Was Breanna in the lead? He prayed it was so. She'd wanted it so badly.
It took him longer than he'd thought to unload the gelding from the stock car ,and the station attendant was next to no help in giving directions to the race finish line. The boy was about Breanna's age and clueless that the event was even happening.
The sun was over the horizon by the time Adam settled Breanna's horse in an area well back from all the spectators. Someone—the race master?—had constructed a grandstand and the bleachers were filled, with more of a crowd spilling out at the ground level. Two flags had been placed twenty yards apart and fluttered in the early-morning breeze. Someone had painted a line between them, and a photographer stood waiting.
Would the race be so close they’d need the photo to know who won?
Adam joined the crowd spilling from the stands. He had a small notepad and that darn pencil stub in his hand, ready to send the final results back home as soon as possible.
He wouldn't get a good view of the riders as they approached, not until they got close. But he couldn't see a way to get up to the top.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, and he glanced up to the highest spectators to see several people pointing off in the distance.
He squinted against the morning sunlight, but couldn't make out a rider yet.
He glanced up into the stands. And then he had to do a double-take, because that was... was that Breanna's brother?
It was Seb.
He was sitting on the top of the bleachers, holding his little sister Ida on his shoulders.
Adam hoped someone was supervising the young man.
As he looked, he made out several other members of Breanna's family. Her father. Oscar and Sarah. Matty and Catherine. The baby was bundled on his papa's shoulder.
They'd come for her.
Of course they had. They were a closely knit family, and they supported her in ways he'd always wished he'd have received from his own father.
It meant that Adam's presence might be superfluous here.
If her family was here to welcome them back to their bosom, she didn't need him. They might talk her out of accompanying home.
He’d only ever had a small chance of getting her to agree since he'd withdrawn from the race, but he'd held onto that one kernel of hope.
Was her family’s presence a good or a bad thing?
Before he had a chance to make up his mind, someone shouted his name from behind him. He turned to look, expecting another one of Breanna's brothers to have seen him.
But it wasn't one of the Whites at all.
Breanna flewacross the grassy plain, still several paces behind the cowboy she'd spotted as the sun rose. Johnson.
She'd gained on him incrementally as day had broken around them, had seen the moment he'd looked back and realized that someone was on his tail. He'd kicked his horse for more speed.
She'd done the same, amazed that Domino had anything left to give. He'd responded to her urging for more speed by lengthening his stride and pushing himself faster.
Would it be enough?
They gained on the cowboy inch by inch. The sun was coming up, glaring directly into Breanna's eyes. She tilted her head down so her hat brim blocked most of it.
On the horizon, buildings came into focus. Chicago.
Her heart pounded as a last surge of adrenaline pulsed through her. The stallion seemed to recognize it, or maybe he just wanted to be done with this endless ride. He seemed to stretch even lower to the ground, almost to fly.
Closer. Closer.
Still a stride behind the gray horse.
