Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  “Good. We’re getting a lot done. Senior had to run to the hardware store. Liz says we may never see him again.”

  Linda stepped off the elevator leading to the Secretary’s office and noticed a man she’d never seen before hovering around the bulletin board. She approached him. “Excuse me, do I know you?” There was something about this man that signaled alert to her. Plain suit, white shirt, black tie.

  “No, I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you Linda Dillon?”

  “Yeah, that’s me all right. What can I do for you?”

  He hesitated, somewhat intimidated by the woman’s demeanor. She had really mean eyes. “I’m looking for Wendy Girard. I was told you might know where I can find her.”

  “Oh yeah? Well that’s not going to happen. She’s not here today. I’m the best you’re going to do. Do you have a pass?”

  “A pass?”

  “Yes. A pass that says you belong here.”

  “No,” he said, “But….” He hesitated again, watching as she instantly whipped out her cellphone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “911. We have a big stake race here today. Security is tight and you breached it.”

  “I’m no threat. I’m just here to see Wendy Girard and investigate a complaint about residency. I’m with Family Services.”

  “Oh, you’re with the State,” Linda said.

  “Yes.” He took out his wallet and produced his identification.

  Linda took it from him, looked at the photo, looked at him and then looked at the photo again. “Not a very good likeness,” she said. “Come with me.” She walked him down the hall to the Steward’s office, knowing no one was there yet, glanced inside and sighed. “They might have been able to help you. Too bad. I guess this isn’t your lucky day.”

  “Well, if you could just show me upstairs.”

  “Seriously? Do you think I fell out of a fucking cherry tree? Do you think I want to lose my job? Come on, let’s go. I know someone else who might be able to help you.” She walked him down a ramp to the indoor paddock and over to the horsemen’s entrance, ending at the guard shack.

  “Do you recall seeing this man?” she asked the guard.

  “Yes. He told me he had an appointment with Mrs. Girard. He said he was from the state and showed me his ID.”

  “This ID?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see,” Linda said. “Well he didn’t have an appointment because Mrs. Girard is not here today. She’s never here on a Sunday so that’s bullshit.” She turned to the man. “Serious bullshit. What kind of scam you running?”

  “None. I told you, Mrs. Girard was expecting me.”

  “Okay,” Linda said. “I’ll give her this little identification card here and if it’s not bogus, she’ll get in touch with you. Have a nice day.”

  “But…” the man protested.

  “Yes? Is there something else?”

  “Uh, I need my ID back.”

  “Oh yeah?” Linda said. “Well, call the cops. Let’s see, so far there’s misuse of state ID, unlawful entry, trespassing. Keep it up and I’ll add harassment. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

  ~ * ~

  Wee Born was not iced before a race and was best left totally ignored until it was time to lead her over to the paddock. As was routine, they waited until almost the last minute to groom her, do her legs up in Vetwrap and put her shadow roll and bridle on. She raced in a plain snaffle bit and tongue tie. Also routine in Wee Born’s case, when Red was tacked Tom had to lead him around the back of the barn and out to the road that way, so Wee Born didn’t see him pass by her stall. Otherwise she’d commence to pitching a fit and be washed out before they got her to the paddock. As long as they could keep her fooled and then moving, she remained relatively sane.

  “The race is over. Let’s do it,” Tom said, mounting Red.

  Dusty was going to meet them in the paddock to hold Wee Born for Ben to saddle. Dawn remained back at the barn. Whenever a horse or horses were in, someone had to be at the barn at all times prior to their races. It was a firm Ben Miller rule. Bo-T was in the ninth race. Dawn went about cleaning and bedding Wee Born’s stall, filled her haynet, rinsed out and filled her water bucket, rolled her bandages.

  When Randy stopped by on his way to a farm call, Dawn had just hit submit on the article she’d been working on that morning. “What’s this one about?” he asked.

  “Well, basically about not fixing races.”

  Randy nodded and just stood there for a moment.

  “What’s the matter?” Dawn asked.

  “I just got a call from Cindy.”

