People Will Talk (20 page)

Crack! The starting pistol sounded.

With a bound, they left the starting line. Nora
leaned forward, balancing her weight over Chessie's forelegs. They
flew over the ground, the thunder of the horse's hooves around
them.

From the first, Bret was out in front. Nora
felt Chessie straining forward, the spirit of competition driving
the mare to overtake Bret's stallion and leave the other horses
behind.

Nora held Chessie back, reining her in with the
slightest pressure. They had to hold steady now, keeping just back
of Bret until the first fourth of the course was behind them.
Chessie was the swiftest horse Nora had ever ridden, but they
needed to make their move at just the right moment.

Bret rode ahead of her, his powerful back
tensed and forward, every fiber of him thrown into winning. The
shock in his face had said it all. Never had it occurred to him
that she might be a serious challenge.

The thought spurred Nora on and she loosened
the reins, letting Chessie take the bit more firmly. The mare
gradually gained on General, her strong stride eating up the
distance.

The beribboned pole stood ahead. Nora measured
the yards, knowing they had to gain on Bret now or lose the
race.

Tightening her heels against Chessie's flanks,
she gave the mare her head.

The ground seemed to fall away, wind whistling
past them as Chessie came up beside General and gradually pulled
ahead. Nora saw Bret's sideways glance and registered the surprise
on his face. He had to have known she was on his tail, but
Chessie's speed probably came as a shock.

They galloped over the pasture, side by side,
the two cowboys lengths behind them. Nora struggled to block out
Bret's presence. She leaned forward further, calling out to
Chessie. They had to give it their all.

Picking up speed, the mare lengthened the
distance between them and Bret. She flew along over the turf,
guided by Nora's steady hands, avoiding the soft spots, the uneven
patches of ground.

With Bret at their heels, they had to secure
their lead. Nora couldn't be sure of beating him around the pole in
close quarters and she didn't want to be there at the same time he
was.

As they approached the pole, she reined Chessie
back just enough to make the turn.

With the reins held tight in her left hand, she
grabbed at a ribbon.

The sliver of fabric slipped through her
fingers. All too aware of the approaching riders, Bret out in
front, she bit back a sob and wildly grabbed again.

Just as she grasped the ribbon, Bret's horse
thundered toward her.

Her prize clenched in her fist, Nora set
Chessie flying toward the finish line, flattening herself over the
horse's neck.

The home stretch lay before them. Nora could
hear the thunder of hooves behind and knew Bret was on her heels.
She poured everything into the moment, using every ounce of
horsemanship she possessed to communicate with Chessie.

They raced back over the pasture, the horses
running full out. General hung at Chessie's tail as they tore
toward the barns. Nora could feel the excitement of the horse
beneath her, feel the mare's thrill for the race.

The cheers of the crowd seemed to rise up to
greet them as they pelted closer and closer. Nora heard the din, a
clamoring racket in her ears muffled by the reverberation of her
own heartbeat.

Closer and closer they carne, Bret gaining on
her, inch by inch.

Everything seemed in slow motion. The finish
line lay straight ahead. Nora's ears were filled with the pounding
thunder of the horse's hooves, the frenzied cheering of the crowd
and the throb of adrenaline through her body.

Her eyes glued on the finish, she urged Chessie
forward, her breath clutched in her throat as they raced toward the
finish.

It was over in an instant. Chessie and Nora
raced across the line, just a half-length in front of
Bret.

Dazed and overwhelmed that she'd actually won,
Nora reined Chessie in and found herself off the mare, surrounded
by a cheering crowd that urged her toward the makeshift
platform.

A cowboy took Chessie from her, yelling, "I'll
cool her off," as excited onlookers pulled Nora toward the
announcer.

Some part of her brain registered that the
other riders had crossed the line. Her quick look around failed to
locate Bret, however. Had he simply ridden off?

"My God, girl! Where'd you learn to ride like
that?" A grizzled cowboy clapped her on the back as she was swept
forward.

Eager hands helped her up on the mounded bales
of hay.

"Hey, Bret!" a voice called. "A woman brought
you down."

"Ain't that the truth," Bret responded, his
voice drawing Nora's gaze.

He stood off to the far right, hat off, his
eyes meeting hers when she finally spotted him.

Nora felt the jolt of impact and saw something
in his face that she couldn't identify. There was no resentment at
her win, just a burning impression of intensity in his
eyes.

Shaken, Nora looked away, still dazed by the
turn of events. The crowd was talking excitedly.

"I never thought I'd see ol' Bret beat so bad."
Several ranch hands standing nearby snickered loudly. "How the
mighty have fallen."

Behind the group of cowboys, Nora saw Richard's
mother standing next to Sara Burton. Cissy was nowhere in sight,
but the expression on the older women's faces said it all. If she'd
won some hearts today, theirs weren't among them.

Nora couldn't have cared less.

She smiled at the two women, enjoying their
surprise in response to her gesture.

Suddenly, their enmity didn't matter. She was
through worrying about other people's opinions,

"All right, folks," the announcer called out.
"Quiet now. We have a trophy to give out here, Miz Hampton," he
spoke into the microphone, "it's my great honor to present you with
the Association's trophy for the best rider in Montague County.
"

Nora clasped the statue of horse and rider in
trembling hands.

"This is the first time in ten years," the
announcer went on, "that this award hasn't gone to Bret
Maddock-"

A cheer rose from the crowd.

