Chase The Clouds. Lindsay McKenna
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 through 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