Page 30 of Irish Rose
But she only shook her head. Today was special, a once-in-a-lifetime day. “I want to bet on the next one.”
“Third race,” Burke repeated, and sipped his beer.
When her time came, she insisted on betting herself. Erin put the stub in the pocket of her shirt, then changed her mind and tucked it carefully in her billfold. Seated beside Burke again, she fretted until the horses were brought to the gate.
“I don’t mind losing,” she said with a quick grin, “but I’d sure as hell like to win better.”
When they were off, she stood and leaned against the rail. “Which one is he?” she demanded, grabbing Burke’s hand to drag him forward with her.
“Fourth back on the inside. Red-and-gold silks.”
“Aye.” She watched, urging him on. “He runs well, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, look, he’s moving up.”
“Better hang on, Irish. They’ve got half a mile to go.”
“But he’s moving up.” She gave a hoot of laughter as she pointed. “He’s in second now.”
There was shouting all around her, competing with the announcer and the thundering of hooves. Erin strained to hear all three as she grabbed Burke’s shirt and tugged.
“He’s taken the lead. Look at him!” She spun away from the rail and into Burke’s arms as he finished half a length ahead. “He won!Iwon!” Laughing, she kissed Burke hard. “How much?”
“Mercenary little witch.”
“It’s nothing to do with mercenary and everything to do with winning. I’m going home and tell Dee I bet on her horse and won. How much?”
“The odds were five to one.”
“Fifty dollars?” She gave another peal of laughter. “I’ll buy the next beer.” She took him by the hand. “When does your horse race?”
“In the fifth.”
“Thank goodness. It’ll give me time to recover.”
She bought him a beer, then went one better and bought them both hot dogs. The only time she could remember spending such a frivolous day was at a fair. This seemed like one to her, with the noise and smells and colors. She had another ticket in her pocket and Burke’s sunglasses on by the time the fifth race was announced.
“I really hope he wins,” she told him with her mouth full. “Not just because I bet on him, either.”
“That makes two of us.”
“How does it feel to own one?” she wondered. “Not just a horse, but a horse from a great line.”
“Most of the time it’s like having an expensive lover, one you have to keep happy and lavish money on for moments of intense gratification.”
Erin turned and, tipping the glasses down, looked at him over them. “You’re full of blarney.”
“At the very least.”
He turned and watched his horse charge through the gate. How did it feel? Burke asked himself. How did it feel for a dirt-poor bastard from New Mexico to sit and watch his six-figure horse come flying by? Incredible. So incredible he couldn’t begin to describe it and wasn’t sure he wanted to. It could all be gone tomorrow.
And what of it?
He’d taught himself long ago that when you held on to something too tightly it squeezed through your fingers. He was giving Three Aces the best he had, though he’d never intended to get involved with the running of it. He’d certainly never intended to get attached to it. He worked better on the move. Yet he’d been in one place for four years.
Just recently he’d been telling himself that maybe it was time for him to get a manager for the place and take an extended vacation. Monte Carlo, San Juan, Tahoe. If a man stuck with one game too long, didn’t he get stale? But then he’d gone to Ireland. And had come back with Erin.
