Chase the Clouds

by Lindsay McKenna

  She was no longer thinking, only reacting. She was a musical instrument within the hands of a master, and for the first time in years, she wanted to be an active participant in the sharing of love. His hand cupped the small of her back, lifting her upward to meet him. Her fingers dug deeply into his thickly corded shoulder muscles, breath suspended in anticipation. His entry was swift, penetrating and fiery, and a small cry broke from her lips. She buried her head momentarily against his neck, sweat grazing her cheek. Gently, ever so gently, he brought her back into rhythm with himself. The seconds of pain fled, replaced with a delicious sense of delectable euphoria. She was mindless, simply swirling into a layer of intensified pleasure never before experienced. Sam groaned, gripping her tightly, and she gloried in those moments of mutual climax. Clinging silently to his quivering body afterward, Dany rested her spent, damp form against him. Her hair spilled across his shoulder and chest like an ebony blanket as she nuzzled against his cheek. Moments, precious, delicious moments were spilled by her satiated senses.

  Sam cradled her tenderly within his arms. He leaned over, smoothing away small tendrils that clung damply to her cheek. His eyes were dark with consumed passion as he stroked her hair.

  “I knew it would be good,” he murmured huskily, “but I never realized…”

  Dany saw the face of a man fulfilled. No longer did the partial mask remain to hide his incredible range of emotions. There was a boyish vulnerability in his eyes as he drank in her form, and it delighted her. She ran her fingers through the silken mat of hair on his broad, powerful chest, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Oh, Sam,” she whispered and then tears caught in her throat and she was unable to continue. He laughed throatily, pulling her near, burying his face within the shining mass of hair.

  “You’re mine,” he growled fiercely. Then he sealed this promise with a long and delicious kiss.

  Ten

  It was dusk by the time they got back to the herd. Cowboys on horseback walked their mounts slowly around the huge circle of cattle, singing softly to settle them down for the night hours. Somewhere out on the open stretch of the oblong valley floor, the mournful tune of the harmonica brought back nostalgic moments to Dany. She rose in silence beside Sam, content to be close to him, their legs brushing often against the other. Her body remained bathed with the glow of his lovemaking earlier. She could only stare at him like a child who had been given the precious gift of love. The comparison between Jean’s loving and Sam’s was jolting. Sam had loved her as a sharing partner in a beautiful experience. Jean had never shared anything; it had always been take—take and never give. With that knowledge, Dany began to put the pieces of her marriage into perspective. She glanced to the left, realizing that she owed it all to the man who rode at her side. Occasionally Sam would catch her wide-eyed gaze and smile, as if sharing that intimate secret with her.

  Juan welcomed them back in a mixture of Spanish and English. Dany sat near the chuck wagon, ravenously consuming her meal as she watched Sam talk to his men about the day’s progress on the drive. Later, as darkness fell, she noticed the horizon seeming to blaze with flashes of light. Juan muttered something in Spanish as he finished washing the rest of the tin plates. Dany got up, handing the plate to him. She tugged at the dish towel stuffed in his back pocket and began drying the stack of dishes for him.

  “Is that lightning?” she asked.

  “Sí, sí. Not good, señora. These cattle…” And he shook his head, keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself.

  “I would think they’re used to lightning,” she commented, placing the dried utensils on one corner of the wagon tailgate.

  “Sí, you would think that. But these Herefords will get restless. I think the boss will keep everyone up tonight to ride around the herd and keep them calm.”

  Dany noticed that more than one ranch hand was watching the horizon apprehensively where the line of thunderstorms were building. There was an unspoken tenseness building in the camp, and she hurriedly finished the drying chores and sought out Sam. She found him with his head drovers near a stand of pine. He slid his hand around her shoulder, making her feel welcome to the small knot of men.

  “Juan said the thunderstorms might scare the herd, Sam.”

  “There’s a good possibility of that,” he agreed quietly. He looked up at his men. “Pete, you take five of the boys for night duty and keep those cows content. If they start to spook, send a runner back and we’ll get everyone in the saddle.”

