The land they'd passed through all morning was arid and sandy. Her gelding needed water. Finally, she spotted a creek up ahead.
She and Adam had been walking the horses for the last two miles, and now she called out to him, "Let's take a short rest. Let the horses have a break."
He raised a hand to show he'd heard her.
Adam had never been sograteful to get off his horse as he was when Breanna called a halt mid-morning.
He'd challenged her to double her bet that he'd make it through the day, but he wasn't so sure that was even possible. His posterior might not survive the next fifteen—or however many—miles they had left.
The stream they'd finally come across was shallow, no deeper than his ankle, but Breanna wasted no time. She took the hat off her head and, just like she'd done yesterday, scooped water to pour over her gelding's neck and chest.
She'd gotten him this far, so he followed her lead and did the same. Domino largely ignored him, content to drink from the stream.
"Have you seen that young cowboy in the last hour?" Breanna asked. "The one who was—"
"Watching you fix my stirrups?" She was talking about the younger Johnson brother. Adam had noticed the kid eavesdropping on them this morning. He didn't begrudge the kid for following them. He'd obviously recognized Breanna was an expert horsewoman. It was a smart strategy.
"I haven't seen him for a while," Adam said. "I was only halfway paying attention."
That kind of remark would've earned him a frown from his father. Halfway paying attention could get a good reporter injured, or worse.
But Adam had needed most of his concentration just to stay on his horse.
Breanna was now examining the horse's skin around the saddle. Looking for sores. Smart. "He's been following at a distance, coming in and out of sight, but I haven't seen him in the last ninety minutes."
Adam shrugged. "Maybe he took a break, found a place to nap under some shade trees." He eyed an outcropping of rocks not far away. The boy was lean enough to fit under there. A quarter hour of shut-eye sounded like heaven to him.
Breanna shot him a dirty look. "If you need some shut-eye, lash yourself to the saddle."
"You're joking."
She raised her brows at him in a way that said clearly she was not.
"His horse's gait was off,” she said. “If his animal went lame or the boy got lost, he could be in trouble."
He felt his brows rise. What was her concern for the young man? "He isn't your responsibility, you know. Let his brother worry about him."
She didn't say anything else for a long moment. She was facing away from him so he only had a side view of her face. Was she disappointed in his reply? "They were arguing this morning," she said finally.
Did it remind her of home, of her own brothers squabbling? Was that why she was arguing with him?
"If you backtrack to check on him, you'll tire your horse and risk missing tonight's check-in."
She tied off a leather thong behind her saddle. Plopped her hat back on her head. And finally turned to him. "If he's injured or lost out here, he could die."
The boy still wasn't her responsibility.
"And if he's hale and unappreciative of your meddling? He didn't want your help this morning," he reminded her.
She shrugged. "I suppose I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I listened to my conscience."
He shook his head. He was not looking forward to the rest of the day in the saddle, and she wanted to tack more hours on to his time?
"He might not be my responsibility, but the race master won't come after him, and his brother's probably too far ahead to notice." She swung up into the saddle. "If my Pa hadn't come along to care for my brothers—or me—well... I hate to think where we might've ended up."
This wasn't the same, not really, but he didn't argue with her. She'd obviously set her mind to finding the boy and ensuring his safety.
He'd wondered how her upbringing had shaped her, and this was a clear answer.
