The accident occurred during the sixth chukker, although some of the spectators were to insist later that it was no accident.
The ponies were bunched together, racing toward the goal, and Woody had control of the ball. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the opposing players closing in on him. Using a tail shot, he sent the ball to the rear of the pony. It was picked up by Rick Hamilton, the best player on the opposing team, who began racing toward the goal. Woody was after him at full speed. He tried to hook Hamilton’s mallet and missed. The ponies were getting closer to the goal. Woody kept desperately trying to get possession of the ball, and failed each time.
As Hamilton neared the goal, Woody deliberately swerved his pony to crash into Hamilton and ride him off the ball. Hamilton and his pony went tumbling to the ground. The crowd rose to its feet, screaming. The umpire angrily blew the whistle and held up a hand.
The first rule in polo is that when a player has possession of the ball and is heading toward the goal, it is illegal to cut across the line in which the player is traveling. Any player who crosses that line creates a dangerous situation and commits a foul.
Play stopped.
The umpire approached Woody, anger in his voice. “That was a deliberate foul, Mr. Stanford!”
Woody grinned. “It wasn’t my fault! His damned pony—”
“The opponents will receive a penalty goal.”
The chukker turned into a disaster. Woody committed two more blatant violations within three minutes of each other. The penalties resulted in two more goals for the other team. In each case the opponents were awarded a free penalty shot on an unguarded goal. In the last thirty seconds of the game, the opposing team scored the winning goal. What had been an assured victory, had turned into a rout.
In the box, Mimi Carson was stunned by the sudden turn of events.
Peggy said timidly, “It didn’t go well, did it?”
Mimi turned to her. “No, Peggy. I’m afraid it didn’t.”
A steward approached the box. “Miss Carson, may I have a word with you?”
Mimi Carson turned to Peggy. “Excuse me a moment.”
Peggy watched them walk away.
After the game, Woody’s team was very quiet. Woody was too ashamed to look at the others. Mimi Carson hurried over to Woody.
“Woody, I’m afraid I have some terrible, terrible news.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Your father is dead.”
Woody looked up at her and shook his head from side to side. He began to sob. “I’m…I’m responsible. It’s m…my fault.”
“No. You mustn’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” Woody cried. “Don’t you understand? If it weren’t for my penalties, we would have won the game.”
Chapter Eleven
Julia Stanford had never known her father, and now he was dead, reduced to a black headline in the Kansas City Star: TYCOON HARRY STANFORD DROWNS AT SEA! She sat there, staring at his photograph on the front page of the newspaper, filled with conflicting emotions. Do I hate him because of the way he treated my mother, or do I love him because he’s my father? Do I feel guilty because I never tried to get in touch with him, or do I feel angry because he never tried to find me? It doesn’t matter anymore, she thought. He’s gone.
Her father had been dead to her all her life, and now he had died again, cheating her out of something she had no words for. Inexplicably, she felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Stupid! Julia thought. How can I miss someone I never knew? She looked at the newspaper photograph again. Do I have anything of him in me? Julia stared into the mirror on the wall. The eyes. I have the same deep gray eyes.
Julia went into her bedroom closet, removed a battered cardboard box, and from it lifted a leather-bound scrapbook. She sat on the edge of her bed and opened the scrapbook. For the next two hours, she pored over its familiar contents. There were countless photographs of her mother in her governess’s uniform, with Harry Stanford and Mrs. Stanford and their three young children. Most of the pictures had been taken on their yacht, at Rose Hill, or at the Hobe Sound villa.