Diebin slouched in the big comfy recliner and stared blindly at the TV. Appropriately enough, "Emergency!" was on, but the catsuit-clad Ho didn't even notice. Her mind was whirling. How was she going to keep distracting the General over Darry's disappearance? Not to mention Jael's, Emmy's, and Shana's, since Jael was gone on a rescue mission and Emmy and Shana were gone on a rescue-the-rescue mission.

And Diebin was tired. The Grrls had been really accommodating (and why wouldn't they be?) in keeping the General occupied and she had readily done him...er..her part as well. But even the General couldn't keep up with round-the-clock appointments like this. There had to be something else...

*****

Out in the HSU stable, Sere was busy grooming Quest, the beautiful Arabian preening and arching his neck under her careful ministrations. Across the shedrow, Julia was showing Brenda the fine art of stall mucking. Burton stood in his stall, snorting every once in a while making Brenda jump.

"He's not going to bite me, is he?" the padawan Ho asked nervously.

"Just don't make any sudden moves," Julia grinned, peering in at her from the half-opened stall door.

"Sister dear, don't frighten her," Sere called out. "Don't worry, Burton's a good guy, but he's a Wench harse, so sometimes us Ho's do make him a bit edgy. But he won't hurt you."

"But I work...around him...as in go behind him?" Brenda still wasn't convinced.

"Just make sure he knows you're there. It will be okay. Trust me," said Julia.

"Welll..." Brenda still wasn't sure about this. She looked up at Burton. He stared back in his harse way. He flicked his tail.

"See, he likes you. You'll do fine," Julia laughed. "Now I've got to go develop some pictures, but Judy will be here soon. She had to finish setting up the bar for tonight." Julia turned to go. "Hey, sib, are you done? I could use some help with the project I'm working on."

"Sure thing. Quest, my boy, I'll see you later," Sere rubbed the horse's muzzle gently making the animal nicker.

Brenda continued to fluff the straw, looking up frequently and keeping a wide berth between herself and Burton, who seemed not at all concerned about the human. He was quite content to munch on his hay.

"Almost done here," she muttered.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!"

The sudden noise startled both human and horse.

The beeping indicated a truck of some kind was backing in next to the barn.

Brenda quickly edged out of the stall and went to the door and shoved it open. A large horse van with the name "Sallee" emblazoned on the side had pulled up and a man was walking down the ramp.

"We got orders to transport one Throughbred hoss...wait this says harse...Jimbo, you cain't spell worth a damn. Harse," the man shook his head and spat tobacco juice on the ground. "Anyways, this here horse's name is..." He scanned the manifest. "Burton. We're to take him to Keene-land Racecourse in Lexington, Ken-tucky."

"Excuse me?" said Brenda.

The man shoved the papers in her face. "Says right here."

Brenda saw Burton's name. He was going to race? That didn't sound right but...

"Well...he's down there," she pointed towards Burton's stall. By this time, both Quest and Burton were nervously pawing the stall floor. But the van worker was experienced and in no time, had Burton haltered and was leading him out and onto the van. Quest neighed loudly as his pal was led away.

Brenda stood at the barn door, holding her pitchfork. She didn't hear footsteps until...

"What the...?" Judy was staring at the departing van. Brenda turned around and bit her lip.

"They just came to take Burton to a race?" It came out as more of a question than statement.

"WHAT?"

"The van guys...they...just came to..." Brenda's voice tailed off as she watched Judy's jaw clench.

"A race? You let strange men come in here and take Burton away? What were you thinking?! They've just stolen Dande's harse!"

"Well," Brenda took a deep breath, trying to control her trembling lower lip. She wasn't to blame here. She hadn't known that Burton wasn't supposed to go. The orders had looked legit to her. Besides, she was a Ho, she must remember that. A Ho. She was strong. She looked Judy in the eye. "Well...they had orders to take him." She thrust her copy out at the disbelieving bartender.

Judy grabbed the offending page and read over it. "Holy shit," she murmurred. "Who called these ...wait a minute..." she scanned the orders again. "The phone number they reference is Emmy's office...

"Oh no," breathed Brenda.

"Were Julia and Sere here earlier?"

"Yes, they had just left when the van arrived."

"Let's go get them. They'll want to know about this. Then we're going to pay a little someone a visit." Judy's voice was hard.

