Chase the Clouds

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Look, Danielle—may I call you that? Westerners hate formality.” He gave her a frank smile. “We’re mostly homesteader folk and would rather sit down over a whiskey and discuss our troubles. I’ll take you to lunch, and we can discuss this problem over some good food. Besides, you look a little shook up.”

  She shivered inwardly as he spoke her name. It rolled off his tongue like a soft growl of that mountain lion he had mentioned. Her heart was aching, and at the moment, she was aware of only pain and loss.

  “Come on,” he urged, pulling her to her feet. “You’re getting paler by the second. Don’t worry. Everything will turn out all right.”

  * * *

  Danielle sat quietly in the darkened restaurant, a glass of wine in front of her. She stared down at the salad, her appetite nonexistent.

  “You know, if you don’t eat, you aren’t going to be any good for me,” Sam murmured, setting the fork down and wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “I have a proposal for you,” he began. “And one that I think might do you a lot of good.” He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Fly back to my ranch that sits above Placerville and work Altair for me throughout the late spring. Then, if he comes along under your hand, I’ll put him on any show circuit you want. I can even have you both flown back East here for the Devon show. What do you say?”

  She took a drink of the wine, trying to shore up her broken defenses. “Your ranch?” she echoed.

  Sam sipped the whiskey, the shadows playing across his face reminding her of a medieval knight who had just stepped out of the past into the present and into her life.

  “The Cross Bar-U sits in the High Sierra mountains eight thousand feet above Placerville and close to the Truckee River. It’s God’s unaltered handiwork up there. The Truckee is one of the most violent rivers in the West, and the mountains are some of the finest in the world. I have thousands of acres of rich grassland, steep hills and rolling meadows perfect for training Altair. It’s a vast, virgin country, Danielle. Far different than your tame hills here in Virginia.” He allowed himself a small smile, his voice vibrating with a low-key excitement. “You would have a suite of rooms at the main house.”

  She found herself being pulled along by the fervor in his voice. She colored as he picked up one of her hands, pressing it between his own.

  “Danielle, you’re one of the best trainers in the U.S. when it comes to polishing off an event horse.”

  Her pulse accelerated unevenly, and she was acutely aware of the strong, callused fingers capturing her hand. His voice was a husky balm to her shredded heart, and his touch soothed her frantic, worried mind. Hesitantly, she withdrew her hand, tucking it in her lap, unable to meet his warm, inviting eyes that seemed to be dappled with silver flecks of excitement.

  “My ex-husband was the rider, Mr.—”

  “Call me Sam. And frankly, Danielle, I’ve had a thorough check made into both your backgrounds. Your ex-husband took chances with the horses under his tutelage. The sprained ligaments, the bowed tendons…no, you were the one who brought those animals along and gave them their distance to go that extra mile when it was asked of them. Look, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with Altair. He’s an athletic, daring stallion who can go all the way. But he’s a sensitively calibrated instrument also. He needs your touch. He can’t be mishandled at this stage by a whip or a club in some man’s hands. You’re the only one who can do it.”

  She touched her hair in confusion, pushing a strand behind her ear that had escaped from the severe chignon she wore while training and riding. Her hair was nearly long enough to reach her slender waist and had to be tightly knotted at the nape of her neck so that she could get her protective hard hat on her head. “Sam—” Her voice quavered and she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Please—so much is happening—I can’t think straight. Give me time.…”

  “I can’t do that. Not under the circumstances. Look, you’ll love the Sierras. I believe the change of location and environment might do you a world of good. Might bring back that sparkle to your blue eyes and put a dash of color on those pale cheeks.” He stared at her intently for a moment. “It may make you smile again. You have a beautiful mouth.”

  Danielle shivered at the husky inference in his tone. There was a veiled, hungry look in his gray eyes, and she stared wordlessly across the table at him, feeling her body respond of its own volition to the invitation. “I just can’t pack up and leave Richland! I have several coming five-year-olds here that need daily training and—”

  “You have two capable assistants,” he countered. “Surely they can manage the three animals that are here.”