  Dawn looked at him.

  “She lost the baby.”

  “Oh no. Do your mom and dad know?”

  “Yes. I just talked to them.”

  “Oh, Randy, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. I’ll see you later.” He kissed her good-bye. “By the way, Veronica called. Seems Hillary was there this morning and coming back this afternoon. They think she’s sweet. Can you believe that?”

  Dawn smiled sadly. Wee Born’s race seemed miles and miles away, another time, another place. She recalled the morning she miscarried. It was the pregnancy between D.R. and Maeve. She remembered going into the bathroom and calling out, “Randy, come quick. Something’s happening!”

  Off the distance she heard bits and pieces of the race being called, the sound of a muck bin being dropped back in place, heard the sound of a radio, a Sunday song, “If I could have a beer with Jesus….” The questions I would have for him. She thought of Hannah, her dear friend who’d wanted a child so desperately but that had been barren. She thought of blood flowing when it shouldn’t have. She thought about Matthew, she thought about Ben, both fearing the loss of their eyesight. She thought about Mim.

  “I don’t have long,” the old woman had told her. “I’m going to make every day count.” Dawn wiped her eyes and walked out to wait for Tom and Wee Born.

  ~ * ~

  Senior and George crossed another task off the list and headed upstairs. They’d saved the second floor for last. It had one bathroom and three small dormer-style bedrooms, one of which would be Vicky’s. They’d consider it an accomplishment if they could at least get that one done. The Amish had gutted all the walls and ceilings and had put in new insulation, but the drywall needed to be hung, mudded, sanded, and painted. The two men stood debating the timeframe.

  “There’s no way.”

  “The paint we’re using is non-toxic and fast drying. It shouldn’t bother the old-timers and we can close the downstairs door.”

  Wendy and Glenda walked upstairs to offer their opinions. “Can’t you just panel over the insulation?” Glenda asked.

  “That’s a good idea,” Wendy said. “Why does it have to be drywalled anyway? You have all these wood posts to hammer the paneling into. Who would care? What’s the difference?”

  “The paneling would eventually bow in,” Senior said. “It’s for backing, sound, additional insulation.”

  “Does it still have to be mudded?” Glenda asked.

  The two men looked at one another. “Well, the ceiling would. The walls? Not necessarily. Plus Wainscoting is pretty expensive. You’ll want to keep that in mind.”

  “Does it come already painted?”

  “Primed.”

  “Good enough. How much do you need? I’ll go get it.”

  The two men stood staring at the walls for a moment and then took out their rulers and started measuring. “Well, if we just do this room….”

  “No, let’s do all three,” Wendy said. “We can do this. What we don’t get done the Amish can finish in the morning. Who’s got the biggest truck?”

  “You’re going to have to make two trips,” George said.

  Senior agreed.

  “All right, we’ll both go,” Glenda said. “The quicker we get back the better. Finish measuring and call me. I’ll grab a notepad.”

  “Wow, look at us go. I say we take this act on t
he road,” George said, and they all laughed.

  There was no denying there was a sadness hovering over them with the news of the loss of Cindy’s baby. But Cindy had assured her dad she was fine, and Senior took comfort in that.

  “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” Cindy had said. “Not this time at least.”

  “You okay?” George asked when Glenda and Wendy had gone and it was just the two men.

  “Yeah, but you know what. I’m going to go check on Liz. I’ll be right back.”

  George nodded. “Take your time. If we were allowed a little caffeine around here, I think we could probably work all night.”

  Senior smiled. “I do admit to sleeping better without it.” He walked down the stairs and called back up. “Gordon’s here. What do you want him to do?”

  The young man stood at the ready, cellphone pressed to his ear.

  “Have him start hauling up the drywall.”

  It was stacked on the front porch.

  “Have him bring up the mud too.”

  ~ * ~

  Liz stood at her kitchen sink staring out at the weanlings grazing in the pasture. Being a farmer all her life, she was used to the sadness that could surround births. They’d had their fair share. There were times they lost the babes and times they lost the mothers.

