Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  Tom stared at the man. “What’s the matter with you?” He looked like the walking dead.

  Joe shook his head. “I think my wife’s trying to poison me. I’ve never slept fourteen hours straight in my life.”

  “I’ll be upstairs,” Tom said.

  Dusty walked with Mark Simmons down between the racetrack and horsemen’s lot to the backside. “Where are you parked?”

  “By the front gate,” Mark said.

  Randy’s truck was still sitting outside barn two. Dusty glanced up and down the shedrow. “He’s around back,” one of the grooms said. The two men walked around to the other side of the barn.

  “Randy?”

  “Down here, Dusty. Good, you can give me a hand.”

  “I can do better than that,” Dusty said, finding the right stall.

  Randy looked up. He was attempting to bandage a horse that had torn its tendon and trying to go down in the stall, probably from shock. Mark stepped past Dusty and braced the leg. “Mark Simmons,” he said.

  “Oh, shit.” Randy said. He’d forgotten the man was coming this morning. “Here.” He paused to make sure the man had a good hold of the horse’s leg. “I’ll be right back.”

  Mark braced the mare with his stocky body. “There now, there now,” he said.

  Randy returned. “This might backfire so be ready.” He administered a small dose of a stimulant, IV, and stood watching the mare’s eyes. She blinked a couple of times and started looking a little more alert. “All right, let’s do this,” Randy said. “Dusty.”

  Dusty took the shank from the trainer, nudged him out of the way, and Randy and Mark Simmons worked on the tendon. When it was all said and done, Randy stood up and the two men shook bloody hands.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  “Thanks for the help.”

  “My pleasure.”

  ~ * ~

  Mim walked to the ladies room on the clubhouse floor and after using the facility, washed her hands, leaning on her cane, and looked in the mirror. Hers was a weathered face and she rather liked it that way. It showed where’d she’d been; the hard roads she’d traveled. Her eyes were almost silver now, but still bright. She thought about her dear friend Janie Pritchard who’d passed away last year. As she stared into the depths of her own eyes, she could almost see Janie, standing close to her shoulder, smiling.

  “Mim, are you okay?” Vicky asked from the door.

  “Yes, fine, fine. Stop fussing over me.”

  Vicky smiled. “Tom’s here. He wants to talk to everybody.”

  “Oh my,” Mim said, drying her hands. She steadied herself with her cane, made her way back out and took a seat next to Lucy. The poor girl was experiencing another bout of nausea. Mim touched her gently on the back. “Think poopy diapers.”

  Lucy chuckled and took another sip of ginger ale.

  “Mim….” Vicky shook her head.

  “What?” Mim said. “She laughed.”

  Tom sat down and took off his cowboy hat. “First of all, I want you all to know Ben’s cataract surgery went well. Dawn said he just wolfed down two hamburgers.”

  “That’s good news,” Clint said. “An appetite is always good news.” Clint had had most of his stomach removed and didn’t start feeling alive again until he found he could still enjoy eating.

  “He’s back at the farm. Dawn says he’s supposed to take a nap, but we all know Ben.”

  They all smiled.

  “So, here’s the update. Everything upstairs, and I mean everything, is on its way to the farm.”

  Several of the old-timers gasped; a whoosh of collective breathing in and out.

  “I think you’re going to like the place. We need just a little more time to get it all set up, so you’re going to have to stay here just a little while longer, and then we’re going to all head on over. Okay?”

  “What about my wheelchair? Clint asked.

  “You’re all set. Both of you are,” Tom said, looking from him to Jeannie. The rest of you will ride together in a limo.”

  “A limo?” Miguel said. “Sheeet! Uptown!”

  Everyone laughed.

  Steven glanced around at his friends, his family for all practical purposes since he had no family anymore. “We feel bad, all this expense and.…”

  “Come on,” Tom said. “You’re all pitching in and you know that. Everyone is helping out and doing what they can and that’s all anyone can ever ask for. Right?”

  “Right,” they all said, nodding.

  “So, I’ll be back in a little while when it’s time and we’ll all go together.”

