Chase the Clouds Page 8

  A cow broke from the herd close to where she rode. A ranch hand gave a shout, pointing at Dany. Without any warning, Bomarc swung deftly to the right, galloping hard to thwart the escape. Dany clung to the gelding, her heart rate soaring with adrenaline. The reins remained loose in her hands to give the horse the freedom of his head as she leaned into the next move that Bomarc made. The gelding neatly sealed off the Hereford’s escape by coming alongside and forcing it to return to the bulk of the herd. Dany laughed gaily, patting her horse as the gelding pranced back to his original station, blowing and snorting. “You love it!” she accused the horse.

  A cowpoke cantered over, grinning. “That was some pretty fancy riding, Mrs. Daguerre,” he complimented.

  Dany thanked him, aware that she had been splattered by mud during the escapade.

  “Looks like the boss was right. You can ride. Want to take this side of the herd?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Good enough. If you or the gray get tired, we’ll change you off for a quieter spot.”

  “Will this be busy?” she asked, wiping a fleck of mud off her face.

  “Shortly, ma’am.” He pointed toward the foothills looming in the distance. “The herd will want to turn back the minute we reach the hills. It’s our job to make sure they go up there. Take that lasso on the right side of your saddle and keep it in your hand. You can use it to haze some of them back by slapping it against your chaps. The sound scares them into thinking twice before trying to break.”

  Dany nodded. “Got it.”

  “Okay, it’s all yours, ma’am.” He tipped the brim of his hat to her and spun his quarter horse around. Dany shook her head, elated. She suddenly caught sight of Sam as he skirted the herd, unable to tear her gaze from his form. Dany was barely able to contain her excitement as he pulled to a stop in front of her. He was smiling broadly.

  “I see you got your first taste of chasing a stray.”

  “Yes. Mud from head to toe. But I loved it! Why didn’t you tell me Bomarc was good at this?”

  He turned Altair around, riding next to her. “A good rider deserves a good horse,” he answered.

  “I thought you wanted me safe where I couldn’t hurt myself.”

  His gaze was warming, their legs touching briefly. Dany felt the pleasant shock of contact with his body. He squinted up toward the head of the herd, briefly watching another Hereford trying to make an unsuccessful break.

  “Look, I don’t want you to think I expect you to put in a twelve-hour day, Dany. It means changing mounts at least three times. Just put Bomarc back in with the others in the remuda and ask Pete for another horse.” He reached over, his leather glove rough against the smoothness of her cheek. Gently, he rubbed a smudge of mud away. “You look beautiful even when you’re dirty,” he teased.

  Her breath caught in her throat at the simple gesture. His hand was so large. Powerful. Yet, he had been gentle. She met his smiling eyes. “Dress me up and can’t take me anywhere,” she agreed, laughing.

  “Listen, I’ll see you when we break for chow at noontime. In the meantime, let Bomarc take care of you,” he ordered.

  Dany watched him ride off down the line, deciding that Sam was a centaur; half man, half horse. And what a magnificent team he and Altair made. She sighed, painfully aware of how happy he made he feel. Frowning momentarily, she returned to her duties, unable to probe too closely the joy simmering within her heart. She would take each day one at a time.

  * * *

  The sun was high by the time they broke for lunch. Now in the foothills, Dany found the chaps invaluable. The brush was knee high and occasionally thorny. Already, several wide scratches had marred the flawless surface of her chaps. She dismounted from a black quarter horse who was panting and wet with sweat. Tiredly, she leaned against the mare, her legs feeling rubbery. How many cows had they cut? God, she had lost count! Sam was right; it was hard, never-ending work. Stupid cows, she thought, lifting the hat off her head and wiping the perspiration from her brow.

  Tying the black on a hastily erected rope that stretched between two towering pines, she loosened the saddle cinch to make the horse more comfortable. The snow was deeper in the shade beneath the pines, and she slogged her way through it out into the sunlight to where Juan was dishing out the chow at the chuck wagon. Picking up an aluminum plate, she waited in line. Discreetly, she looked around for Sam. Why should she be looking for him anyway? Juan filled her plate with a fragrant concoction of steaming chili and hot cornbread, handing her a cup of thick, black coffee. Dany found an old unoccupied log and sat down, decidedly starved.

