Caught in the Cold Snows

By,

T. R. Healy

A Contemporary American Novel

Excerpt

He lingered at the rail a little while longer, watching the trainers saddle the horses

before leaving for the ticket window. He had just passed the Kuwaitis when someone

seized his elbow. Irked, he whirled and saw Ike, a former groom who now hung around the

track offering supposedly hot tips to anyone willing to pay for them, which was infrequent

except for the blue-haired ladies who came out by the busload on Saturday afternoons.

“What can I do for you, Ike?”

“Have you seen Badduke tonight?” he asked, releasing his grip on Luther’s elbow.

He slowly shook his head. “No. I just got here. Why do you want to see him?”

“Not me, pal. You. He’s looking for you and told me to tell you so if I saw you

tonight.”

“What’s he want?”

“Don’t know, boss. But he sure seemed anxious to see you.”

“I’ll be here for at least half the slate tonight. We’ll probably cross paths before I

leave.”

“Be careful, boss. Badduke seemed in an ornery mood about something tonight.”

What’s new? Luther thought as he continued on to the ticket window. His

disposition was always as foul as an early winter morning. He reckoned Badduke wanted

to see him because he had slipped behind in paying off the two thousand dollars he owed

him. He was not too concerned, though. He had borrowed before from him and always

satisfied his debts with considerable interest. Of course, it was foolish of him to fall in

arrears, if only for a month, but he got careless and made some hefty bets on several

supposedly sure things that turned out to be grave mistakes. He knew from others at the

racetrack that Badduke was not someone to get on the wrong side of, especially when it

involved his money, because he was known to lose his considerable temper very quickly

and make others lose more than that.

Alton Badduke still thought of himself as a trainer, though he hadn’t run a horse of

his own in years. He didn’t need to, having inherited several choice parcels of property

from his father that, through lease agreements, enabled him to make a very comfortable

living. The barn he owned half a mile down the road from the racetrack was leased out to

another trainer, although Badduke was there frequently, offering advice as if the horses in

the stable were part of his own stock. There were always half a dozen people on the

premises besides those who worked there, listening to Badduke evaluate horses and

handicap upcoming races, seeking to borrow money from him, trying to persuade him to

invest in assorted schemes they were sure would succeed. Luther occasionally went to the

barn during his lunch hour, especially when he was in need of fast money. The interest

Badduke charged was usurious, but Luther went to him because he knew he wouldn’t be

turned down.

The horse he picked to win, Silver Moon, finished fourth, out of it right from the

start. After cursing his luck for a minute, he left the grandstand and walked into the lounge

and ordered a Scotch. The bartender knew from the pinched look of his face that he had

lost, and quickly shied away, having commiserated with more than enough losers tonight.

Up yours, Luther thought, swiveling around on his stool to survey the crowded lounge. He

searched for Badduke but didn’t see his raddled face, and assumed he must be collecting on

his winning tickets. The lucky bastard. Maybe that would improve his disposition tonight

but he doubted it.

“Know anything about the ponies?” an older woman at the end of the bar asked in a

slurred voice.

“Not according to the last race.”

“Guess you lost, huh?”

Nodding his head, he swallowed his drink then got up and headed for the rest room.

It was getting close to nine o’clock. He could stay for two more races then he had to call it a

night because he had a lot of work to do at the store in the morning.

He was still standing at the urinal when Badduke barged into the rest room followed

by two hardened guys who looked like they worked at his barn. Luther tensed, alarmed by

the rasping sound of Badduke’s breathing echoing in the tiled room.

“You making any decent bets tonight, Earl?” he asked calmly as he peered into the

mirror and patted some loose hairs into place.

“I’ve only bet on one race and I lost.”

A blunt, spare man in his late fifties, Badduke gritted his teeth into a smile that never

seemed to reach his eyes. “I don’t like to hear that,” he said, glancing back at the two guys

with him who were standing on either side of the door as if to prevent anyone from

entering the rest room.

Without replying, Luther flushed the urinal and rinsed his hands.

“There’s something I don’t quite understand, Earl,” Badduke continued in a calm

tone. “If you don’t have the money to pay what you owe me, how can you have any to bet

on the ponies? I’m not the wisest person in town, hell, some people think I’m dumb as a

stump, but I know enough to know that’s really my money you’re losing with tonight.”

“You know you’ll get what I owe you, Duke. You always have before. You know I’m

good for it.”

“But before you always paid on time. You’re nearly two months behind now,

according to my figures.”

“You’ll get everything I owe you by the end of the month. I promise it.”

“I better, son, for your sake,” he said, suddenly digging his fingers into Luther’s

sloped shoulders. “And because your procrastination has caused my blood pressure to rise

a point or two, I’m going to have to require you to perform a special favor for me.”

“What kind of favor, Duke?”

“I’m not sure, yet. But I’ll think of something, and you better comply if you know

what’s good for you.” Digging into his shoulders a little more, Badduke pressed against

Luther until his forehead rested against the mirror above the wash basin. “See, you have to

understand when you don’t live up to your obligations, I have to demand a little more from

you, as a penalty, so the next time we have an agreement you’ll do as you said you would.

Is that clear?”

“Very clear.”

“I’m glad, Earl.” Then, furiously, he smacked the back of Luther’s head so that his

nose banged hard into the tarnished mirror. “See you again, Earl, as soon as I think of

something you can do for me to get back in my good graces. It shouldn’t be long.”

Badduke straightened the shoulders of Luther’s lime-colored parka then turned and,

whistling through his teeth, left the rest room with the two men. He slammed the door so

hard behind him that the one window rattled as if about to fall out of its frame.

His heart pounding in his ears, Luther turned on the faucet at full blast and splashed

cold water on his face and across the back of his neck. He carefully checked the condition of

his nose in the mirror, his teeth, the corner of his mouth where there was a stripe of blood,

and then stepped back and for a long minute stared at himself. The person in the mirror

was almost unrecognizable. He was disgusted with himself, embarrassed by what just

happened. His face was as pale as plaster. He looked frightened, which, in a way, was

ridiculous because he knew he could level Badduke with one swing, but also knew that if

he had raised a finger against him, Badduke would have sent some of his people after him

in a heartbeat. He didn’t know if it was true, but like other regular patrons of the racetrack,

he had heard the story that, several years ago, a trainer who injured one of Badduke’s

horses had been viciously roughed up by one of Badduke’s hardboots who’d stomped one

of the trainer’s eyes out of its socket. That was why it was so foolish of him to fall behind in

his payments, to Badduke of all people, because he knew he was capable of such violence,

but somehow didn’t think he would put that kind of pressure on him because he had

always paid his debts in the past. Obviously he was mistaken. And now, as he splashed

more water on his aching nose, the last person in town he wanted to cross was Badduke. He

just wished he was more confident that once he settled his debts, everything would be all

right between them and, concerned about what more Badduke would demand of him in

compensation, Luther hoped to God it wasn’t anything that would get him in trouble. He

had enough problems already after what happened to Mara in the restaurant parking lot.

He took out from his pocket a small white envelope and shook some powder into his

hand then put a pinch of it in his left nostril and inhaled. His back arched quickly, stiffly, he

put some powder into his other nostril and inhaled again. He slowly leaned, smiling

uncontrollably at his reflection in the mirror until every trace of apprehension had

disappeared from his face.

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