James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  “Raspberry Cheese?”

  “Yeah. That horse gets out early.”

  “What does Pabby say?” Captain Jer asked. The imported beer seemed to interest him more than the bantering. “You guys are nuts if you don’t pay attention to what he’s zeroed in on.” The retired pilot looked at Pabby. “Who is it in the first race?”

  Pabby looked at Doc and then J Dub. Since they had discovered his talents the two of them had laid down the rules and he was supposed to abide by them. Doc nodded. Pabby turned to Captain Jer and said, “Morrocan Pinkeye. If you want an Exacta go with the number four horse to place. That’s Achilles Hoof.”

  “I want to play the Daily Double,” Fred mumbled. His mouth was half full of a prime rib sandwich. “Who does the kid pick in the second race?” A touch of horseradish adorned the side of his mouth. He dabbed at the mess with a napkin.

  Pabby looked again to Doc and J Dub. The golf pro signaled that it was okay. The teen flipped the pages in the racing form until he came to Race 2. “Bet Cousin Limpit to win. If you want the Exacta bet Alpine Hanky to finish second.”

  “Cousin Limpit doesn’t have a chance to win that race,” Scotty P disputed. “The name alone tells you the horse is a nag.”

  “There aren’t any nags running in the Thoroughbred Challenge. The entry fee is too high and the purses are big,” Pork Chop followed. “Who do you think will win the second race?”

  Scotty P worked his jaw and shifted his eyes from the program over his reading glasses. “I like BourbonStreetTranny.”

  Captain Jer had a mouthful of beer. The comment caught him off-guard. He sprayed the beverage across the carpet. “BourbonStreetTranny!” He wiped his mouth with the top of his forearm. “That figures. It takes one to know one!” The guys roared.

  “You bet what you want.” It was hard to imagine a six-foot-five man sulking, but Scotty P had his feelings hurt. “You didn’t have to say it so loud.”

  “I didn’t know you were still in the closet,” Trot quipped.

  “Where did you have the Bourbon Street horse, Pabby?” Captain Jer asked.

  “Fourth. Not bad. There are better horses in the second race.”

  “That’s better than last place,” Scotty P conceded. He looked at Captain Jer. “I know the owners.”

  “Something tells me that I believe you.”

  “So what did we decide on the Daily Double,” Fred asked.

  “Moroccan Pinkeye and Cousin Limpit,” Pork Chop answered. “Take it to the bank.”

  “If he picks the first two there is no way he’ll get the next seven,” Fred said. “The odds of that are next to impossible.”

  Doc smiled. “Don’t put it past him.” He glanced at the rolled up poster board. “If he has a good day today Pabby’s score will win that little contest and J Dub and I will get some bonus money.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve already penciled you guys in as the winners.” He smacked his lips and the triple chin inched off his shoulders. “I’m pulling for him on these races so I can claim some of the scraps.”

  Eight minutes later Moroccan Pinkeye won the first race. Pabby was one for one.

  CHAPTER 60

  Uncle Woo was busy telling Julie, Aieshia, Carla and Shae about the time he romanced the Queen of England. They had been playing baccarat in Monaco when he made a bold wager that won him several million dollars. She had to choose between him and the pope. It was no contest because in his younger days he was known around the world as quite the cocksman.

  At that time he was flying fighter jets for the United States Air Force and was on leave after singlehandedly shooting down a fleet of enemy kamikaze pilots. The queen was smitten with him. After a whirlwind courtship she had decided that he was the one. But he had to turn her down. A relative from southeast Missouri wanted him to return to the states to trap alligators. The skins would be used to make purses and they would make a fortune.

  “All you had to do was marry her and you would have had your fortune,” Julie said.

  Uncle Woo wiggled his head. “At the time a blonde German frau, a Swiss watchmaker’s heiress and a Scandinavian ski champion were fighting over me. I wasn’t ready to settle down.”

  “And ya traded da Queen of England fo’ Po’ Chop’s mama? Mercy, mercy me! What’s wrong wit’ ya?”

  The roar went up! The Prairie Winds crew high-fived each other. Cousin Limpit beat out a late-charging Furry Li’l Booger by a nose. AlpineHanky took third. Pabby picked the second half of the Daily Double and just missed the Exacta in the second race.