  “Right, Boss.”

  Sam steered her out of the grove and onto the open plain. The cattle looked like shadowy black shapes moving sluggishly beneath the increasing light of the moon. Dany sensed his concern and turned, looking up into his worried features. “Did you expect storms on the drive?”

  “Yes and no,” he muttered, stroking her cheek tenderly. “Sometimes we get bad ones at this time of year, but I was hoping that we would get lucky and miss them.”

  “No Irish blood in you for luck,” she teased fondly.

  Sam smiled absently. “None,” he agreed, his eyes soft with tenderness as he gazed down at her.

  “If it rains, that means that the river in the pass will rise.”

  He leaned down kissing her forehead gently. “See, you’re more of a cowgirl than you realized. Yes, if it rises any more, we won’t be able to swim the herd across. But I’m more worried about them spooking and then running across this meadow into the foothills.” He sighed heavily. “God, that will be a mess if that happens. It means spending days recollecting the scattered herd, and we’ll have to destroy those with broken legs.”

  * * *

  Dany lunged upward, tangled in her sleeping bag. The crash of thunder was deafening. Nearby, she heard the men shouting, the horses whinnying nervously and the cattle bellowing. A bolt of lightning ripped the belly of the sky open and thunder growled savagely. Dany rose shakily to her feet, throwing on her boots. Juan ran around the end of the chuck wagon, his eyes wide.

  “Señora! Quick! Get on Altair. The herd is going to break!” he shouted.

  Large drops of rain plopped on the dry earth. Dany blinked, running jerkily toward the line of tied horses. Sam had given orders that they remain saddled. All she had to do was slip Altair’s hackamore on him and she could leave. Her heart was pumping strongly now. Sam, where was Sam? She yelled out for him, cupping her hands to her mouth. Again, she called for him. Indecision tore at her, and she grabbed the bridle, soothing Altair. Fingers shaking, she managed to get it over the horse’s head. A cacophony of harsh sounds broke simultaneously around her. She mounted, her leg barely across the stallion’s back when the herd panicked. Altair plunged forward, snorting loudly.

  Three blinding, brilliant bolts hit the valley floor simultaneously. A tree exploded, the sound rupturing like an artillery shell. As a dark, willful mass, the herd veered and broke blindly into the blackness and sudden downpour. A scream lodged at the back of her throat as Dany saw a wall of Herefords bearing down directly on where she stood on the frightened, rearing stallion. She froze for only a second, leaning far forward on Altair, asking him to leap into the unknown darkness beyond the wagon. She saw Juan on another horse, swallowed up almost immediately by the engulfing inkiness.

  Rain fell like slashing, cutting knives. Dany threw her hand across her eyes, totally disoriented. She heard the roar of the herd behind her, the shouts of the cowboys and the earth-shaking tremors caused by the lightning, thunder and the hoofs of the crazed cattle. The earth quickly changed into mud, and Altair lengthened his giant stride, flying through the pandemonium. Dany tried to gather her scattered, shocked senses. She had to get out from in front of the stampede! If she fell—the thought of being trampled made her stomach tighten, and desperately she tried to recall the layout of the valley. Guiding Altair to the right on a slight angle, she would cut diagonally in front of the herd, and keep the distance between them!

  The entire experience was foreign to her. Diving headlong into darkness and rain
at full speed was sheer stupidity. It invited disaster, but she had no choice. Where was Sam? Was he safe? And Altair. Oh, God, she couldn’t allow Altair to be injured. Dany increased the angle of the turn, hoping desperately to meet the safety of the tree line. She was soaked to the skin, her shirt clinging to her, water running in rivulets across her drawn face. The charging herd was much closer. Gripping the rain-slick reins tightly, Dany called out to the horse, asking him for a final effort. The stallion lunged strongly, his nostrils wide, drinking in great draughts of wind to sustain his effort.