  “Mind if I join you?” came Sam’s voice across her shoulder.

  Dany lifted her chin, looking to her right. “Oh…no, of course not. Where were you?”

  He straddled the log, facing her, and set the mug of coffee down by his foot. “Looking for me? That’s a good sign,” he teased genially. “I was making one last tour of the line before I came in. Trail bosses are the first up in the morning and the last to go to bed at night.”

  Dany returned to eating the spicy chili. It brought tears to her eyes. “You sound more like a baby-sitter. Are you pleased with the progress of the herd?” she asked.

  “So far, so good,” he agreed. “How are you? You look a little flushed.”

  She warmed at his concern. “It’s the chili,” she laughed. “You mean you can actually see me behind my mask of mud?”

  “Nothing could hide your beauty, Dany,” he returned fervently.

  “Thanks! And I suppose you’re going to tell me there’s no shower or hot tub available tonight?”

  “We’ll be camping near a lake tonight. You can get a washcloth and towel from Juan and get cleaned up.” He smiled recklessly. “Think you’ll make it?”

  “Why not? I love this. All of it,” she confided.

  Sam frowned momentarily, saying nothing. “You really like it?” he probed darkly.

  Dany was thrown off by his sudden seriousness. “Yes, of course. How could I lie about something like this,” she said gesturing around the makeshift camp.

  He gave her a hesitant smile. “Let me hear you say that by the third day, lady. By tomorrow morning, you’re going to be so sore I’ll probably have to lift you into the saddle.”

  “Probably,” she answered, finishing off the last of the chili. She wiped her watering eyes, giggling. “I’m not crying because I’m unhappy. This chili is something else!”

  Sam nodded. “Juan’s a hell of a cook. The boys would mutiny on me if he wasn’t along. And you know what? I think you’re more of a westerner than you realize. There aren’t too many eastern women I know who could gobble down that spicy chili without complaining.”

  “It’s called being starved,” she answered, sipping the coffee. The silence lengthened pleasantly between them, with sunlight lacing like fragile fingers of light between the evergreens. Dany relaxed within his aura of strength, suddenly content. Sam was drinking his coffee, his head turned, watching the herd of cattle in the distance. His profile was clean and rugged, reminding her of the scope of the Sierras in which they sat. Her heart mushroomed with a silent joy as she studied him. Dany found herself being mesmerized, and she tried to ignore the feelings it conjured up. Darn her romantic, blind heart. She was sitting with an incredibly handsome, masculine man in a wild, primeval country, and her imagination had run away with her once again. Grimly, she got up, fighting back the fantasies that were created by the moment and the place and the man. Sam looked back at her.

  “Where you going?”

  “To check on the black,” she lied, feeling guilty as she saw the momentary bafflement in his eyes.

  “She’ll be fine,” he drawled, watching her closely. “Why don’t you rest for a while, Dany? We’re going to be covering a lot of rugged territory this afternoon and you should sit a spell.”

  She shrugged unsurely. “I feel like walking a bit, Sam.”

  “Okay. Just watch out for rattlers. They s
tart coming out this time of year to get a patch of sun to warm their cold bodies.”

  “What?” she blurted.

  “Poisonous snakes,” he added. “Just watch where you’re stepping, Dany. Don’t go wandering outside the camp.”

  “Sure. Of course,” she murmured, shaken. Snakes. She hated snakes. Taking the plate back to Juan, she washed her utensils and dried them off. On her way to the horses, she kept her head down, watching for anything that might resemble a snake.

  By eight that evening, Dany wasn’t sure she could extricate herself from the saddle. She was used to riding, but not this type where she was jerked from side to side at a moment’s notice. Her third horse of the day, a chestnut, appeared tired, and she spent extra time rubbing her charge down as the men began to come in and wait in line for their supper. Resting momentarily against the gelding, Dany closed her eyes, aware of the strong scent of sweat surrounding them. A hand slid across her shoulder and she gave a small gasp.

