"Five dollars, please, if you want to get in the pool," he said.
Qwilleran drew Number Five, a four- year-old chestnut gelding named Quantum Leap, according to the program. Following an announcement from the tower, the band played the national anthem. There was a fanfare of trumpets, and a mounted colorguard came around the bend in the course, followed by Hunt Club officials on horseback. The field for the first race was in the paddock, with the riders in their colorful silks. Number Five wore blue and white. Then the officials led the racers to the starting line, and before Qwilleran could focus his binoculars, they were off and taking the first hurdle.
They disappeared around the bend and behind the trees.
In a moment, they came around again. The crowd was cheering. Qwilleran couldn't even find Quantum Leap. Horses and riders disappeared again and reappeared at the far end of the course, and in a few moments it was all over. Number Five had finished sixth, and one of Kip's guests won the fifty-dollar kitty. Qwilleran felt cheated - not because of losing but because it had all happened so fast.
Vicki said, "You're supposed to cheer your horse on, Qwill. No wonder he came in sixth!"
By nature Qwilleran was not demonstrative, and the fleeting glimpses of his horse in the next three races failed to arouse him to any vocal enthusiasm. He could wax more excited about a ballgame, and even in the ballpark he seldom shouted.
Fiona won the pool in the second race, and everyone was pleased. In the third race, Qwilleran's horse went down on the fourth hurdle, according to an announcement from the tower, and immediately the veterinary wagon and one of the ambulances started for the backstretch.
One of the MacDiarmid youngsters soon came racing back to the camper. "Hey, Dad, they had to shoot the horse!" he shouted.
"How about the rider?"
"I dunno. They took him in the ambulance. Can you let me have five bucks against my allowance?"
"You'll have to clear it with your mother."
There were only five entries in the last race, in which amateur riders were acceptable, and Kip as official bookmaker suggested going partners on the bets.
zFiona said, "I can't bet. I'm rooting for Robbie."
"So am I," said Qwilleran.
"We will, too," said the Bushlands.
The pool was called off, and the Bushland and MacDiarmid crowd swarmed down the hill to the infield fence, the better to cheer for Son of Cardinal. As the horses were led from the paddock, Robin Stucker looked pathetically young and thin in his red and gold silks.
"Oh, God! Oh, God! Let him win!" Fiona was saying softly.
They were off! And for the first time Qwilleran felt moved to cheer. They took the first hurdle and thundered up the slope, disappearing behind the distant trees. Before they came into view again, there was a shout of alarm from the spectators on the backstretch.
"Oh, no!" Fiona whimpered. "Oh, no! Somebody's down!"
The emergency vehicles rushed to the scene, and a crackling announcement came from the tower: "Number Four down on the third hurdle!"
Qwilleran's group groaned with relief. Robin was Number Three.
As the four horses finished the first lap, Robin's rooters were in full voice, cheering him over the next hurdle and up the slope to the hidden backstretch. When the field came into view again, Son of Cardinal was running a close second.
Other fans were. yelling, "Go, Spunky!" or, "Go Midnight!" But the crew from G-12 and G-ll was howling, "Go, Robbie!....Ride `im, Rob!... Keep it up! You're gaining!" Son of Cardinal took the hurdle smoothly and pelted up the slope. "Attaboy, Rob! Three to go!" There were moments of suspense as the horses covered the backstretch. "Here they come! He's ahead!... Go, Robbie!...
Fiona burst into tears. Vicki hugged her, and the others clustered around with congratulations.
"Let's have a drink to celebrate!" Bushy announced. "And it'll give the traffic time to thin out."
"If you don't mind," Fiona said, "I'll just walk over to the stables to see Robbie. Steve can drive me back to town."
"Okay," Vicki said, "but be all dressed and ready to go at seven-thirty. We'll pick you up."
The MacDiarmids collected their horde of youngsters and said goodbye. "When are you coming down again, Qwill?" asked Kip. "I'd like to show you my type collection."
On the way home in the van Qwilleran asked, "Does Robin's win have any importance other than the $5,000 purse?"
"It should increase the value of the horse and give Robin a boost up the ladder," Bushy said. "Also it should sweeten the deal for the Ambertons when they sell the farm."
"Are they selling? Why are they selling?"
"The way I hear it, Amberton wants to move to a warmer climate. He's pushing sixty and has arthritis pretty bad. His wife doesn't want to sell. She's the one who edits the Stablechat newsletter."
"Lisa is quite a bit younger than her husband," Vicki put in, "and she's interested in Steve O'Hare as well as the newsletter."
"That's unfounded gossip, Vicki," her husband reproved her.
"Steve is a womanizer," she explained to Qwilleran. "I hate that word, but that's what he is."
When they reached the turreted mansion on Main Street, Qwilleran could hear Koko howling.
Bushy said, "I hear the welcoming committee."
Qwilleran pounded his moustache with a fist. "That's not Koko's usual cry! Something's wrong!"
The three of them jumped out of the van, Bushy and Qwilleran dashing up the steps and into the foyer, with Vicki close behind. Koko was in the foyer, howling in that frenzied tone that ended in a falsetto shriek. Yum Yum was not in sight.
Bushy started up the stairs three at a time. Vicki ran to the intercom. "Grummy!" she shouted. "Are you all right? We're coming up!" Then she, too, bolted up the stairs.
Koko bounded to the elevator at the rear of the foyer, and Qwilleran followed. Touching the signal panel, he could hear a mechanical door closing. Then the car started to descend, activating a red light on the panel. Koko was quiet now, watching the elevator door.
The Bushlands had reached the third floor, and their voices echoed down the open stairwell. "She's not here!" Vicki screamed in panic.
Slowly the car descended, and slowly the door opened on the main floor. There they were - both of them: Grummy slumped on the needlepoint bench, and Yum Yum crouched at her feet, looking worried.
-10-
Vicki was hysterical. Bushy was yelling into two phones at once. Qwilleran quietly picked up both cats and carried them upstairs. From the window he could see the paramedics arriving, then the doctor's car, and finally the black wagon from the funeral home. When all was quiet, he went downstairs.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
Vicki was walking back and forth and moaning. "Poor Grummy! The excitement was too much for her."
"She lived a long life, enjoying it to the very end," Qwilleran said, "and she went quickly. That's a blessing."
"Why was she on the elevator? Upstairs she could have pressed the emergency button. They might have saved her. She had no need to come downstairs."
Qwilleran knew the answer, but he kept her secret. He suspected she had already been downstairs, reliving her life, and was on her way up again. The memory of the telegram from the war department may have triggered the attack.
Bushy said, "You'll have to go to the club without us, Qwill. You can take the tickets and pick up Fiona."
"No... no!" Qwilleran protested. "Not under the circumstances. I'd better pack up and drive back to Pickax.
You'll be busy for the next few days."
"The funeral will probably be Tuesday."
Vicki said to her husband, "Would you call Fiona and break the news? I can't talk to anyone about it - yet. Ask her if she wants to use the tickets."