Ben looked at Tom and smiled, still amazed after all these years whenever he showed his serious side. “I’m sorry I jumped on you like that.”
Tom shrugged it off. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He glanced out his side window, chewing on his toothpick and grinning as he looked back at Ben. “Besides. Between you and me...I don’t think Dawn fucks anyway.”
Ben shook his head and laughed. Leave it to Tom. He’d never change.
Dawn and Randy followed close behind, talking about everything, and at the same time, basically nothing. Randy figured they’d covered just about every trivial subject under the sun, and tried once more to get her to open up about herself.
“Which birthday did you get the car for?”
Dawn smiled. “The one I had three years back.”
Randy nodded, baffled, yet all the more intrigued by how evasive she could be. “Ever had any trouble with it?”
“Not much.”
Randy chuckled. “Did you ever work for the CIA?”
Dawn smiled. “I quit last year.”
Randy held up his hands, as if he were giving in. He figured no matter what the question, her reply would be just as vague. But then the quietness got to him, and he started telling her about his family, hoping a different tactic would draw her out. He bragged about his mom’s cooking, and told her about his wish to have his sister go into practice with him. Then he talked about his love of camping, “Ever since I was a little kid,” and told her about his dream to raise Charlois cattle. He talked, she listened, commenting here and there. And all the while he studied her features, her arms, her legs, and what he could see of her skin. She wore driving gloves, which he thought quite fitting. But much to his disappointment, she was wearing another bulky sweater. One which gave only a hint of the curve of her breasts, and still kept a secret of their size.
As Dawn listened, bits and pieces of the conversation she’d had with Linda the night she got home after helping Randy with his farm calls, crept in. “He wants to pay me for helping him. I think I ought to let him.”
“Oh great! Start out a relationship by getting paid for your time. What a novel idea!”
Dawn had laughed, but still felt it wise. “I don’t want it to be an issue. I don’t want me to be an issue. Besides...”
Linda smiled. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he sounds like the kind of guy who would...”
“I know. That’s what I mean. I think it would affect him the other way around. Besides, as I was about to say, it’s not like it was a date or anything. Let’s not get carried away.” But then again, he did ask her out the next day.
Halfway to the sale, Tom pulled into a rest area so Ben could use the men’s room. During the stop, Dawn got some sandwiches and Cokes out of the cooler and Randy stretched his legs. Back in the car, on the road again, and with both of them eating sandwiches, Randy leafed through the sale catalog a second time. “This filly, this All Together. She isn’t going to go cheap.” When Dawn nodded, he looked at her with his mouth full. “And yet, you’re going to buy her?”
Dawn’s mind raced. “Actually, Ben’s going to buy her. I’ll just think of her as mine.”
Randy gazed at her a moment. “Well, like I said, she won’t go cheap.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The Vandervoort estate was vast and rambling; the main drive and one paddock filled with cars, trucks, trailers and horse vans. Dawn parked at an angle between Tom’s truck and a semi. They couldn’t have timed it better. As soon as they reached the indoor arena, which had been set up as the auction area, registered and found their seats, the sale began.
The broodmares were first, the initial eleven selling for prices ranging from nine hundred and fifty dollars to seventy-two hundred. Then Hip #12 was led into the ring. She was a bay mare with a back swayed from the numerous foals she’d carried, and her left knee was large and disfigured from a racing injury. The bidding opened at fifteen hundred.
Tom and Ben discussed the mare’s conformation between themselves. She wasn’t anything to brag about, but if you looked hard, there was that certain slope to her shoulder, and breadth of her chest, the angle of her hip...
Ben held up his number.
“I have $1500,” the auctioneer said. “Do I hear $1550?” He pointed over Ben’s shoulder. “I got $1550. Do I hear $1600?” Ben raised his number again. “I got $1600. Do I hear $1650? I got $1650. Do I hear $1700?” Ben held up his number. “I got $1700. $1800? I got $1800. $1900? I got $1900. I got $2000.” The bidding climbed. “$2050. $2100. $2200. I got $2300. I got $2300. Do I hear $2400? Do I hear $2400?” The auctioneer scanned the crowd. “$2300. $2300. Sold at $2300!” Ben raised his number for the clerk to record.
