James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course)

by James Ross

  “Get your winners for today!” the employee at the podium barked. “We’ve got Picks by Pitz, Mack’s Magnetic Magic, and the Can’t Miss Chrome Quiz Kid right over here . . . and say that three times. Get your programs!”

  Captain Jer took one look at the buffet table and turned to Elia. “Maybe BowTye will like that crap. I’m sticking with beer.”

  Pork Chop butted in line and filled his plate until the gravy was oozing over the side. He made his way back to the table, tucked a napkin in under his Adam’s apple, and grabbed a fork. “It just doesn’t get any better than this.” Then he proceeded to spread the tip sheets out to figure out the races.

  One by one the guys made it through the food line. One by one the eyebrows were raised as they made their way to the next food item. After filling their plates and sitting down at the table Dr. DV commented facetiously. “Next time we do this make sure they pick me up in a limo. I wouldn’t miss this for the world next year.” He rolled his eyes skyward. A used cigarette butt that someone flicked out of the crowd hit him in the side of the face.

  “Who wants to go in with me on the Daily Double?” Pork Chop yelled out. “I’ve got to get it in real quick.”

  “The race doesn’t go for thirty minutes,” Fred argued. “I haven’t even had a chance to look the card over.”

  “Well, I’ve got to go someplace,” Pork Chop insisted.

  “What do you mean you’ve got to go someplace?” Captain Jer slurred. “It was your idea to come over here in the first place.”

  Pork Chop took his biscuit, wiped his plate clean, stuffed it in his mouth and talked with his mouth half full. “I’ll be back but I’ve got to run off for a couple of hours. I’ve got all my picks circled.” He turned to Curt and handed him the pick sheets. “Here are my picks for all the races through the seventh.” Pork Chop reached into his pocket and peeled off a bunch of hundred dollar bills. “Put a hundie on everything I have circled.”

  “Where the hell are you running off to?” Fred stammered.

  “I’ve got to go bury my mother-in-law.”

  “What?” Fred and the rest of the guys were overwhelmed.

  Pork Chop repeated himself matter-of-factly. “I’ve got to go bury my mother-in-law.” He looked at his watch. “Her funeral starts in thirty minutes. I’ll be back by the time the jockey’s race goes.” He got up and peeled some more bills off the wad that he had rolled up in his pocket. He turned back to Curt. “Now keep that horse money in one pocket and put this in your other pocket.” He slipped a rolled-up stash of money over to Curt. “That’s two thousand dollars. Go over to the Aqua Mermaid and put it in the slot that has the moo-cow and the croak-frog. You know which one it is, don’t you BowTye?” BowTye shook his head up and down. “If it hits then call me on my cell phone. I want to listen to the sounds it makes when it goes to the bonus.” He turned, walked off and over his shoulder shouted, “Just remember, I’ll be back by the time the jockey’s race goes!”

  “Is he out of his mind or what?” Curt exclaimed to the group. “What should I do now?”

  “You better make a quick trip over to the Aqua Mermaid. It kind of sounds like he wants to listen to the moo-cow,” Fred remarked. All the guys at the table laughed out loud. “Maybe he figures that you’re luckier than him.”

  “Let me go to the window and buy the tickets for the picks that he wanted,” Curt said. “I’ll meet you guys outside to watch the first race and then go over to the Aqua Mermaid to see if I can hit the moo-cow bonus.” He took a look at Justin. “Make sure you stay with Dr. DV. If you get lost then come back to this table.” He headed to the ticket window to get all the bets down.

  The weather outside was ideal. The temperature was in the high eighties but the humidity had been knocked out of the air by a blast of rain that hit the area two days previously. A slight breeze cooled things off enough to make the warm summer day tolerable.

  Outside by the finish line the track personnel had placed picnic tables for fans to sit and watch. Rows and rows of bleachers were crammed under the pavilion roof in the grandstand area. Past the finish line were the high-dollar box seats and the indoor clubs such as the Photo Finish and Hind Quarters. That was the area where the larger bettors hung out. No doubt the food in that part of the track was considerably better as well.

