Puss 'N Cahoots

You’re a cat. You’re not.”
Tucker relished the discomfort of her two friends, since they often lorded over her.
    The conversation abruptly ended as they reached Barn Five, where three horses were being led into the barn, Charly Trackwell trotting after them, his face grim. They were not Joan’s horses.
    “Isn’t that the chestnut mare from the practice ring?”
Pewter studied the gleaming animal, her long neck graceful.
    “Yes.”
Mrs. Murphy was happy when Harry unhitched Pewter’s and her leash and quickly deposited them in the hospitality room. Pewter used the opportunity to jump onto the table, snatching a succulent square of ham.
    “You’re a goddamned diva!” Charly shouted at Renata DeCarlo, who stormed ahead of Charly.
    The loss of board and training fees for three horses would hurt Charly a bit, but the real blow was losing his movie-star client.
    Joan prudently stood by a stall, since Charly now faced Larry, Renata to Larry’s side. Fair stood behind Larry.
    “I’m sick of you shouting at me, Charly.” Renata, face flushed, was remarkably calm.
    Charly turned to Larry. “You’re behind this, Hodge. You’ve been trying to steal Renata away from me since she came to my barn.”
    “That’s not true.” Larry kept his voice level.
    “You love the glamour. And you’ll make a bloody fortune. You always do.” Charly, shaking with rage, stepped toward Larry.
    Renata grabbed Charly’s arm, which he threw off. “You’ve criticized me one time too many. You’re an egotistical shit and I’m sick of it.”
    Much as he wanted to hit her and Larry, too, Charly managed to control himself. He stopped breathing for a second, then gulped air. “Renata, you redefine the word ‘ego.’”
    “We can all sort this out tomorrow when everybody has calmed down,” Larry sensibly suggested.
    “The hell with you.” Then Charly wheeled on Renata and pointed his finger right in her face. “I know about you.” With that he turned on his booted heel and left.
    Manuel Almador, Larry’s head groom, watched along with Jorge Gravina, second in command to Manuel. Their distaste for Charly flickered across their faces.
    Renata, floodgates now bursting, allowed Joan to shepherd her to the hospitality room. The people who had gathered at the barn’s entrance dispersed, a few to follow Charly. They had to trot, since his long legs covered the ground.
    As Renata’s sobs subsided, Larry, Fair, Manuel, and Jorge consulted one another in the aisle.
    “Manuel, you and the boys will need to sleep here all week. Take four-hour shifts. Charly will have his revenge, and I don’t want it to be on Renata’s horses or ours, either.”
    Manuel nodded; he knew Charly’s reputation.
    Handsome Charly, an explosives expert and captain in the first Iraq war, was explosive himself.
    “I can check, too. We’re just down the road,” Fair offered.
    “Thanks. The men can handle it.” Larry appreciated Fair’s offer. He glanced at his watch. “Olive.” He named a client riding in the next class. Larry needed to walk with her to the arena, then stand alongside the rail so she could see him. He smiled. “No charge for the extra entertainment.”
    Back in the hospitality room, the animals listened as Renata ticked off Charly’s list of faults, most notably that he was arrogant, didn’t listen to her, and was a man, which seemed to Renata to sum up his original sin.
    “Dramatic,”
Tucker succinctly observed.
    “It takes a while for humans to dissipate big emotions.”
Mrs. Murphy sat on the maroon tack trunk piped in white and black.
“Some of them never do. They’re still talking about what happened to them thirty years ago.”
    “Key to happiness, a bad memory.”
Pewter swept her dark gray whiskers forward. The stolen ham, happily consumed, contributed to her golden glow.
    Mrs. Murphy’s green eyes studied Renata’s perfect face.
“A little too dramatic for my taste.”
    The three Virginia animals, along with Cookie, sneezed. Renata’s perfume was too strong for their sensitive noses, but Joan didn’t respond to it. The animals marveled at the failure of human noses, even one as delicate and pretty as Joan’s.
    Finally, Joan calmed down Renata, reminding her that she was riding in the third class. She guided Renata to the dressing room. Renata considered the third class a warm-up for the rest of the week. She needed the taste of competition more than the gelding she would be riding, a flashy