Death By Bridle by Abigail Keam Page A

immortality? His face simply didn’t register. But everyone knew Aspen needed money – his creditors would swallow whatever the horse brought.
    The bidding started. I trained my binoculars on Aspen’s face. I heard the auctioneer start at $10,000.
    Bidder from Dubai raised a finger.
    “Do I hear 20,000, 20, 20, bid it up, 20, 20?”
    An Asian man nodded very discreetly. A spotter yelled what sounded like, “Yep!”
    “Thank you. Now do I hear 30,000, 30, 30, 30? Bid it up here. Hear 30, 30, 30? Bid it up here.”
    Spotters, standing on the floor, surveyed the room.
    The bidding continued with four bidders until the amount reached $1 million. People started rushing into the sales pavilion from outside. There was a hush inside the room. I saw Aspen’s hand twitch.
    “Bid it up here. Do I hear 1,250,000, 250, 250, 250, 250?”
    Once again the bidder from Dubai raised his index finger. The spotter pointed.
    The room’s excitement escalated.
    “Thank you. Do I hear 1,350,000, bid it up here, 350, 350, 350? Bid it up here.”
    The bidder for a sheikh nodded. People were now standing on chairs surveying the room. The bidding advanced as the man from Ireland rubbed his nose.
    The sheikh and the Irishman went bid for bid until the sum reached two million.
    “Thank you. Do I hear 2,100,000, 100, 100? Bid it up here.”
    Spotters simultaneously raised their hands and yelled, “Yep!!!” Their color was flushed with excitement.
    Up and up the sum crawled until it reached $3 million.
    A spotter pointed and yelled.
    “Thank you. Now do I hear 3,100,000, 100, 100?”
    I swiveled my head to see who had just bid. There sat Lady Elsmere with a smug expression on her face. Beside her was Charles, who nodded.
    A gasp arose from the crowd.
    “Thank you. Now do I hear 3,200,000, 200, 200?”
    The buyer for the sheikh looked at his boss for approval and nodded.
    “Thank you. Now do I hear 3,300,000, 300, 300?”
    The Irish buyer raised his hand, giving the sheikh a nasty look.
    “Thank you. Bid it up here. Do I hear 3,400,000, 400, 400?”
    The sheikh shook his head, but a spotter yelled, “Yep.”
    We all stretched our necks to see who else had bid. The Irish buyer looked smug.
    “Do I hear 3,500,000, 500, 500, 500?”
    Charles nodded.
    “Thank you. Do I hear 3,600,000, 600, 600, 600? Last bid. No?”
    The Irish buyer swirled his head to glare at Lady Elsmere, who returned a sweet smile.
    Everyone stared from under their programs at the Irish buyer including Aspen. Some people, like myself, craned their necks to get a better look. The Irishman slumped back in his chair while shaking his head.
    “HIP 56 goes for $3,500,000. Congratulations to the buyer.” The auctioneer banged his gavel.
    Lady Elsmere stood and waved to a cheering crowd.
    People were slapping Aspen’s back. In response he shook off their enthusiasm and strode off after giving his filly one last look.
    After the crowd around Lady Elsmere dissipated, I made my way towards her and Charles.
    I spoke just one word. “Why?”
    June looked like a cat that had just licked up all the cream in the pitcher. “Arthur was beholden to Aspen. I knew he would want me to take care of him. This is Aspen’s last chance for a Derby winner and mine as well.”
    “What about My Lady Elizabeth’s foal?”
    “Maybe I’ll have two Derby winners before I die. Anyway time is running out for me. I’m taking a shortcut in case Liz’s foal doesn’t take.”
    “Who is going to train Jean Harlow? Only a few fillies have ever won the Kentucky Derby.”
    June’s eyes shone with excitement. “Look at her, Josiah. Look at her chest. Her thighs. She’s a born winner. She’s got the fire in her eyes to win.”
    I glanced at Charles.
    “She knows horses, Miss Josiah. If Lady Elsmere says this horse is a winner, then she’s a winner. She’s rarely wrong.”
    “Let’s not talk about the fact that you paid three million too much for that horse and you have set a record for