and dirt. After a few minutes of getting used to the new surroundings, I squeezed Lady into a canter, reveling in the exhilaration of her muscles moving beneath me as we sped up, the wind whipping my hair back.
I was so into the joy of the ride that I failed to hear another horse moving up behind me fast. Almost too late, I caught sight of Noah from the corner of my eye, just in time to urge Lady faster before he passed us.
Glancing sideways, I saw him grin wickedly at me, and I knew the game was on. Leaning lower over my horse, I moved with her, pushing with my lower legs, asking for still more speed. We were going so fast tears were developing at the corners of my eyes—still I urged her on.
He was right alongside us, and if Lady swayed at all in his direction, we’d brush legs hard. I didn’t care, though. I wanted to win. I saw the challenge in his eyes, and I knew Lady was fast. Faster than the tall bay buggy horse he was riding. And even if she wasn’t, I was sure my Arabian could keep the race close.
But before either of us won, we ran out of running space as the path narrowed and I could see a sharp turn ahead leading into a stand of trees. Noah held out his hand, indicating for me to slow down, and I responded in unison with him and his horse, reining down to a walk right before the turn.
Sitting up and patting Lady vigorously on the neck, I exclaimed, “That was awesome! I would have beaten you if we’d had more room.” I exhaled loudly, still filled with the powerful adrenaline rush.
“Your horse is really fast,” Noah commented, catching his breath. He studied her for a moment and then brought his eyes up to me with the same admiring look on his face.
Blushing, I glanced away, feeling butterflies spreading out in my stomach. It was a strange feeling, being both pleasant in one way and totally unsatisfying in another. When I got the nerve to turn back to him, he was still silently watching me, this time with an unreadable expression.
“Wow,” I breathed. “Do you do that often?”
“No. That’s the first real race I’ve run in several years,” he answered thoughtfully.
“Why?” I asked him, relaxing in the saddle, swaying with the movement of the horse.
Pausing to answer, he said, “Well, since I’ve been done with school and working full-time, I just don’t have much time for joyrides. Then when I do, it’s difficult to make plans with my friends. There’s always so much to do around the farm.” He scowled and I suddenly felt sorry for him. He was too young to have to work all the time.
I was miffed and without thinking I blurted out, “Do you like being Amish?”
He sighed, scanning the trail ahead, brooding over my question for an amount of time that I was becoming uncomfortable with, when he finally answered, “Yes, I like being Amish—for the most part.” He glanced over at me with a slight tilt to his mouth and then continued, “I enjoy the simple way of life we have, the sense of community and the closeness of our families.”
After considering what he said for a minute, I asked with astonishment, “But don’t you want to be able to drive a car or watch TV?”
He laughed at that, shooting me a look of amusement. “Do you think those things are so important?” His grin spread into a full-blown smile. “I can get to most places I want to go in my buggy, and if I need to go farther away, I hire a driver. And you know…there are more enjoyable things to do at night besides watch TV.”
He eyed me speculatively. When comprehension dawned on me, my eyes widened and a blush heated my face, causing him to chuckle.
Okay, I wasn’t even going there, so instead I swallowed my embarrassment and asked him, “What’s your horse’s name.”
He laughed again, obviously entertained by my squirming discomfort at the last topic of conversation. While his tanned face attempted to be serious, he patted the horse’s neck and said, “This is Rumor.”
“That’s a cool name,” I said,