Dawn watched a few more horses change hands, but then got so anxious she had to take a walk. “I’m thirsty,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” When she returned, they were auctioning off Hip #26, a heavy three-year old chestnut colt who’d raced as a two-year old, but hadn’t started this year. He went for $7250. Dawn held her breath when the auctioneer called for the next one.
Hip #27 leapt into the ring, dragging her handler with her. She was large. Too large for a filly, Ben thought. Just big enough, Dawn thought. Tom wouldn’t allow himself a thought, he wanted no part of it. They’d gotten what they came for, and he was ready to leave. Randy on the other hand, in no hurry whatsoever, was simply nodding his head in silent approval.
The filly reared and struck out sharply with her left front leg, just missing her handler. She stood still then, raised her head high, and bellowed a long, loud whinny...that vibrated every ounce of her body.
Dawn leaned across Tom’s lap to say something to Ben, something muffled but sounding like, “I love her, let’s buy her.” Ben nodded, smiling. And with that, Tom sat back, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
He looked from one to the other. “You two are crazy. You know that, don’t you? She has to have a hole in her as big as a goddamned cannonball. There’s got to be a reason she hasn’t started.”
Ben frowned at him, but admittedly was thinking the same thing, and turned back just as the filly struck out again, connecting with the wall this time. The sound echoed through the rafters. She threw her head up and whinnied again. And then again.
“She’s a witch!” Tom whispered. “A goddamned witch!”
The filly stood proudly, her coat a silver blanket, with dapples covering her sides and rump. She stared out into the crowd, her head high and eyes wide. Then she tossed her head, jerking her handler up off his feet, just as she struck out again. This time she caught the man high on his thigh. Another handler rushed out to assist him, and the filly swung around, staring out at the other side of the crowd, head high and nostrils flaring.
“She’s probably a fucking nut,” Tom said. “No fucking wonder.”
Ben wasn’t listening. He was too busy marveling to himself. “What a grand bitch.”
Dawn nodded, and leaned across Tom’s lap again. “I want her.”
Tom chewed through his toothpick. “I tell you, there’s a hole in her.” He pointed to the sale catalog. “It says here she ain’t even broke. See this...no training.”
The three of them turned to Randy, who, enjoying himself, was just staring at the filly in awe. He glanced at them after a few seconds when he noticed them looking at him. They obviously wanted a professional opinion. He shrugged. “I like her.”
Tom leaned across Dawn’s lap to look up into his face, rocking, and kind of bobbing his head. “That’s it?! ‘I like her.’ What the shit? Thank God we ain’t paying you!”
Randy laughed, winking at Dawn before they all turned back to look at the filly. The auctioneer opened the bidding.
“$20,000. Who’ll give $20,000?”
Tom leaned back and sighed when, as Dawn and Ben looked at one another, Ben raised his number. “Oh Jesus Christ.”
“I got $20,000. Do I hear $25,000? I got $25,000. Do I hear $30,000? I have $30,000.�
� The filly reared, hitting the wall with both front legs when she landed. “I got $35,000. I got $40,000. I got $50,000. $55,000. I have $60,000 right here.” The auctioneer pointed. “Do I hear $65,000? I got $65,000.”
A loud voice came from the back. “$80,000!”
The auctioneer nodded. “I got $80,000. Do I hear $85,000?”
Dawn turned to try to see who had jumped the bid, then leaned across Tom’s lap, looking into Ben’s eyes, pleading.
Ben, at that point, couldn’t believe he’d gotten caught up in this. He looked at Dawn and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s it for me.”
“Ben...?”
The auctioneer pointed to the back. “I got $85,000. I got $90,000.” The filly reared again. “I got $95,000. I have $100,000.”
Dawn was still pleading with her eyes. “Ben, please...”
“I have $100,000. $100,000 once.”
“I can cover it,” Dawn whispered. She darted her eyes to the number held in Ben’s trembling hand. “Please. Bid.”
“$100,000 twice.”
Ben raised his hand.
