Three

      She awoke exactly at four-thirty. Dawn was barely breaking its hold on the night as Dany tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. To her surprise, the coffee had already been made. She poured herself a cup, putting cream and sugar in it, and then walked quietly out the back door. A thin blanket of fog hovered a few feet off the ground throughout the valley. The ranch sat on the southern end of the valley, surrounded on all sides by a thick forest of pines. The restless snort of horses waiting for their feeding hour was a welcome sound. Pulling her coat around her more tightly, Dany grasped the handle of the mug and meandered in the direction of the paddocks and the stable.

      Her hair swung with the natural rhythm of her body, the shorter tendrils framing her face from the dampness of the early morning humidity created by the ground fog. She turned the corner of the bunkhouse, catching sight of Sam leaning up against the fence. Dany stopped, her breath catching in her breast as she drank in his unmoving form. The brim of the hat was drawn down across his eyes, the denim jacket molded against the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. One leg was cocked lazily on the last rung of the fence, and he held a steaming mug of coffee in both hands as he seemed to be watching something in the distance. Her gaze traveled the meadow that disappeared out into the white blanket.

      There, not much more than a mile away, she could barely make out an outline of a horse standing alertly. She watched as Sam put his fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle broke the morning stillness. She heard the answering call; the unmistakable bugling scream of a stallion. Sam set the coffee mug on the post and climbed into the paddock, walking toward the horse who appeared magically out of the fog.

      Dany shivered as she watched the man and the stallion come together. Sam walked unconcernedly as the giant red stallion strained forward like a huge unstoppable freight train that had no brakes. She stifled a cry of warning, watching the sorrel suddenly veer off to the right and playfully scramble in a circle about the man. It had to be Altair! She released her held breath, awed by the sight of the magnificent thoroughbred. Altair reared, pawing his front legs through the air, and then came down only a few feet from Sam, snorting vehemently. It was as if the two males were squaring off at one another, each king of his own special domain. Danielle stood transfixed by the beauty and rugged handsomeness of the spectacle. Sam spoke in a quiet, firm tone to the stallion, holding out his hand. Altair’s small ears twitched, and he turned his intelligent eyes upon the man, snorting again. Pawing restlessly, the stallion flicked his thick flaxen tail, and bent his head to take the treat.

      She walked toward them as Altair nibbled the offering from Sam’s hand. By the time she got to the fence, they had both seen her. Sam put his arm across the stallion’s neck and led him over to the fence.

      “Good morning. I see you caught us at our favorite game.”

      “For a moment I thought he was going to run you over,” she admitted.

      “He’s been known to do that to people he didn’t like. Come here, Altair. I want to introduce your new rider and trainer.” He pulled the horse by the mane, and the stallion docilely complied.

      Dany flinched inwardly at the word “rider.” She did not share Sam’s belief that she could be one. Her eyes widened in appreciation, noting the thoroughbred’s impeccable conformation. Altair nuzzled her arm, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent. She watched him carefully; she never really trusted any stallion. They were male animals ruled by an instinctive sexual drive and not capable of thinking, only reacting.

      Sam stood back, admiring both of them, his hands on his hips. “He certainly seems to take to you. Of course, he’d be stupid not to.”

      Dany smiled distantly, keenly assessing the stallion’s personality, watching his ears and the look in his large brown eyes. “He’s far from stupid, Sam. And I can see he allows very few people to tell him what to do.”

      Sam laughed, joining her at the fence. “No one tells Altair a thing. They have to ask.” And then he frowned, picking up his coffee mug and taking a sip from it. “Which is where I’ve run into a lot of trouble with his riders lately. They treat him like an unthinking animal with only four legs and the power of a runaway truck. They don’t realize he’s thinking in his own terms and his forte is correctly judging complicated jumps. He’s a dynamic hunter who will challenge everything except a water obstacle.”

      Dany ran her fingers down the stallion’s sleek, silky neck, enjoying the play of muscles beneath his skin. She noted with a sinking feeling that long thin scars marred his beautiful copper coat. “My God, who did this to him?” she whispered, running her fingers along one scar that ran the length of his left shoulder. Her heart turned over in compassion as she noted several more scars around his mouth and across the top of his nose.

      Sam came around, affectionately scratching Altair’s ears. “Remember me telling you that the wrangler who captured him tried to break his spirit?” he asked huskily.

      Dany looked up, aware of the simmering anger hidden in his voice and reflected in his eyes. “This is outright cruelty!” she protested, her voice strangled with emotion. Gently, she reached up, caressing Altair’s scarred muzzle. The stallion moved away from her hand, the white of his eye showing as he took another step backward. She shook her head. “I don’t blame him for jerking away,” she said tightly. “What did they do, use wire to try and keep his head and nose down?”

      “Yes. It didn’t work, but it made him head shy with everyone