The Cow Palace had survived the incident and their guarantee of top-quality hay, at a premium price, had regained the trust of owners, so Ranny now found himself delivering bales of hay to these people he despised. Although indoors, this area resembled nothing so much as a mediaeval encampment set up for a jousting tournament. There were no bare, exposed stalls when the horse show people were present. Instead, they brought their own materials which covered the stalls to give the appearance of tents, in rich colors of royal blue or purple, chocolate brown or deep forest green, with scalloped trim in white or gold. They always rented an extra stall which was similarly tented and held the tack, with gleaming metal and highly-polished leather. This room, with the flap closed, doubled as a changing room. They also brought metal stands and ornamental chain or rope so that they could fence off an area in front of their encampment: this was decorated with a few live plants in boxes or stands, and had a couple of chairs and a small table to hold the champagne bucket and the gourmet deli lunches. It was all quietly festive, very upper-class and very rich in appearance, and Ranny loathed it intensely.
As he steered the hand truck through the opening into the enclosure in front of stall 17, Ranny's glance took in the ornate crest on the canvas wall ahead of him, a crest which seemed strangely familiar. Just as his eyes took in the name, "Windmere Farm," etched on the side of a leather-bound tack chest, Ranny realized that he was delivering hay to that bitch who had cut him off at the gate this morning. As he started to tilt the handles forward, his blond nemesis stepped out of the tack room in front of him, startling him so that he let the hand truck snap to an upright position too quickly. He had been carrying the bale in a vertical position for better balance and maneuverability, and also because he could only take one bale at a time that way and so kill more time. But when the bale was tilted upright too suddenly, it overbalanced before he could grab it and it fell forward, the 130-pound weight of the tightly-compressed hay causing a very loud thud as it crashed to the concrete floor.
Unfortunately for Ranny, the bale was about four feet long, and a little Pekinese was eating from a dog dish which was slightly less than four feet away. The corner of the bale struck the dish, flipping it over and causing the dog to race, yipping in terror, past its mistress and into the safety of the tack room. Bits of kibble were scattered across the floor, and Cynthia was livid.