****

Diebin had finally found the energy, thanks to the General walking by on the way to his office, to make her way to *her* office. Now she sat and stared at the computer screen as her General Kenobi screensaver -- courtesy of her twin sister -- floating past her eyes. Her twinny was missing, she thought with dismay. Maybe she should tell the General. No, no, she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at those eyes...no, Emmy and Shana could handle this. They'd find Darry and Jael. Oh yeah, and Cal and Vocab Man and the ultra-annoying Crow T. Robot. It would cause more trouble than it was worth if the General were to find out about the university's benefactor.

The commotion down the hall roused the secretary from her reverie. She went to the door and peeked out and let out a gasp of surprise. This was new. Judy, Julia, and Sere had surrounded Tom Servo, the bubblegum dispenser Bot, while Brenda stood behind them holding...a pitchfork? She looked prepared to use it.

****

Just moments before the scene Diebin spied, Judy, Julia, Sere and Brenda marched into the HSU headquarters and up to Emmy's office. The door was slightly ajar and a voice emanated from within.

"Yeah, Vinnie, put $50 on the five horse in the sixth. And wheel the two horse with the field in the seventh. In the eighth, I need..."

"YOU!" The angry voice startled the bot and swiveling around in Emmy's chair, he jumped.

Speaking quickly into the phone, the bot stammered, "Uh, Vinnie, I'll get back to you," then he slammed it down. "What can I do for you ladies?" He put on his most congenial voice.

Judy stalked around the desk. "You...you...stupid..." Servo lifted himself over the desk and towards the door in order to get away from the irate Ho. Then realized he'd backed himself into the rest of the them.

Judy thrust a paper at the diminutive Bot. "Just what the hell is *this*?"

The Bot fairly smirked. "A piece of paper, duh."

"No, you stupid bot," Julia grabbed him and lifted him up.

"Hey, hey! Careful, girls!" he yelled.

"Not until you explain why you entered Dande's harse in a race! At Keeneland no less! Testosterone County Park I could understand, but Keeneland?" Judy screamed. "He's *not* a racehorse! Hello??!"

"Oh, he'll do just fine for my purposes," Servo tried to rub his hands together in glee but they wouldn't reach.

"Which are?"

"Why he's going to win the Blue Grass Stakes and make me rich."

The Ho's stood there, dumbfounded. But only for a second...

*****

Diebin was nearly beside herself with joy. A problem! No, even better. A distraction! And something the General could fix! Something that didn't involved the school's finances! She counted to five as she strode back to her desk and sat down on the edge in her most sexy, Original Ho manner. "Five."

The door swung open and in walked four very angry Ho's carrying a screaming robot.

"Put me down! I said, put me...hey, this is bot abuse! BOT ABUSE! BOT ABUSE! BOT ABUSE!...."

"Doesn't he have an off switch," growled Sere. Julia shook the bot. "Shut Up!" she hissed. Servo gulped.

"We need to see the General. It's important," demanded Judy. Diebin raised an eyebrow. The bartender was usually so mild-mannered; she figured all those margaritas had mellowed the Ho. This was a new side to her.

"Well, let me see if he's in," said Diebin as she bent over the intercom. "General, there are several Grrls to see you."

"Diebin, dear," came the velvet smooth voice, that sounded good even over the scratchy intercom. The Ho's all sighed in spite of themselves. "I have some work to take care of. Could you reschedule my grrls for later..."

General Obi-Wan Kenobi was still talking into the intercom when his door burst open and four women marched in. Looking up in surprise, his handsome face showed his shock that these particular grrls would do this. He smiled his most seductive smile. "My dears, as I was telling Diebin, I need to get..."

"We're not here for sex, General," said Judy bluntly.

Obi-Wan flinched, his eyes wide. He shook his head. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. No Ho had ever come into his office and said that to him. "Excuse me?"

"We have an emergency," added Julia. Judy and Sere nodded, eyes serious.

Oh, well, that was better then. He sighed in relief. Leaning back in his chair, which showed off his broad shoulders and muscular chest and stomach to great effect, the General waved a hand. "Please, tell me what is wrong."

"It's Dande's harse..." began Judy.

"He's been sent to Keeneland..." said Julia.

"For a race..." continued Sere.

The General had been looking from one to the other as they spoke. Now he noticed Brenda hanging back at the door, still clutching her pitchfork. Diebin had sidled in to watch the show.

"I didn't know! I'm sorry," she cried. The other grrls were frowning.

The General's brow furrowed, but in a most handsome way. "I'm sorry...I'm missing something here. Brenda? What are you sorry about?"

