Dany chewed on her lower lip, glancing at him. His face was so strong, and yet, an innate gentleness burned in the depth of his slate gray eyes. There was inbred harshness in the lines of his thirty-five-year-old face. The lines which gave his face character had obviously been earned. The furrowed, broad forehead had seen worry, and the creases that fanned from the corner of each eye and the lines around his mouth spoke of laughter, laughter that she wished she could share with him. She gasped at the sudden, unexpected thought, and he must have mistaken her reaction.
“Getting divorced isn’t the end of the world,” he said. “I had my turn at it, too. Tried to put a thoroughbred in a plow horse’s harness, and it just didn’t work.”
Dany smiled tentatively at the expression, watching his eyes cloud with unspoken memories. “I like the way you westerners talk, Sam. You seem to put everything into such simple perspective.”
It was his turn to share a smile, and he clasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Simple but effective,” he agreed, sliding off the bed and standing. “Why don’t you take a bath and gradually get yourself back together? Dinner won’t be for another hour.”
“But what about Altair?”
Sam looked out the window and walked over to the drapes, drawing them closed. “Tomorrow morning is the earliest you’re doing anything. If you’d like, I’ll have Martha send up a tray and you can eat here.”
“That sounds wonderful, Sam. I hope I didn’t ruin any plans you had for dinner.…”
“No. I always eat alone anyway. Besides, your comfort comes first.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness. What time can we go see Altair tomorrow?”
“Whenever you get up. He’s in the stud barn that sits across from the bunkhouse. Chances are, you’ll sleep in tomorrow.”
“I’ve got news for you. Trainers are up around four-thirty with the dawn. If I sleep past six, I’ll be surprised.”
He nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you be for now. Good night, Dany.”
She heard the tenor in his voice, and it made her want to ask him to stay. The loneliness was evident in the look he gave her, and yet, he wasn’t going to force his will upon her. How vastly different from Jean!
After a delicious meal of beef rump roast, potatoes and peas that Martha brought up, Dany took a long, fragrant bath and then slipped back into bed for the night. This time there were no bad dreams. Only an aching remembrance of Sam’s hand on her cheek wiping her tears away.
Three
She awoke exactly at four-thirty. Dawn was barely breaking its hold on the night as Dany tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. To her surprise, the coffee had already been made. She poured herself a cup, putting cream and sugar in it, and then walked quietly out the back door. A thin blanket of fog hovered a few feet off the ground throughout the valley. The ranch sat on the southern end of the valley, surrounded on all sides by a thick forest of pines. The restless snort of horses waiting for their feeding hour was a welcome sound. Pulling her coat around her more tightly, Dany grasped the handle of the mug and meandered in the direction of the paddocks and the stable.
Her hair swung with the natural rhythm of her body, the shorter tendrils framing her face from the dampness of the early morning humidity created by the ground fog. She turned the corner of the bunkhouse, catching sight of Sam leaning up against the fence. Dany stopped, her breath catching in her breast as she drank in his unmoving form. The brim of the hat was drawn down across his eyes, the denim jacket molded against the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. One leg was cocked lazily on the last rung of the fence, and he held a steaming mug of coffee in both hands as he seemed to be watching something in the distance. Her gaze traveled the meadow that disappeared out into the white blanket.
There, not much more than a mile away, she could barely make out an outline of a horse standing alertly. She watched as Sam put his fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle broke the morning stillness. She heard the answering call; the unmistakable bugling scream of a stallion. Sam set the coffee mug on the post and climbed into the paddock, walking toward the horse who appeared magically out of the fog.
