"I have thought how good it would be to go back to France after
my project is through here, taking my meager savings, and my
meager arm, and finding a small ranch in the country."
She tightened her grip on the reins. "Well, if you want it badly
enough, you'll find a way to get back into the game."
"Yes, maybe. But for now I am a slave to this project. It's
paying the bills, as Americans are fond to say."
With mild dread, she knew he would be gone sooner than she wanted
to admit. Of course it would be better if he were gone, she told
herself. She was married to a very successful man, and that meant
security and stability.
Yet as if to discourage her rational thinking, a burst of
enthusiasm whipped through her. "Let's race," she shouted, then
pressed her heels into Mighty Boy's sides. Before Jean-Pierre
could answer, her horse bolted forward.
"Cheater!" he hollered, and gained on her quickly. They rounded a
turn in the path and flew past wild calla lily flowers, the tall
stems batting their horses' legs. She looked over her shoulder,
excited, and pressed Might Boy harder. Jean-Pierre narrowed the
distance between them and his horse fell into a synchronized
gallop with Mighty Boy. She laughed at him and saw that he was
hiding something behind his back. He saw that she saw.
"Not until you slow," he said, reining his horse to a trot.
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