It was well past noon, and Dany waited nervously for Sam to come and visit her as he had promised. Martha had come up earlier, bearing a bowl of rich chicken soup and a slice of thickly crusted homemade bread. She nibbled at it, occasionally glancing up at the oak door, waiting for him to appear. Sighing deeply, she reprimanded herself and listened to music from the stereo, curling up on the sofa to read a novel. The nourishing hot soup and bread lulled her to sleep, and the book dropped from her hand, her head lolling against the overstuffed pillows on the sofa arm.
The scent of pine entered her nostrils, and she stirred slowly, her black hair in disarray about her shoulders. Sam finished tucking a blanket in around her body and was rising as she barely opened her eyes. “Oh,” she murmured groggily, “I must have fallen asleep.…”
“Keep on sleeping, lady. I just came in to check on you,” he whispered, picking up his jacket and throwing it over his broad shoulder.
She was warm, drowsy and content. The husky concern in his voice was a healing balm, and she closed her eyes once again.
It was near evening when Sam gently shook her awake. A flicker of genuine concern crossed his rugged face as he sat down opposite her, folding his hands across his knees. Dany sat up, stiff from being in one position for so many hours.
“Do you realize you have two black eyes?” Sam asked, a grin beginning to appear on his mouth.
Her eyes widened and she gazed across the distance at him. “I do?”
“You look like a raccoon with a mask.”
She frowned, slowly got to her feet, and put the blanket on the arm of the sofa. “What time is it?”
“Nearly six. Martha was getting worried about you sleeping so long, so I told her I’d come up and—”
“Check on me,” she finished.
“Do you mind?”
“I’m not used to being looked after.” She ran her fingers through her rich dark hair and caught a wistful look on his upturned face. Right now the room was comfortable with his presence, and it made her feel at home. It struck her that it seemed so natural—as if they always sat down at the end of each day to discuss little things together. She frowned, noting that he still wore a chambray shirt that was splattered with mud.
“What did you do today to get so dirty?”
“Put up fence posts on the western range. That herd of cattle we brought down from there yesterday had broke through it. Guess they thought the grass was greener on the other side.”
“They’re worse than horses,” she muttered.
“Look, I won’t stay,” he said, rising. “Do you feel up to joining me downstairs for dinner tonight?”
“Of course,” she said readily.
“I’ll see you downstairs in half an hour then. Wear something comfortable. We don’t get dressed up like you Easterners do.”
* * *
After dinner, he guided her into the library where a fire was roaring in the adobe brick fireplace. He handed her a snifter of apricot brandy, and she thanked him, lounging on the sofa in front of the fire. The room was filled with trophy racks of elk, white tail, bighorn and bear. “Shot by my father and grandfather,” he offered in way of explanation.
She looked at him down the length of the couch where he sat, freshly showered in a long-sleeve white shirt and blue jeans. She studied him curiously as the dancing shadows contrasted against the weathered planes of his face. She swirled the contents of brandy, inhaling its sweet fragrance.
“You’re not a hunter?” she inquired.
“No. I’m environmentally inclined, Dany. We have bald eagles and condors up here on our ranch, and I’d like to keep them around.”
“Condors?”
“Yes, largest birds on earth. They’re from the vulture family. Maybe when you’re feeling better, we’ll take a two-day pack trip into the high country and I’ll show you a pair of them. They should be nesting by now.”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill these poor stuffed animals,” she confessed.
It was his turn to study her. “Oh?”
“I would have thought less of you,” she admitted softly. “I don’t believe in killing for killing’s sake. To eat, yes. But look at that lovely elk. Wouldn’t he look majestic traversing your land? I’d love to catch a look at him on some early morning ride with his cows.” She gave him a shy glance. “Don’t mind me, I get carried away with my idealism.”
“Who said it was idealism?”
Dany sipped the brandy. “Jean always accused me of being a dreamer of sorts.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “My idea of entertainment was to go to a movie and escape the real world for an hour or two. Silly, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. We all have our escapes. I find mine by riding a horse and packing for three or four days into the interior.”
