Best Kept Secrets(28)

expression was belligerent. "But you don't realize how much

is at stake here."

Alex defensively folded her arms across her midriff.' 'Why

don't you tell me?"

Needing no more encouragement, Angus launched into a

full explanation of how he wanted the track to be built, enumerating

its various features. There would be no corners cut,

no scrimping. The entire complex was to be a first-class

facility from the stables to the ladies' restrooms.

"We'll be the only full-scale track between Dallas/Fort

Worth and El Paso, and three hundred or so miles from each.

It will be a good stopover for travelers. I can envision Purcell

becoming another Las Vegas in twenty years, springing up

out of the desert like a gusher."

"Isn't that being a little optimistic?" Alex asked skeptically.

"Well, maybe a bit. But that's what folks said when I

started this place. That's what they said when I built my

practice track and drew up plans for an indoor swimming

pool for the horses. I don't let skepticism bother me. You

gotta dream big if you want big things to happen. Mark my

words," he said, jabbing the air between them for emphasis.

"If we get that license to build this track, the town of Purcell

will explode."

"Not everybody would like that, would they? Some might

want to keep the community small."

Stubbornly, Angus shook his head. "Several years ago,

this town was booming."

"Oil?"

"Yessiree. There were ten banks. Ten. More than in any

other town this size. Per capita, we were the richest city in

the country. Merchants had more business than they could

handle. The real estate market was hot. Everybody prospered."

He paused to take a breath. "You want something

to drink? A beer? A Coke?"



"Nothing, thank you."

Angus took a beer from the refrigerator, twisted off the

cap, and took a long drink. "Then, the bottom fell out of the

oil market," he resumed. "We told ourselves that it was

temporary."

"To what extent did the oil market affect you?"

"I hold a hefty percentage in several wells and one natural

gas company. But thank God, I'd never invested more than

I could afford to lose. I'd never liquidated my other businesses

to support an oil well."

"Still, that drop in the price of oil must have caused you

a substantial financial setback. Weren't you upset?"

He shook his head. "I've won and lost more fortunes than

you are years old, young lady. Hell, I really don't mind being

broke. Being rich is more fun, but being broke is more exciting.

It's got built-in challenges.

"Sarah Jo," he said, sighing thoughtfully, "doesn't agree

with me, of course. She likes the security of having money

collecting dust in a vault. I've never touched her money or

Junior's inheritance. I promised her I never would."

Talking about inheritances was foreign to Alex. She

couldn't even conceive of it. Merle Graham had supported

them on her salary from the telephone company, and then on

her pension after her retirement. Alex's grades had been high

enough to earn her a scholarship to the University of Texas,

but she'd worked after classes to keep herself dressed and

fed so her grandmother wouldn't have those expenses to complain

about.

She had received financial assistance for law school, too,

because her grades were so impressive. Working in public

service didn't provide her with luxuries. She'd struggled with

her conscience for weeks before rewarding herself with the

fur coat for passing the bar. It was one of the few extravagances

she had ever allowed herself.

"Do you have enough capital to finance the racetrack?"

she asked, bringing her mind back around.

"Not personally."

"Minton Enterprises?"



"Not by itself. We've formed a group of investors, individuals

and businesses, that would profit from having the

track built here."

He sat down in his red leather recliner and pointed her into

a chair. "During the oil boom, everybody got a taste of

wealth. They're greedy for it again."

"That's hardly a flattering assessment of the population of

Purcell--a group of avaricious carnivores waiting to gobble

up horseracing money."

"Not avaricious," he said. "Everybody would get his fair

share, starting with the major investors, and working down

to the guy who owns the self-serve filling station on the nearest

corner. It wouldn't mean just individual gain, either. Think

of the schools and hospitals and public facilities the town

could build with that increased revenue."

He leaned forward and curled his hand into a fist, as though