"I...I'm the one who let him go." she said in a small voice. "But I didn't know. Honest!"

Diebin spoke for the first time. "Brenda, hon, no one blames you." She stared hard at the others. They looked away. "You made an honest mistake. Now the General is going to fix it, right?" She leveled her gaze on him.

"Yes, I will take care of this," he said in a commanding tone. All the grrls sighed.

"But is someone going to tell Dande?" Brenda asked quietly.

"No need to tell her until we have something to report," said Diebin with a wicked grin. Dande was firmly ensconced in Emmy's room for the time being, since the wench felt comfortable there because of her bonding experience with the Ho in the mine. "Are you sure my Master will be able to find me here?" she had moaned softly, clutching her belly. "Quite sure," Diebin had murmured before closing the door.

Diebin smiled wickedly at the memory. See if Tasha could just shove the wench off on her!

Now it was off to the races.

The sun was shining bright on Keeneland Racecourse. "Racing as it was meant to be" was the track's motto, and it held on to that ideal with a deathgrip. Evidence of this was in the stately tree-lined entrance to the track. If one listened hard enough, one could hear the strains of "Gone With the Wind" playing. Trees were filled with pink and white blooms, adding splotches of color here and there. And a steady stream of people were heading towards the entrances.

The parking lots were already packed with cars as the group from HSU drove up in Julia's brand new Road Ranger, which she had requisitioned recently in order to cart around her photography equipment. The General amazingly had refrained from insisting that he drive and instead rode shotgun. Still, the whole way his hands kept clenching and unclenching as he fought not to make comments. He had only recently regained his Grrls' good graces; he wasn't about to blow it with some chauvinistic crack about guys being better drivers.

Judy and Sere sat in the back. Following behind in her Volvo were Dorotea, Diebin and Brenda. Brenda hadn't been too eager to ride with Judy, Julia, and Sere who were still pissed about her letting Burton go with the van guys. Tom Servo had been left locked in one of Shana's filing cabinets.

The trip from HSU hadn't taken that long really. Ken-tucky wasn't that far away, conveniently (for the purposes of this story) being on the other side of Testosterone County. Who knew?

It was indeed a sparkling day in the Bluegrass. "I didn't see any blue grass," grumped Diebin as she sprawled in the back seat.

"Well, if you squint really hard...," ventured Dorotea. "Jeez, look at the people. Where are we going to park?"

The lots appeared full. But the Road Ranger continued on ahead so Dorotea followed. Ahh, valet parking. Good thinking. Diebin was looking at the people walking up to the entrance and noticed something interesting.

"Hey, do you think I'm dressed appropriately for this place?" Diebin looked down at her black catsuit and stilletto heels. Dorotea shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It's a racetrack. Lots of dirty old men with cigars. Look at me, I never dress up unless it's absolutely necessary, and sometimes not even then."

As Diebin considered this, Brenda let out a sigh. She'd been sighing all the way from HSU. "I just hope Burton is all right."

"He's fine. I'm sure of it," Dorotea patted her shoulder in sympathy. Then it was time to turn the car over to the valets. The condescending look one of them gave Dorotea's bumper-sticker clad car caused her to clench her hands in anger. How dare they look at her baby like that?! Stuck up jerks!

She handed over her keys and snarled, "There'd better not be a scratch on her when I return." Claiming her ticket, she stormed over to join the gang. General Kenobi was getting everyone organized.

"Right. Let's head in. Once we get oriented, we can formulate a plan to get Dande's horse, er, harse, back." His silky tone had the Grrls leaning on each other for support. Diebin couldn't contain a quiet "eep."

Spying a booth with a little old man selling racing programs, Obi-Wan sauntered over to purchase some. He handed them out. "There should be a layout to this place in here. Our goal is to find the...what was it again, Judy?"

"The racing secretary."

"Yes, the racing secretary. Shall we go?" He indicated for his Ho's to precede him.

However, the group was stopped at the door by a green-jacket wearing, grey-haired pinched-face woman who glared over her bifocals at them. "I'm sorry but you can't come in here."

The General raised an eyebrow, taken aback at the rudeness. "I beg your pardon, madam." He put on his most courteous behavior.

"Do you have clubhouse tickets?"

"Well, no, but if you could just..."

