Chapter Seven: The Race

Kay Jones tapped his fingers nervously on the aspen pole that formed the south side of Miguel's corral. The squawking chatter of the Mexicans exchanging money only heightened his anxiety. He glanced over to see a small mustachioed Chihuahuan holding up four fingers and shouting something about the "Gordo". Kay listened closely enough to realize that he was offering four-to-one odds that Cole would fall off his horse before the finish line. Kay was tempted to call the bet, but without even a dollar in his pocket, he only shook his head and waved.

"Jonesy," came a call from behind him.

Startled, Kay turned to see Joe approaching, his bloodshot eyes begging for coffee. The big Indian lumbered up to the corral and leaned heavily on one of the posts. Joe's weight caused the whole corral to bend and creak. Kay couldn't help but giggle. "That bad, huh?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Yeeeaaaaahhhh!" Joe groaned. "I forgot I had to set the course with ol' Hank Dugan this morning. He woke me up about six."

Kay's giggle grew to a hearty chuckle. "So you got what? About two solid hours of sleep last night? That ain't too bad."

"Add it to the three miles I walked up to Harding Junction with the Judge and the three miles back and I'd say I've had a restful and relaxing morning." The sarcasm flowed easily off of the Indian's lips.

"Harding Junction? That's where Cole has to go to first before he goes down into Pagosa?"

"Yeah, I guess Jake and Chuck agreed that was the fairest way."

"So they got the biggest Indian they could find and made him the race steward, huh? Hope they paid ya well."

Joe was not amused. He shot Kay a look of disgust and utter exhaustion that spoke volumes of the night he'd had. "You seen our boy yet?" he finally asked.

Kay pointed out the slim figure of Hoot Peterson pacing back and forth in front of Lucy's. "He's over there warming up."

"And Cole?"

Kay had been wondering about Cole since the time he got there that morning. He and Joe had left the big oaf completely pie-eyed the night before with almost a quarter of a barrel of beer remaining, so he knew it would be a tall order for him to show. Still, Kay thought with Chuck promising him a hundred dollars for the win, Cole would find his way there somehow. "Ain't seen him," responded the soft-spoken Welshman, rolling his eyes back into his head.

As the two friends sat silently watching the festivities, Miguel Lopez trotted up leading his chestnut mare. It was a beautiful specimen. Kay had been there when it beat Judge Dugan's colt. She'd got out on the lead and never let up. According to Kay's calculations, she'd won the mile race by almost six lengths, an impressive margin considering she was carrying ten pounds more. Kay liked her. It was hard not to.

"Amigos, how is it going?" Miguel said, opening the rickety gate and entering the corral.

"Pretty good, Mikey," answered Joe. He, too, liked Miguel's horse but mostly he just liked Miguel. The two of them had run cattle a few years back and had been friends for as long as Kay could remember. They'd had a row once in a saloon down in Gallop but all was forgiven when Joe punched a man just for looking at Miguel's daughter a couple of months later. The river ran deep with those two. "Hey, Mikey," said Joe almost as an afterthought, "you seen Cole?"

Miguel grabbed a curry comb and shook his head. "I sent Jose over to his place to make sure he is coming, but you know Cole, he could be lying face down in a ditch in Cortez for all we know. Wouldn't surprise me at all."

Just at that moment, Kay noticed a small Mexican boy of fifteen or sixteen years of age sprinting acros the alpine meadow to where they stood. Miguel dropped his comb into the bucket at his feet and scurried out of the corral to greet the boy.

"Y donde esta el gordo?" he asked when the young boy caught his breath.

"El esta totalmente mareado. No va a llegar asi, creo. Esta durmiendo con la loca que anda con el buho."

Kay spoke a little Spanish, so he understood the boy fairly well. Cole wasn't coming! He was too drunk to even wake up. Kay listened a little more as Miguel got the full story. The tiny Mexican boy had gone so far as to douse the behemoth with a bucket of cold water and he didn't even stir. Kay found it interesting, however, that the young boy seemed most interested in talking about Sally Forester. She could get under the skin of about every man she managed to get her claws on.

After a heated discussion about what they should do, Miguel decided to break the news to Chuck and Jake. He didn't look too enthused about it, though. "You boys comin'?" he hollered back to Kay and Joe. His tone was accusatory and both Kay and Joe worried that somehow the little Mexican boy found out about their involvement in the plot to derail Cole. They exchanged guilty glances and slowly followed Miguel across the meadow to Lucy's boardwalk where the band had just begun to play.

As they approached the boardwalk, Jake Sorrentino jumped off the porch and ran down to greet them.

"Miguel Lopez, so glad to see you, amigo. I hope that beast of yours is up for the challenge. My boy, Hoot, says he's gonna take you and his pa out to the woodshed and whoop you both today." Jake's eyes dazzled in the early morning sun. Kay thought he must have had one of Vera's little pick-me-ups.

Miguel shook Jake's extended hand politely and then waved to both Chuck and Hoot. "Can I talk to all of you together?" he yelled with some conviction.

Both Chuck and Hoot trotted over and listened as Miguel began to speak.

"Listen," began Miguel. "I know this has become quite a big deal, but I have some news that will probably change things a bit."

