He admired her. Was maybe on his way to falling in love. He was smitten, that was sure.
And he had to admit to being envious that she had the freedom to ride in the race. If he didn’t return home as promised, would Father try to return to the paper? What if there were a way around it…?
Adam considered Domino. Held on to the bridle with one hand while he stroked the horse's neck. "What do you think, chap? Do you have it in you?"
The horse stamped a front foot on the packed dirt floor.
"I'll take that as a yes."
If Adam entered the race, Breanna would be forced into his company. It could work. He knew his stallion could keep pace with her gelding. He might not have ever done anything like this before, but if he followed her lead, he could keep up.
If his mother found out, she’d kill him.
He was supposed to be back home in three days, but Father would understand chasing a story. But how would he feel to find out that Adam had been chasing a woman?
He'd once explained his hunches to Adam. In business, his father could often tell whether a deal was good or bad just based on a gut feeling.
Adam was having a hunch now. This could work. He wouldmakeit. He'd have to find someone in the crowd to send Clarence a telegraph outlining his plan. If he sent a wire after each leg of the race, he'd be reporting from the field. And a story like this cowboy race would delight their readership.
He could do it.
And win Breanna's heart, too.
He just wouldn't mention Philadelphia again, at least not anytime soon.
The first rays of sunlight were coming over the horizon as he walked his horse to the tent where one of the cowboys had pointed out the organizer of this whole thing.
"Cuttin' it a little close." The man spit a stream of tobacco in front of Adam's feet. "Starting pistol goes off at dawn."
Adam paid the five dollar entry fee, and the man recorded his name in a leather-bound book. "No more'n two horses per rider." He slapped a piece of paper into Adam's hand. "Here's a map of the route. Check in every night at the marked location. There's been some noise in the papers about us endangerin' the horses, so we'll have a vet'rinarian at the check in every night. Got some bunkhouses lined out for the cowboys. Next leg of the race starts tomorrow at dawn. No check-in on the last leg. Whoever gets to Chicago first wins."
Did that mean riding through the night? Adam didn't have time to find out. Someone was shouting above the noise of the crowd. He stuffed the piece of paper in his pants pocket and moved closer to the starting line. There were probably thirty men between him and Breanna, but there was no help for it. Her buckskin should be easy enough to find after the starting gun went off.
"There's a crowd of reporters," the organizer called after him. "Give 'em a good fast start!"
Domino danced beneath him. Blood rushed through Adam’s veins, thundered in his ears.
He was really doing this. Racing. For Breanna.
And for himself. One last adventure.
The startinggun went off with a blast, and a horse near Breanna reared.
Buster ignored it as she nudged him into a gallop. Men and horses pressed close. Dirt flew into her face, and she was thankful for the handkerchief she'd tied around her nose and mouth. Not only was it keeping her from eating dirt, but it might keep her from being noticed. She wasn't going to hide the fact that she was female, but she didn't need to shout it to the world, either. Her competitors would find out soon enough.
Off Main Street, the lane opened up through a couple of fields and then the open prairie. With the hullabaloo of the start behind her, she slowed Buster from his breakneck speed to a fast trot. Several others did the same, while the bulk of cowboys spurred their horses for more speed.
"Fools," she muttered under her breath. She could only hope that the vet the race organizers had hired was worth his salt and would keep their horses from running again tomorrow, when they'd be exhausted and lame.
And then Breanna caught a flash of familiar black and white. Was that... Adam's stallion?
It was. And the fancy-pants rider on his back? Adam.
What was the fool man doing?
I don't quit. He'd said the words when she was trying to push him away. Maybe he wasn't a quitter, but he was going to kill himself out here.
He must've recognized her, because he reined in from the breakneck gallop and veered toward her at an angle.