The silence grew between them, the fire popping and crackling enjoyably in the background. “I thought I had responsibility,” she said quietly. “But from the looks of things, you have a ranch and several other businesses to run.”
Sam shrugged, finishing the contents of his snifter and getting up. He lounged his body against the mantel, watching her. “I grew up in it, Dany. By the time my father died, I had learned to run the entire operation.”
“What? Run the family business?” He allowed a partial smile to touch his mouth. “You’ve got an interesting insight into people. Probably why you’re such a good horse trainer,” he complimented. “Yes and no, to answer your question. At heart, I’m just an ordinary cowpoke who loves the land and the animals. I’d trade the other three companies away and just keep the ranch if I could. Money doesn’t mean that much to me in one sense. I’m happier with the earth in my hands and special people to fill the rest of my life.”
She colored in a pretty blush, catching the inference of his last huskily spoken words. She wanted to change the subject and remove the emphasis of his gaze upon her. Once again, she felt impelled to open up to him, but she remembered yesterday’s encounter and tried to deflect the conversation.
“Did you notice that I had a snaffle in Altair’s mouth?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. I suppose you used your beautiful feminine wiles to persuade him to carry it.”
“First time I’ve heard of molasses being used to get a man to do something for you,” she taunted dryly, grinning.
Sam returned the smile. “Touché. Did he give you much of a problem?”
“No. He mouthed it at first, and after I got on him, I diverted his attention by doing some figure eights and some simple dressage maneuvers.”
“You also used a standing martingale on him. Any trouble with that?”
“Not really. I purposely left it long so he wouldn’t feel hindered. I think if I’d made it shorter, he would have thrown a royal fit.”
“He’s done that already. You’re the first trainer he’s had that saw his need to be able to raise and lower his neck as he wanted,” he said, congratulating her.
Dany warmed beneath his praise. How different Sam was from Jean. She shuddered inwardly when she recalled how Jean would sharply criticize her continuing efforts to polish off the jumpers for him. Jean wanted a “push-button horse” to ride so that all he had to do was not fall off. She had worked longer hours as a consequence to please her critical ex-husband. Stealing a look up at Sam, Dany tried to suppress the fragile happiness that Sam seemed to be planting inside her. “Do you always give your trainers such support?” she asked.
He tipped his head, watching her lazily. “When they deserve it. Frankly, you’ve surprised me with the speed of your training methods. Usually it takes weeks to get a horse to adjust to new equipment being used on him. Altair was carrying that snaffle and martingale like it had always been a part of him. Sometimes, lady, I think you’re a beautiful witch who has cast a spell over me and my horse.”
She managed a smile. “If I were a powerful witch that could cast spells, then I wouldn’t have ended up with a fractured nose,” she laughed.
He frowned. “You scared me out there this afternoon,” he growled.
“What? Falling on my nose? This isn’t the first time, you know. I’ve broken it twice in the last eight years.” She grimaced. “But I have to admit this was the most embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“The other two were at least in the line of duty,” she complained good-naturedly. “Once my hunter went head first down a steep bank, and the second time, I got thrown into a stone wall.”
Sam grimaced. “You could have fooled me.”
“Luck,” she promised, “pure, unadulterated good luck. But—” she carefully touched her nose “—I don’t know about this time.”
“Relax. The doc said it was badly bruised but not broken. Your luck’s still holding. Give yourself a week’s rest in the meantime. I gave him a ten-mile trot and canter this morning, and I’ll gradually have the distance lengthened each day.”
“He’s in wonderful shape, Sam. You’ve done an excellent job of conditioning him for the circuit,” she said, standing up and giving him the glass. He seemed pleased with her compliment and took her arm, leading her out of the cozy room.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Dany,” he said, walking her upstairs.
