Breanna banged on the door several times, but no one came to answer.
I trust you. She'd hurled the words at him, made the outlandish claim just after she'd told him she wouldn't allow the men close enough to get the jump on her, but as far as he was concerned, if it was two against one, she was in danger. Even with a knife, or her revolver. She was petite. And a woman. It wouldn't take much to overpower her, even if she was a crack shot.
And there was a part of him that had been devastated to realize she was still holding herself aloof, even after days together. Even after they’d worked together to save that kid.
He'd thought they were building something. Even just in snatches of conversation throughout the day. Learning each other as they cared for their horses.
She didn't trust him at all. He hadn't won her heart. The race master had asked if she would forfeit.
Maybe he should.
He waited for her to give up on rattling the door, to say she had no choice but to wait for the store's proprietor. Would she be able to make the check-in tonight if there was a delay?
He should have known better than to think she’d give in. She glanced up and down the street and then reached into her pocket to remove two... hairpins? She began to pick the lock.
"Breanna!"
She didn't even glance at him. "Stop worrying so much."
In a matter of seconds, the tumblers on the lock gave way with a thunk, and she'd slowly opened the door.
"Hello?" Apparently satisfied that the place was empty, she stepped inside. "C'mon. This won't take but a second."
"I'm sure this is against the law," he muttered, barely stepping inside the doorway. He couldn't find humor or even more than a vague unease in that fact that they were trespassing.
She gave him a cheeky grin as she moved behind the counter quickly, opening drawers and rifling around until she pulled a sheet of leather and then a pair of shears and set them on top of the counter. Inside the store smelled like new leather. It was swept clean and every shelf was neat. Someone was going to notice they'd been in here.
He glanced out to the boardwalk. The sun was coming up outside. How much longer until the town began coming awake? The young boy had been inside the telegraph office, but what if he came outside?
What if someone noticed them in here and called for the sheriff?
Did a town this small even have a sheriff?
At least if they were in jail, Breanna would have to give up on the race. The thought was only minor comfort. He couldn't imagine what his father would say if he had to wire him from a jail cell.
She made several cuts on the leather and then motioned him to come closer to some kind of contraption mounted to the edge of the counter.
Another turn rifling through the drawers behind the counter, and she set several brass rivets on the counter.
She went about her task with single-minded determination.
He'd come on this journey with the same single-mindedness. A crazy plan to win Breanna.
It seemed she'd also turned that determination on keeping him at arm's length.
He watched her patch both stirrups, secure them to the saddle, then trim the patch carefully so it wouldn't rub against her horse.
She was capable. He’d already known that. She hadn't really needed him to carry her saddle down here. She'd been humoring him.
But...
The tumblers in his brain connected like the lock on the door. For the first time since he'd realized she was in trouble, his thoughts crystallized.
There had been something pass over her eyes when he'd asked her to ask him for help. Almost as if he'd hurt her in some way. It was the same look she'd worn when he'd called her unreasonable before the start of the race.
Breanna didn't like disappointing him.
He'd seen her at home, seen her hide a reaction to something her mother had said. How often did her family try to fit her into the mold they wanted for her?