"And you're not dressed appropriately." The woman glanced up and down at the General's wardrobe. He was wearing his form-fitting black turtleneck and black pants and boots. He looked scrumptious. "No tie and jacket. That's required here, you know. We have some for you to use, but you have to have a ticket." If there was any inflection in the gravelly voice, Obi-Wan couldn't detect it. He decided to chance something. He waved his hand in front of her and altered his voice slightly.

"You don't need to see our tickets."

"Yes, I do, young man."

Obi-Wan blinked. What? The mind control hadn't worked. He tried again.

"No. You *don't* need to see our tickets."

"Yes, I do. Listen, sonny, you think you can just waltz in here like you own the place? No ticket, no entry."

Obi-Wan could only blink. This wasn't happening. He could sense his Ho's getting restless behind him. They were just as confused as he was. Another person joined them. It was a tall, thin older man, dressed in a grey, pinstripe suit. Very old school. "Is there a problem here?" he asked the green-jacket Nazi woman.

"This here gentleman is trying to finagle his way in. He doesn't have clubhouse tickets and he isn't dressed appropriate either."

The man leveled a supercilious stare at the General. His gaze turned to disdain when he took in Obi-Wan's entourage. "I'm sorry, sir, but you and your...*friends* will have to use the general admission entrances like the rest of the common folk." With a sniff, he turned and walked back to the stairs where he was greeting couture-clad women and silk-suit-wearing men. The General stood there, mouth agape. What had just happened here? He had been snubbed! He was never snubbed! Behind him, one of the grrls cleared her throat.

Turning on his heel, the General, his jaw clenched in anger, strode back outside. "Enough of this nonsense," he growled. "We've got a harse to find."

*****

Once inside, after forking over general admission fees for everyone, Obi-Wan surveyed the area. They were in between two large oval areas, each surrounded by a rail and hedging. The area on the right had large trees at various intervals throughout with numbered signs tied on them. The ring on the other side was smaller with what looked like a brick surface circling a grassy center. People were standing around the perimeters, many with head downs looking at programs or newspapers. There were people standing in the oval area with the trees, most congregated in the center near the tree tagged "3/4". There were horses being walked around most of the trees, as people stood and gawked at them. Others didn't appear to notice the horses at all and were flitting in and out of various groups talking and schmoozing. The sun glittered and sparkled through the trees casting shadows here and there. All in all, a tranquil, beautiful scene.

Walking further in, Obi-Wan looked up at a huge TV screen attached to the ivy-covered stone wall. The view showed the tractors grated the racetrack. Speaking of which...

"Where exactly is the track?" asked Brenda.

"Through there," pointed Dorotea absently towards the stone wall which had several archways cut in it. She was perusing her program, glancing over at the horses. "I'm gonna go buy a Racing Form."

"Wait," ordered the General. "Let's not all wander off until we have a plan."

"I'm thirsty. Do they have margaritas here?" Diebin whined, staring at the HSU barkeep.

"Why are you looking at me?" Judy asked.

"You're the bartender; you should know these things."

"Well, just because..."

"Ladieeees," the General ground out. "Please. We need to..." He looked around. "Okay, where's Dorotea?"

"She went to get a Form," said Brenda. "Said she'd be right back after she bet on this race."

"Bet? On the race?" Obi-Wan parroted. His Grrls betting? Gambling? That brought up too many bad memories. He knew the dangers. He knew where gambling could lead, the things it could induce people to do. His eyes flashed with not a little bit of fear. "Betting? I don't think that would be wise. After all, we have a mission--we must find Dande's harse. We can't let ourselves get sidetracked..."

"Oh, come on, Obi-Wan," said Sere, from her place next to the paddock. Her program was spread out on the hedge in front of her. "What's the harm in putting down a few bets here and there? $2 here, $2 there."

"But you don't understand," he said. "It doesn't stop there. Soon he's spending $5, then $10, then $20, then his entire monthly stipend from the Council. Then he's finding ways to gamble without Republic dactaries. He brings home pathetic lifeforms. Gambling can make your life miserable. Trust me."

"General, what are you talking about?" asked Brenda, who had been asking for handicapping pointers from Sere.

Suddenly the General looked sad, and almost a bit embarrassed. His face was flushed. "This is hard for me to talk about, you know," he said in a quiet voice. "But my master...." He looked around, then his voice dropped even more. "...had...a problem."

"Oh," came the quiet replies. The Grrls had heard about that, but they thought it had been rumor only.