  She thought about the day she gave birth to Cindy. There were complications, emergency procedures, lifelong repercussions. There would be no more children for her and Senior “We had to do a complete hysterectomy,” she heard the doctor say while still feeling the effects of anesthesia. “You’ll be fine and your baby is fine.”

  She turned when Senior walked in the door and looked at him, her husband of thirty-eight years. If anyone knew what she was thinking, it was him. He walked over and put his arms around her. She’d said she was fine when he’d left and went back to T-Bone’s after lunch, but….

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  “We should have stayed longer,” she said, tears falling on his shoulder. “She could have rested more.”

  “Liz, come on. These things happen. I’m sure she was taking care of herself fine.” He rubbed her back. “Come on. We’re going to need you to paint.”

  “I’m a mess,” she said. “I’ll just stay here and make dinner.”

  “No.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “We’re going to order pizza. Glenda’s already taken care of it. You already fixed us lunch. That’s enough. Come on. I’ll wait for you.”

  Liz wiped her eyes. “No, go ahead. I’ll walk up. I want to check in on Matthew.”

  “He was just here for lunch a couple of hours ago, Liz. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “I know. I know. But did you see how sad he looked when he dropped his fork and couldn’t see it at first.”

  “He’s going to have blind spots, Liz. The doctor told him that. Come on, let’s go.”

  “I have dishes to finish up.”

  “Liz….”

  “Fine.” She took off her apron. “Fine.”

  ~ * ~

  George measured each room, did the math, and phoned Glenda to give her the Wainscoting order. “Get an extra sheet just in case. What time do they close?”

  She asked. “Five.”

  “Oh, geez,” George said. “Get two extra then and an extra box of white finish nails. We can always take ‘em back if we don’t need them.”

  Wendy and Glenda stood waiting for the dock worker to load their trucks. “It sure is a shame about Cindy,” Wendy said.

  “I know.” Glenda nodded. “I lost two babies in my early twenties. At the time I thought, well I’m not married, so. My boyfriend at the time could care less.” She shrugged with a sad far-off look in her eyes. “I think about them every now and then. You know, wondering what they’d be like. Who would they look like? In my family we all look like my mother’s side. This nose, big hips.”

  Wendy smiled. “I like your nose. I’d take it over mine any day. If a person’s shorter than me, they can see right up into my nostrils.”

  Glenda chuckled. “Good thing we’re all taller than you then.”

  “And you don’t have big hips.”

  “Oh, and this from a woman who when we first met used to count every calorie, gram, morsel, and crumb.”

  Wendy laughed. “God, I was such a bore.”

  “All set,” the dock worker said.

  Instinctively, both Wendy and Glenda counted the panels and checked to make sure all the other items were loaded before they left. Glenda’s phone rang and then Wendy’s. It was Linda Dillon at the track, a three-way call.

  “Wee Born ran fifth. Looks like she couldn’t get a hold of the track.”

  “Is she okay?” Glenda asked.

  “Looked like it. She pulled up good, cantered back.”

  “Any more from that Social Services guy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” Wendy brought her up-to-date on the progress at T-Bone’s.

  “Ben went up and talked to the old-timers. They’re excited. I’m going to leave early Tuesday.”

  “Thank you,” Wendy said, echoed by Glenda. “Thank you. Though I do wish you’d stay.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that. I’m just not ready yet, though I have to admit kicking that guy outta here was fun. If I could do that every day….”

  All three women laughed and then hung up. Wendy and Glenda had arrived at T-Bone’s Place. Both backed into the drive up to the front porch. Gordon was waiting for them. “I’ll unload. You both need to go up and mud.”

  Glenda and Wendy looked at them.

  “George says it’s easy,” he teased. “He said even a woman could do it.”

  Glenda and Wendy pushed him off the porch, all three laughing.

  “Matthew’s inside. Don’t yell at him.”

  Wendy let her head drop. “What’s he doing?”

  “Hooking up the television wiring.”