Dany shivered as she watched the man and the stallion come together. Sam walked unconcernedly as the giant red stallion strained forward like a huge unstoppable freight train that had no brakes. She stifled a cry of warning, watching the sorrel suddenly veer off to the right and playfully scramble in a circle about the man. It had to be Altair! She released her held breath, awed by the sight of the magnificent thoroughbred. Altair reared, pawing his front legs through the air, and then came down only a few feet from Sam, snorting vehemently. It was as if the two males were squaring off at one another, each king of his own special domain. Danielle stood transfixed by the beauty and rugged handsomeness of the spectacle. Sam spoke in a quiet, firm tone to the stallion, holding out his hand. Altair’s small ears twitched, and he turned his intelligent eyes upon the man, snorting again. Pawing restlessly, the stallion flicked his thick flaxen tail, and bent his head to take the treat.
She walked toward them as Altair nibbled the offering from Sam’s hand. By the time she got to the fence, they had both seen her. Sam put his arm across the stallion’s neck and led him over to the fence.
“Good morning. I see you caught us at our favorite game.”
“For a moment I thought he was going to run you over,” she admitted.
“He’s been known to do that to people he didn’t like. Come here, Altair. I want to introduce your new rider and trainer.” He pulled the horse by the mane, and the stallion docilely complied.
Dany flinched inwardly at the word “rider.” She did not share Sam’s belief that she could be one. Her eyes widened in appreciation, noting the thoroughbred’s impeccable conformation. Altair nuzzled her arm, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent. She watched him carefully; she never really trusted any stallion. They were male animals ruled by an instinctive sexual drive and not capable of thinking, only reacting.
Sam stood back, admiring both of them, his hands on his hips. “He certainly seems to take to you. Of course, he’d be stupid not to.”
Dany smiled distantly, keenly assessing the stallion’s personality, watching his ears and the look in his large brown eyes. “He’s far from stupid, Sam. And I can see he allows very few people to tell him what to do.”
Sam laughed, joining her at the fence. “No one tells Altair a thing. They have to ask.” And then he frowned, picking up his coffee mug and taking a sip from it. “Which is where I’ve run into a lot of trouble with his riders lately. They treat him like an unthinking animal with only four legs and the power of a runaway truck. They don’t realize he’s thinking in his own terms and his forte is correctly judging complicated jumps. He’s a dynamic hunter who will challenge everything except a water obstacle.”
Dany ran her fingers down the stallion’s sleek, silky neck, enjoying the play of muscles beneath his skin. She noted with a sinking feeling that long thin scars marred his beautiful copper coat. “My God, who did this to him?” she whispered, running her fingers along one scar that ran the length of his left shoulder. Her heart turned over in compassion as she noted several more scars around his mouth and across the top of his nose.
Sam came around, affectionately scratching Altair’s ears. “Remember me telling you that the wrangler who captured him tried to break his spirit?” he asked huskily.
Dany looked up, aware of the simmering anger hidden in his voice and reflected in his eyes. “This is outright cruelty!” she protested, her voice strangled with emotion. Gently, she reached up, caressing Altair’s scarred muzzle. The stallion moved away from her hand, the white of his eye showing as he took another step backward. She shook her head. “I don’t blame him for jerking away,” she said tightly. “What did they do, use wire to try and keep his head and nose down?”
“Yes. It didn’t work, but it made him head shy with everyone except me.” Sam gave her a smile of encouragement. “And I think he’ll even
tually let you touch his mouth without going crazy. I can see he’s already responding to you in a way he’s never done before with anyone else.”
“Typical male.”
“Yes, and thank God you’re the one to help him over some of his worst faults,” Sam said fervently. “Altair may not appreciate your beauty, but I do.” He grinned and playfully put his arm across the stallion’s neck and leaned against him.
“How do you get the bit into his mouth if he’s head shy?”
Sam pursed his mouth, casting a troubled glance in her direction. “Very carefully. We use the snaffle only when he shows in the dressage portion of the show.”
Dany gave him an incredulous look. “What on earth do you use, then?” It was beyond comprehension in her mind to ride an eventing horse without a bit in his mouth! Riding over a thousand pounds of horseflesh at twenty-five to thirty miles an hour over a grueling, dangerous course without the control of a bit was impossible to comprehend. No wonder Altair has injured his previous riders, she thought, experiencing a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“We use an aluminum hackamore, Dany.”