"We'll be okay," soothed Julia, who had brought her camera in hopes of getting some cool race shots. "It's only this one day. Besides most of us don't have *that* much money on us anyway. Right, grrls?" She looked pointedly at each one. They all nodded back, adding "Sure." "Yeah." "Whatever." "We're going to miss this race."

"Hey!" It was Dorotea waving from under a stone archway. It led through to the track, conveniently passing rows of betting windows. "The horses are on the track for the sixth!"

In a flurry of movement, the General was left alone, except for Diebin who had been leaning up against the paddock railing intimidating Bluegrass matrons with her best Ho glare.

"Where to next, General?" she purred.

"So, how do I place a bet?" asked Brenda as she looked at the horses in the paddock for the seventh race. Dorotea was next to her scouring the past performances for the field. She had lost money on the last race when her horse finished second and she was left holding a win bet.

"It's easy. Just go up to one of those windows and tell the person that you want however much money to win, place, or show on whichever number horse in whatever number race. Simple. Unless you want to bet an exotic." explained Dorotea as she made handicapping notes in her Form.

"Exotic?" Brenda bit her lip and flipped through her program trying to find the handicapping tips.

"Yeah, the bets that make you the real money. You know, exactas, trifectas, superfectas, that sort of thing."

The exotics certainly did sound exotic. Brenda gulped and glanced at her program again. "Uh, Dorotea?"

"Yeah?" said Dorotea absently as she noted the speed figures.

"So what kind of bet were you suggesting earlier?"

"A show bet. It's the safest. You stand a better chance of getting your money back."

"Oh. Well, what do you usually bet?"

"Me? Always to win. You earn more that way."

"Oh. Well, that's what I want to try then. A win bet."

"Have you picked a horse yet?"

"Yes, I like that one," Brenda pointed to a little grey horse.

"Number 7? But she hasn't won since last year! You're kidding, right?"

"No, I like her cause she's the prettiest one!" The padawan Ho smiled, pleased with her choice. "So, can we bet now?"

Dorotea led the way to the windows, grumbling about novices.

****

Diebin harrumphed as she leaned gracefully against a tree in the paddock. The General had left her here with orders to keep an eye out for Burton. This was no fun--not at all. She wasn't cut out for surveillance work. Too boring.

"Uh...miss? Uh...you can't stand there?"

Diebin slid her shades down her nose and peered over them. A small man in green pants and t-shirt was standing there holding a small saddle and pad. "Oh?"

"Uh...only the owners and trainers can stand here. You'll have to go out in the middle." He pointed to where people were milling about, moving from tree to tree looking at the horses.

"Fine." Diebin shoved her shades back up and slinked over to the aisleway that ran up the middle of the paddock. She looked around at the supposed movers-and-shakers of the Bluegrass set. All the men wore blue button-down shirts, yellow ties, khakis, and navy suit coats. Even the General would look good in that, she briefly mused, then suddered at the thought of the General in that ultra preppy look. Of course with those wire-rims he has...Hmm...Diebin walked down to another tree.

Nearby, there were several ladies dressed in pastel suits from Talbot's, replete with matching shoes and handbags. They sniffed disdainfully as Diebin strode up.

"Why, I do declare, Betty Sue, darling, they'll just let *anyone* in here nowadays," said a petite, blue-eyed, perfectly coiffed Bluegrass belle. Her voice lowered to a stage whisper that could be overheard three trees away, "Would you just *look* at what that poor girl is wearin'? I swear."

"Now, now, Buffy, dear," said Betty Sue, who was standing with her twin sister, Mary Sue. "She's *obviously* not society. She can't help it."

Diebin clenched her jaw. She knew those big-haired society chicks were talking about her. How dare they? Besides, what right did they have to be ridiculing her mode of dress? They were wearing pastels!

What would Darry or Emmy do in this situation? They would eat these ladies for lunch in a heartbeat, that's what. Well, she could do that too.

Diebin stood hands on hips in her best Ho manner and slowly removed her sunglasses, revealing her best bitchy glare. One of the twins gulped and looked away. The others were starting to wilt under her hard stare. Diebin almost had them. She was just about to begin her diatribe on why people like them shouldn't breed when she was bumped from behind. Lurching forward, she tried to turn and see who had knocked into her, when one of her heels got caught on the edge of the rubber brick. Arms flailing, she stumbled backwards, knocked into some people, causing them to fall forward, which in turn caused one of the horses to spook and rear up. Several ladies screamed, men scrambled back, the groom managed to calm the horse. The pastel ladies tittered and pointed and several reporters rushed over to find out what was going on. And everyone stood staring at Diebin who sat on the ground, right in....

