“Not at all. I don’t love him. I mean, I know he’d buy me aeroplanes. He said he’d buy me aeroplanes at least until we have children. Then wants me to stop flying.”

“Good Lord,” said Marion, “Preston is even a bigger fool than I thought.”

“You don’t think I should marry him . . . do you?”

Marion said, “I can’t tell you that. You have to know what you want to do.”

“You see, if I win the fifty thousand dollars, I’ll have my own money. I’ll buy my own aeroplanes.”

Marion said, “Dear, if you win the cross-country race, they’ll be lining up to give you aeroplanes.”

“Really?”

“I am sure of it. They know that customers will buy aeroplanes you fly. So marrying Preston really has nothing to do with aeroplanes, does it?”

“If I win.”

“Isaac says you have no doubt you’ll win. And,” she added with another laugh, “he has no doubt you’ll win. He’s bet three thousand dollars on you.”

Josephine nodded distractedly and looked out her railcar window. The wind was still rattling the glass. She closed her eyes and started to form words with her lips, then pressed her lips tightly together. She was aching to talk, Marion thought. It seemed as if Preston’s proposal was forcing to her think about things she would prefer not to.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s really troubling you?”

Josephine pursed her lips and exhaled sharply. “Can you keep a secret?” Her hazel eyes bored pleadingly into Marion’s.

“No,” Marion answered, “I can’t. Not from Isaac.”

Josephine rolled her eyes. “Why are you so honest, Marion?”

“I prefer to be,” said Marion. “What do you want to tell me?”

“Nothing . . . When I saw Marco shot, I was so surprised.”

“I would think so.”

“It was the last thing I expected.”

“AND THEN,” Marion Morgan confessed to Isaac Bell, “I blundered. Instead of keeping my silly mouth shut while she completed her thought, I said something imbecilic like ‘Who would expect to see one’s husband shoot one’s friend?’ and Josephine shut up tight as a clam.”

“The last thing she expected,” Bell mused, “implying she expected something else to happen. As if she was ‘up to something,’ just like Harry Frost said . . . Is she going to marry Preston?”

“She finally said, no, absolutely not.”

“Will she change her mind?”

“Only if she were to fear that she would definitely not win the race.”

“Because she wouldn’t win the fifty thousand dollars, and Preston is rich?”