All Hat (38 page)

And he had his horse back. Ideally, he would have liked the animal to turn up dead, but this could work too. The horse could win some big races as a five-year-old and then turn out to be a top stud after that.

The land deal in Holden County was on shaky ground, it appeared, if Homer Parr's place was in fact out of the running. But that could be a blessing as well. Sonny had lately begun to second-guess himself with regard to his grand plan for Holden County. Maybe he would just pull back a little, take the land he had, and concentrate on building the golf course. Hell, he could even design the thing himself. Any idiot could design a golf course.

He began to warm to the idea, and he stood in the kitchen looking out the back window to the rolling field behind the barn, and in a matter of moments he managed to convince himself that he would be a natural at course design. Soon he was mapping out the front nine in his head, and before long he was diverting creeks and elevating tees and creating pot bunkers.

Sonny made just one crucial mistake while mapping out the front nine for his new course. He should have done it while looking out the front window. Because then he would have seen the black Navigator coming up the drive. He would have seen the vehicle park in the yard, and he would have seen its occupants pile out.

As it was, Sonny didn't see Billy Coon and the cousins until they were standing in the kitchen beside him.

*   *   *

It was Wednesday before they sorted out all the financial arrangements. Ray showed up at Etta's shortly before noon. She was in the backyard, picking up branches from a windstorm the night before and piling them onto a small fire she'd built on the edge of the orchard. The snow from Monday was melted already, and the grass still showed green.

Ray parked behind Etta's car and got out. She looked at him and then dumped an armful of branches on the fire and came over. She was wearing jeans and a khaki jacket and Ray's old ball cap.

“That was quite a storm,” she said.

“Fifty-mile-an-hour winds, the radio said.”

“Well.”

He sat down on the picnic table. “I brought your money.”

She stood in front of him and looked into his eyes. “I've been thinking about that. I can't take that money.”

“There you go, thinking too much. You made a decision, and you're gonna stick to it. Are you better off with it or without it?”

“With it,” she admitted.

“Do you intend to spend it on frivolous purchases?”

“Hardly.”

“Then here you are.” He took an envelope out of his pocket. “Besides—you can't say no to Robin Hood.”

She smiled. “When'd you see Elizabeth?”

“I just came from there.”

“How is she?”

“She's the same as she's been, and I guess she's the same as she's always gonna be. Maybe it's time we learned to accept that certain things are just the way they are.”

“Maybe,” she said cautiously.

He reached forward and put the envelope in the pocket of her coat. “There's enough there for the mortgage and an extra ten grand. Buy Homer some new golf clubs for Christmas.”

“Homer's golfing days are about finished.”

“Then buy your boyfriend something. The salvage man.”

“The salvage man is a priest, Ray.”

“Oh … well, I didn't know that.”

“There's a lot you don't know.” She came forward and kissed him on the mouth, briefly and sweetly, then she stepped back.

“You and Mr. Culpepper headed for Texas then?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

She sat down beside him on the table, and she slipped her arm through his. He could smell the wood smoke on her.

“And what will you do in Texas?” she asked.

“So far all I've heard is that we'll be drinking bourbon and eating rattlesnake chili.”

“Well … it sounds like a shit kicker's theme park. What about your parole officer?”

“I told him I had a job in Timmins, working the mines. He said I could check in by phone. I expect they have phones in Pecos.”

“I expect they do,” she said in a drawl.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No. Well, maybe a little,” she admitted. “You just keep finding new ways to get yourself in trouble.”

He stood up then and smiled at her.

“What about your tractor?” she asked. “It's yours now, bought and paid for.”

“I was thinking maybe you'd hold on to it for me.”

“Does that mean you're coming back?”

“I guess maybe it does.”

*   *   *

When Ray got back to the farm the first thing he noticed was that the real estate signs were gone from the front of the property. He drove down the lane and parked in the yard. Pete had his truck up on jacks, and he was checking the brakes in preparation for their drive south.

Ray walked over. Pete was replacing the rear brake drum, apparently satisfied that the linings would get them to southwest Texas. He slid the drum on and then fitted the wheel over the lugs and threaded on the nuts. Ray handed him the wheel wrench, and he tightened the nuts.

“What happened to the For Sale signs?” Ray asked.

Pete released the jack, and the truck came down with a thud. Then he straightened up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He gestured to the barn.

“Chrissie's gonna rent the place for a time,” he said. “That way I can leave the horses and the old hound, and she can look after things. Don't forget, we got a mare in foal.”

“We?”

“I got the taxes paid off. We might just decide to head this way again come spring.”

“What about that woman's been waiting on you?”

Pete shrugged. “You never know—I might not be near as charming as I remember.”

The door to the house slammed, and they turned to see Paulie, hurrying to the barn, a bucket of water in his hands, steam rising from the bucket. Paulie had the Stetson jammed down tight to his ears and his tongue clenched in his teeth.

“Paulie's gonna stay on here awhile,” Pete said then.

Ray watched as Paulie disappeared into the barn, and then he looked at Pete and he smiled.

They ate in town that night, the four of them, at a steak place by the tracks that was done up like a warehouse. It used to be the mercantile. It was a pretty quiet evening, and Pete picked up the bill. When they got back to the house Pete and Ray packed up what they needed to pack, and then they sat in the kitchen and had a rum and Coke with Chrissie and Paulie. They sat there at the old arborite table, not saying much, and it felt like the end of something, but it felt like the beginning of something too.

Pete headed off to bed first, and Ray went maybe a half hour later. Chrissie and Paulie were still at the table, playing cribbage for a nickel a point. Pete and Ray were up early the next morning and they put a pot of coffee on, and while they waited for the coffee to brew they loaded their bags in the back of the truck.

They were on the road at first light.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to my editor, Jennifer Barth, for her insight and patience. Thanks also to the indispensable Ruth Kaplan; my jockey advisor, Laurie Gulas; the good doctors Beth Blake (people) and Roberta Borland (horses); and my horse-painting expert, Mori McCrae. My eternal gratitude to my friend Jennifer Barclay.

Finally, special thanks to the pride of Maryland, Ann Rittenberg, whom I am pleased to have as an agent, and honored to have as a friend.

ALL HAT
. Copyright © 2003 by Brad Smith. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Picador, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Smith, B. J. (Brad J.)

All hat : a novel / Brad Smith.

p. cm.

ISBN 0-312-42317-9

1. Swindlers and swindling—Fiction. 2. Male friendship—Fiction. 3. Women jockeys—Fiction. 4. Horse racing—Fiction. 5. Ex-convicts—Fiction. 6. Canada—Fiction. I. Title.

PR9199.3.S55148 A45 2003

813'.54—dc21

2002027307

First published in the United States by Henry Holt and Company

First Picador Edition: April 2004

eISBN 9781466855557

First eBook edition: September 2013