  With that, Lucy promptly got up and ran to the bathroom.

  “What about Lucy?” Mim asked. “What’s going to happen to her?”

  Tom hesitated. “Junior’s getting them a room today. She’ll be fine.”

  ~ * ~

  Senior and George walked from room to room observing the Amish at work. Everything was just about completed. “You all did well,” the Bishop said. “You do good work.”

  “Thank you,” George said. “It took a whole lot of hands and we made some mistakes along the way, but we did it.” He looked at the list. All the tasks were checked off but for hanging the signs Wendy had ordered.

  “Let’s do it.”

  The two men dug the holes for the Meg’s Meadows sign announcing Ben’s Farm, lined up and leveled the posts, and then filled the holes around them with a quick-drying concrete. “Wish we didn’t have to wait for the concrete to dry to hang the sign.”

  “Brace it.” The Bishop had walked down to join them and stood puffing on his pipe. “Just brace it on this side and it’ll be fine. Get the wood, I’ll show you.”

  “Alrighty then,” Senior said. They cut the braces the size the Bishop specified and stood back while the man eyeballed the sign to level it. George and Senior were a little uneasy about that, but neither one wanted to question the discretion of a Bishop. When the sign was in place, the three men stood back, the Amish Bishop nodding. Then they went back to T-Bone’s Place to hang the other sign.

  “I suggest you hang it to the right so when people open the door they can still see it,” the Bishop said, still puffing on his pipe. “In my community we revere the elderly. This is good what you are all doing.”

  Senior and George smiled, both feeling as if they had just been blessed. Wendy came outside with Matthew behind her. “I just got a call from the mover. They’re about five minutes away.”

  The men hurried and hung the sign. “All hands on deck,” the Bishop said.

  They all laughed.

  “It’s showtime!”

  “Matthew, don’t you dare lift a thing,” Wendy said. “I mean it. Gordon, what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Gordon said. “Mom, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Cool sign. I like the one for Meg’s Meadows too.”

  Wendy glanced past them. Dawn was walking down between the barns. Wendy waved. Dawn motioned she’d be right there. There’d be dishes to put away, clothes closets to organize, bathrooms to organize, beds to make. Wendy felt a flutter of anxiety, a rush of blood gushing to her face. “Oh Jesus,” she said to herself. “It’s true, my first hot flash.”

  “Here they come,” Matthew said.

  Gordon took out his cellphone and snapped a photo of the moving van as it backed into the drive. The Amish crew gathered all their tools and put them out by the garage. The two moving-men got out, slid the back door open and for a second, everyone just stood looking inside. Vicky and Lucy had labeled everything; beds, mattresses, tables, and clothing bags with each person’s name.

  Wendy consulted her chart. Jeannie and Mim had the first bedroom. Steven and Bill the one in the back. Jack and Clint were in the first one on the other side of the hall, Miguel and Frank behind them.

  “Here.” Matthew took the notepad from his mom and wrote the old-timers’ names in pairs in big letters on four pie
ces of paper. “Do you have tape?”

  “Yep.” She pulled a roll of masking tape out of her utility belt. Matthew posted the names on the bedroom doors and the unloading began.

  ~ * ~

  Linda put the phone down and stared out the window at the racetrack for inspiration. She didn’t have long to think, to devise a plan. When she heard a knock on the open door, she turned. There stood Joe with the Social Services man from yesterday.

  She shook her head. “Weren’t you supposed to make an appointment? Mrs. Girard isn’t in today.”

  “I don’t need an appointment. I have a court order,” the man said. “And I want my ID back.”

  Linda glanced at Wendy’s desk where it lay. “I’ve got this, Joe,” she said. “Go ahead.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She reached for the court order and handed the man his ID. “What do you want?” she asked.

  He examined his ID and put it into his wallet. “Well, as you can see, I’m here to investigate a complaint about unsafe housing in a non-residential building.”

  “There’s no one here,” Linda said.