  Suddenly, they were surrounded by trees. Dany pulled Altair to a skidding stop, pine branches whipping back and cutting at her unprotected body. Her breath came in great ragged sobs as she leaned weakly against the stallion’s wet mane. Herefords careened so close that she guided Altair further into the tree line for protection. As she sat huddled in the saddle, the temperature began dropping and the wind picked up in gusts. Dany shivered, her hair in long ropes about her face and shoulders. Finally, the lightning eased and the thick, inky blackness descended once more. The bulk of the herd had passed, and the shouts of the men and the bawling of cattle seemed like a distant nightmare.

  * * *

  The dawn crawled cautiously onto the horizon, forcing the night back inches at a time from its tenacious hold on the earth. Dany had remained mounted throughout the long night, searching for Sam. It was an impossible task. Part of the herd had been gathered at the far end of the valley, and she saw both cattle and riders wearily coming back in this direction. Dany saw Juan’s dejected features brighten as she came within shouting distance. He seemed relieved, and animatedly gestured, running out to meet her.

  “Señora! Señora, pronto!” he shouted.

  Dany swallowed hard, kicking Altair into a gallop. She finally slid him to a stop, shakily dismounting. “What is it?” she demanded breathlessly.

  “The boss, he’s over on the eastern edge of the meadow. He’s worried about you.”

  Dany touched her breast, closing her eyes. “Thank God he’s safe!” she whispered fiercely.

  Juan grinned broadly. “Sí, he’s tough. He said as soon as I saw you to get you over to him.”

  Remounting, she tossed the cook a broad smile. “Thanks, Juan.”

  Some of her initial joy faded as she rode along the edge of the flatland. Cowboys were putting animals who had broken their legs during the night out of their misery. Seeing Sam made her heartbeat rise. He caught sight of her, pulling Bomarc away from the herd and meeting her halfway. Dany pulled Altair to a stop, reaching out and touching his extended hand.

  “You all right?” he asked, gripping her hand tightly.

  “Yes. A little tired, that’s all,” she answered breathlessly. “And you?” She searched his worn face, the exhaustion from the search for the herd evident on his features.

  A crooked smile crossed his mouth. “I’ll live now that I know you’re safe. Look, you go back and help Juan get some breakfast on. We’re going to be waylaid here a day just getting the herd back together and repairing the chuck wagon.”

  Dany nodded, reluctant to break the touch of their fingers. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  Sam grinned carelessly. “Now that I got someone who cares whether or not I break my neck, I will,” he responded, turning Bomarc away and heading back to the main herd.

  * * *

  They arrived back at the Cross Bar-U on the ninth day, tired, dirty and worn. There wasn’t a horse whose head wasn’t hanging from exhaustion or a cowpoke whose face didn’t speak of the trouble on the trail. Dany slid off Altair, resting her head against the horse for a moment. Sam came up, sliding his arm around her shoulders.

  “Honey, you get inside and take a long, hot bath,” he ordered.

  Dany met his gaze, forcing a small smile. “It sounds like heaven,” she agreed.

  “I’ll see you at dinner tonight. Get some rest.”

  Martha welcomed her back with open arms, giving her a long hug. Shooing her upstairs, the old woman insisted upon drawing the bath water herself, clucking sympathetically over the events of the drive as Dany related them.

  “Missy, you just lay there and soak,” she said sternly, shaking her finger at her. “I’ll bring you up a healthy lunch in about an hour.”

  She dozed off in the bath much to her own surprise. Martha had slipped in and out of the suite without awakening her, depositing a tray with thick beef sandwiches, potato chips and a tall, cool glass of iced lemonade on it. Still in her robe, Dany hungrily consumed the food and didn’t fight the need to simply fall on the bed and sleep.

  It was dark when she awoke. The warm late-spring breeze stirred in the room as Dany slowly sat up, pushing her dark hair off her face. Looking at her watch on the dresser, she saw that it was nearly eight o’clock. With a groan, she pushed off the bed and slowly dressed in a pair of burgundy slacks and a pale pink blouse.

  There was a reassuring familiarity to the ranch house as she padded downstairs. She heard Sam’s voice in the kitchen and walked into the well-lit room. Martha had just finished dishes and clucked at her sympathetically.

