The Glory Game Read Free Page B

Luz,” Phil Eberly protested, then leaned a shoulder closer to Claudia Baines’s chair. “She makes us sound evil, and we’re not, are we?”
    But she appeared not to hear him, directing all her attention to the field. “Which one is your son, Mr. Thomas?”
    â€œLet’s see, he’s …”
    When Luz heard the uncertainty in her husband’s voice, she pointed him out. “He’s on the blue team, riding a gray horse.”
    â€œThe gray horse, that’s easy to spot,” Drew said and smiled. “Usually she tells me something like ‘He’s riding the bay horse with the white snip on its nose.’ Out of the eight horses on the field, ten counting the two umpires, half of them will be a bay or brown color. And who can see its nose?” The obvious dilemma such a description created drew a warm, infectious laugh from Claudia. A part of Luz listened to the conversation going on in front of her while she focused on the game. The black team controlled the knock-in and moved it toward midfield. “Of course, Luz is more familiar with the horses than I am. She exercises them and helps our son keep them in condition.”
    â€œDo you ride?”
    â€œNo, I’m no horseman.” On the field, shouts and absent curses mingled with the grunts of straining horses, the clank of bridle chain, and the groan of leather. Digging hooves threw divots of turf into the air as the horses were directed by their riders into tight reverses, sharp turns, and hard gallops after a backhanded ball. “Now, Luz comes by it naturally. She was born and raised in Virginia, rode in the hunt clubs while she was growing up. Do you follow horseracing, Miss Baines?”
    â€œNo, it isn’t one of my vices.” She sounded playful, but Luz couldn’t tell whether she was being deliberately provocative.
    â€œThen you probably have never heard of Hopeworth Farm.It’s a large Thoroughbred breeding farm in Virginia, owned by the Kincaid family.”
    â€œReally? I knew he controlled several financial institutions and insurance companies, but—”
    â€œâ€”and a large brokerage firm and a lot of real estate along the East and West Coasts plus a few points in between.” Drew had lowered his voice and Luz could barely catch his words. “And Hopeworth Farm was the start of the family fortune. The first Kincaid to come to Virginia arrived shortly after the Civil War and bought the former plantation for back taxes. In those days, I believe they called such people ‘carpetbaggers.’ He bought more land, started a bank, and ended up making a lot of money from the South’s misery.”
    Everything Drew said was public knowledge. No dark family secrets had been related. Yet Luz was surprised that he told the story so freely, with no prompting for information. He spoke as if he were an outsider repeating gossip instead of a member of the family, albeit through marriage.
    A whistle sounded across the arena. “What does that mean?” Claudia Baines asked when the play continued without a break in action.
    â€œIt’s a warning to the players that only thirty seconds are left to be played in the chukkar,” Drew replied just ahead of the announcer’s explanation.
    â€œI might as well ask: What’s a chukkar?” The admission of ignorance carried refreshing candor and a trace of self-mockery.
    â€œA polo game is divided usually into six periods—or chukkars—each seven minutes long. Like quarters in football and basketball.” The whistle was blown again, signaling the end of the first period of play.
    â€œNow what happens?” She watched the riders trotting their blowing horses off the field toward their respective picket lines, where the fresh mounts were tied.
    â€œThe players change ponies and tack, if they don’t have an extra saddle and bridle. There’s usually time for a quick conference and