"Shit."

****

The General made his way to the racing office after stopping to ask several of those evil green-jacketed people for directions. He'd been to palaces that were easier to navigate. He walked up to the counter and waited for the man in back to finish yelling at a TV screen. "C'mon you stupid horse! Run, damnit, run! Jesus!" He threw a slip of paper on the ground and stomped on it. "Damn pinhead jockey. Cain't ride worth shit!" He suddenly noticed Obi-Wan. "Oh, hey. Canna help ya?"

"I take it you didn't win," Obi-Wan asked in his best "I'm your friend. Trust me' voice.

"Are you kidding? I had the 4 horse and 1 horse in the exacta. Damn 4 horse came in third. How do you like that?"

Not being overly familiar with the various bets, unlike his former Master, Obi-Wan just smiled and opted for a commiserating phrase, "That really sucks."

"You bet it does. Now, what can I do for ya?"

"I need to find a horse. He's in the eighth race, I believe. Name is Burton."

The man scanned the day's entries. "Oh yeah, here it is. Yep, he's entered all right. Longshot though. Hasn't done much on the track. Don't know why the owner," he looked at the program. "...some Thomas Servo chose to enter him."

"Overly optimistic, I suppose," Obi-Wan grimaced. One of those damn 'bots. "And where could I find said horse?"

"Huh? Oh, he's in barn 24. That's E. Zane Lucas' barn."

"Who?" asked Obi-Wan.

"E. Zane Lucas. The famous trainer." Obi-Wan gave a questioning smile. The name meant nothing to him. "You mean, you ain't never heard of E. Zane Lucas?" The man looked incredulous.

"Should I have?" Obi-Wan was becoming impatient.

"Well, he's only the trainer who's won the last 12 Triple Crown races."

"Oh. I see. Well, could you direct me to barn 24 so I can meet this legend?" Obi-Wan couldn't keep all the sarcasm from his voice. The man didn't seem to notice.

"Well, y'see, just head down this road, go past the spit box, then it's three barns up on your right."

Obi-Wan blinked. Spit box. What the hell was *that*? The images his mind conjured up just couldn't be right. As he left the racing office, he hoped he didn't look as puzzled as he felt.

****

"Wow!! I can't believe I won! This is great!" enthused Brenda as she thumbed through her new cash windfall. Her little grey filly had won the seventh as a 50-1 longshot. Dorotea couldn't believe it. Her exacta had come in in the proper order, only second and third, which didn't do her a bit of good since the exacta was only good on the first and second-place finishers.

"Want something to drink? I'll buy!" said Brenda.

Dorotea scowled. Damn beginner's luck.

*****

Julia checked her film again as she and Sere came back up the tunnel from the track to the "riders' up" ring. How many rolls did she have left? She looked at Sere.

"I've got your extra rolls, right here," said her sib, patting her backpack.

"Whew. I was afraid I'd forgotten them."

"How many have you been through already?"

"Only 20."

*****

After a bit of wandering, Dorotea and Brenda discovered the Sport's Bar on the second floor. It was packed with a diverse crowd. The local Irish contingent. Frat rats, aka Wankers, and Sorority Bowheads. Diehard horseplayers.

"Woo hoo! Who needs a margarita? Gotcha covered! Two Coronas? Comin' up!"

Dorotea looked at Brenda. "Well, at least we know where Judy got to." She nudged the padawan Ho. "You're the big winner. You go order."

Judy was in her element. It was such a nice bar too. She patted the wooden bar surface affectionately.

"Hey, Judy!" The bartender looked up at the familiar voice.

"Brenda! Did you find Burton yet. I got kinda..." she looked over at the other bartender who bore absolutely no resemblance to Tom Cruise whatsoever. He gave her a thumbs-up. "....sidetracked."

"Well, no, haven't found the harse yet, but I did win a hundred bucks!"

"Cool! You're buying dinner...and drinks!"

*****

Diebin couldn't believe it. She had fallen in horse shit. Thank god that none of the other Ho's had witnessed it. Fortunately she was able to get most of it off the slick leather. Unfortunately, it stank. Bad. But she was a Ho, she had her dignity. And there was no way in hell she was going to buy one of those god-awful, gaudy, parachute-like pantsuits that blue-haired old ladies wore to the hairdresser. Absolutely not. She stepped back outside the gift shop, not noticing everyone inside suddenly gasping for air. She did notice the really awful stench when a breeze lifted around her.