  “Miss Dany, you look positively exhausted!”

  Dany shrugged, peering over her shoulder at the food to be placed into the refrigerator. “I feel a lot better,” she murmured.

  “Come and sit down,” Sam said. “Martha can get that.”

  Martha’s mouth thinned stubbornly. “You hear Sam? Go sit down before I take a wooden paddle to you.”

  Dany smiled, exchanging a warm glance with Sam as she sat opposite him. He looked at her carefully, missing nothing. “You do look better,” he agreed, sipping his coffee.

  “I don’t think my rear is ever going to be the same. Do you realize I’ve got saddle sores?” she said, laughing good-naturedly.

  “You earned them,” Sam said, suppressing a grin.

  “Humph, is that all I get for my trouble?”

  “Yup. That and the knowledge that you can do a hell of a good job at ranch work.”

  Martha placed the fragrant meal before her. “You children enjoy yourselves. I’m going to bed. This has been too much of a busy day for my eighty-year-old body.”

  Sam murmured good-night to her, and the silence settled like a warm cloak over the kitchen. Dany ate the barbecued chicken with relish, polishing off the mashed potatoes, corn and a salad. Sam leaned back, a pleased expression in his eyes.

  “At least you’re eating,” he murmured. “Looks like the Sierras are good for you after all.”

  She wanted to say, “you’re good for me,” but didn’t. Instead, a blush stained her cheeks in response. Even in her sleep she had dreamed of Sam loving her. Each magical touch of his fingers upon her body lingered in her mind. She stared at his work-roughened hands, amazed at the innate gentleness in them when he had loved her.

  “Tomorrow morning, Dany, I’m going to have a small jump course set up for you and Altair. We’ve got about two weeks before the Santa Barbara show, and we might as well start building your confidence.”

  Her head snapped up and she met his gaze. “I suppose you’re right,” she whispered. Getting up, she washed off the plate and silverware, placing them in the dishwasher. Dany leaned against the draining board, her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture.

  “Scared?” he inquired gently.

  “Very.”

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Dany.”

  “I know. But…”

  Sam tilted his head. “What?”

  She gave a shrug of defeat. “No matter how much you want to help me, Sam, in the end, I have to do it myself.”

  “I know that, honey. I don’t expect you to win at Santa Barbara, Dany. You know that, don’t you?”

  “But if I do it, I’m planning on placing,” she said.

  Sam shook his head. “It’s too soon to be that competitive, although you certainly have that quality in you. No, the main thing is to get you to feel comfortable about riding in major sho
ws again.”

  Dany took a long, uneven breath. “God, I don’t know, Sam. Jean is going to be there and—”

  Sam walked over, standing above her. “One step at a time, Dany. I’ll make damn sure he isn’t around to try to wreck your confidence before you ride.”

  * * *

  Dany waited until Sam came up to join her at the beginning of the small jump course he had erected earlier. It was nearly ten o’clock and already she could feel the coolness of the morning evaporating.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

  “I suppose. First, let’s count the strides between jumps.”

  Sam remained silent as she walked the distance between each jump, mentally calculating how many strides it would take. At a certain point, the jumper had to lift off in order to make it a clean leap and not touch the rails. It was a timed event. Whoever had the least amount of faults and finished with the fastest time would be the winner. If a horse touched the jump, then he accumulated faults against his final score.

  Dany was familiar with the odd names given the different and various jumps. There was the oxer, the brush and the in-and-out. Each posed a different problem for the horse and rider. The in-and-out asked the horse to be collected and well in hand because a half-stride too much would throw both the horse and rider into the second jump. The brush consisted of still bristles at the top of it, and no horse wanted it to brush its sensitive back legs. On the Grand Prix circuit, Dany had to count strides along the two or three mile course and keep those figures in her head. One stride too many could result in disaster, and Dany was all too aware of the possibility. Because of her burgeoning feelings toward Sam and her love of the scarred red stallion, she didn’t want to disappoint them. Chewing on her lip, she finished pacing the course, giving Sam a curt nod.