She searched her memory for the use of the training device. Hackamores were invented for the horse that wouldn’t carry a bit in its mouth. The rawhide or aluminum loop fit around the muzzle and when it was pulled on, it exerted pressure against sensitive nerve endings that lay on either cheek of the horse’s jaw. She gave Sam a distrustful look. “Is that why the riders have been injured?”
“No. Do you think I’d ask you to ride and train him if he wasn’t manageable?” he demanded.
She bristled. “At this moment, I think anything is possible! You bind me with a contract that was signed by my ex-husband and practically blackmail me to fly me out here to retrain this horse.” She was aware of the effort he was making to control his temper as his gray eyes darkened like ominous thunderclouds.
“I’m not in the habit of risking people’s lives, particularly a woman who I think can salvage my stallion and bring him into his own. I need you alive, not dead, Dany. Sure, he can be dangerous because of his past. But he’s responsive. Altair is not deliberately cruel or vicious. God knows, he ought to be, for what he’s suffered. But look at him. Does he look unsafe?”
As if listening to the heated conversation between them, Altair walked between them, head down, standing quietly while they glared across his back at one another. Dany put her hands on her hips in defiance.
“I won’t ride him unless he’s got a bit in his mouth, that’s final.”
“Fine. You find a way to do it, and we’ll both be happy. He’s extremely responsive to the hackamore, though.”
She shook her head. “Sam Reese, either you’re the most eccentric man I’ve ever met with an even more eccentric horse or—”
“We’re both unique,” he interrupted. His gaze lingered on her. “And so are you. You’re one of a kind, lady. Just the gal to help Altair to become the best Grand Prix jumper in the world.”
She didn’t know how to react to his backhanded compliments, and was continually uncomfortable beneath his warming, caressing gaze. “Tell me what else he has problems with,” she muttered. “The fly in the ointment, no doubt.”
“He doesn’t like water. He’ll damn near do anything to avoid it. Including dumping his rider into an oxer or earth bank.”
Dany looked over at him. “Did your riders quit, or were they killed?”
Sam managed a sour grin. “None killed. One got hurt pretty seriously, and he was out of action for two months. It was after Tony’s fall that I decided I wasn’t going to risk anyone’s life until I could get Richland Stables to honor its commitment.”
Dany frowned, allowing Altair to nuzzle her hair with his velvety nose. “Are you going to let me help you, big boy?” she asked the stallion, giving him a playful pat on the forehead. Altair backed away, snorting. A mare from another pasture whickered a greeting, and the sorrel thoroughbred raised his magnificent head, standing like a marble statue. He bugled out an answering call, the sound raucous and harsh to their ears. Sam smiled and slipped between the railings.
“That’s his way of making sweet talk to them.”
“He’s a nice-looking horse, Sam. So I can’t blame the mares for wanting to entice him over to their paddocks,” she grudgingly admitted.
He took her arm and led her down toward the stable. “We’ve got his yearling crop in here. I bred him to five of my best broodmares. Let’s see what you think of the results.” Dany reviewed the thoroughbred yearlings and stood in the passage between the large, roomy boxstalls with Sam. “That’s simply amazing,” she admitted. “There’s a uniformity in conformation I’ve rarely seen. Each one looks like a stamp of Altair.”
“Exactly. He’s prepotent as hell. I bred him to five different bloodlines to see how his genes would affect the mare’s breeding line. In every case, his stamp came out,” Sam said, sounding somewhat incredulous. “The legs on every yearling are absolutely straight. They’re bred to withstand the strain of jumping.”
Dany smiled. “And you can hardly wait for them to mature enough to put them on the circuit, right?”
He walked her out of the barn, and they ambled at a slow pace toward the house. The sun was barely edging the tip of the Sierras, sending streamers of light through the fog as the thickened mist began to evaporate. The cobalt blue sky turned a shade paler as the sun ascended across the peaks, promising another cool spring day. She was aware of his body only inches from her own, and once again, her skin prickled with a pleasurable tingle as his arm occasionally brushed against her.