"-and the first time, ever, that it's gone to a
woman.”

More applause greeted this.

"And may I say," the man took Nora's hand,
"what a pleasure it is to have such a beautiful woman up here
instead of some old weather-beaten cowboy."

As the crowd laughed, the announcer handed Nora
the microphone.

For a long moment, she could do no more than
clutch it. A welter of emotions held her voice captive-relief,
excitement and satisfaction among them.

In the back of the crowd, she spotted Mrs.
Turner. Nora cleared her throat. "Thank you," she said, meeting the
older woman's gaze over the heads of those clustered around her. "I
want to thank everyone here, especially Mrs. Turner, for her
encouragement and sponsorship."

Energetic applause rose in response to her
words. Glancing down as she handed back the microphone, Nora was
surprised to see Bret standing in front of her.

Without a word, he reached out and scooped her
into his arms

"What are you doing?" she gasped as the crowd
around them began laughing and calling out.

"We've got to work out that personal favor from
the loser to the winner." Bret pitched his reply so those near
could hear as he strode through the bystanders.

Knowing her embarrassment was all too visible,
Nora hissed, "Put me down!"

"Just hang on to that trophy," Bret
recommended. "It may not be mine this year, but I still wouldn't
want you to drop it."

Not wanting to look any sillier than she
already did, Nora decided not to try struggling out of his grasp.
Instead, she followed his recommendation and clutched the statue
more tightly.

Unfortunately, being carried in his arms felt
like the most natural thing in the world.

When he finally deposited her on her feet, they
stood beside his pickup truck. He opened the passenger door for
her.

Nora stood there, eyeing him without getting
in.

''I'm a very determined man," Bret said softly.
"You wouldn't talk to me before, so we're going to talk
now."

She looked at him, knowing her own stubbornness
had to be reflected in her face.

"Please?" he asked with that crooked smile.
"You wouldn't make a man pour out his heart in public, would
you?"

Nora got into the truck. If they had to have
this conversation, she didn't want an audience, either.

Besides, she loved him, and her heart demanded
that she at least listen to his story, even if he were lying
through his teeth.

"What about Chessie?" she asked, once he'd
gotten in and started the engine.

"The hands will take her back to the ranch," he
assured her.

Nora fell silent as they drove, unsure and
confused by the turn of events. Did he really expect to be able to
lie his way out of this?

And yet, every crazy instinct urged her to give
him the benefit of the doubt. Was he really devious enough to set
her up for scandal? How could she love him this much if he were so
evil?

Her thoughts in a whirl, she didn't realize
he'd driven to the Turner property until they arrived there. She
glanced at him sideways as they turned into the disused, overgrown
driveway.

When he stopped the pickup in front of the
house and got out without comment, she didn't know what to do but
follow him.

Bret crossed the front yard and climbed the
steps that had been the scene of their heated passion on that
afternoon so many weeks before.

Opening the front door without hesitation, Bret
held it wide for her.

"It was locked before," she said.

"I got the key from Mrs. Turner." His face was
serious. "I wanted to talk to you here. Go in."

She stepped over the threshold and found
herself in a spacious front room with large sash windows and a cozy
fireplace. At one end of the room was a wall of built-in bookcases,
and to the side of the fireplace sat an ancient wooden
rocker.

"Why are we here?" Her voice trembled with the
weight of might-have-beens. More than the house, she mourned the
loss of him-his laughter and the warmth of being in his
arms.

Bret had said he loved her, and the words
haunted her still. She'd wanted his love so much.

"This place started all the trouble between
us," he said. "It seemed like the best place to tell you how wrong
I've been."

"What?" She turned to study his
face.

He stood facing her in the empty room, his back
to the sunlit windows. "I screwed up this thing between us pretty
bad."

Nora didn't know what to say.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Bret took a
step toward the fireplace and turned back to face her. ''I've
always wanted you, Nora. Probably since we were teenagers. But
until this week, I didn't realize how much you've come to mean to
me."

Nora's heart stopped beating.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture
loaded with an awkward frustration she'd never seen in him before.
"Dammit, I'm so used to finessing things, so used to finding ways
to make everything come out … that I got careless with
you."

Her mind grappled with the implications of his
words.

''I'm a risk-taker, Nora. It's what I do. I run
close to the line in everything I do. Hell, just ask my mother. I
ran her ragged as a kid." He turned to pace back toward the window.
"And basically, pushing the limits has worked out pretty well for
me."

Bret faced her again. "I meant what I said that
day we got stuck in the mud. I love you. I never meant to hurt you,
and I swear I never planned any of this stuff to keep you from
getting this land. The Burtons showed up out of nowhere, I
swear."

Why she should believe him was beyond her, but
she felt herself weakening. That he stood here at all, saying these
things after she'd publicly beaten him, was even more
astonishing.

"When you first came back to town, I wanted to
help you with the gossipy old broads." He stopped and looked her
straight in the face. "I also wanted to sleep with you. Really,
really wanted to make love with you."

Nora looked at him, unsure of what his
confession meant. "I think the old broads will hate me till I
die."

A smile broke over his face then. "Boy, you
showed them today. I could have cheered."

"You wanted to lose the race?" she
gasped.

"Hell, no." Bret grinned. "I did my best to
beat you. And I'll bet you money that next year, I'll have another
horse to give you and Chessie a run for your money. But when you
crossed that finish line like a demon on that mare, anyone who
appreciates great horsemanship had to cheer."