"Ah, yes."
Probably it wasn't appropriate for her to watch the play of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt and dark jacket, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away.
"I found a shopkeeper who had a cat with a new litter. I had to talk two six-year-olds out of keeping all the kittens for themselves and then sacrificed one of my shirts tying the thing up to get it out to your Pa's place. I gave it to Edgar to gift his wife."
Oh.
What a thoughtful gesture. How long had it taken him, a stranger, to track down a litter of kittens in Bear Creek? And he'd done it because he'd known she was upset. It was almost unbearably sweet.
Adam straightened to his full height.
"All right, oh wise one,” he said, “how shall we cool down our beasts of burden?"
She pointed to the water trough, and they let the horses drink until they'd had their fill, though Adam raised his brows when she let them go on drinking after he would've stopped them.
She and Adam checked in briefly with the vet, who did only the most cursory of examinations.
"He didn't even check their legs for founder," she muttered as the man walked away.
Adam followed her as she led Buster by the reins to the open field off the corral. She was gratified to see several of the other riders cooling off their horses as well as twilight fell around them.
"Maybe there’ll be another check in the morning," Adam offered.
Maybe. She glanced at him, ready to comment again on the vet's carelessness, but Adam's gait was off enough that she was distracted.
"You're walking like an old grandpa," she said.
He grunted, his critical gaze on Domino. "I feel lucky that I'm moving at all."
"Better to keep moving now and stretch out your muscles a bit," she offered helpfully. "It will be worse in the morning."
He turned that expressive eyebrow on her again. "Thank you very much for that."
"You could always forfeit the race. No one forced you to join."
She spoke in seriousness, but he shook off her comment as if it were so outlandish that it didn't deserve a reply. "I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning."
"You don't look fine now."
He glared at her, but he couldn't quite hide the lines of pain bracketing his mouth.
"Why don't you let me finish with your stallion,” she said, “and you go rustle us up some supper? We can meet back at the corral in a bit."
He glanced at the other cowboys hanging about. "Will you be all right?"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and swept back the vest she wore so he could see clearly the revolver holstered at her waist.
"Are you sureyoucan make it to the bunkhouse on your own?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. He handed over the reins and left her to continue walking both horses.
Another quarter hour and Breanna was satisfied that the horses weren't in danger of foundering. She led them by the reins toward the corral.
Night had fallen around her. The rancher, or maybe the race master ,had hung lanterns on a couple of posts so the yard wasn't completely dark. Cowboys had laid out their bedrolls in the grass between the corral and barn. It would be an early morning.
The corral was quiet, the horses too exhausted to be restless. Only a small cluster of cowboys remained near the bunkhouse and the light shining from its open door.
She'd turned the two horses into the corral when two shadows separated from the rest and approached her.
