Page 79 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
“Now and again.”
“Could I interest you in a match?”
Slade was already unbuttoning his overcoat. “I’d enjoy that, sir.”
“Call me Don, everyone does.”
“Right, Don.”
Within a minute the chessboard was out and set up on the coffee table, while the two men sat opposite each other on matching ottomans.
Suspecting that the contest could last a while, she checked the prime rib roasting in the oven and added large potatoes, wrapping each in aluminum foil. The refrigerator contained a fresh green salad and her favorite cherry pie from the localbakery. There were also some carrots in the vegetable drawer; she snatched a couple and put them in her pocket.
After grabbing her denim jacket with its thick wool padding from the peg on the back porch and slipping into her cowboy boots, she made her way out to the barn.
The scent of hay and horses greeted her, and she paused, taking in the rich, earthy odors. “Howdy, Sampson,” she said, greeting her favorite horse first.
The sleek black horse whinnied a welcome as she approached the stall, then accepted the proffered carrot without pause.
“Have you missed me, boy?”
Pokey, an Appaloosa mare, stuck her head out of her stall, seeking a treat, too. Laughing, Shelly pulled another carrot from her pocket. Midnight, her father’s horse and Sampson’s sire, stamped his foot, and she made her way down to his stall.
After stroking his sleek neck, she took out the brushes and returned to Sampson. “I suppose Dad’s letting you get fat and lazy now that I’m not around to work you.” She glided a brush down his muscled flank. “All right, I’ll admit it. Living in San Francisco has mademefat and lazy, too. I haven’t gained any weight, but I feel flabby. I suppose I could take up jogging, but it’s foggy and rainy and—”
“Shelly?”
Slade was standing just inside the barn door, looking a bit uneasy. “Do you always carry on conversations with your horse?”
“Sure. I’ve talked out many a frustration with Sampson. Isn’t that right, boy?”
Slade gave a startled blink when the horse answered with a loud snort and a toss of his head, as if agreeing with her.
“Come in and meet my favorite male,” she invited, opening the stall door.
Hands buried deep in his pockets, Slade shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“You don’t like horses?”
“Not exactly.”
Having lived all her life around animals, she had trouble understanding his reticence. “Why not?”
“The last time I was this close to a horse was when I was ten and at summer camp.”
“Sampson won’t bite you.”
“It’s not his mouth I’m worried about.”
“He’s harmless.”
“So is flying.”
Surprised, Shelly dropped her hand from Sampson’s hindquarters.
Slade strolled over to the stall, a grin lifting the edges of his mouth. “From the look on your face when we landed, one would assume that your will alone was holding up the plane.”
“It was!”