  She sighed heavily. Since Jean had left, the bulk of their numerous clientele had left Richland. She wished that their clients had known that it was her ability that had made those horses winners. But she couldn’t ride—at least that’s what Jean had always impressed upon her—and clients didn’t want just a good trainer, they wanted a brilliant rider to make their horse a winner. And she was anything but a brilliant show rider.

  “I’d be willing to invest fifty thousand in Richland for renovation purposes plus an advertising campaign that will bring you in some of the biggest clients in the world. You give me four months of your time and I’ll make sure Richland becomes a center for Grand Prix hopefuls on both sides of the Atlantic.”

  She stared in shock at him. Fifty thousand…what she could do with that money! It would enable her to buy another hot-walker to cool out her charges after their demanding morning runs, another groom to help in the more mundane duties around the barn and—it was too good to turn down.

  “Look,” she began unevenly, “the offer is wonderful, and to tell you the truth, it would help Richland.” She lifted her lashes, meeting his steady gaze, her heart beating painfully in her breast. “Sam, I’m not a show rider. Oh, sure, I can ride. But I’m not a Grand Prix rider. I have no experience…no—”

  “Who told you that?” he demanded quietly. “You train world-class hunters and jumpers and you stand here and tell me with such incredible humbleness that you can’t ride them?” Disbelief flared in his gray eyes.

  Dany chewed on her lower lip, evading his extraordinary eyes. She could lose herself in their pewter color. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

  He sat back, a quizzical expression written on his features. The seconds strung tautly between them. He watched her silently for a moment. “You ever seen Altair?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Hell, I’ll change the deal. You fly back with me and take a look at him. If he doesn’t sell you on staying at the Cross Bar-U and riding him in shows, then I’ll let you come back East. Deal?” He held out his large hand toward her.

  Danielle’s lips parted, and she stared down at his hand. She could come back to Virginia if she didn’t like the horse. “You’d release me from the contract if I’m not impressed with Altair?” she hedged carefully. “And still put the fifty thousand into the stable?”

  Sam nodded his head. “That’s right, Danielle. Now, we got a deal?”

  She slipped her hand into the warmth of his. “Deal,” she murmured.

  Sam reluctantly released his hold and leaned back, smiling boyishly. “Welcome to the Sierras, Danielle. You’re going to love it there.”

  Two

  “Martha,” Sam thundered as he walked into the main foyer of the ranch house, “we’re home.”

  Dany stole a look around at his so-called ranch house. It was a magnificent two-story castle, reminding her of the grand haciendas of the Spanish dons in California during the eighteenth century. The red tile floor gleamed dully beneath their feet, and the halls were made of dark rough wood, accentuating the definite masculinity of the interior. She followed Sam down the hall, and he led her into a sitting room. Everywhere she looked she noticed oil paintings of family members. It was obvious from the rich furnishings and age of the ranch that it had all
been handed down for at least a century, coming finally to the man who now stood before her.

  “She must be in the kitchen, Danielle. Sit down and rest. I’ll be right back.”

  “I think I’ll stand, Sam. I need some exercise to shake off the tiredness.”

  He nodded, putting down two of her suitcases. “We’ll remedy that very shortly. I hope you’re ready to see the best eventing hunter in the U.S.”

  She had to smile at his unabashed enthusiasm. “Whenever you are,” she assured him. She wanted to add that it didn’t matter, having made up her mind to decline training Altair. Tomorrow morning she would leave for Virginia. As lovely and rugged as the drive to the ranch was, it contrasted startlingly with the gentleness inherent in Virginia woodland. Even though tall redwoods and spruce towered over the small, winding highway leading up to the Cross Bar-U and the fragrance of pine refreshed her senses, the snowcapped mountains looked like giant predators surrounding her. Where could she possibly ride a horse in those jagged peaks?

