Sunday Noir - Part 2

Originally published on Facebook November 9, 2017.

When Rescues Write Noir....

Ramble had a thing about horses. It got him in trouble before, betting on them. He just needed that one win, he told himself. There was one horse in particular he was fond of, a big fellow with fuzzy feet. He sure wasn’t a plow horse, that one. 

Finding the money to bet was easy. The dame lent it to him. Where she got it he didn’t ask. He promised to buy her something nice. Something sparkly and suitable for a princess, he said. 

Placing the bet was tougher. It was hard to find a bookie out in the sticks. Monty thought he’d find one in town, and he had no reason to doubt him. He’d catch a ride with one of the locals, he decided. He stood in the side of the road and waited, the yellow dirt coating his paws. After a while he realized he’d probably never get a chance to place that bet. The only traffic here was the occasional tractor heading to yet another endless field, the farmers waving at him in their cheerful way as they passed by. 

The money was safe in his pocket, next to a crumpled Skittles wrapper and an old bus ticket to Albuquerque . Safe, he thought sourly, but doing nothing for him. He needed to place that bet. He was running out of time.