Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) Read Online Free PDF Page B

trouble with the Donovan wildcat.
    He had one arm in his shirt sleeve when he heard the laughter, deep and throaty and sexy. Hannah’s laughter, he thought. It had to be. No other woman had a voice quite like hers, a husky musical voice that made him think of a slow, sexy blues song.
    He hurried to the window. Hannah was there, leaning down from a white stallion, laughing at something her brother was saying. Jim’s shirt dangled in his hand, forgotten. The beauty of woman and horse twisted his gut. Hannah leaned low in the saddle, her hair a bolt of black silk against the pristine white of the horse’s neck. Her expression was soft and gentle and loving.
    Jim had a sudden vision of Hannah in his bed, her midnight hair piled against the pillows, her soft expression aimed exclusively at him.
    “Fool,” he chided himself. “She’s not the fireside, homemaking type.” He turned from the window, vowing to think of her only as an amusement, something to help pass his time in Greenville. But that vision of her, leaning low in the saddle, woman-soft and laughing, wouldn’t go away.
    As he headed down the stairs, he knew what he was going to do, what he had to do. He was going riding.
     o0o
    Hannah was in the pasture behind the barn, just as he’d hoped. He stood beside the barn for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. She rode hard and fast, thundering over the ground on the white stallion. Her exultant, throaty laughter carried to him on the morning breeze. Animal and woman seemed to be one, their bodies flowing with the movement of the horse’s hooves. There was a grace in the horse and rider that complemented the morning.
    Jim lingered a moment longer, silently appreciating the scene, then he went inside the barn and led out a chestnut filly. He arranged the saddle blanket and was hefting the saddle upward when he heard the stallion whinny. It was a high-pitched sound of alarm that sent shivers up his spine.
    He whirled around and saw them across the pasture fence—Hannah’s white stallion rearing on its hind legs, its forelegs beating the air, and Hannah, bent low over its neck, fighting to keep her seat.
    Jim dropped the saddle and vaulted onto the filly’s back. Praying that Tanner had been right about the chestnut’s jumping abilities, Jim urged the filly on, racing toward the fence and calculating the exact moment when he would jump.
    A burst of adrenaline pumped through him; his senses became knife-edge sharp. In the distance he could see Hannah’s spooked horse, rearing and plunging back down.
    “Hold him, Hannah.” Jim scarcely was aware that he’d cried out to her. His own horse rose in the air. For a breathless moment it seemed to be suspended over the fence. Time stood still for Jim. He was committed. There was no pulling back. His horse would either clear the fence or come crashing down, possibly killing them both.
    Suddenly he felt the ground under him. The chestnut filly had landed smoothly and was racing across the pasture without a break in its stride. Exultant, Jim yelled once more, “Hold him, Hannah.”
    Her stallion bolted, but at least her seat was sure now, Jim thought as he galloped after her. He leaned over his filly’s neck, urging her forward in Apache language he’d learned from his friend Colter Gray Wolf.
    The filly was smaller than the stallion, but she used her size to her advantage. She flew across the pasture, rapidly closing the distance between herself and the stallion. Big chunks of earth flew up from the pounding hooves; dust swirled around them.
    Jim planned his move, judged his distance, and closed in. When the horses were side by side, he reached out and lifted Hannah from the saddle. With his arm firmly around her small waist, he held her, suspended, for a small eternity while he maneuvered the chestnut away from the stallion. Then, with split-second timing, he swung her up behind him. Her arms instantly circled his waist, and he could feel her heart thudding