Give First Place to Murder (19 page)

Beyond the waiting horses were two white fenced arenas also filled with people. Some rode horses, some stood in the middle yelling at the riders, and others, carrying the ubiquitous pails, scurried back and forth like frightened mice. On each side and at the back of the arenas were barns, gaily decorated with canvas drapes stapled to their sides. Some were beautiful, some garish, all were more elaborate by far than at the show in Santa Louisa. Ribbons hung on the drapes, trophies were displayed on tables or tack trunks set between deck chairs that seemed awash in a sea of potted plants. Farm names were spelled out everywhere, and brochures were available for the taking, all claiming the superiority of the horses housed behind the curtains. Or was it the superiority of the trainers who handled those horses?

"Heads up," someone shouted in my ear. A young horse thundered past me accompanied by a skinny, pimply faced boy. They skidded to a stop before a short, bald man who snarled something at the boy and grabbed the lead from his hand. He whirled the horse around, tapped it lightly with his long whip, which he then quickly raised. The horse immediately struck the pose I had seen before. The man lowered his whip, patted the horse, and snarled once more at the boy.

"Gate's open," shouted the loud speaker. "Tom. You're first. Mike, you're next. Get number 36 out of the way. Where is 702?"

"Let's go," said a voice behind us. Susannah had us each by the arm and drug us toward the tunnel. I took a look at Dan as I followed her and almost laughed.

"You look like a kid watching his first circus," I told him as we climbed the narrow stairs.

"They're magnificent." He seemed a little embarrassed. "I had no idea."

We were in the stadium, looking down on the open arena. The stands were filling up fast and Susannah had disappeared.

"There she is." Dan pointed toward some seats close by the rail. We pushed our way through the crowd and slid into the front row beside her.

"I hope you didn't buy a program." She flipped through pages in what looked like Santa Louisa's phone book. "I already got one. Look.” She looked up from the program and pointed down into the ring. “Bryce is next. Nice colt, don't you think? It belongs to some friends of Irma."

The colt was beautiful, but then I thought they all were.

"Aren't those guys kind of little?" Dan watched the colt in front of the judge two-step in place, try an experimental rear or two, then refuse to move when it was time to trot off.

"They're yearlings and pretty unpredictable. That one just blew his chance. Not that he had one."

I shook my head. My daughter the expert. Bryce approached, one hand on the neck of his nervous charge who looked all the more beautiful for his arched neck and light step.

"Watch this," Susannah said.

Suddenly Bryce whirled the colt and snapped his whip high in the air. The colt, startled, raised his neck, tightened his body and pricked his ears forward. It held the pose long enough for the judge to get a good look, and just as quickly Bryce had the colt trotting away.

"You've got to give him credit. Most of this is timing and Bryce sure has that. Too bad he doesn't have a few other things."

"Like what?"

"Manners. Consideration. Self control."

"What's he been doing?" asked Dan.

"You name it. He's been a royal pain since we got here. Temper tantrums, playing all night, only showing up in time to go into the ring, of course doing none of the work. I've just about had it."

Now there was a statement to make a mother’s heart sing.

"Don't say that, Susannah.” Irma stood by the row of seats, looking forlorn. “You're the only thing keeping me sane."

"What's the matter now?” Susannah’s exasperation was obvious. “Mom, why don't you guys move down one so Irma can sit by you. I'll take the aisle, I have to go back to the barn soon."

We all obediently moved over a seat, and Irma slid in beside me before she answered Susannah.

"There's a regular war going on back there. Poor Chovalo's nephew--what's his name?"

"Palo."

"Right. Anyway, he's trying, but he's new. Chovalo's giving him instructions, Bryce is yelling at him to do something else, and now Wes shows up and wants to start loading horses on the van."

"Loading horses? Well," Susannah spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "all the mares are finished. So’s that colt." She pointed toward the ring. "He's not going to win this. Which means we get treated to another tantrum from our super star, but the colt can go home."

"Wes wants equipment loaded too. He's got a cross-country run leaving tonight, using this van, and he wants to get home. Only we can't tear down now."

"So they're all fighting." Susannah sighed. "How very pleasant."

"Bryce and Wes are fighting. Chovalo’s ignoring them."

"Giving them that look only he can. I'll bet he's furious."

"Furious doesn't cover it. He wants Bryce gone. I've never seen him so down on anyone. I don't know what to do." Irma’s voice trembled a little.

"Gone? Like fired gone?" I asked Irma.

Irma nodded.

"Wow." Susannah leaned forward. “That’s--wow.”

"Isn't that a little drastic?" Dan also leaned forward. I could tell he was trying to keep the interest out of his voice. "Doesn't Bryce do a good job?"

"Only when he's doing that." Irma pointed toward the arena where horses and handlers were waiting impatiently for the results of their class. "He has the potential to be one of the best handlers in the country, but showing is only one part of this, and Bryce is either useless, or simply not there when it's time to work horses, groom, clean stalls, or feed.”

“
Is he supposed to do all those things?” Dan asked.

“
All the horses on the ranch are fed by my staff, and my guys do all the cleaning. That way I know it’s done right. But Bryce is responsible for working, grooming and showing my horses. That’s what I pay him for. I let him rent stalls for outside horses, and he’s supposed to either take care of them, or hire someone to do it.” Disgust was clear in Irma’s voice. “Lately, he either lets Stephanie do it, or Susannah.”

“
Work horses? You?” I whirled to look at Susannah. “You don’t know how! Besides, what does that mean?”

“
Does Bryce pay your salary?” Dan asked Susannah.

She glanced at me, but chose to answer Dan. “Irma does. I’m supposed to keep Irma’s records, make out the show entries, and do Bryce’s billing so he can pay Irma for the stalls he rents from her for the outside horses. Only I seem to be doing a lot more.”

