Puss 'N Cahoots

had incentive.”
    They both looked at the doorway at once, because Booty had walked back in. He held up one hand, two glasses between his fingers, bottle of powerhouse champagne in the other. “Wait, Charly, before you blow up.” Neither Charly, Ward, nor Carlos moved. “I was wrong. Renata nailed me. I was wrong to make up something like that about her. I want to win this class, and I lost my compass, kind of.”
    “That it?” Charly had figured Booty might apologize, but he still had a hand with probably a broken bone or two in it because of Booty’s smart mouth.
    “What do you want me to do, grovel?”
    “I don’t know what I want from you, and right now I don’t care. I do know I’m not doing business with you anymore, Booty.” He looked at Ward. “If you think I blew up your van, then I expect I’m out of the game. I didn’t. I have no reason to kill you.”
    Carlos, on hearing “kill,” prudently left for the tack room. While he knew about his fellow countrymen being trucked in, he didn’t want to know anything more. Ignorance might not be bliss, but in this case it was safety.
    “Maybe. But dividing the profit two ways instead of three would be incentive enough for some people. You can find someone to do pickups, drop-offs. But can you trust them?” Ward challenged them both.
    “How do I know I can trust you? You put my feet to the fire over money,” Booty said.
    “And so will another driver in time. I’m willing to do more. I told you, I want to learn.” Ward defended himself. “And, Booty, no one has tried to kill you.”
    “Renata would if she could.” He frowned.
    “She’s not the only one.” Charly leaned his arm over the horse’s neck.
    “Annie here?” Booty made light of it.
    “Let’s sort this out some other time.” Charly returned his attention to the horse. “I’ve got a horse in the fifth class and, Booty, I’m going to win the five-gaited. I don’t care what you tell the press.” He and Booty might be in business together, but when it came to riding in the big class, their only desire was to win.
    Ward froze. “Tell what?”
    Booty shrugged. “That Charly, Renata, and you stole Queen Esther.”
    “Booty, add me to the list of people who want to kill you.” Ward checked the bridle buckles for Charly. “You do something like that and you won’t walk out of here tonight.”
    “Like Jorge?” Booty challenged.
    “You would know,” Ward fired right back. “I didn’t touch him.”
    Booty’s lower lip jutted out. “Seems to me one of us killed him. He was getting a little like you, Ward—greedy. He pressured Charly and me for a bigger cut.”
    “No one knows about greed better than you.” Charly felt his anger rising, but he didn’t want to hit Booty with his left hand. He’d have to hold the reins in his teeth.
    “One or both of you are lying, so let me say this: I came down here to apologize, Charly. I was wrong. I’m sorry. If either of you has seen Miss Nasty, let me know. That’s all I ask.” Booty put down the champagne. “I was going to drink this after I won the five-gaited, but I brought it as a peace offering. Maybe you’ll feel more forgiving once it works its magic.” Booty left the barn, taking one glass with him. He called over his shoulder, “You’ll drink alone, I reckon, because you won’t win.”
    Ward waited for him to get far enough ahead on the path before he left, too.
    Carlos came back out for last-minute touches on the horse. “If you hurt your hand more, you won’t be able to ride in the last class.”
    “I’ll be fine,” Charly replied, “but you’ll have to help me with my coat and tie. I hope I can get the damned glove on, that’s all.” He picked up the champagne and walked it to the fridge in the hospitality suite. He read the label. “Bastard does have good taste.”

A part from being a monkey, Miss Nasty would be conspicuous by her ensemble graced by the very expensive pin she had hooked through her bodice. Knowing Booty’s habits, she laid low—or rather, high, since she rested on the top limb of one of the large trees off the midway. Her commanding view allowed her to keep tabs on Booty’s movements. She knew that when he mounted up and rode into the ring, he couldn’t stop her from what she perceived as her frolic. If she broke cover before that, he’d nab her and her party would be over.
    More than anything, she wanted to display her treasure in front of those snotty cats. It was