She was acutely aware of his fingers around her arm. It sent a tingling shiver up her limb, making her heart beat faster. “What?” she asked, looking up at him as he stopped and turned her around at her door.
“I’ve got one of my oldest broodmares foaling in the next five days. If you can baby-sit her, I’d feel a lot better. That way, you can get the rest you need and still get some physical exercise without overdoing it. The boys that work for me are range men and not grooms. It would take a big worry off my shoulders if you could check in on her while I’m gone.”
Her brows moved downward. “Gone?”
Sam slid his hands across her shoulders, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her jaw and neck. “Yes,” he answered absently, studying her upturned face intently. “Business down in San Francisco. Board meetings and all that. I’ll be back next Friday.” He brushed her temple. “Maybe your black eyes will have disappeared by then.”
His fingers, rough and callused, caressed her burning skin, a brand trailing fire across her cheek and throat. Her pulse leaped crazily, her heart thudding in response as his fingers tightened against her shoulders, drawing her toward him. “I’ll miss you, Dany,” he whispered, and his mouth touched her lips in a brief caress. His breath was warm and he smelled of pine and the outdoors. She was losing her grip on reality, his nearness creating a new, more frightening chaos within her yearning body. She made an effort to push away. “No, don’t fight,” he ordered huskily, and then his mouth claimed her lips, parting them, asking entrance into their moist depths.
Danielle moaned, closing her eyes, crushed against his rock-hard body, vibrantly aware of his maleness pushing insistently against her captured hips. An aching need began to uncoil deep within her lower body, and she felt the hunger for physical contact explode violently within her, leaving her legs weak.
Her lips throbbed with the intensity of his kiss, and she shakily touched them, staring wide-eyed up into Sam’s face. She leaned weakly against the door, unable to speak. He reached out, his fingers sliding through her thick tresses.
“A parting gift,” he offered huskily, “so you won’t forget me over the next five days.”
* * *
Dany leaned against the boxstall, wistfully content to watch the new bay foal rise unsteadily to her feet. The filly had been born without complications two hours earlier. During the half-hour delivery, Dany had held the mare’s head and offered her pats of encouragement. Everyone seemed delighted with the new baby. It was Friday afternoon, and no matter what she did, her thoughts always returned to Sam. His one devastating kiss had shattered her soul and resurrected an aching awareness of her needs. Each night she lay awake, making comparisons between Jean and Sam. How could Sam’s one kiss make up for all that she had been missing in four years of marriage? Jean had never taken time to explore, tease or arouse. But Sam…she closed her eyes, resting her head against the gate. He had deliberately aroused her in a way that had caught her completely off guard. But it had not caught her body off guard at all. She sighed, shaking her head and sinking her hands deeply into the pockets of her jacket.
She walked over to the stud barn, finding Altair outside eating contentedly in his paddock. As soon as he saw her, he whinnied and trotted over to the fence where she stood. Dany patted him affectionately. “You miss him, too, don’t you? Who would have thought I would miss him this much, Altair? All we do is fight—” she smiled secretly “—and make up. I guess that isn’t all bad, is it, big boy?”
This morning had been her first ride since bumping her nose. It had turned out to be an outstanding gallop, and they had explored about six miles of hilly terrain, jumping fallen logs and brush thickets along the way. They had returned by mid-morning, dirty, spattered with mud and scraped by brambles or low-hanging twigs, but happy nonetheless. Altair nuzzled her gently, looking for the sugar cubes she inevitably carried in her pocket. She smiled, allowing him one cube.
Rain was forecast for early Saturday morning, and she waited with anticipation, having already put the plastic covering over her hard hat. Giving him one last fond pat, she ambled to the main ranch house. Tomorrow, Altair would begin his water training in earnest—no matter how many spills it took to get him to canter disinterestedly through any puddle. She had chosen a particularly low area where water was sure to collect, and felt that it wouldn’t be too slippery for him to pull a tendon or ligament. Grimacing, Dany knew tomorrow would be hell on them both. Going inside, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table.