"Shit."

*****

General Kenobi finally found Barn 24. He felt like he'd walked over the entire state. There was only one person around, a Mexican groom who was raking the shedrow. Some horses had poked their heads over the stall-door webbing and were nickering and neighing to one another. Compared to the electricity and noise of the track, the barn area seemed like a different world altogether. Obi-Wan went up to the barn and cleared his throat. The man looked up and smiled, nodding.

"Excuse me, sir?" Obi-Wan inclined his head politely, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm looking for a horse named Burton."

"Que?"

Obi-Wan hung his head and sighed.

*****

Judy, Dorotea, and Brenda made their way down to the paddock, each carrying a margarita.

"Who's your pick in this race?" Judy asked Brenda, leaning over her shoulder to look at the program.

"Why Burton, of course. He may be a Wench's harse, but he lives at HSU so I'm going to support him. Besides it's my fault he's in this mess."

"Well, he's probably not going to run, you know. The General was going to have him scratched," Dorotea pointed out.

"But isn't that him?" Brenda asked, pointing to a gleaming chestnut who pranced on his toes as he was lead in, a groom on each side.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Judy. "But he's not even a three-year-old! He can't run!"

"Well, if they haven't figured that out by now, I say let him try," said Dorotea. "You never know. That's why it's a horse race."

"Are you going to bet on him?" asked Brenda.

"Are you nuts?"

*****

Julia snapped pictures of the people and horses from her vantage point in the paddock. Sere was making sketches on a small pad.

"Getting ideas?" Julia smiled.

"You better believe it," the sib replied as she squinted at a horse who stood motionless and poised in between the trees. "Hey, isn't that Burton?"

Julia turned around and saw the horse Sere was indicating. "It is! But where's the General?" Julia looked about. "Wasn't he supposed to scratch him?"

Before Sere could answer, she caught sight of something even more improbable. Grabbing her sib's arm, she pointed and hissed, "What happened to Diebin?"

*****

Diebin was not having a good day. She really hadn't wanted to come in the first place except it got her out of baby-sitting the wench, and of course, she got to be close to the General. Except he wasn't here and she smelled like horse shit and looked like it too. She spied Julia and Sere across the way. They had seen her and were talking between themselves. If Julia so much as raised that camera in this direction...

*****

The General had finally gotten across to the groom that he was looking for a horse...caballo. He made a mental note to finish the HSU course on romance languages. He was a natural at French but hadn't had time to complete his studies of Spanish and Italian yet. He would remedy that upon his return, but now, he had a harse to locate. He ran back up to the track.

*****

"C'mon," urged Brenda. "The horses are moving onto the track. We gotta go bet!"

"You're still determined to bet on Burton?" asked Dorotea, amazed.

"Sure, why not? I have money to spend!" she laughed and strutted off.

"You know," Judy remarked. "She's gonna do Emmy proud."

"I suppose," said Dorotea, who was not feeling particularly gracious right now. "Holy...is that Diebin?" Dorotea pointed at their fellow Ho who seemed to be trying to hide behind a tree. But there wasn't any way for her to be missed, especially not in her stiletto heels and a pantsuit covered with loud gold and purple swirls. It made 'swish-swish' noises everytime she moved.

Dorotea and Judy approached with caution. "Diebin, are you okay?" Dorotea ventured.

No reply.

"The race is about to start. Burton's running," said Judy.

Diebin sniffed. "Stupid wench harse."

"Diebin, what happened to your clothes? Why are you wearing...?" asked Dorotea although she was almost afraid of the answer.

"Two words," ground out Diebin. "Horse. Shit."

Judy and Dorotea winced. They didn't want to know the details. Well, at least not right now. Judy played her trump card. "Diebin, come with us and after the race we'll make Brenda buy lots of drinks."

At that, Diebin finally relented and went with the Grrls to find a place on the rail. Brenda was already there, clutching her ticket in barely contained excitement.

"He looked so good in the post parade," she gushed. "I have a feeling about this."

"Whatever," Dorotea rolled her eyes and shook her head at Judy and Diebin.

The announcer's voice blared over the intercom:

"THE HORSES HAVE REACHED THE STARTING GATE. IT IS NOW POST TIME FOR THE BLUE GRASS STAKES."