“
What is an outside horse?” I asked, pretty emphatically, “and what do you do when you work one?”

“
It’s any horse that doesn’t belong to me.” Irma sounded g rim “If Chovalo has his way, they’ll soon be gone along with Bryce.”

"What will Chovalo do if you don't get rid of Bryce?" Dan pressed her gently but firmly.

"He didn’t say." Irma shook her head. "Maybe things will sort themselves out if we can just get through the rest of today."

"That could prove interesting." Susannah reluctantly pushed herself out of her seat. "I'd better go see what horses can go home and what we can pack on the van. We've got five horses that are finished. Wes has to come back for the others this afternoon. Surely the rest of the stuff can go then."

"Sounds like refereeing a minor league hockey game would be easier than trying to keep this bunch apart. Good luck." Dan grinned at her. She grinned back.

"Thanks. There’s no doubt I'll need it."

The class was leaving the ring and a scowling Bryce thrust the colt's lead and a fourth place ribbon into the hands of a dark haired boy as he stalked through the gate.

"He takes losing seriously," I commented, watching him.

"He takes it personally," Irma corrected. "That’s part of what makes him good. It's also what makes him so damn difficult. One of the things. Watch. He'll come storming up here, telling me how unfair everything is, the judging, Wes, Chovalo, probably the owner of the next horse he's showing."

"I can hardly wait." The look on Dan’s face as he watched Bryce leave the arena said he could wait just fine.

"You were right. There he is." I’d been watching the mouth of the tunnel. Bryce emerged, letting his scowl fade only when accepting tribute from his admirers. "He's certainly popular."

Bryce made his way toward us, switching his charm on and off.

"Until you get to know him. Then he wears real thin." Irma sighed again. "Chovalo has a point. I'm getting pretty tired of putting up with Bryce's antics."

"Are there new ones?" asked Dan, but I interrupted him.

"Who is that?"

Bryce had stopped to talk to a tall, well built man with softly curling, longish blond hair. Clean-shaven, dressed in chinos and an expensive polo shirt that showed off evenly muscled and deeply tanned arms, he seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.

Both Irma and Dan turned to look.

"Never seen him before," Irma said. "Probably some neophyte horse owner. If he's got any money, Bryce will smell it and have his horse in our barn before the man puts his check book away."

The conversation ended and the stranger headed out of the stands. Bryce spotted us and was on his way.

"Anyone for coffee?" Dan was also on his way. Out. The next class was entering, but his newfound interest in horses didn't seem to come close to his desire to avoid a Bryce Ellis scene.

"Coward." I told him.

He grinned. "Cream and sugar?"

Irma nodded, her attention on the rapidly approaching Bryce.

"Black, but you know that."

Dan grinned again, nodded at Bryce who scowled deeper at the sight of him, and disappeared at a gallop down the stairs.

Bryce plopped himself into the aisle seat, barely acknowledged me, and started on Irma. "Did you see that class? I made that jackass colt look like a million. I should have won, I know I should have. Old Roger is getting senile. Don't you think I should have won?"

"I would have placed it the same way Roger did." Irma’s voice was mild, her eyes solidly fastened on the activity in the ring.

Bryce looked a little taken back, but didn't say anything right away.

"Wes’s back at the barn making a mess of everything,” he finally said. There was a pout on his face and in his voice. “He wants to start tearing down, keeps yelling about Linda and his schedule. I have four horses before Challenge goes in and I need everything left just as it is. Besides, if Challenge wins ---- and he's going to--I thought we could have a party."

"No party." Irma turned to face Bryce. "I mean it, so don't argue.” She sighed. "But you're right about not tearing down. Susannah’s back at the barn seeing what we can send home with the first load of horses. I guess we'd better get back there too. Chovalo and his nephew can't do everything."

Bryce looked a little surprised at the implied suggestion that he might help, but immediately turned smug, as though he had won some important battle.

"I'll wait here for Dan," I offered, although no one had suggested I do anything else.

Irma nodded. Bryce didn't bother to go that far, only picked up his gloves and whip, tapping them impatiently against his leg before turning to leave.

Dan appeared as Irma stood up. "Here's your coffee."

“
Oh. Yes. Thanks." She took the offered white cup and hurried after Bryce.

"What lovely manners that young man has." Dan handed me a cup and settled himself in Irma's vacant chair. "Good. They left the program. Maybe we can figure out what's going on."

"His poor mother.” I shook my head. “Figure out what's going on here or back there?" I waved in the general direction of the barns.

"We’re going to need more than a program to figure that out. I stopped by to see if Susannah needed help. She already had three horses on the van with two more ready, the nephew--Palo?--is worshipping at her feet, and Chovalo is nowhere to be seen. Evidently Wes is leaving and will be back sometime after lunch for the rest of the horses and equipment. He’s threatened general mayhem if everything isn’t ready to load. Look at these names. Is this Arabic?"

Dan stuck his nose in the program and looked from it to the horses in the ring. I was relieved Susannah seemed to be all right, but felt a little off balance Dan had been the one to think of checking on her.

"So we're not going back there?"

"Not right yet. We're going to sit here like regular fans and watch the show." He was irritatingly complacent.

"Okay. Then give me that thing." I took the program and started studying the list of horses’ names, some clearly Arabic, some English, some a mystifying combination, untranslatable in any language.

"I'm voting for the one called ‘Popeye.’ At least I can say that." I told Dan.

The next couple of hours were fun, both of us rooting for the horses led in by women, but for different reasons.

"You're a dirty old man.”

"Merely human. Besides, I saw you check out that blond kid in the tight green pants."

"I was admiring his horse," I told him with dignity. “I noticed you didn’t cheer for the fat woman who kept bobbing up and down like a cork.”