  Sam’s worried face hovered above her in the fading light. “You all right?” he asked.

  Dany inhaled deeply, resting against the chestnut once again. “You scared me to death,” she whispered.

  He removed his hand somewhat reluctantly. “Sorry. I thought you were feeling faint or something. Come on over by the campfire, I think it’s time you sat down and rested awhile,” he urged gently.

  Dany made no move to step away as his arm encircled her waist. Gratefully, she leaned against his seemingly tireless body. He had been raised in this country and toughened by it. She was a newcomer and felt inexplicably humbled by the majesty and power of the Sierras and the incredible demands of the drive. Cattle lowed in the distance, many of them grazing contentedly on the newly sprouted grass.

  “We made good time today,” Sam was saying as he guided her over to a log that sat near the fire. “Pete said you did a hell of a job.”

  Dany managed a tired smile, sinking to the beckoning length of the log. “Oh,” she groaned, “it feels so good to sit down on something that doesn’t move!”

  Sam’s hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder. “Stay here,” he murmured. “I’ll get us something to eat and then we’ll sit here by the fire.”

  Dany was too exhausted to dispute the wisdom of his decision. The mouth-watering odor of grilled steak hung in the air, adding a bluish haze over the camp area. He joined her five minutes later on the log, and Dany forced herself to eat. Other cowboys sat around the blazing fire, murmuring, sharing stories of the day’s ride and stretching out to relax. Darkness fell rapidly and the stars glimmered like dew droplets against the velvet expanse of the sky. Dany rested her arms against her thighs, cradling her chin. She had eaten heavily and now felt drowsy.

  “Where does a tired cowpoke bed down around here, Sam?” she asked.

  “Over there. Come on, I’ll help you get settled. You look like you’re going to keel over any moment.”

  Dany rose stiffly, excruciatingly aware of the crying ache of certain muscles. She grimaced up at Sam, who stood patiently waiting. “Are you still good for your word?” she asked.

  Sam moved toward the circle of pines up on a small rise. “Sure. What do you want?”

  “I think I’ll need a boost into the saddle tomorrow,” she confided, grinning sheepishly. “I thought I was in good shape for riding, but I guess I’m not. How many hours did we spend in the saddle today?”

  “About ten. Tomorrow will be the same. We have even rougher country to get across tomorrow.” He halted, taking one of the sleeping bags and unraveling it. Scooping up large handfuls of dried pine needles beneath it to make it soft, he unzipped it. “If you’re too tired to wash up, just climb in. I’d advise you to sleep in your clothes until it gets warmer.”

  Dany looked longingly at the bed and touched her cheek, aware of how gritty it felt. “I should wash.…”

  “Okay. Come on, I’ll take you down to the lake.”

  She followed numbly, sometimes stumbling and tripping on the rutted trail to the lake. Sam’s form seemed to melt into the darkness in front of her. At the lake, he sat on a large boulder as she dipped the cloth into the icy waters and began washing her hands, arms and face.

  “Beautiful night,” he said huskily. “You ever seen a night like this back in Virginia?”

  The coldness of the water revived her drowsy senses, and she blinked, looking up into the night. “No. The stars seem so close.”

  “Almost close enough to reach out and pick one. Like a Christmas tree ornament,” he mused.

  Dany slowly stood, awed by the tone of reverence in his voice. His flesh and blood were one with this land, and he was as much a part of it as it was of him. She smiled tiredly. “I think your ex-wife had to be crazy not to love this place, Sam. It’s so beautiful and untamed. Like you,” she murmured.

  His eyes met hers in a searching stare. “Cynthia never developed an appreciation of nature.” He half laughed as he rose. “Only certain things that nature made, like diamonds, gold and furs.” His voice was heavy with irony.

  “Everyone has their concept of what’s important, Sam.”

  He stood quietly by her side, watching her in silence. “So, what is important to you, lady from the East Coast?” he murmured, his voice a husky, stroking quality.