  “Fine, that’s all you have to show me. And don’t think you’re going to pull any more games on me either.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” She motioned for him to walk out the door and followed him. She took her cellphone from her pocket as they boarded the elevator. The man looked at her with sudden rage in his eyes.

  “Don’t you be….”

  “What? Doing my job? Do you think you’re the only thing I have going on today? Think again, oh annoying one.”

  The man glanced away, giving her just enough time to finish the text. “Besides, do you seriously think I can make all these people listed here on this piece of paper disappear with a phone call? Oh yeah, watch me go! Hey, get rid of all the old people,” she said into the phone. “Hurry! You have about five seconds. Poof!”

  The man shifted his weight.

  “Did you say third floor?”

  “Yes.” He looked away. “We’ll inspect the second floor on the way down.”

  “Good thinking, ‘cause they might go there to hide.”

  The man shook his head. “You’re very entertaining, you know that?”

  “I try.”

  When they got to the third floor, the two of them stepped off the elevator to nothing but emptiness. The man walked down the hall, looked into all the rooms, looked into the bathrooms, looked into the closets. Nothing, not even a tumbling tumble-weed dust bunny!

  The man walked back toward the elevator. “Second floor.”

  Linda followed him. The man was starting to sweat. She glanced at the court order again. “Who is this?” She pointed to a name written in the complaint.

  “It’s of no importance to you,” the man said. “Do you want to push the button?”

  “Sure,” Linda said, taking out her cellphone again and texting the name she’d seen on the court order to Dawn.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Confirming a lunch date. It’s of no importance to you,” she said, throwing his comment right back at him. “Ah, home sweet home.” They stepped out onto the clubhouse floor. “There’s no one here at all on dark days. You’re wasting your time and mine.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, and walked down the hall to the dining room. Empty. All the tables were set up, silverware, napkins, glasses, ready for tomorrow. No signs of anyone. He looked all around, checked the restrooms and opened the door leading to the general seating side of the grandstand. Nothing. Not a soul.

  “What part of dark days don’t you understand?” When he motioned to the large swinging doors to the kitchen, Linda shook her head. “You’re kidding me?”

  He pointed to the court order.

  “All right,” she said.

  The man pushed open one of the doors and met with Chef Diamond Lou. “What you do here?”

  “I’m just here to look around,” the man said. “I’m just here to look around.”

  “Not my kitchen!! Campylobacter! Campylobacter! Campylobacter! Shoes! Shoes!” he screeched. “Germs! E-Coli! Health department!! Out! Out! No breathing! Out!!”

  The man backed up. Chef Diamond Lou towered over him.

  “Out!!! Out!!!”

  The man was silent on the way down in the elevator to the first floor.

  “Did you want to look anywhere else?” Linda asked.

  He glared at her. “I’ll be back. You mark my words, I’ll be back.”

  “Oh yeah. Well, maybe I’ll be here and maybe I won’t. Maybe this is all just a figment of your imagination. Next time, why don’t you bring a fire-breathing dragon along with you too.”

  ~ * ~

  Ben woke from his nap and looked out the kitchen window. He couldn’t remember the last time he took a nap, a legitimate nap that is. He could easily doze throughout the day at any given time. But to actually lie down on the bed, pillow under his head, and cover up with a blanket? No. He looked out the window. The moving truck was parked outside T-Bone’s Place. He put on his hat and a pair of sunglasses and decided to take a walk over. When he got to the end of his driveway, he saw the Meg’s Meadows farm sign for the first time. He stood next to it and traced the letters of beloved wife’s name.

  Meg’s Meadows

  Home of the Legendary Beau Born

  “I’m here,” he could hear Meg say. “I love it too. Thank you.” He tried not to blink and wiped the tears from his eyes as he walked out onto the road. The sight of the sign on the front of T-Bone’s Place choked him up again. He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose.

  T-Bone’s Place

  Retirement Home for Old Racetrackers

  Ben got the Grand Tour. He even walked upstairs. “This is nice. This is so very nice. It feels like home. I think they’re going to like it here. When are they due?”

