly. “This is heaven,” he murmured appreciatively.

  Dany
watched him, noticing the lines of tension melting from around his eyes and mouth. Did it take so little to make him tranquil? She was surprised to realize that she was just as relaxed. A fireplace, a study built of dark pine and padded with a thick orange carpet, plus a man contributed to her contentment. But it wasn’t just any man. It was Sam Reese. It was an exquisite torment, she admitted hesitantly to herself; and when he was away on business, she missed him acutely. Yet, when he was near, her emotions became inexplicably confused.

  Sam rolled his head to the left, barely opening his eyes, drinking in her features. “This is my favorite time of night,” he confided huskily. “Good food, good drink and a good woman. What else is there?”

  Her fingers followed the delicate curve of the crystal snifter, and she choked upon an unnamed emotion that his low voice had coaxed suddenly to life. He was a scant eight inches from her body and it would be so easy to reach out and touch his arm or to test her head against his broad, incredibly strong-looking shoulder. She sighed deeply, marshaling her scattered, tumultuous feelings. “I thought you wanted to talk to me further about Placerville.”

  His brows drew momentarily downward in unspoken pleasure for the disruption of the fragile truce between them. With a slow motion, he roused himself back into a sitting position. Placing the snifter on the coffee table, he murmured, “So I did. Have you decided to go with us on the drive?”

  “Why not? If you can put up with a tenderfoot, I may as well try it.”

  “That’s one thing I like about you, Dany. You don’t let a new experience frighten you.”

  She managed a weak smile. “Oh, yes, I do. I find the past and experiences from it still stop me in some ways. Your initial proposal to come out here did, believe me.”