  Dany shivered, wildly aware of his quiet masculinity. “People. Feelings. Honesty,” she admitted. “More than anything, honesty,” she repeated half to herself.

  “And you’re ex-husband was not honest?”

  Dany exhaled softly, feeling her heart wrench. “No. He—” She halted, unsure of what to say next. Her heart was hammering now at his closeness, at the longing that cried out for him from her soul.

  He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, sending tremors of pleasure through her body. “I’ve studied his progress on the Grand Prix circuit, Dany. And he didn’t start making it big until he married you. You were the reason for his international stardom, you know.”

  Dany stepped back, biting her lower lip. She hung her head, hearing the truth, aching inwardly because of it. “I was such a blind, romantic fool,” she whispered rawly. Lifting her chin, she met his warming gray eyes. “Jean accused me of being an idealistic fool. And I was. I believed he loved me.…” Hot tears scalded her eyes, and she turned her back to him, dashing them quickly away. Dany felt his hands settle on her arms, as he pulled her body back against his hard, unyielding body. She wanted to simply sink into his arms, to be held and protected for just a few blissful, unguarded moments.

  “That’s what I find so refreshing about you, Dany. Your lovely blue eyes tell me everything,” he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and moist against her cheek. “Don’t ever stop looking at the world through them. I watched you out here today. I saw the joy in them.” He sighed heavily, his fingers tightening against her sensitized flesh. “I heard you laughing and saw the flush of pink in your cheeks when you were working with Pete. You loved what you were doing. And your laughter has affected everyone here in a positive way.” He gave her a small shake as if to reinforce the point. “Don’t throw such a magnificent part of yourself away, Dany, because some man lied and used you to his own calculating end. All men aren’t like him.”

  Dany half turned, her lips parted, as she gazed up into his features. A slight smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, and he released her from his grip. Her pulse pounded achingly at the base of her throat; she was at a loss for any reply. Instead, she could only stare wordlessly up at Sam like a child. He reached out, taming a strand of her captured hair, and tucked it behind her right ear. “Let’s get back,” he said thickly, “or I won’t be held accountable.”

  * * *

  The moment her head hit the pillow of pine needles beneath the sleeping bag, she sank into a healing slumber. She dreamed of Sam and his words of encouragement. And his steadying hands upon her body. She longed to feel the quivering touch of his mouth against her lips. Someone gave her a quick shake on the shoulder, and she grogg
ily let the dreams evaporate, tucked back into a secret chamber of her heart.

  “Time to wake up, señora,” Juan called cheerfully, slipping by her and going to wake the next cowhand.

  Dany moved and then let out a groan. Her body felt like one huge bruise. Birds were chirping gaily around the awakening camp as if to urge the sun to hurry up its rise. The fresh scent of pine mixed with the mouth-watering smell of bacon frying over an open fire. The odor of coffee perking was strong, and Dany looked around, searching for Sam. She heard the snort of a horse and turned to see him riding up from the herd at a lazy trot. He pulled up, calling to some of the men and giving orders. Dismounting, Sam tied Altair to the tether rope and walked over to where she stood.

  “Good morning,” he said, taking off his hat.

  Touching her hair, which she knew must be in terrible disarray, she murmured, “Good morning.”

  “I think the outdoors is good for you,” he commented. “You look even more beautiful this morning.”

  She felt the heat of a blush stealing across her throat and managed a soft laugh. “Sam Reese, you must have gotten an A in school for blarney. Look at my hair! There’re pine needles in it.”

  He came forward, helping her sort the needles out of her hair. “You look like the earth goddess, Ceres. No, on second thought, her lovely daughter, Persephone.”

  Dany made a face, suppressing a giggle. She noticed that he was freshly shaven and looked equally breathtaking to her. “Just don’t let the god Pluto come up with his chariot drawn by black horses and carry me down to the depths of hell,” she teased in return. The last pine needle was dislodged, and she shook loose her bound hair until it spilled like sheets of water across her shoulders. Sam’s normally unreadable features softened, his eyes becoming narrowed shadows of pewter gray.