  “They’re loading up now,” Wendy said, closing her cellphone and slipping it into her pocket. “Tom says they’ll be here in about half an hour.”

  Jeannie was first to board. The ambulance driver pushed her up the ramp and backed her into place, secured her wheelchair, fastened her seatbelt and pulled ahead to wait for the rest. They wanted to go all together. Clint’s “sweet ride” as he called it, had a lift platform. He was wheeled onto it, his chair braced in place, and up he went. The attendant wheeled him in then, snapped his wheelchair in place and secured his seat belt. They moved forward and the limo bus pulled up to the loading ramp.

  One by one, the old-timers were helped inside and made comfortable, seatbelts buckled, and all facing forward. Miguel lowered his window. “Pardone me. Do you have Grey Poupon?”

  They all laughed. When everyone was loaded, Vicky looked at Lucy and then at Tom and Dusty. Tom sighed. “Go on, get in. Junior can pick you up at the farm. Do you need a bucket?”

  “No, I have….” Lucy clutched a sick tray in her hand. “I’m fine. Can I ride up front? I think that would be better.”

  “Sure,” the driver said.

  Dusty walked outside the building, looked one way and then the other, and waved for the convoy to pull out. “All clear, let’s go.” He and Tom followed them in their trucks. It was a short ride to Ben’s farm. There was very little traffic this time of day. In a little over twenty minutes, the two transport ambulances and the limo bus were pulling into the driveway at T-Bone’s Place.

  The Amish crew had been picked up and were gone, but everyone else was still there. The ambulance attendants opened the ramps, Clint was lowered down. Jeannie was wheeled down the tiny ramp. The other old-timers all stepped out of the limo bus. Walkers, canes, together as one family, they made their way up the ramp to the front door. They gathered on the porch in front of the sign for a family photo and crossed the threshold, one by one. “Welcome home,” Ben said. “Welcome home.”

  ~ * ~

  Randy and Mark Simmons took a late lunch break at the track kitchen and sat talking about the history of Notting
ham Downs, its dedication to the life of the Thoroughbred, its mission, the highs and the lows. “I remember when you guys made national news for bringing in the soft whip,” Mark said. “Damn, that was big!”

  “Yeah, there were some ups and downs with that, that’s for sure. The worst part was the derby the following year when some of the top contenders didn’t want to come in for the race. We really didn’t have a problem this year though. I’ll be right back. You want more coffee?” Randy asked, pointing to Mark’s cup.

  “No, thank you. I’m done.”

  Randy came back, sat down, and sipped his piping hot coffee, then yawned. “So here’s the deal,” he said. “Everyone in my family is telling me I work too many hours. I have eight farm calls yet to do today. My younger sister is a vet. She just went back for additional equine. She’s always been small animal.” Randy stifled another yawn. “She was supposed to move here this year with her husband. He was going to transfer within his company. He’s a corporate up and comer, nice guy. Damn,” Randy said, yawning yet again. “Anyway, she’s had some health issues, and now’s not the time to, you know, move ahead. So tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “Well.” Mark looked around the track kitchen, a few trainers and grooms dotted here and there. “I like the racetrack. I always have. I grew up at the trotters.”

  “So, I’ve heard.” Randy took another sip of coffee.

  “I don’t know what happened to me, but somewhere along the way, I started paying more attention to the horses’ physiology. I wanted to know why certain things happened. And I didn’t want anybody else telling me. I wanted to know for myself.” Mark shrugged. “The rest is history. I went to school, got my license, and here I am hoping for a chance to get my feet wet.”

  Randy looked at him. “How did you pay for your schooling?”

  “I owe a fortune in student loans.”

  Randy nodded. “I just paid mine off last year.” His cellphone rang. It was Dawn. “Excuse me,” he said. “Hello.”

  “Oh, Randy,” Dawn said. “You should have seen the old-timers. They are so happy. I just left there and they’re all sitting around in the living room in their favorite chairs, talking. Some were dozing. They love their rooms. They love the kitchen and the porches. They love being able to see the horses grazing in the pastures. They love it! They absolutely love it.”