The Bride Price by Anne Mallory Page A

but the forays through the forest paths had held promise. Rings were placed throughout, so that more than one participant could gather them. Two riders riding together could each grab one from a different side and break even. The men who had set the course would be baffled if they could see the rings now, however. Some were hanging in slightly different homes.
    She had heard the excited stable hands talking about a complicated calculation between the time one finished the race and the number of rings collected. The calculations hadn’t interested her, but the stable hands’ undivided attention on one another, and off the stalls, had. Her helpmates had encountered no trouble completing their tasks.
    “What are they doing?” Lady Tevon peered through a pair of opera glasses.
    “I believe they are looking for their second rings. They seem to be encountering difficulty doing so.” Caroline tried to rein in her self-satisfied smirk, she really did.
    The men moved along the field, jockeying for position as they madly searched the area where the rings should have been prominently displayed.
    Sarah gave her a questioning glance, then raised her own glasses. Caroline raised hers too.
    It was a mad field. Horses everywhere, men shoving bushes hither and yon. A few clueless ones scratched their ill-used noggins and wandered aimlessly. This was a favor to them really.As either an early weed-out, or good practice for the hunt that would be held in a few weeks.
    She wasn’t surprised when Deville reached up to grab something. Bateman shoved sideways, nearly unseating Deville. Deville’s horse buckled beneath him, but at the last moment he leaned back, the horse righted itself, and they sped off. Sloane’s hand also closed around something shiny, and he too raced forward to the next thicket.
    The rest of the pack raced after them. Midway to the next grove, one of the men turned sharply and galloped down the course, following the un-tampered-with markings.
    “What is Mr. Timtree doing?”
    “Smart man,” Caroline murmured. “He saw the trouble they were having and has decided to forgo the points collected from the rings.”
    “What do you mean?” Lady Tevon demanded.
    “The winner’s score is a combination of race time and the number of rings collected. If it takes the others too long to collect the rings, Mr. Timtree can win purely by crossing the finish line first.”
    Another few men caught on, including Benedict, who raced after Timtree, eager to emulate his strategy.
    Caroline saw Deville’s eyes follow Timtree and Benedict. Deville could follow. It had been a rather brilliant move on Timtree’s part. It was even possibly in Deville’s best interests as he appeared to be a better rider. And Deville had two rings, so he’d be ahead of Timtree, and all the others who had followed him, in the standings for sure.
    Deville’s type always settled for the easy way out.
    He shifted in the direction of the finish line. “I knew it,” she muttered. Then his horse’s head swung toward the next thicket, and horse and rider flung themselves inside.
    She stood shocked, her mouth parting. A gambler. Definitely a gambler.
    “I told you.”
    Caroline kept her glasses up, ignoring Sarah’s low-voiced whisper as she anxiously searched the trees for movement. A few of the other men, including Bateman, blindly followed Deville. Sloane chose his own path.
    A few terse minutes later, Deville’s horse burst into the open. Sloane and Bateman pounded after him, the others on their heels.
    Eyes intent upon their prey. The race continued, up, down, and around the course. The lesser riders began to lag behind or decided to take the easy way out, cross the finish line, and put themselves in the middle of the standings. The risk takers pushed ahead. When they reached the last two patches, which were near the spectators’ area, Caroline cursed herself for becoming too predictable in where she had placed the rings. Deville seemed to zero in