  Dr. DV had been close to animals all of his life. He took Justin down to the paddock area so that they could see the thoroughbreds come out of the barn. At Hoof and Bridle Park the paddock area was shaped like a horseshoe. In the center of the horseshoe was a white cupola surrounded by a hedge of English yew. The paddock was encircled by a white rail fence.

  “What is this for?” Justin asked.

  “The track personnel will lead the horses out of the barn one at a time. They’ll have the reins and walk the horse around this area before they put the saddle on it,” Dr. DV went on to explain. “A lot of guys that come to the track want to come down here and look at the horses before they bet on them.”

  “What are they looking for?” Justin asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dr. DV continued. “I’m not a horse bettor. I guess some guys are superstitious. Others want to see if the horse they want to bet on looks tired. A few will want to try and determine if the horse is drugged up. The general population just wants to look at the color and the size of the horse to see if it looks like a winner.”

  The bugle sounded and the horses were led out of the barn. One by one they circled in front of Justin and Dr. DV. After they were led around one lap in the paddock area, the horses were saddled and mounted by the jockey. Their next step was onto the race track to warm up.

  “They are gorgeous,” Justin marveled.

  “Yeah, but this is just a run-of-the-mill track. If we went to a track where the first class thoroughbreds ran you’d really see some beautiful animals.”

  “Oooooo. Number four was the first one to poop. Maybe we ought to bet on that one,” Justin observed.

  “I guarantee you somebody will bet on it for that simple reason,” Dr. DV quipped.

  “Maybe we should bet on the gray one?” Justin suggested.

  “There again, I’m sure somebody will because of its color,” the doctor said.

  “That one horse had a girl sitting on it,” Justin remarked. “Do people ever bet on the jockeys?”

  “Pork Chop is later on. I hope he knows what he’s doing. Heck, there are some people out here that only bet on numbers and colors. Some people just pick a name that they like.”

  “What do you bet on?” Justin inquired.

  “I stay away from all of it. I couldn’t pick the winner in a one-horse race!”

  “But there’s only one horse. Surely you’d be able to pick a winner there,” Justin said naively.

  “With my luck I’d probably only get half of them right,” Dr. DV joked. “Let’s see if Curt got the tickets and is waiting for us down by the finish line.”

  The pair headed down to join the rest of the guys. The horses made their way to the back stretch and were warming up far away from the grandstands. The first race was only six furlongs in distance and was the first half of the Daily Double. The horses neared the gate as Justin and Dr. DV located Curt standing with the rest of the gang.

  “Did you get all of his bets in?” Dr. DV inquired.

  Curt reached into his pants pockets and flipped through the tickets. “Let’s see, he needs the four-horse for the first half of his Daily Double and the four-seven Exacta in this race,” Curt noticed. “Why don’t you hang onto all of these? Don’t throw anything away. We’ll give him his winners and losers when he gets back here.”

  “The number four was the one that pooped,” Justin noted, “and the number seven is the gray horse.”

  “We’ll see if our theory works right off the bat, won’t we?” Dr. DV said with a grin.

  “ . . . And they’re off,” the announcer yelled through the public address system. Many of the people were watching the race live from the bleache
rs. Others peered through binoculars from the private boxes and were at a distance wanting to get a closer view. Several were inside watching on a closed circuit monitor. The people in the grandstands stood up and it seemed like everyone was pulling for a different horse as different numbers were shouted. The field rounded the final curve and sprinted down the straightaway right in front of the crowd. Justin stood along the fence but the horses galloped so fast he couldn’t pick out the numbers quickly enough. As the horses neared the finish line the crowd got louder and louder.

  Justin’s view was blocked. “Who won? Who won?”

  “I think it was the number six horse,” Dr. DV stated. He was the tallest and towered over the rest of the crowd.

  “How did the number four and number seven finish?” Justin asked.

  “The number four horse was next to last and seven didn’t do much better,” Dr. DV told him. “It looks like Pork Chop started off oh and two.”

  “There are a lot more races. Let’s try to get him better luck next time,” Justin said. Even as a teenager he was learning that you can’t win them all.