“I got $105,000. I got $110,000. Do I hear $115,000? I have $115,000. I got $120,000. Do I hear $125,000? I have $125,000 right here. Do I hear $130,000?”
Dawn pivoted with every bid, searching where it came from, and reached across Tom to squeeze Ben’s arm.
“Do I hear $130,000? I have $130,000. Do I hear $135,000? Do I hear $135,000?” The auctioneer scanned the crowed as the filly struck out again. “I got $130,000. Do I hear $135,000?”
Dawn glanced over her shoulder and held her breath as she turned back. “$130,000 once.” It seemed an eternity. “$130,000 twice.” She prayed. “Sold!”
Ben held up his number for the clerk; the sound of the gavel drawing jubilant applause from everyone. But no one there was as excited as Dawn. She jumped up and hugged Ben, then Tom, and then Randy. Tom was mumbling and shaking his head. This, as Ben’s mind scrambled to think of how he was going to come up with the money. What was he going to have to sell? The filly was led out of the ring. Dawn beamed. And Randy was pleased as well. Pleased with the hug, and pleased with Dawn’s breasts. Nice firm ones.
They watched one more horse get auctioned off, then left and found their way to the filly’s barn. Her stall was at the far end of the main aisle. As they approached it, she raised her head and pinned her ears.
“Oh, isn’t she pretty?” Dawn said.
“Pretty...?” Tom shook his head, eyebrow furrowed, hands in his pockets, and trying to appear disinterested. “She’s built like a goddamned colt. How can she be pretty? And she’s still growing for Christ sake.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dawn said. “She’s still pretty. Look at her face.”
Tom took his hands out of his pockets, crossed his arms, and ventured a glance right as she pricked her ears. “All right, so she’s got a pretty face.”
Dawn smiled at him. Mr. Tough Guy.
“But I tell you, she’s got to have a hole in her. Look at the ass on her, and her shoulders. Why no training? Huh?”
“Damn it, Tom!” Ben said. “Shut up a minute. I can’t even think straight.”
Tom looked at him and shrugged. “Fine, old man. But I’m telling you, there’s a hole in her.”
Ben sighed, glaring at him, and gazed back at the filly. For all he knew, Tom could be right, because this horse did look perfect. Too perfect. And when Randy turned, saying, “I’m going to go find her groom,” even Dawn started to wonder.
She grabbed his arm. “Why? Do you think there’s something wrong with her?”
“No, I just want to get a closer look. But after the way she behaved in the ring, I want someone in there with me that knows her.”
Ben nodded, agreeing with that logic. Dawn stepped back out of the way, and no sooner had Randy made the corner, Tom put his hands on his hips and started bobbing his head.
“Okay. So how do you intend to pay for this bitch?”
Ben stared off, still unable to believe he’d bid a hundred thirty thousand for her. But then again, horses like this didn’t come along every day. He sighed, tipping his hat to rub the ache in the back of his head. “I can cover about fifty-nine or sixty thousand. The rest I’m going to have to scramble for.”
“Oh great!” Tom stated, bobbing some more. “This is just great!”
Dawn edged close, her voice low. “Ben, I told you I’d cover the rest.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at her. “Yeah, and that’s just fine. But while you’re out trying to sell the Jaguar or something, they’re gonna be throwing the old man in jail here for fraud!”
Dawn shook her head and dug into her jeans’ pocket for the check she’d stashed earlier. “I don’t want this to go any further than us.” She reached for Ben’s pen and motioned for Tom to turn around so she could use his back to sign it, then handed the check to Ben. “You fill in the amount. Whatever you need.”
Ben stared down at it, and had to clear his throat to speak. He’d expected her to come up with something. She said she would. And whatever the amount, he’d have made her a full partner. He didn’t expect this though. “Are you sure you...?”
“Yes,” Dawn said, encouraging him to put it away. “Positive. Now please...”
“Goddamn, old man!” Tom said, peering over Ben’s shoulder. “Maybe you’re not gonna go to the slammer after all.”
Ben folded the check and put it in his shirt pocket, all the while looking into Dawn’s eyes. “Remember,” she said, whispering to both of them. “I don’t want anyone to know about this. Especially Randy. I’ll just tell him I pitched in a little. Okay?”