  Martha came flying around the corner, her skirt rustling, a wooden spoon in one hand and a ball of bread dough in the other. She was a short plump woman, reminiscent of a pigeon. She stared across the room at Dany. “Oh, lordy!” she exclaimed, her applelike cheeks glowing pink from the heat of the kitchen. “Where’s Sam! Oh, you must be Mrs. Daguerre. I didn’t expect you for another hour!” She frowned, turning on her heel. “Sam! Where are you? I swear, you’re worse than a little boy. Spring’n surprises on me like this. Wait till I—”

  Dany put her hand over her mouth to suppress a smile as Sam wandered back into the room. Martha couldn’t be more than five feet tall, and Sam towered over her like a redwood in comparison. The housekeeper waved her wooden spoon threateningly up at him. “Sam Reese, if you were twenty-five years younger, I’d take you across my knee, boy! The very idea of coming an hour early!” she scolded.

  Sam took off his hat, grinning contentedly, a twinkle in his eyes as he glanced over at Dany. “This is Martha. She’s been with our family all of her life. She more or less runs the household, and me,” he added drolly. “I think the last time I got hit with her wooden spoon was when I was ten years old.”

  Martha belligerently placed her hand on her hip. “And it isn’t like you didn’t have it coming, Sam Reese.”

  Dany laughed heartily, wiping the tears from her eyes, watching the two of them stand there self-consciously. “I had no idea Sam was such a rambunctious youngster.”

  Martha glared back up at her full-grown charge. “He still is. He still is. Listen, Sam, you take Mrs.—”

  “Please, call me Dany,” she offered.

  Sam raised one eyebrow speculatively. “Dany? Nice nickname,” he complimented her huskily.

  “Most of my friends know me as Dany,” she explained. “Or, you can call me Danielle, Martha. Whichever is easiest. I’ll answer to just about anything.”

  Martha dipped her head. “Just don’t answer late for dinner, Dany. I only ring that bell once!”

  “Believe me,” she assured the feisty housekeeper, barely able to contain a smile, “I won’t. I don’t want to get whacked with a spoon.”

  Martha blushed furiously. “Oh, I’d never do that!” She waved it up in Sam’s general direction. “He knows I’m just like an old hunting dog with no teeth left. All bark and no bite.”

  “Most of the time,” Sam kidded. He held out his hand toward Dany. “Martha will make sure the boys bring in your gear. Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

  When Sam Reese said a suite of rooms, he meant exactly that. The ranch house was large, but because of the homey atmosphere and earthiness of colors throughout it, it seemed smaller and more intimate to her. Sam opened a door on the second floor, urging her in. She stood inside the room, her eyes widening in appreciation. He halted at her shoulder, watching her expression with a look of pleasure in his eyes.

  “Well, do you think this will do? Over here you have a full bath including a whirlpool.” He looked down at her. “That’s for times when you bite the dust and you’re sore.”

  She laughed. “Are you trying to tell me that Altair is accustomed to throwing his riders?”

  “He’s a handful,” he remarked cryptically. “And the next room, which incidentally joins my suite, is a living room.” He opened another door. There was a set of large windows with the beige drapes pulled back to allow a cascade of sunshine to spill into the pale green room. Dany stood there, admiring it silently.

  “It’s lovely, Sam.” She tilted her head, catching his pleased expression. “And flowers!” A delicate blue vase in the center of the pecan table seemed to overflow with blossoms. She walked over to the table, caressing one of the petals.

  “Those come from the property here. With the snow leaving and the temperature starting to rise, they’re popping up all over the place. Martha picked them especially for you. She said ladies from the East would appreciate flowers.”

  Leaning over them, she cupped them within her hands and inhaled their fragrance. She closed her eyes, murmuring, “I never expected such a warm welcome.”

  “Part of the Western tradition,” he assured her. “You’re like one of the family now, you know. Martha will treat you like a daughter and dote on you, if you let her.” He hesitated at the other door leading to his suite. “Listen, you rest for a while, and later, when you come down, I’ll take you out to see Altair.”

