My big shock came when a surplus in the prize fund was doled out. As tenth man in the field of ten, I got a consolation prize of twenty dollars. Betty bought a dress for forty-nine ninety-eight with my prize. Sometimes her finances are hard to figure.
Anyway, before I checked out, I was alone in the room with Rick.
I sat on the bed and said, “Tell me something. That putt yesterday on the eighteenth. If it went down, you had to play off with Sam. He was on his last legs. He would have blown sky-high on a playoff and you know it. And not sinking it gave you a playoff with Steve and a chance to settle an old score. How hard did you try on that putt?”
“Kid, there isn’t any sentiment in this business. You ought to know that.”
“You didn’t answer the question, Rick.”
“Look, why don’t you try a year at this? Hit the southern circuit with us. Bring the wife. The four of us can travel together. Betty and Clara ought to get along good from what you’ve told me of her.”
“Rick, did you try to sink that putt, or didn’t you?”
“Nice courses down there, kid. Miami four ball, Texas open. In November we can take a shot at the Hawaiian Open.”
I gave up trying to get an answer. Maybe next winter he’ll tell me. At Jacksonville. Wonder if Harbert’ll cop that one again.