  “The kid sold me!” Fred yelled. He jumped as high as he could which couldn’t be more than six inches off the ground. He was waving the winning ticket in the air. “How much money do we have in the Seven is Heaven pot?”

  “I’m waiting on two more guys,” Doc answered. He counted the money. It looks like we’ll have about four hundred dollars.” He double checked the names on the list, adjusted his reading glasses and turned to Pabby. “Let’s check these horses for the last time. I have to get the Seven is Heaven pick down.”

  Pabby’s head didn’t leave the form. He stared intently, both elbows hugging his sides, his hands resting on the edge of the table, thumbs together. “In race three it is Bamboo Lampshade.” Doc checked the entry. Pabby turned the page. “Take Big Bend Overpass in the fourth race.” The kid turned the page twice. Advertisements filled up a portion of the form.

  “Did you get the Seven is Heaven pick in?” Pork Chop shouted.

  Doc quietly raised his hand. His head didn’t leave the form. “Who are we taking in the fifth?”

  “Cardboard Wasp,” Pabby replied. “That race has a Triple Play Exacta. I like Apple Butter Kiss and Vermont Riddler to go one, two, three.”

  “Vermont is a small state in the Northeast region of the United States. The population of the state makes it the second smallest in the country. It is the only state in New England that does not border the Atlantic Ocean. The state capital is Montpelier. Some little known facts about the state are that it has large supplies of granite and is the largest producer of maple syrup in the nation,” Shae said.

  Carla and Aieshia let her go. The guys were having fun. “The state flower is red clover.” She turned to Pabby and shouted over a table, a little bit jealous of all the attention he was receiving. “Guess what the state butterfly is?”

  Pabby stayed focused on the form.

  “It’s the Monarch butterfly!”

  “You keep them away from me!” He made a move to get on his feet but Doc grabbed his bicep.

  “Pabby, that shouldn’t bother you. We’re inside the building.”

  “She knows I hate little animals.”

  “Everything is fine here. Let’s get back to the races. I have to get this bet placed in five minutes.”

  The kid turned his attention back to the racing form. “I like Corporate Profits in the sixth race.” Doc double checked his list.

  “How about the seventh?”

  Pabby flipped two pages in the form. The print ads had increased. “Go with Springtime Corn Row.”

  “Huh?” Fred blurted. He turned to BowTye. “Is that one minority owned?”

  Captain Jer was in rare form once again. The imported beer seemed to have a bit more bite than the domestic brands. “Don’t you know your ponies?”

  “I pay a little attention, but I don’t think we oughta be betting on a horse like that.”

  “That horse is owned by Kool Kat Jay-Y.”

  “Who in the world is that?” Fred turned to BowTye. “Is he related?”

  “The rapper, man. Don’t you know your music either?”

  “I didn’t know you were in tune with the inner city tunes.”

  “That sound is universal,” Trot quipped.

  “Yeah,” Captain Jer added as he shook his shoulders up and down, “that stuff moves me.”

  Fred motioned with his hand to go away. “You’re so full of it.”

  “This race has a S
pecial Pick Four,” Pabby said as he turned to Doc, “behind Springtime Corn Row take Eggs ‘N’ Sour Cream to place second, Toothpick Dilemma to run third and Onion Ring Soufflé to finish fourth.”

  “Why don’t we just have the whole buffet?” Pork Chop yelled.

  “Knowing you,” Julie said, “I’m sure you’d be first in line.”

  “Only if I can move Fred.” The big boys tapped knuckles. Their bond went farther than the golf course.

  “Pabby, give me the winner in the eighth race.” Doc looked at his watch and returned to his checklist.

  Pabby shook his head back and forth. Frustrated, he pounded his fists on the table. “I can’t decide.”

  “You have to give us one,” J Dub urged. He had crowded in and was looking over the kid’s shoulder.

  “Give us one,” Doc said.

  “It’s between Neon Shoestrings…”

  “Do you like mine?” Shae asked. She pulled her leg out from under the table and plopped her heel on the table.

  “Shae!” Carla had a rare fit of temper. “Get your foot off the table!”

  “It could be Milkshake Pillow,” Pabby said. He started shaking his head violently from side to side.