Jake turned and signalled for Soloman Diggle to join the men as they listened.

"Well, what is it?" asked Hoot as he hopped around trying to stay loose.

Miguel narrowed his eyes. "It's Cole. He ain't coming. I sent Jose over to round him up and the buffalo is dead asleep."

A huge grin spread across Chuck Peterson's face. "Well," he said, trying not to seem over-enthusiastic about the news, "I guess we'll just have to postpone the race for another day."

"Never!" screamed Hoot, a look of panic in his eyes. "We're running this race today no matter what. No matter what!"

Both Soloman and Jake got the same expression that Hoot did. Kay realized at that point that they must have invested a large amount of money promoting the race and weren't about to see it go for naught.

"Chuck, how about we just find another rider? It can't be that difficult," reasoned Jake.

Chuck knew he had them right where he wanted them. Kay felt sick that his and Joe's plan had backfired into giving Chuck some leverage in the race. He looked over at Hoot and felt a sickening dread fall over him. Dorothy would be so disappointed with this outcome.

"It can't be that difficult?" Chuck boomed over the top of the band. "You can't just find another guy at such little notice. Nope, we have to postpone it. It's the only fair thing."

"What if we get a better rider, Chuck?" said Jake. "You pick him and we'll just give him a weight handicap. Listen, Chuck, we got all these people and they want to see some kind of race. We can't just leave 'em high and dry."

"And you can't just leave me high and dry either, Dad," added Hoot as a tear of desperation tumbled down his cheek.

Chuck walked slowly over to the boardwalk, his tall slender figure casting an ominous shadow over the entire festivities. Even the band that had so gaily trumpeted the impending excitement a few minutes before, fell silent awaiting his verdict. He buried his hands deep into his pockets and took a long extended breath of the crisp morning air. "Well..." he began. "I'd hate to disappoint all of the folks lining up down in Pagosa, so I guess we can find another rider, but I get to choose him, right?"

Jake nodded anxiously. "Sure, Chuck, but it's got to be a fair race. You can't go pickin' a guy like, say, that guy."

A look of sheer terror spread across Kay Jones' face as he looked up to see Jake's finger pointed directly at him. Kay looked over to Chuck hoping to see him agree with Jake, but instead he saw a look of curiosity in the uplifted eyebrow of the rancher.

"Now, Jake. Let's not get too hasty. Say I picked Jones here and was to give you a handicap of sorts. Just to make things interesting."

Jake, never one to cower from an interesting bet, signalled Chuck to continue.

"What if, say, I chose Jones, but I made him carry the big Indian all the way up to Harding Junction? That's a good four-hundred and twenty pounds for three of the twelve miles."

Kay's terrified eyes shifted immediately to Joe. The Indian looked as though he'd just got hit over the head with a baseball bat, but he recovered enough to make his objection. "What if the big Indian and his little Welsh friend don't want any part in this little bet?" he asked.

Everyone stood silently waiting for someone to respond to the big Indian. Soloman Diggle finally broke the silence. "I'll pay you fifty dollars and the other chap gets one hundred. How's that for some incentive, you know, just to make things interesting?"

Joe turned back to Kay and shrugged his shoulders. They both looked like the bat had hit them again but in a good way. Kay thought of all the things a hundred bucks could buy for Dorothy and his boys. And he didn't have to win. He didn't have to win! He could throw the race and nobody would be the wiser. Hoot would get his wish and run off to ride the barrel down the river or whatever he wanted and two rich gamblers would exchange a few hundred dollars between themselves. Kay's apprehension at participating in the whole melee dissipated and a calmness ensued.

"That is quite interesting," responded Joe. "I guess were both in."

Kay nodded.

"I'm not so sure I like this setup," said Jake Sorrentino, his fingers working over his stubbly chin like a prizefighter. "Suppose you had the Welshman carry the Indian up to Harding Junction and you had him carry Vera down to Pagosa on his way back."

Chuck had expected the haggling. He contemplated the offer and then made a counter offer. "I like it, Jake, but instead of Vera herself, let's have the Welshman carry a keg of Vera's finest home brew for the winner to drink at the finish line. Deal?"

"Deal!" declared Jake.

With everything settled, Soloman Diggle excitedly motioned for the bandleader to start up the band, Miguel's Mexican contingency scrambled to readjust the odds on all of the sidebets, and Vera reluctantly entered Lucy's to retrieve a precious keg. Everyone else made their way to the starting line. Amidst the confusion, Chuck walked over and tapped Kay on the shoulder. Kay turned to see the same expression of ferocity and fear on Chuck's face that he'd seen a few days before up at the camp. Kay again felt a sense of dread.

"Jonesy," whispered Chuck just loud enough for the barrel-chested sheepherder to hear, "you lose this race and you won't work for me ever again. You hear?"

Kay stood stunned. "What?" he asked, thinking he'd heard Chuck wrong the first time.

"You lose this, you don't work for me!" growled Chuck, gritting his teeth.

"But Chuck, I don't understand."

"You understand perfectly, Jones. Like I said before. If it was your boy, what would you do?"

Chuck kicked the dirt in front of him and casually left Kay in a small cloud of dust. Kay did understand. All too well.