Puss 'N Cahoots

the Louisville airport to pick her up from Hertz since he was in a rented car.”
    They both laughed.
    As they visited, relishing the bit of peace they had, Harry and Larry walked into Ward’s barn, where a congregation had gathered to congratulate him.
    Ward easily saw Larry, since Larry was tall. “Hey, drinks on the tack trunk.”
    “Great ride, Ward. Om wanted it tonight. She’s a terrific mare. Hope you breed her someday.” Larry pushed through and shook Ward’s hand.
    Harry, in his wake, also offered her congratulations.
    “I guess all this commotion stole some of my thunder.” Ward smiled. “Glad all I have is Benny, and he’s red, white, and blue.” Ward made it a special point to note he hired no Mexicans. No one much thought about it at the time.
    Benny, leaning against a stall, raised his beer. “Sometimes I’m Confederate gray.”
    They laughed, since Benny would whip out his Confederate Zippo lighter if he thought someone was touchy, which meant Yankee.
    Charly Trackwell came into the barn. Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, Tucker, and Cookie followed. Given what they’d witnessed, they thought they’d tail Charly. He was so wrapped up in things he didn’t notice the posse behind him.
    Harry exclaimed, “Where have you been?”
    Charly thought she spoke to him. “In the barn dealing with a goddamned idiot INS agent.”
    Harry smiled at him. “I’m sorry.” She figured it better not to say she was greeting the animals, all of whom ran to her.
    “I’m tired. Pick me up,”
Pewter whined.
    “Pewter.” Harry sighed but bent over to pick up the solid cat. Pewter was overweight, but she had a lot of muscle, too.
    “Oh, I love seeing from this height.”
Pewter purred.
    Mrs. Murphy climbed a stall post.
“I’ve got a better angle.”
    “Who cares.”
Pewter put her paws around Harry’s neck.
    The dogs decided to keep out of it.
    “Let’s see if Ward has Bag Balm,”
Tucker whispered to Cookie.
“Seems to be the standard for rubbing on little cuts and irritated skin.”
They had observed a young rider surreptitiously open her little green Bag Balm tin. The small tin was a good place to hide things once the heavy balm had been washed from it. Fortunately, most folks kept their drinking and other treats in check—at least until after the last class of the night.
    Cookie, being a Jack Russell, scooted to the grooming bucket, since she’d heard all about this stuff.
    However, the dogs couldn’t get their noses in because Benny shooed them away.
    Charly paid his compliments to Ward, then edged away from the small crowd. Larry, too, turned to go.
    “Larry, you son of a bitch, you called INS, didn’t you?”
    Startled at this off-the-wall accusation, Larry laughed it off. “Have another drink, Charly.”
    Harry kept a few steps back. She didn’t trust Charly’s temper.
    “I’d say it’s damned convenient for you, Hodge,” Charly snarled. “Your men have their green cards on them, too. And by the way, where’s Renata? You kept her out of this because of the bad publicity?”
    “Charly, you’re out of your mind. She doesn’t have a class tonight.”
    “Oh, bullshit. With that massive ego, you think she’d pass on everyone fawning on her tonight because Queen Esther showed up? You bet she showed up. You took her in the first place.”
    Larry’s face, beet red, betrayed his own rising anger. “You know what it is, Trackwell? You can’t stand losing. You cut me off in the ring tonight to make Golden Parachute break. Didn’t work. And you aren’t going to win the five-gaited stake, either, so who are you going to blame Saturday night? Think ahead. Has to be someone else’s fault.”
    “I’ll win and I’ll win big. Panchetta was off. Happens.” He pulled in his horns somewhat, thinking about the horses and also because he knew Larry could throw a hard right.
    “We’ll see.” Then Larry taunted him: “How many Mexicans did you have running out the back of the barn? You don’t think I’ve noticed Little Tijuana at your barn? Come on, Charly. You got what you deserved.”
    Charly leaned forward, hissing through clenched teeth. “And you got a dead one. Why is that? What are you covering up?”
    Larry, deeply upset over Jorge’s death although he had kept it in check, let fly. “Too bad it wasn’t you, you sorry—”
    “You’ll die before I do.” Charly stepped back, digging his heels in the loam. “Maybe they came for you and killed Jorge instead.”
    “Is that a