Martha looked up, her face locked in concentration as she furiously mixed a batch of bread dough. “Well, Miss Dany, how is our red horse out there?”
“He doesn’t know what he’s in for tomorrow morning,” she answered.
Martha frowned dramatically. “Well, you just be careful, young lady! I never seen Sam so upset as when you fainted on him in the bathroom. The man was positively beside himself!”
“What?”
“Missy, that man was plumb scared out of his wits when you keeled over last week. Didn’t you know that, girl?”
“Why—uh—no,” she stammered, blushing fiercely.
“Well,” Martha grumbled, “you’d best be extra careful on that stallion. Sam must think an awful lot of you to be that worried. He didn’t leave your side from the time you fainted until you woke up some four hours later. Tried to get him to go downstairs and eat. I told him I’d stay with you…but he said no.” She shook her gray head. “You’re lucky to have a man like that, missy. I hope you appreciate him for it.”
Dany got up, shocked by her admissions. Sam Reese never left her side? She set the cup down, even more disturbed, and decided to walk into the quiet living room. Her heart ached with loneliness. She didn’t want to admit that she missed him during the last five days. Another part of her injured heart trembled with fear. She had just left a marriage where she thought she had been in love. It was her idealism, she surmised, getting in her way again. Jean always accused her of being a romantic who saw the world through rose-colored glasses. Worriedly, she trudged upstairs to her suite, unsure of which feeling to believe and anxious to hear Sam’s voice booming throughout the house, announcing his return.
It was near ten o’clock when Danielle felt tiredness creeping up on her again. Dr. Hart had come over on Thursday and taken the bandage off her nose, warning her that she could still continue to go to bed early and sleep late, since she had borderline anemia. Her nose looked as good as new, and the bruised shadows beneath her eyes had disappeared. She pressed her fingers gently against the bridge of her nose, feeling tenderness but very little pain. As she climbed into bed around ten-thirty she heard the first thunderstorms of the evening rumbling toward the silent ranch house. Snuggling down beneath the goosedown covers, a knife of loneliness twisted in her heart. She had looked forward to seeing Sam, and she was worried about him traveling through the turbulent weather. Gratefully, her tired body gave out on her fretting mind, and she slept deeply as lightning forked across the black, roiling sky.
* * *
It was raining heavily when she got up at six o’clock the next morning and made her way down to the stud barn. She looked toward the parking area, disappointed at not seeing Sam’s pickup there. He was already half a day late returning from San Francisco. The rain was biting and the wind surprisingly cold, sweeping down from Canada and dropping temperatures below normal for this time of year. It didn’t matter. Altair was going to get his baptism in water today. Or fire, depending upon how he looked at it, she thought wryly.
Mounting up, she urged the red stallion out of the barn, asking him to move into a slow trot. Snorting, the thoroughbred bowed his head against the slashing rain. Dany brought down a pair of plastic goggles, protecting her eyes, but drastically limiting her vision. The cooler weather made him more energetic than usual. Altair moved out briskly under the sensitive monitoring of her hands and legs.
After a mile, she pushed him into a slow canter, his long legs eating up the distance easily. The stallion turned a dark sienna from being thoroughly wetted by the rain. They were both getting soaked to the skin, and twin jets of spray and mist shot from his flared nostrils as he continued to splash through the water that surrounded him on all sides. Dany felt moisture trickling down between her slicker and neck, realizing she would be thoroughly soaked within another half hour. His body moved fluidly beneath her, and she shouted praise into his ear, reaching forward and patting the crest of his neck.
The real test began at the end of the gray, mist-filled valley. By now, there were big puddles, and Dany felt the sorrel begin to lag and try to avoid them. She deliberately shifted her full weight, throwing the animal to the right or left so that his hooves sank into the two inches of water. They both worked hard and with total concentration for at least an hour before Dany pulled him down to a slow trot. Altair blew and snorted, his massive chest gleaming with sweat, mud and rainwater.
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 champ. 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.”