She wrapped her arms around her midsection like a shield. "I suppose you think you know me after today. My family has been doing their best to make me look domesticated. I'm not."
He laughed, because he still couldn't forget that fifteen-year-old girl who’d butted in to a cluster of nearly-grown men.Andchallenging him to a race.
"I don't—"
"Breanna!" A call came on the wind from the nearest house, fifty yards away. Had they been spotted by one of Breanna's multitude of brothers?
But it had been a woman's voice calling out.
Breanna's head turned that direction. "That's Fran. Come on, would you?"
He wanted to haggle for a few more moments of privacy, but she was already steps ahead.
They crossed between a line of trees and splashed through a stream as they approached the snug little house. It had glass windows, even all the way out here.
The woman on the step, Fran, was wringing her hands. "Breanna. I was watching for Edgar and saw you walking out."
The woman was so distracted she didn't even acknowledge him. "Edgar walked over to Oscars to discuss one of the horses. I thought he'd be home by now."
Breanna placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's forearm. "What's wrong? What can I do?"
"The kitten got out this morning before church. I thought he'd come back by the time we left or be waiting on the step when we returned home, but he's gone. Emma's kitten is gone."
A fine tension went through Breanna, almost like a rod straightening her spine. "Do you want me to take a look around? I bet he left tracks. He might even be stuck up in a tree, mewling for help down."
"Thank you." The other woman sighed her relief. "I know I shouldn't be so worried, but..."
Breanna nodded. "I don't mind. Do you have a lantern?"
Fran fetched one.
Adam trailed Breanna away from the cabin. She paused, almost as if she'd forgotten he was present. Her eyes were in shadow when she looked up at him. "You can take your leave. It'll be dark well before you reach town."
"You don't think I can help?" He'd never tracked a kitten before, never tracked any kind of animal. He doubted his skills locating informants would be terribly helpful just now.
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. "I think you're looking for something you won't find here."
"The kitten, or you?"
She glared at him.
"I finish what I start," he told her. Every article. Every frustrating typeset page. He wasn't a quitter. "There's something between us," he pressed. "I think we'd knock along together just fine."
Breanna wantedto throw up her hands. The man was as long-headed as a mule.
She didn't want to admit how flustered she'd been by his intent looks all day.
Now, he wouldn't listen and ride back to town. She shouldn't be worried. She wouldn't have to deal with him tomorrow, or the next day, because he'd probably break his neck riding in unfamiliar land in the dark of night. That, or get himself shot if he got lost and trespassed on a neighbor's land.
Obviously, he wasn't going to give in.
He followed her as she walked in slow circles with Edgar and Fran's cabin as a point in the center, slowly widening the search area with each pass. The lantern didn’t cast much light, and she strained her eyes to see.
She spotted the first tiny print on the creek bank. When Adam would've spoken, she waved him off. Because when she bent closer, she saw two dark drops on the ground. She reached out and touched one, and her hand came away damp with blood.
Two yards further along, she beside another print and more blood. Bigger spots.
Oh, Emma.
