Death Rides Again (A Jocelyn Shore Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

doing today, Glen?”
    The older man gave a considering nod. “He’s ready. It was all Travis could do to hold him in.”
    The younger man nodded in agreement, but said nothing.
    “You’re racing Friday?” I asked.
    He nodded again, but it was T.J. who answered. “Fourth race. The Cornucopia Stakes. Biggest purse in the state. Two hundred thousand dollars to the winner alone.”
    “Two hundred thousand? Wow.” Kyla sounded impressed.
    “Isn’t that unusually large?” I asked. Not that I knew much about racing, but it sounded like a lot of money, especially in a tiny place like Sand Creek.
    “Too large, if you ask me,” said the older man on the buckskin.
    T.J. shook his head. “There’s no such thing as too large when it comes to diamonds or piles of cash. Back me up here, ladies.”
    “I like this guy,” Kyla said with approval.
    T.J. grinned and went on. “Glen’s just got his panties in a twist because that kind of prize draws some out-of-state competition.”
    Glen managed to produce a weak smile at his boss’s joke. Or at least he got the corners of his mouth to turn up a bit. It looked like it hurt. “I’ve seen the field. There’s some good horses.”
    “I’ve seen the field, too. The only one that might come close is Big Bender, and he’ll be lucky if he gets close enough to eat Double’s dust.”
    The jockey Travis broke in. “It ain’t the competition, it’s the owners and jockeys.” His voice was surprisingly deep coming from such a small chest. “That’s enough money to make some folks think a risk or two might be worth it.”
    “You had any more phone calls?” asked T.J. sharply.
    “No, sir,” said Travis.
    “Well, then, we just keep our eyes open and carry on.” T.J. waved a dismissive hand at them, and they both nodded to us, then turned and loped away. Double Trouble’s coat gleamed in the sun, his gait effortless and joyful as his hoofs threw up little puffs of dirt from the soft track.
    T.J. frowned after them for a moment and then turned back to us. “Just like a couple of old women, worrying about every little thing. I tell you straight up, you want to make some money tomorrow, put a bet on Double.”
    “Has Travis really been getting threatening phone calls?” I asked, as we began walking back to the parking lot. “That seems pretty serious.”
    “Not threats,” said T.J. “Bribes. Some son of a … son of a gun called him up and offered him a thousand dollars to throw the race. Which was just ridiculous, because Travis gets ten percent of the prize money if he wins. Not to mention, a jockey is only as good as his reputation. A hint that he’s bribable would end his career.”
    “What are you going to do about it?” asked Kyla. “Were you able to track the caller?”
    “No. The number showed as ‘unavailable.’ I suppose we could have called someone, maybe the police, maybe the racing commission, but it didn’t seem worth it. I trust Travis. He’s ridden for me for a year now and before that he rode out of Ruidoso and Albuquerque. Has a sterling reputation.”
    “It must be a pretty limited pool of suspects, though. How many horses run in a race?”
    “Eight in the Cornucopia Stakes.”
    “So seven possibilities?”
    He laughed. “Hardly. Seven plus about seven hundred. The prize money in a race is only the teaser. The real money is in the private betting.”
    I spoke up. “You’re kidding, right? Nobody really bets more than two hundred thousand dollars on races around here, do they?”
    “You’d be surprised,” T.J. answered. “And you have to understand that the prize money is only available to the eight owners. And even that’s not all that much if you take into account the expense of keeping and training a horse, of paying the rider, of transport and entry fees. No, it’s the side bets where everybody else gets in on the action. A thousand-dollar bribe? That’s from some idiot who’s bet the farm on an outsider and is