  “Settle down,” J Dub consoled. “Everything will be okay.”

  He pounded his fists on the table once more. “Oregon Condiment will be there until the end.”

  “Oregon is a state in the Pacific Northwest. Its capital is Salem. The state flower is the Oregon grape which is really an evergreen shrub. The state tree is the Douglas fir.”

  “Shae! Are we going to have to take you home?”

  The girl sensed her time was limited. She spoke to Pabby directly. “The state bird is the Western Meadowlark.”

  Pabby was infuriated. “Stop it, Shae!”

  “The state animal is the American beaver!”

  Pabby pounded the table over and over and over violently.

  J Dub and Doc couldn’t believe his reaction. Doc looked at his watch. “Pabby. Pabby. It’s alright.”

  “We can go,” J Dub said. He was still standing behind the teen. The guys panicked when they heard his suggestion.

  “No. No, we can’t leave,” Pork Chop said. “We still have seven races to go.”

  J Dub attempted to get the teen to relax. “Give us the other horse you like in this race.”

  “Are you still my buddy?” The pro nodded as Pabby scoured his notes. “It might be Turquoise Wedgie.” He looked at Doc. “Did I say it right?”

  “Yes you did,” the vet replied calmly. He glanced down to his watch. Less than three minutes remained for him to get the bet placed. The lines would probably be long.

  “If you had to pick one which one would it be?” He tried to remain calm and patient.

  Pabby closed his eyes and slowly exhaled a deep breath. He winced and gently tapped his fists. His entire body was tense, his brow furrowed. When his eyes opened he scoured the information in the form. “Take TeaPartyRevolt to win the eighth.”

  “That wasn’t one of the four you named,” J Dub said. His hands rested lightly on the teen’s shoulders.

  “I know.” Pabby sighed. “But we need to change things up. This horse closes fast. If it can get out of the gate and gather some momentum it has the power and speed to bury this field.”

  J Dub looked at Doc. “Go with TeaPartyRevolt.”

  The vet got up. Only a minute remained to place the bet. He looked to the television monitor. The first horse was already in the gate. “Are we in agreement on the final race?”

  Pabby nodded. “I don’t know how Bumper to Bumper could possible lose that race.”

  Doc scurried to the betting window.

  Captain Jer wasn’t one to hold his feelings inside. “Hey Scotty P, where did BourbonStreetTranny finish in that race?”

  Dejectedly the blonde hunk replied, “Fifth.”

  Captain Jer and Trot chuckled. “Yeah, we noticed. But he was closing fast on Butch’s Behind.”

  CHAPTER 61

  Conway Jobe was the voice of American horse racing. His fluent, rich voice provided the perfect amount of excitement and urgency as the horses bolted from the gate, jockeyed for position down the backstretch and rounded the final turn for the home stretch. CJ, as he was known across the circuit, was in his fourth decade of announcing. When the bell rang his voice reverberated over the loudspeaker in the Turf Club.

  “They’re off in the third race of the Thoroughbred Challenge. Acey Deucey breaks early followed by Silo Express, Pandora’s Jar and Tar Heel Nation. Bamboo Lampshade is running a close fifth,” CJ barked.

  “Come on Bamboo Lampshade!” Pork Chop urged as Doc returned from the window holding the tickets in the air. Doc and J Dub had a hundred bucks each on the ticket. Pork Chop had half that. BT, Paul, BowTye, Curt, Elia, Paco, YouWho, Fred, Scotty P, Trot and Captain Jer had between five and twenty dollars on the ticket. “How much did we end up with on the bet?”

  Doc kissed the ticket. “Four hundred and ten dollars. I got it in five seconds before the bell.”

  “Help us get the first horse home. If we lose one race we’re out.” The guys gathered around the various monitors. Pabby placed his head on the table and looked to be asleep.

  It was CJ’s turn with the call. “And coming off the turn it’s Spiked Haircut on the rail with a charging Bamboo Lampshade on the outside.”

  “Get home, baby. Get home.” The guys were glued to the race. Roars went up in the club as the horses raced for the line.

  “And by a length it’s Bamboo Lampshade!”

  The Prairie Winds crew shared high-fives. “That’s a good start! One down and six to go.”