  “The Aqua Mermaid isn’t even ten minutes away,” Curt said. “I’ll run over there and put his money in the moo-cow machine. If I get out of here right now, then I should be back by the fourth or fifth race. You two stick together, okay?” Justin gave him thumbs up. “I’ll be back in an hour.” Curt turned and left the track.

  “What numbers do we need in the next race,” Justin asked the doctor.

  Dr. DV reached into his pocket and flipped through the tickets. “It looks like he has a hundred dollars on the eight-horse to win this one.”

  “Maybe we better go down to the paddock and hope the number eight horse doesn’t poop,” Justin commented. He walked off with Dr. DV in pursuit.

  Meanwhile . . .

  Curt and BowTye entered the Aqua Mermaid with hopes of hitting a big jackpot on the slot machines for Pork Chop. “Do you have any pull around this joint?” Curt grinned as he turned to BowTye. “Tell your bosses around here that we need a winner. Then let them know that they need to loosen that slot up.”

  “I don’t think it works that way Mister Curt.”

  “It sure is wishful thinking though. Let’s get a winner for Pork Chop. He needs one big time,” Curt suggested as he slid the first hundred into the bill acceptor. “Feel free to do your thing on the window whenever you get the urge.”

  “I’ll do my best Mister Curt.” BowTye took out a handkerchief and wiped down the screen. “We needed to get those fingerprints off of there.”

  One hundred after one hundred after one hundred went into the machine. “I can’t get this dang thing to hit,” Curt complained. “I hate to go to another machine. This one owes us.” Finally after the eighth hundred went into the machine they received a small consolation. The slot machine sent them to the bonus round. “Let me give Pork Chop a call real quick.” He grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial button for his golfing buddy. The phone rang several times on the other end.

  Pork Chop answered with a whisper. “Hello.”

  “We finally went to the bonus round,” Curt stated with a tinge of excitement.

  “Let me listen,” Pork Chop said so softly that his voice was barely audible.

  Curt put his cell phone up to the slot machine so that Pork Chop could listen to the cows moo and the frogs croak. He brought his phone back down to talk. “Did you hear it?”

  “Yeah, that’s great. Win some money for me,” Pork Chop murmured.

  “I’m trying my best. You started out oh and two at the track,” Curt said.

  Pork Chop whispered once again. “Listen, I can’t talk right now.”

  “ . . . Why not?” Curt asked.

  “I’m hiding behind a tree in the cemetery. I gotta get back over there. They’re dropping her in the ground right now.”

  “ . . . Pork Chop! You are so bad!”

  “I’ll be at the track in an hour. Meet me over there.” He hung up his cell phone.

  Curt turned to BowTye. “That guy is a total mess.”

  “Yeah, but Mister Curt, be thankful that you have good friends like Mister Pork Chop.”

  “He’s one of a kind,” Curt admitted as he fed more hundreds into the machine. “Come on moo-cow. Hit big for us!”

  Back at Hoof and Bridle Park . . .

  The losses kept mounting for Pork Chop as two more horses failed to run in the money in the second race. Dr. DV and Justin hadn’t brought any luck to the tickets so they gathered Fred, Captain Jer, Elia, BT, Paul, J Dub and Paco together to get the whole group pulling for him. That strategy didn’t work either. They lost the third race as well.

  “Tell me what horses he bet on so that I can bet the other ones,” Fred hollered.

  “Can you sell the tickets back to the track?” Elia asked.

  “Maybe Curt is winning him some money at the Aqua Mermaid,” Dr. DV remarked.

  “Don’t bet on that. You know what kind of track record we all have over there,” BT reminded everyone.

  “Let’s go back over to the paddock Dr. DV,” Justin proposed. “We need to see which one Pork Chop bet on in this race.”

  Dr. DV searched through his pocket for a ticket and looked at it closely. “He didn’t pick one horse in this race. He picked three! He’s got a one hundred dollar Trifecta.”

  “I’d say he really knows what he’s doing,” Elia chuckled sarcastically. “He can’t get one horse to run in the money and now he’s trying to pick the exact finish of the first three horses.”

