pulling the pony because he was going lame. Hell, you could run a lot of trainers off the track for
doing that.”
“Then I?ll run „em off,” Raines said angrily. He finished his second brandy and stood with his back to
us, staring down at the track. “An owner?s greed, a trainer?s stupidity, and two horses are dead. One
jockey may never ride again, and another is lying in pain in the hospital.” He turned back to face us.
“To my knowledge, there?s never been a fix at this track, not in almost three years.”
“Well,” Callahan said, “it was well thought out and impossible to prove. Would?ve worked like a
Turkish charm, too, except the leg was weaker than they thought, which is always the case when a
horse breaks a leg in a race.”
“Then just what the hell can I do?” Raines roared, and for a moment he sounded like Chief Findley.
Callahan finished his drink and stood up.
“About this one? Nothing. Thibideau lost his horse; he?s paid a price. The other two horses and
jockeys? Don?t know what to say. It?ll go down in the books, just another accident. I don?t think—see,
the reason we told you this, it isn?t the last time it?s going to be tried. I know how you feel about the
track and the horses. It?s something you needed to know.”
Raines sighed and sat back in his chair and pinched his lower
“I appreciate it, thanks,” he said. But he was distracted. His gaze once again was focused somewhere
far away.
“Mr. Raines, it wouldn?t help us—Callahan here, myself, and the rest of Morehead?s people—for you
to talk about this fix business. Not for just now. Maybe in a day or two, okay?”
He could hardly refuse the request and didn?t.
“I respect your confidence,” he said, without looking at either of us. “Will forty-eight hours be
enough?”
Callahan looked at me and I shrugged. “Sure,” I said, “that?ll be fine. We?ll be checking with you.”
We left him sitting there, staring out at the track he had created and which he obviously loved and
cherished and felt protective of, the same way Chief felt about Dunetown. I felt sorry for him; he was
like a schoolboy who had just discovered some ugly fact of life. Callahan didn?t say anything until we
were outside the building and walking back around the infield to the car.
“You were pretty tough in there,” he said.
“Callahan, do you ever get tired of dealing with pussyfooters?” I asked with a sigh.
“All the time,” he said, looking down the track, where they were repairing the infield fence.
“That?s what just happened to me. I got the feeling Raines is anything but. But he?s surrounded by a
bunch of pussies.”