  Dany straightened up, her eyes giving away the excitement she felt. “I would like to rest. But I’m dying to see Altair.…”

  “He can wait two more hours. Now get changed into something more comfortable and take a nap.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “No, just a strong suggestion.”

  Dany tossed her head, laughing. “It’s good advice. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

  He dipped his head and opened the door. “Look, if you need anything, just come on in. I’m going to be slaving over some paperwork that’s built up over the last week.”

  * * *

  Dany unpacked one suitcase, leaving the others sitting where the ranch hands had placed them. She hung up her black silk robe and tucked her toiletry articles in the bathroom. Changing into a pair of russet-colored jodhpurs and a yellow blouse, she loosened her ebony hair, allowing it to flow freely across her shoulders. The queen-size bed looked inviting, and against her better judgment, she lay down on it, intent on resting about twenty minutes before viewing the stallion.

  New sounds, sounds of cattle lowing plaintively and of horses whickering in friendly fashion, lulled her into a restful state. She had not meant to sleep, but the sun was warm against her back as she curled up on the huge expanse of the bed, and weeks of emotional exhaustion were placed into limbo.

  * * *

  Danielle moaned, hearing herself cry out. “No!” she screamed. The voice, her voice, reverberated into her restless, sleeping state, and she choked off another cry. In the dream, she saw herself transformed into a horse who was being whipped cruelly by the handler. The horse struggled, trying to escape the biting flick of the whip that Jean had in his hand. Pain seared her heart and she moaned. Jean was yelling, driving her back into a corner. She was trying to escape the whip and the pain.

  “Dany?” a new voice called. The husky, warm voice sliced again into the anguish of the nightmare. She whimpered, feeling the caress of a man’s hand against her arm, moving up across her shoulder in a caring fashion. “Dany, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

  She gasped, blinking open her eyes. Sam Reese sat on the edge of the bed leaning across, his hand resting on her shoulder. Tearstains glistened against her cheeks, and he reached over, touching her skin with his fingers, making an awkward attempt to remove the wetness.

  “You’re all right, lady,” he soothed. “You were crying out and I heard you next door. Just take it easy. Everything is going to be fine.”

  The rough caress of his fingers against her face sent a new, aching sensation throug
h her tense body. The musky scent of his masculine body invaded her nostrils, and her heart pounded without restraint. She was captured by the tenderness of his expression, his eyes broadcasting genuine concern. Dany shivered, confused by his care and affection. She pushed his hand away, struggling to sit up and get away from his powerful male body.

  “I’m all right,” she gulped, rubbing her face. Her hair fell in blue black sheets about her pale features.

  Sam nodded, watching her in silence for long moments. He caressed the crown of her head, his hand barely skimming the surface of her hair. “I was right,” he murmured softly, “you have lovely hair, Dany. You ought to wear it down more often. Makes you look like a princess.” A bashful smile pulled one corner of his mouth, and he hesitantly drew his hand away, resting it against his thigh.

  It took a few moments to retrieve her senses. The sun was no longer shining and darkness had claimed the day. She was excruciatingly aware of Sam Reese as he sat quietly beside her, making no further attempt to touch her. Finally, she raised her head, meeting his gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized in a thick voice.

  “What for? We all have bad dreams every once in a while. I’ve put you through a great deal in just a few days time, Dany, and it’s caught up with you.”

  She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t you,” she whispered. “Oh, I’ll admit it’s been hectic and surprising, but that wasn’t it.” She gave a broken, helpless shrug. “Just the past coming back to haunt me again. As usual.”

  He pursed his lips, nodding sagely. “You know there’s one sure cure for the past.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get involved in the present. Let the past go. It’s dead and gone. You did what you had to do and gave it your best shot.” He forced a weak smile. “Take my word for it, I’ve been there, too.”