  “I guarantee you, the track loves people like him,” Fred said with a laugh.

  “But I can hear him saying it right now,” Dr. DV said.

  “What’s that?” BT wondered.

  Dr. DV mimicked Pork Chop as he made a wisecrack. “You can’t pick it up unless you lay it down.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha,” Fred roared. “How many times have we heard him say that?”

  “You never know,” Elia sighed. “One of these days he might win.”

  “If he doesn’t kill himself first,” Captain Jer slurred.

  Justin felt sorry for the abuse that Pork Chop was getting. “What horses does he need in this race?” he asked Dr. DV.

  The doctor examined the ticket and said, “We need to get the eight, two, six—in that order.”

  Justin looked down at the paddock area and watched the horses go onto the track. “Let’s see Dr. DV. The two just pooped. We haven’t had any luck with horses that did that. The six is the scrawniest horse I’ve seen all day. And the eight just kicked its hind legs so high that the jockey fell off.”

  Races four and five were run with the same results for Pork Chop. Loss after loss after loss mounted. As the horses were coming onto the track for the sixth race Curt and BowTye made their way to the finish line and caught up with the guys.

  “How did you do at the Aqua Mermaid?” Fred asked. He was starting to get concerned about all the losses that his golfing buddy had been accumulating.

  Curt shook his head and looked gloomy. “It wasn’t pretty.”

  “You mean you dropped two thousand over there for Pork Chop?” Elia almost choked on his words.

  Curt felt overtaken with regret. He merely shook his head up and down. “We couldn’t get that darn moo-cow machine to do anything.” BowTye shook his head too. “But we did call him when we went to the bonus round on the moo-cow machine.”

  “He had to love that,” Fred said.

  “Yeah, but he couldn’t listen very long,” Curt clarified.

  “Why not?” BT asked. “He was standing in a cemetery, wasn’t he?”

  “It was right when they were lowering the casket into the grave. He had gone behind a tree and took the call.”

  The whole gang burst out in laughter.

  “We hate to see him lose,” Dr. DV said. “But that’s gambling. You have to take the good with the bad or you better not do it.”

  “How have you guys been doing for him?” C
urt asked.

  It was Dr. DV’s turn to shake his head back and forth. “He hasn’t had a horse finish higher than fourth,” Justin volunteered.

  “He was studying those sheets that the track was selling,” Curt noted. “He had all his picks circled.”

  “They should turn those into toilet paper, because that’s all they’re worth,” Fred suggested.

  The sixth race ended with the same result. A familiar voice rang out of the crowd. “Hey! How have we been doing?” Pork Chop yelled out as he approached. Everyone hung their heads and contemplatively moved them side to side. Pork Chop didn’t bat an eye. “ . . . Nothing?” he asked. All the heads moved again. “ . . . Not even the casino?” Pork Chop looked at Curt and got the same response.

  Dr. DV reached in his pocket and handed all the losing tickets over to Pork Chop. “It’s not any better here either. They’re all losers.”

  “Damn!” Pork Chop sighed. “There are only five horses in this next race. I’ll buy a hundred dollar Trifecta on each combination. Surely we’ll get a winner that way.”

  “Be careful, Pork Chop. It’s already been a lousy day,” Curt warned.

  “Ahhh. How many times have you heard me say it?” Pork Chop ranted. “You can’t pick it up unless you lay it down!”

  All the guys chuckled. Dr. DV knew him all too well. Pork Chop headed for the ticket window. “He’s almost out of control,” Curt commented.

  “ . . . Almost?” Fred added.

  The next race went and the crowd was enthusiastic. As the thoroughbreds raced toward the finish line Pork Chop stood as cool as a cucumber. “Aren’t you excited?” Justin asked.

  “ . . . Nah. I know I have a winner. I’ve got every combination covered,” Pork Chop commented nonchalantly. The three favorites came home in the race. “I guarantee we won some money on that race!” He said as he peered at the tote board.

  “It won’t be much,” Fred admitted. The results showed that the winning Trifecta ticket paid nineteen dollars and ninety cents.