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Marian Gordon smelled a story—a big story. This could be the story that would give her career the shot in the arm it so desperately needed. Rather than be taken aback by Rebecca Peters’ cool reception, she pursued that elusive big story. “Your brother claims that you’ve . . . been keeping company with Brig Chambers again. True or false?”

“It’s true that I see Mr. Chambers,” Becca admitted after an initial moment of hesitation. “What does that have to do with my brother or his case?”

“Are you living with him?”

“Pardon me?”

Marian smiled sweetly. “I asked you if you were living with him.” This was turning out better than the wily reporter had expected and she switched on her pocket tape recorder. She was right. The story was hot.

“Mr. Chambers has visited the farm,” Becca replied evasively.

“Is he here now?”

Becca paused slightly. It was useless to lie. The Mercedes was visible in the driveway. No other vehicle on the farm compared to its luxury. It wouldn’t take this reporter long to figure out that it belonged to Brig. “Yes. As a matter of fact, he is.”

The woman’s eyes lighted with unexpected pleasure. “Good. Then maybe I’ll get a chance to have a word with him. This story involves him, too. You know, what with his father being involved and all.” Marian couldn’t believe her good fortune.

“I don’t think so.”

“But surely he has some thoughts about your brother and his father and why they drugged that poor horse.”

Becca nodded her head and smiled. “I’m sure he does,” she agreed. “And I’m sure that I can convince him to give you a call when he decides to make an official comment.”

Marian was cagey. She tried another, more subtle tack. “Is there any truth to the rumor that you borrowed money from Jason Chambers in order to breed nearly a carbon-copy of Sentimental Lady. What was that horse’s name—Gypsy Wind?”

Becca’s suppressed temper began to flare. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re insinuating.”

The reporter looked appalled.“Insinuating?”she echoed. “Why, nothing, dear. According to your brother, you borrowed a rather large sum of money to produce a horse which would be a full sister to Sentimental Lady. Jason Chambers loaned you that money . . . privately of course. True?”

Forcing her fingers to unclench, Becca replied. “I bred Night Dancer to Gypsy Lady a second time. I had no idea that the offspring would be a filly, but it was. Gypsy Lady gave birth to Gypsy Wind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, that’s all I have to say on the subject . . . make that any subject.”

“Well, one last thing. Can I see her?”

“What?” Becca had begun to turn, but spun back to face the tenacious reporter.

“I’d like a picture of Gypsy Wind for the paper. Surely you wouldn’t mind a little free publicity for your horse. After all, she never raced as a two-year-old. The public will want to see if she’s all she’s cracked up to be.”

Becca’s thin patience shattered. “What she is, Ms. Gordon, is a fine racing Thoroughbred. She’ll prove herself on the racetrack. And I don’t want any photographs of her to be taken, not yet. She’s very high-strung and there’s no reason to upset her.”

“You said she’ll prove herself on the racetrack. What will she prove? That Rebecca Peters is still a qualified horse breeder?”

“That Gypsy Wind is a great filly.”

“Prove it. Let me get a picture of her.”

“No.”

“The horse,ifshe is a champion, will have to get used to it sooner or later—”

“When the time comes. Not now.” Becca’s voice was stronger and filled with more determination than she had thought possible. The reporter had made her angry and she felt an impassioned need to protect Gypsy Wind.

Marian realized that she had blown whatever chance she had for a more in-depth interview, and she cast a hungry glance at Brig Chambers’ car in the drive. Beyond the car were the barns. If only she could get one peek inside. Rebecca Peters was still lingering at the door and her expression was more than slightly perturbed, but Marian couldn’t resist the chance for a final question. Why not? She had gotten far more than she had expected from the fiery blond woman.

“Well—no pictures. But tell me this, do you think your horse can duplicate Sentimental Lady’s racing career?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Something bothers me, Ms. Peters.”