Halting at the back porch, he pushed the hat off his forehead, watching her closely. “Well, what do you think? Is he reason enough to stay on?”
She avoided his gray eyes. Instead, she turned her back to him, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. “Please don’t think my decision has anything to do with Altair’s conformation or potential, Sam.” She girded herself inwardly, closing her eyes tightly for a moment. “But I can’t stay. This is too strange an environment for me to stay here. I’m used to the Eastern circuit, and I’m familiar with the people and the land.”
“You’re the only woman capable of bringing Altair around,” he growled.
Dany gritted her teeth. The man was stubborn! Irritation stirred to life within her, and she compressed her lips and turned, meeting his fiery gaze. Part of her resolve disappeared immediately. Sam Reese was no longer pleasant-looking in any sense of the word. He was towering over her, his eyes an angry silver hue. She took a step back, feeling the masculine aura of strength so sharply that it made her dizzy.
“It’s not the training aspect that bothers me,” she managed, her voice strident.
“Then what the hell is it?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it, her sapphire eyes glittering with golden fire. Why did she want to escape? Was she running from Sam? Or her fear of having to ride in shows? She sensed her body’s own hungry needs that had lain dormant for over nine months. She didn’t want a careless affair with him. He was able to manipulate her as no other man ever had, and it frightened her thoroughly. “I’m turning your offer down, it’s as simple as that.”
Sam smiled savagely. “Nothing’s as simple as that, Mrs. Daguerre. Remember, there’s been a contract signed, and I’ll hold you to it if I have to.”
Her nostrils flared with contempt. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“What are you running from?” he asked, his voice suddenly lined with impatience. He reached out, grabbing her arm and drawing her near. “Sorry,” he breathed thickly, “but you’re too good a trainer and I need you for that horse out there. I don’t care what you’re running from, but you aren’t leaving this commitment. You’ll fulfill the obligations.”
Dany muffled a curse, jerking her arm away from his branding fingers of fire on her skin. “You—you bastard,” she hissed. “All right,” she blurted out in reckless abandon, “I’ll stay! But keep away from me while I
’m training that horse. Do you hear me? I don’t want a thing to do with you!”
She rubbed her bruised arm, taking two more steps away from him. God, how she hated that composed, implacable look on his stony face. How had she led herself to think it was as simple as flying out to his ranch? His tenderness and care from the night before had thrown her off guard. Well, his true personality was now surfacing. He was just as arrogant and imperious as that stallion of his. Her lips curled away from her teeth. “I despise you for thinking you can run my life for me, Mr. Reese. You’re so used to molding everything to the way you want it. It’s obvious you come from generations of men who are used to getting their way. Well, you may get your way for a while, but as soon as I’m done with Altair, I’m leaving. And I don’t care if I have to run away in the dead of night to do it!”
Sam smiled lazily, beginning to relax. He pulled the brim of the cowboy hat down across his eyes. “If you leave, you’ll find yourself in high country full of cougar, bear and bobcat. And at this time of year, they’re coming out of a hard winter and they’re hungry. So forget that idea.”
Four
The next morning Dany woke up, determined to get to work on Altair. She threw on her hunt breeches, knee-high black riding boots, and grabbed her protective hard hat and leather gloves. Stopping in the kitchen, she borrowed a jar of molasses from Martha and headed determinedly out to the stud barn.
Cowboys dressed in blue chambray shirts, dusty, dirty jeans or well-worn chaps looked with mild interest as she walked briskly into dark passages between the boxstalls. Dany halted for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. She found Altair in his stall and placed the jump saddle and other riding equipment down beside the ties. She still felt testy and belligerent from her confrontation with Sam yesterday, and she sent a warning glance at one cowboy who started to say something and then, apparently, thought better of it.
Chase the Clouds Page 3
