Sun Kissed by Catherine Anderson Page A

remember that and try to be more patient with her father.
    Once outside the building, Samantha stopped for a moment to enjoy the beautiful evening. The moon hung in the sky like a curved quarter shard of a broken supper plate, and stars twinkled around it like sequins that had been tossed willy-nilly onto dark blue velvet. When she breathed deeply she could smell alfalfa, freshly cut grass hay left to dry in the fields, and the faint perfume of wild clover.
    She took a slow turn, keeping her gaze fixed on the sky. I wish I may, I wish I might… The verse carried her back through the years to her childhood and brought a sad smile to her lips. No matter how many times Clint had warned her, she’d never been able to resist telling him what she had wished for. How different things were now, with her most secret wishes held close to her heart.
    When a sound came from behind her, Samantha assumed it was one of the wild creatures that frequented the property after dark and didn’t pause in her circling to look over her shoulder. The front window of her ranch foreman’s second-story apartment was just above her, and even though the lights were out, she knew he washome. Jerome, only a few years younger than her dad, went to bed with the chickens, but he was a light sleeper and would surely hear her if she called for help.
    Not that it would ever be necessary. Unlike her father and brothers, she didn’t live in fear of Steve Fisher anymore. She’d put that demon to rest. Only five of the original kitchen chairs that went with her custom-made table still existed. The sixth had met its waterloo when she brought it down on top of Steve’s head and then proceeded to whale the tar out of him with the broken pieces.
    It wasn’t one of her fondest memories, and she would never feel proud of the person she’d become that night. But the altercation had served two good purposes: teaching her that size, weight, and muscle didn’t always determine the outcome of a physical confrontation, and teaching Steve that the dictatorship he’d called a marriage was finally over.
    He’d left that night and never returned, sending a friend in his stead to collect his belongings. He was a coward and a bully who pushed people around only when he felt confident they wouldn’t push back. He would never step foot on this property again. She felt confident of that.

Chapter Six
    T he following morning after her customary three-mile run and a quick shower, Samantha left the house at precisely six o’clock. On Sundays, especially, it was important that she began her work early so she could break free shortly after eleven to attend noon Mass.
    En route to the stables, she carried five one-gallon freezer bags filled with treats for her horses—quartered apples, fresh baby carrots, and their favorite, oatmeal and diced fruit. A granola bar rode in her shirt pocket—her version of a human breakfast, which she liked to eat over coffee with her foreman before she began morning rounds.
    After entering the arena via the personnel door, she hung a sharp left and ascended the wooden stairs to Jerome’s on-site living quarters. Rapping sharply on the door, she turned the knob and leaned in to yell, “You de cent?”
    “When am I ever not decent at this time of day?” the fifty-four-year-old foreman answered. “Come on in, honey. Coffee’s made.”
    Samantha stepped inside, closed the door, and hooked her straw hat over the knob, making a mental note to search through her closets for another ball cap as soon as she found the time. “Thank goodness. I need a cup of your black mud to get my blood pumping this morning.”
    His graying brown hair still damp from the shower, Jerome flashed a welcoming smile, his brown eyes sharpening on her bruised cheek. “I figured you might need a jump start. How you feeling?”
    “Better than I look.”
    The compact apartment, originally intended to be used as foaling quarters, featured a tiny living room area divided from