A cheer went up in the crowd.

The horses loaded in the gate without incident. The start was right in front of the grandstand, which made it even more exciting. The horses would run once around and finish just a few yards from the start. The anticipation built. Then...RIIIINNNGGG! The horses sprang from the gate, the crowd roared. The race had started!

"AND THEY'RE OFF..."

*****

The General came running through the crowd, maneuvering through the drunks as only a Jedi can, until he finally came to where Judy, Brenda, Dorotea and Diebin had crowded up against the rail. They were cheering madly, screaming: "C'mon, Burton, c'mon!" "Go, go, go, go!" "Ruuuuuuuun!" "Run fast!" Even Diebin was bouncing.

"AND *DOWN* THE STRETCH THEY COME! AND ON THE OUTSIDE, IT'S....*BURTON*! HE'S CLOSING LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN! UNBELIEVABLE! IT'S EQUIPOISE ON THE LEAD, BUT...WAIT! BURTON HAS CAUGHT HIM! THEY'RE NECK'N NECK! IT'S...IT'S...IT'S TOO CLOSE TO CALL!! A PHOTO FINISH!

"I think he got it!" screamed Judy who was now hoarse after yelling during the entire stretch run.

"Are you sure?" asked an equally hoarse Brenda. "I couldn't tell from this angle. Oh my God, I hope he won! I had $50 bucks on him! To win!"

"He won," said the General, his voice quiet amid the cheers of the crowd as they welcomed back the two possible winners. He stood with assurance, arms crossed, gazing bemusedly at Burton who trotted back proudly. The horse's chestnut coat glistened with sweat, but he didn't seem too tired out by his exercise. 'Mission accomplished,' the General thought to himself.

Suddenly the crowd roared. The prices had gone up.

Burton was the winner! By a nose! At odds of 99-1! Brenda fainted.

****

Julia stood next to the track photographer and clicked away as the HSU gang crowded the winner's circle next to a prancing Burton. Obi-Wan finally got to meet E. Zane Lucas, shaking hands with the renowned trainer.

"When can we take Burton back?" Obi-Wan asked the trainer.

"Oh, you can ship him out this evening, but first he has to go to the spit box, then cool out," said E. Zane said in his trademark gravelly voice.

The General's brow furrowed. Spit box. There was that term again. What did it mean? No, no, he really didn't want to know.

"Well, we'll come by your barn later to ensure he has a ride home," Obi-Wan smiled. The trainer nodded and headed off down the track, following the triumphant harse.

Obi-Wan turned to his Grrls and promptly fell into The Stance. Fortunately the winner's circle railing provided support as the Ho's tried not to swoon. Only Diebin was wearing her special shades, but even she "eeped."

"Well, my grrls, it seems our esteemed university is now the proud home of a stakes winner--whatever that means. I say, when we return, we should hold a party to celebrate...oh, and explain all this to Dande." He waved his hands about indicating the track.

"I'm sure she'll be overjoyed," whispered Julia to Sere.

"I placed a $2 bet for her," said Brenda. " 'Course it was to show." She shrugged.

Diebin rolled her eyes. "She's a wench. She'll be thrilled. Her *harse* was all brave and charged like a stallion and all that. That's all you have to tell her."

"Diebin?" The General's soft voice flowed over her. It was a balm to her frayed nerves.

"Yes, General?" she tried to purr but the swish-swish of her clothing as she turned towards him made it impossible.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

*****

And so, after cashing all tickets, arranging transportation for Burton back to HSU, and stopping off at Liquor Barn ("I just want to stock up," said Judy.), General Kenobi and his Grrls started on their way back to the university.

Julia drove her Road Ranger (or Range Rover or 4Runner or whatever), while the General, Sere, and Judy played rock-paper-scissors in the back. "One. Two. Three!" "Aww." "Yeah!" "Stop reading our minds!"

In the Volvo, Dorotea eased the pain of a crappy betting day with some Donato's pizza. She also took comfort in the bottles of Maker's Mark bourbon she had procured at Liquor Barn. ("These are MINE," she warned. "I'll be dusting the red wax for fingerprints. Got it?") Brenda was counting her money, the amount being such that she had had to be escorted out by security, while Diebin grumbled about seeing pantsuits, blue button-downs, khakis, and big hair in her dreams.

With everything that had happened, Diebin realized she hadn't thought about Darry, Jael, Emmy, or Shana. "I wonder what they're up to," she mused.

The End