shoulder as she spoke directly to it, rather than to the rider. The horse calmed down a little. It was clear to Longarm from what he observed that the horse was very familiar with the young woman.
The other twin was talking to the rider, evidently either offering encouragement or issuing commands, judging from the way the man kept nodding his head. Longarm couldn’t help but wonder about the two young women. What was their connection with a fine-looking chestnut racehorse?
Such speculation wasn’t what had brought him here today, of course. Maybe when the race was over, he would wander down to the paddock and introduce himself to the ladies, he decided.
“Marshal Long? Is that you?”
The man’s voice calling his name so unexpectedly made Longarm look around in surprise. He saw a tall, broad- shouldered man approaching him through the grandstand, trailed by a smaller individual. The man who had called out was rather beefy and florid-faced, with graying dark hair under an expensive felt hat. He wore a dark gray suit. Longarm recognized him right away and stood up to shake the hand the man extended toward him.
“Good to see you again, Senator Padgett,” Longarm greeted the man. “What brings you down here?”
Senator Miles Padgett, the junior senator from the great state of Colorado, grinned and said, “I could ask the same thing of you, Marshal, except that I doubt you’d answer me. Billy Vail’s probably got you assigned to some secret mission, hasn’t he?”
The politician’s guess hit a little too close to home, but Longarm didn’t reveal that by his expression as he chuckled and said, “No, I’m just here to take in a horse race.”
“So am I,” said Padgett. “I daresay I’ve got a slightly bigger stake in the outcome than you do, however. That’s my horse down there.” He waved toward a rangy blood bay that was being walked back and forth beside the track by its rider.
Longarm quirked an eyebrow, then nodded. “Didn’t know you owned a racehorse, Senator.”
“It’s a recent investment,” Padgett explained. “In fact, this will be the first race he’s run since I bought him. Why don’t you come down to my box and watch the race with us? You’ll get a better view than you will up here.”
“Thanks,” Longarm said with a smile. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“I’m glad I spotted you,” Padgett said as he began to lead the way down to the reserved boxes closer to the track. As an afterthought, he indicated the man with him and said, “You remember Leon Mercer, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Longarm said with a friendly nod to the man, who was rather nondescript in a tan suit and brown derby. Longarm recalled that Mercer was just about bald under that derby, despite the fact that he was only about forty. Mercer had been Padgett’s assistant and secretary for as long as Longarm had known the senator.
As much as Longarm was around the Federal Building in Denver, it was inevitable that he would make the acquaintance of various politicians, and Miles Padgett was one of them. As a rule, Longarm didn’t care much for such gents, but Padgett wasn’t bad for somebody who spent so much time in Washington. He was a little pompous and a bit of a glad-hander, but what politico wasn’t?
Congress had recessed for the summer, Longarm recalled, and he supposed that was why Padgett was back here in the West. For the sound of it, the senator had bought his way into the racing circuit.
Which meant that he might know who those twin blond lovelies were, Longarm mused.
He and Padgett and Leon Mercer settled themselves down in the seats in the senator’s box, and Longarm had to admit that not only was the view much better, the seats were more comfortable than a grandstand bench. He looked for the twins and didn’t see them on the concourse; then, as he craned his neck to check out the other boxes, he spotted them sitting nearby. They were alone in their box, although plenty of the male spectators were paying more attention to them than to the horses on the track being brought to the starting line.
The race was about to get underway, so Longarm puffed on his cheroot and turned his eyes back toward the track. The grandstands had been loud with talk and laughter and the music from a brass band at the far end of the track, but now a comparative silence settled down and an air of tense anticipation gripped the crowd. The horses were ready at the starting line, and the starter, a man in a frock coat and top hat, climbed onto a small platform next to the track. He lifted a pistol in his right hand and called out a warning to the riders, letting them know that the race was about to start. A moment later, the pistol cracked as its blank load was fired, and the horses surged forward, galloping for all they were worth.
Senator Padgett came to his feet, and in a voice that had set the walls of Congress to ringing on more than one occasion bellowed, “Come on, Caesar, come on!”
Longarm stood up too. That was the only way to see what was going on. Despite his lack of any real interest in the outcome of the race, he found himself leaning forward, caught up in the emotions running through the crowd. Padgett continued shouting encouragement to his horse, and even his assistant, Leon Mercer, looked excited. Longarm couldn’t ever recall seeing anything except a bland, placid expression on Mercer’s face. There was something compelling about a horse race, Longarm supposed, that just couldn’t be denied.
He took his eyes off the horses long enough to glance over at the box where the two young women were sitting. Of course, they weren’t actually sitting anymore. They were standing like everybody else. In fact, they were bouncing up and down in excitement, and Longarm noted with appreciation the effect that motion had on the bosom of the twin wearing the man’s shirt. Evidently there wasn’t much under that shirt except female flesh, and her breasts were bobbing around invitingly. Once again, Longarm wondered if he could wangle an introduction to them from the senator.
“Run, you bastard, run!” Padgett urged his horse at the top of his lungs. Longarm turned his attention back to the galloping animals and saw that Padgett’s blood bay was near the center of the pack. So was the chestnut that the twins had taken an interest in earlier. Neither horse appeared about to make a move to break out of the bunch, but on the other hand, they weren’t falling back either.
Longarm leaned over to Padgett and raised his voice to ask, “How long is this race, Senator?”
“A mile and a half!” Padgett replied without taking his eyes off the horses. “Three times around the track!”
The horses had already been around once, and they were nearing the starting line for the second time. As they flashed across in front of the grandstand, Longarm thought that the next time they came back to where they had started, it would be the finish line. He followed the progress of the animals as they swept around the course. The pounding of hooves blended with the shouts of the crowd in a powerful, primitive rhythm. Longarm felt his own
