Sylvie's Cowboy: Cinderella In Reverse

CHAPTER 7: THE SNAKE

At the Palm Beach Polo Club, it was just another day in paradise for the rich, the filthy rich, and the ridiculously rich. Leslye Larrimore and a helmeted polo player walked across the perfectly green, perfectly groomed polo field -- which was a neat trick for Leslye since she was dressed in haute couture as usual, right down to her six-inch heels. The polo player was Daniel Stern, wearing knee-high black riding boots, carrying in his hand the Ostrich skin dress boots out of which he had changed.

"So, Silvie's Ferrari is a total loss, and the insurance company swears the policy was canceled at the customer's request." said Dan. "Sounds like we've got a poltergeist."

"Just like the one that wire transferred half the money out of our Kings Cay account in the Bahamas yesterday," Leslye responded.

"Right."

They arrived at a bus-long horse trailer surrounded by a string of eight grazing polo ponies. Dan stashed his Ostrich boots in the trailer. He inspected his mounts and gear as they talked. "Maybe Harry's ghost is making l-o-o-o-o-ng distance phone calls. 'H. P. phone home,' eh?"

"It's not funny," said Leslye.

"It's a computer glitch with the insurance company. And with the bank. You'll get them both corrected. Relax. Take another pill."

Leslye subsided a little. She withdrew an envelope from her purse and offered it to him. "You're right," she said. "Mistakes happen. We'll get it corrected. I don't know why I'm overreacting. Too much caffeine, probably. Here's what I really came to show you."

Dan retrieved his riding helmet from the trailer and wedged it under an elbow while he opened the document. It was an attractive brochure featuring colorful drawings of a high-rise building called Pace Tower. "Very nice," he said. "Good work, Les. Looks like a million dollars -- or maybe a hundred million."

Leslye smiled. "I've got a Japanese conglomerate interested. Ichi-Nobuko. They want to sign preliminary acquisition agreements next week. We're talking a ten million cash deposit to hold in our escrow account."

"Ten mil. Nice," said Dan. "Just about pay off the rest of the crooked bureaucrats."

Leslye snatched the brochure and stuffed it back into her purse. "Watch your mouth! Everything's a joke to you, isn't it!"

"Calm down. There's nobody here but us ponies." He put one arm on her shoulder to soothe and direct her, and he led a saddled pony with the other hand as they walked across the field toward the grandstands.

A little over an hour west of the Palm Beach Polo Club was a different world, a world of wildlife and wild country, of farms and ranches and small towns, and horses that would mostly not play polo.

Outside his barn, Walt McGurk had saddled two horses while the mismatched dogs, Butch and Maude, played nearby. Silvie approached from the house. She wore high, flat-heeled, glossy black riding boots, silk shirt, and jodhpurs. Under her arm were a riding helmet and leather crop.

"How long will this take?" she asked.

"What do you care? You're unemployed."

"I am not unemployed. I am at leisure. There is a vast difference."

Walt looked her up and down, unimpressed. "Honey, with Harry's money you were at leisure. Without it, you're unemployed. Either way, we'll be back by supper. Course, if it's an imposition, you don't have to go at all."

Silvie plopped her helmet atop her head. "I think one should be familiar with one's assets. I did not ask to be a partner in this ... this enterprise, but partner I am, and I intend to take an active role in making it profitable. Leg up, please."