Ben nodded, but Tom wasn’t even listening. Because for the first time since he’d heard this filly’s name mentioned back at the track, he was beginning to like the whole idea.
“Damn! She’s a grand-looking mother!”
Randy returned a few minutes later. “Well, I found him. He’ll be right here.”
“Did he say anything about her?” Ben asked.
“Just that she wasn’t as mean as she seemed in the ring.”
Dawn heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
When the groom arrived, Randy went over the filly completely. Not once, but twice. Then Ben went over her, and after that, Tom. She baffled them. Not that they wanted to find anything wrong. They walked out of the stall and stared back in at her.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Randy said. He turned to the groom. “Do you know why she hasn’t been broke?”
The young man lowered his eyes. “Not really.”
“What?” Tom looked at him. “What do you mean, not really? What the hell kind of answer’s that?”
When the groom shrugged in response, Tom grabbed him by the arm. “Wait a minute. You know something, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. What the hell’s going on here?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing...?” Tom got in his face. “Well, I think there is. No one has a filly bred like this bitch and just decides not to run her for no reason.” He glanced at Randy and Ben, a thought just occurring to him. “I’ll tell you, if someone’s fucked with her papers and she ain’t who she’s supposed to be...” He gripped the groom’s arm tighter.
“I don’t know anything. I don’t!”
“Yeah, right.” Tom wasn’t the only one not buying this. Randy didn’t believe him either. “Well, we’ll see.” He walked down to the other end of the aisle, where he looked one way then the other, as if he were checking to make sure they wouldn’t be heard. When he turned around and headed back toward the groom, the young man started talking fast.
“There’s nothing wrong with her, I swear. Honest! It’s just that old-man Vandervoort was senile. She was his favorite horse.”
Tom let go of his arm.
“See, he never let anyone touch her. Slim, her groom, was the only one that ever went near her. She wasn’t even halter broke up till a month ago. She just ran free. Sh
e even had her own barn.” He pointed over Ben and Dawn’s shoulders. “Over there, behind the big house. She was never handled. She went in and out of the barn whenever she wanted. Slim used to sit out in the pasture with her and she’d graze right around him. She ain’t mean.” He looked in at the filly. “She ain’t mean at all.”
Tom stared skeptically when the young man fell quiet. “That’s it? You want us to believe that’s it? That’s nothing.”
“Well...” the groom said sheepishly. “I guess there is more.”
“You guess?” Tom bobbed his head. “What?”
The young man fidgeted. “Slim got drunk one night. Well, actually, he got drunk a lot.”
Randy motioned for him to get to the point.
“Slim told the rest of us grooms, this one night I mean, when he was really drunk more’n usual. He told us that old Vandervoort thought the filly was his daughter. His dead daughter, come back.”
Dawn shook her head slowly, she and Ben glancing at one another as the groom continued. “See, his daughter got knocked up by one of the stable-hands that used to work here. She died I guess when the baby was born. The baby died too.”
Tom shifted his weight, chewing hard on his toothpick and getting into the story now. “Why’d the old man think this horse was his dead daughter?”
Dawn gazed in at the filly.
“I don’t know.” The groom motioned them over to the corner and lowered his voice. “I don’t even think Slim knew. I told you, the old man was senile. But this night, the one I was telling you about, when Slim was real drunk. Well, all of us were drinking.” His face reddened a little. “Anyway, I know it was wrong and all now, but what we did was...” He hesitated, a hesitation that drew Ben, Dawn, Randy, and Tom in closer. “We uh, we turned the stud pony, Rassuz, the one we use to tease the mares. We turned him into the pasture with the filly, and the next morning when the old man was having his coffee... See, we tried catching him and all, but he run off, and we couldn’t see him in the night. The filly wasn’t wanting anything to do with him anyway. But then I guess...” He cleared his throat. “Well, the next morning like I said, there they were, the filly squatting and Rassuz climbing all over her. The old man went berserk! We heard it right from the maid. He ain’t dead, you know. That’s just a lie. He’s in the nut house. That’s why the sale. They took him away.”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 11