I don't quit. He'd told her that last night.
And his gut told him that if he didn't go to Iowa, he'd regret it. He'd already traveled nearly fifteen hundred miles to find her.
But his father's voice was echoing in his head as he rode away from the White homestead. Saying that Adam was wasting his time.
5
"Ididn't take you for a coward."
Breanna didn't look up from securing her horse's saddlebag, though she couldn't help the way her shoulders tightened.
"I'm not a coward." She spoke softly, not even sure Adam could hear her over the ruckus all around them.
It was a half hour to dawn, still full dark. The early hour hadn’t kept anyone away, it seemed. Riders and townsfolk alike had turned out for the starting gun. There were voices in the dark, some shouts, horses blowing. Anticipation was almost tangible in the air.
Upwards of fifty cowboys had entered this endurance race. She'd never raced against so many, not all at once. Some of the men were green, in it for the glory. Even a city slicker from New York was among them, no doubt tempted by the winner's purse. A good chunk of them wouldn't last to the third day.
It was obvious that others, like the grizzled cowboy with a scar across his cheek who’d spoken to her, knew what they were in for. Instead of jawing and cutting up like schoolboys, he was checking his horse's tack, like she was. Two other men nearby looked enough like brothers that she believed they must be related. Or maybe it was the way they were arguing quietly.
In a crowd like this, only a handful of men made up her true competition. She'd know them by the end of the day. All she had to do was stay the course.
She'd hadn't expected Adam to come after her.
The last thing she needed this morning was a distraction, and he was a big one.
He'd come this far, it was going to take the force of dynamite to get him to leave.
She secured the last buckle and turned to face him, bracing for his temper.
It was there, under his skin, the muscle jumping in his cheek. He was holding it back by sheer force of will. He looked tired.
She didn't want to care, but she did. Still. "I told you, I won't return to Philadelphia."
His lips firmed. "Have I asked you to?"
Stung, she gaped at him. They both knew why he'd come to Wyoming to call on her. If he didn't mean marriage, then why come at all?
"I have a couple of days left before I have to return home,” he said. “I'd thought to spend that time getting to know you." He threw up one hand as if to encompass the riders surrounding them.
"Come home with me," he said. "Back to Bear Creek."
She couldn't help the stubborn jut of her chin. "I want to race. Iamracing."
He shook his head. Took off the fancy-pants bowler hat and ran one hand through his hair. "Why did I think you'd be reasonable?" He muttered the words as if to himself, but she jerked as if she'd been slapped.
He sounded so very much like her brother Oscar.
"I don't know." Her voice emerged cool, though inside she felt anything but. "I did try to tell you that you don't know me very well at all."
He mashed his hat back on his head. "I know that kiss—" He lowered his voice, glancing around them. Stepped closer. "I know what happened Sunday night scared you. Enough to run up here and claim this race is all for a lark. You can't get scared if you don't feel anything. Like I said, I didn't figure you for a coward."
She turned back to her horse, fingers trembling as she triple-checked Buster's bridle. She ran one hand down the animal's neck, chasing calmness. If she couldn't focus, she'd be out of the race before it started.
"Breanna."
She didn't look at him. Couldn't. "I think we've both said enough."
He made a noise of frustration. His silence didn't last long, though. "If you're going to race, you should ride my Domino."