  And so it went for the next race. The horses ran every twenty minutes. As Pabby predicted Big Bend Overpass held off Biker Bandana and Seaweed Mousse to win the fourth race. The drinks were flowing for Captain Jer and Trot and the buffet line kept Fred and Pork Chop occupied. Uncle Woo told story after story to anyone that wanted to listen. BowTye took the first class treatment in stride and YouWho kept asking the cook if fortune cookies were available.

  Pabby was sound asleep. The excitement and crowd noise wasn’t enough to wake him.

  “We have an opportunity in the fifth race,” J Dub said to Doc. Winning the first two races of the Seven is Heaven bet had the guys loaded with confidence.

  “He suggested the Triple Play Exacta bet,” Doc said. “Did you write it down?”

  “Yeah, CardboardWasp followed by Apple Butter Kiss and Vermont Riddler.” He picked the racing form up that Pabby had marked and double checked the picks.

  “We can wheel the horses if you want to hedge the bet.”

  “If we do that let’s leave Cardboard Wasp first. It’s all or nothing on the Seven is Heaven bet. We need to get Cardboard Wasp to the Winner’s Circle.”

  Shae was growing tired of Uncle Woo’s stories. She had taken the neon green band off her ponytail and replaced it several times. Her attention span was waning. The buffet line had a steady stream of eaters picking away at the selections. She jumped up grabbed a plate and filled the dish with a variety of choices. Her return trip didn’t materialize. She stopped next to Pabby and slowly nudged him until he woke from his catnap. “Pabby, you need to eat. This is the best food we’ve ever had.”

  The teen looked bewildered and disoriented. When he realized what she had done a smile covered his face. He stretched his arms skyward and let out a whopping yawn. After bringing his arms down Pabby nuzzled his head against her neck and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Before Pabby had finished eating, Cardboard Wasp overtook Dusty Staple and Library Pass to win. The Exacta didn’t deliver for Doc and J Dub, but the hoots and hollers from the Prairie Winds crew indicated their approval with the outcome. Fred and Pork Chop danced a jig. They came over and gave the kid a high-five. “We’re three and oh!”

  BT, Paul, Curt, Elia and Paco came over to pat Pabby on the back. Only four races remained. But the guys were wary of a premature ce
lebration. They had all counted their putts to drop only to be disappointed on the golf course. Three victories out of seven wasn’t even to the turn in an eighteen-hole round. That wasn’t halfway home. They barely had time to refresh their drinks when the horses were being loaded into the starting gate for the sixth race.

  With their eyes glued to the monitor it was time to listen to CJ’s call over the PA system. “BaseDon breaks from the gate quickly. Running in second is Lime Ice Sundae followed by Augusta Pine and Overdrawn Euro. Stumbling early is the favorite Corporate Profits.”

  “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” Pork Chop muttered.

  “Don’t get upset yet,” Fred said. “They’re going a mile and a quarter.”

  The gang watched as the horses sprinted right in front of them and into the first turn.

  “Coming out of turn two and heading into the backstretch Bolivian Mango makes a move to the outside chased by BuiltInObsolescence and Elevator Descent.”

  “Get moving Corporate Profits!” Elia yelled.

  “Halfway down the backstretch it’s Lime Ice Sundae, BaseDon and Overdrawn Euro with Corporate Profits finding room and charging hard on the outside.”

  “He’s making his move!” Fred shouted.

  “Bunched together going into turn three are BuiltInObsolescence and Elevator Descent. Corporate Profits moves to the rail to save real estate.”

  “He’s finding room on the inside!” J Dub said as he elbowed Doc.

  “Out of turn four it’s BaseDon, Lime Ice Sundae and Elevator Descent. Making a move on the rail is Corporate Profits.”

  “Give him running room!” Fred yelled.

  “We need him!”

  “Into the home stretch with one furlong left its Corporate Profits, BaseDon, BuiltInObsolescence and my, oh my, what have I just said?” CJ paused. “At the wire it’s Corporate Profits!”

  “He got there!” Elia shouted as the guys went berserk. “We’re four and oh on the ticket!” The noise in the Turf Club was chaotic.

  J Dub held his hand out for Pabby to slap. The teen obliged. “We’re still buddies?” Doc flashed the thumbs-up sign. Pabby smiled and returned the gesture.