Chase The Clouds. Lindsay McKenna
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