Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue's Gambit
by Tux Toledo
Page 8
The sporting clays tournament site resembled a small circus.
Food, clothing, and gun vendors had set up shop under small, khaki
tents in a clearing next to the parking area. A larger tent
had been erected to accommodate the couple of hundred spectators who
would all be staying for the post-tournament dinner. Have you
ever noticed how there always seems to be more watchers than
doers? No, you probably haven't. Well, it's true,
especially where sporting clays are concerned.
James parked the Rolls in a secure spot and began preparing my shooting
gear. He opened the boot and removed my Wellingtons, Barbour
shooting waistcoat (it was a bit too warm for a full jacket), the
shotgun - a beautiful Baretta over-and-under borrowed from Ted - and
several boxes of ammunition.
"I'll ready the gun, sir."
"Thank you, James."
"Winston!" It was Ted in a pair of sporting knickers that
would have looked quite spiffy on a man thirty pounds lighter.
"Good morning, Ted."
"It may not be a such good morning," he said in one of those overly
serious voices.
"What's wrong?"
"Richard has just arrived. He was delayed by a traffic
accident on his way to the ship and when he finally got to it the clay
pigeons were missing!"
"Relax," I said.
"Relax? I promised the club I would supply the birds for this
tournament! They'll have to call the whole thing off without
them!"
"They already have the them," I said.
"What?"
"I took the liberty of having James pick them up. He was in
the area. I knew you wouldn't mind. He brought them
straight to your shooting club. And lucky for us he did, with
Rigger having had that accident."
"Oh," Ted said. His eyebrows and sprits rose like the sun
over the Sandia Mountians.
"Sorry I forgot to tell you."
"That's okay. The clay pigeons are here, that's the important
thing."
I smiled.
© 2008 David Biagini