  Surely that would have to be a strain on his eyes, his mother thought, but refrained from saying a word to Matthew in passing and walked right on upstairs. Liz had already started on the mudding and smiled. “It’s like icing a cake, the smoother the better. And just wait, we get to swirl it too.”

  ~ * ~

  Randy pulled his truck up next to the Miller barn, sat talking on the phone for a minute and got out and gathered the necessary supplies to change the bandage on B-Bo’s injured leg. Ben was sitting on his favorite ratty old lawn chair outside the barn, dozing in the sunlight. He opened an eye and looked at Randy, nodded, and went back to dozing. He’d been quietly cutting carrots into a bucket to add to the horse’s feed tonight. Several of the barn cats roaming the backside had paid a visit, rubbed up against his leg to get their backs scratched. The one purred so loud, so happy. He could hear quiet conversations all around; the barn across from them, the barn next to them. He could hear the soft music of several radios, the horses munching hay.

  In the gentle breeze he could smell fresh coffee, Absorbine, straw, cooked oats. In every barn, horsemen were doing chores, watering their horses, picking stalls. A horse was being handwalked two barns down. “Can you hear who win?” a voice asked, far, far away. “Nope, can’t hear a thing.”

  Dawn finished doing up Wee Born and brushed her. She’d heard Randy’s truck pull in and park, figured he was in with B-Bo and walked down to check. When she saw Ben sitting outside, head on his chest and snoring, she smiled.

  “Hey,” Randy said, glancing up at her.

  “How’s it look?”

  “Oh….” He tilted his head one way and then the other to get a closer look. “I’ve seen worse.”

  “But you’ve seen better?”

  He shrugged, but softened that with a smile.

  “Should I take a look?”

  “Not today,” he said. “Where’s Tom?”

  “I don’t know. I think he might be at the ReHome barn with Dusty.” Dawn stroked B-Bo’s face, straightened his forelock, and gave him a kiss o
n the nose. She glanced at Ben. “Do you think he’s going to be all right? His eyes I mean.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Randy said. “They do so many of those procedures, they could do it blindfolded. No pun intended,” he added.

  “But sometimes there are complications. They told him that.”

  “Yes, and most times there aren’t. Not to mention the odds of his losing his eyesight if he doesn’t have the surgery.”

  Dawn glanced at Ben again. Did he just open his eyes? Had he heard them? Was he worrying? No, he looked so happy, so content at this moment. He appeared to be asleep, but was almost smiling. Maybe he’s dreaming, she thought.

  By the time Randy finished bandaging B-Bo’s leg, Tom had returned and Ben was awake. “The track’s getting slower,” Tom said. “They just ran six furlongs in thirteen and change. They were practically crawling.” The rain had continued all morning and only stopped just before the first race. The track drained well, but mud is mud.

  Bo-T used to be a closer, but with his being a four-year old now and all testosterone, he didn’t take kindly to being rated anymore. Johnny was going to have his hands full. Bo-T was in going a flat mile. Usually he liked to lay right on the lead.

  Tom tacked Red while Dawn did up Bo-T’s legs in Vetwrap, applied run-down patches, bridled him, and rinsed his mouth. Tom ground-tied Red just outside Bo-T’s stall. Red and this colt’s history was a good one. Red bit Bo-T on the neck in retaliation of Bo-T biting him one morning while ponying and Bo-T paid heed. Apparently the bite was fair warning; Red had gotten him good and he deserved it. Tom tied Bo-T’s tongue; a task Dawn refused to even attempt with Bo-T anymore since he’d gotten so nippy. Done, Tom smeared Vicks VapoRub inside the colt’s nose.

  Since this was their last horse in today, Dawn would be going over to watch the race. Ben had already started for the paddock. As she walked down the shedrow leading Bo-T out to Tom and Red, she was surprised to see Randy still there. He was sitting in his truck, making notations on various horses’ file charts.

  He looked up, put the files aside, and got out. Dawn handed Bo-T to Tom and looked at her husband. “What are you doing?”