“Mississippi, I guess you’d say. But my mama and me had no home. We were wanderers.”
“I’m from Texas. When my mother left my dad, he went lookin’ for work in new horse country, Kentucky and Tennessee. My dad loves horses. Think that love kind of made up for my mom leaving.”
“Where’d she go?”
“We don’t know. Dad told me when I was old enough that she took a hankering for any man that come along. He sometimes would joke that he could tame a wild horse, but not a woman.”
“Do you think he wishes she had stayed?”
“Truth is, I don’t think so. Seems me and horses was all the love he wanted. My dad don’t talk much about sensitive stuff.”
Capp looked into the lunch bags in earnest now. “Nothin’ like a trail ride to get the hunger pangs goin’.” He pulled out two sandwiches. “Egg or ham?”
“I like both.”
“Well, how about we split?” Capp handed one half of the ham sandwich to Maizie. She looked up, her eyes blue and sparkling.
The two sat quietly eating their sandwiches. Capp removed his cowboy hat to expose a head of blond curls. “Maizie, tell me about yourself.”
Maizie hesitated. “There really isn’t much.”
“Well then, where’d you go to school?”
Maizie took a bite from her sandwich and chewed slowly. “I went to the colored public school, Douglas Elementary, in Springfield.”
“Why’d you go to a colored school?”
Maizie was silent for a moment. “Why? You think I’m not colored?”
“You got blue eyes and really light brown skin, the kind of skin you get from working outside. Wouldn’t matter if you are colored, but you don’t look it.”
“My mama said I’m the color I was meant to be. My dad was mixed too.”
“I’d say your mama was right.” Capp took another bite of ham sandwich. “Sugar cared for me when my mother left. No mistaking she was colored. But it didn’t matter. She did a real good job raisin’ me. Boy, Sugar could make me laugh. I think I learned to smile real big ’cause of her. My dad named a beautiful little quarter horse after her. Named it Brown Sugar. Why, Sugar loved havin’ a horse named after her. She got to likin’ horses. Dad even had her ridin’ that quarter horse. Yep she was good, our Sugar. Dad says maybe she can come to Glidewell one day and work here.”
“Thelma wouldn’t have it. I can tell. She doesn’t like me at all.”
“Dad and I don’t pay no mind to Thelma. People like Thelma are afraid and ignorant is all.”
Maizie looked at Capp and cocked her head.
“What happened to your dad? He run away like my mom?”
“No, he’s dead.” And that is all Maizie said. The two were quiet as they finished their lunch.
“Let’s walk the horses to get some water, look around a bit.” Capp tied the saddlebags back on his saddle. “One day I came up here and found a squatter livin’ here. He was a nice old man, down on his luck, brought him back to the backside and he’s been livin’ and workin’ there ever since. Jeb’s his name. He is a fine horse trainer. Has a way with the beasts. Sure knows his way around the property. Dad gave him a leg up and he took it and did well with it.”
“That’s nice, takin’ folks in? Mama and I had some of that—folks takin’ us in.”
The two walked farther and Capp pointed to a lovely open space filled with wildflowers and an old oak tree. “Look over there. Del Henny’s cabin and barn were built in that open field but a lightning strike got it during a storm. The whole thing burned to the ground about ten years ago.”
“Pretty field of wildflowers. I see why he settled there.”
“Yes, bluebells, Virginia bluebells. Jeb told me if you close your eyes you can hear them ring.” Maizie smiled. She closed her eyes and listened.
“You hear them?” Capp asked.
“No, but I’d like to believe it. Sounds so nice.”
Returning to the horses, Capp helped Maizie onto Breezy’s saddle. “You ready to trot her a bit? The artesian spring is on the other side of the castle, cool fresh water. The horses can lap at it where the water bubbles up from deep in the earth. It’s a beautiful thing.”
When Maizie gave Breezy a heel tap and a “giddy up,” the mare began her trot. Maizie, caught off guard, was thrown back. She tightened her grip on the horn, let out a yelp, then quickly regained her balance. Capp turned. “Hold tight. You got it?” Maizie breathed deeply and nodded.
As they arrived at the spring, the horses pulled on the reins and lowered their heads to take in the pure, cool water. When the horses had had enough, Capp pulled Running Wild’s head from the water and turned for home. Maizie did the same and followed close behind, holding tight to the horn. No words were spoken.
Chapter 10
Maizie’s Diary
May 16, 1931
I sure am tired and sore tonight. I went for a trail ride with Capp. We went into the hills and I never felt so peaceful in my life. There was crystal clear water, deep blue and frothy, gurgling up from under the ground. Trees grew all around and wildflowers too. It seemed like heaven. Maybe that’s ’cause Capp was there. He was really nice. I never had a friend like Capp before. Now this is a secret. He hugged me. It was so nice. I could have stayed in his arms all day. My heart was pounding so fast and my hands were shaking. I don’t think he noticed, but then he smiled and let go. He seems real handsome to me. I love his curls. I told Capp about going to colored school. That kind of thing don’t bother him much.
Mrs. Glidewell asked me about my trail ride. I told her it was the most fun I ever had. She smiled and gave me a hug. Took me by surprise, her hugging me. I’m getting all kinds of hugs around here. She said that Mr. Glidewell thinks I should take riding lessons down at the backside. Maybe one a week. She didn’t say who would be my teacher. Maybe Capp could be my teacher? I didn’t ask. I want to keep thinking it will be Capp.
I’m learning French! Leon and Philippe are my teachers.
Bonne nuit, mon ami (that’s French for “Good night, my friend”).
Maizie Sunday Freedman
Chapter 11
Stall Twenty
Josie was not a pretty girl. It wasn’t that her face was ugly or disfigured or that she had a large nose or a weak chin. Josie had no beauty shining from within. The kind of beauty you earn by good deeds and kind words. She rarely smiled and when she did, it was not an infectious smile, but rather a smile that communicated a lack of virtue.
Josie had worked at the Glidewell Ranch for only six months before Maizie arrived. She was employed by Mary to serve as one of two maids who kept the bunkhouses and lavatories clean and tidy. The job wasn’t bad but didn’t foster a great deal of regard from others. The maids enjoyed little status at the backside. Men who mucked out the stalls got more respect.
It was Josie’s job to clean the men’s lavatory in the early afternoon and change the bedding in the men’s bunkhouse once a week. Her schedule required her to do a few beds a day. The linens had to be laundered and hung to dry, if weather allowed. That was her job. But Josie had an avocation as well. Her “other” job came at little price to her vigor or her availability to perform her required responsibilities. Josie required less sleep than most.
Josie, unlike Claire, her working partner, had found a way to earn appreciation, if not high esteem, around the barns and stables. She developed a skill known to most of the men and not talked about by many. Thelma and Billy, the backside cooks knew; the stable hands knew; the groomers and trainers knew, but nary a word was uttered about Josie’s skills in the company of Wil Wembley, the backside manager.
The men around the backside used a code phrase, and everyone knew what it meant. After a stable hand, or any worker for that matter, won a poker pot or a dice game, he’d take a congratulatory swig of whiskey from a flask and announce, “Bette
r go check that horse in stall twenty.” The guys would hoot and holler and tease. Stall twenty, the foaling stall, was the last and largest one in the small horse barn. It was here that Josie set up shop, keeping her office hours from 11:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m.
Josie developed what she thought was a foolproof way to run her business. Once Claire, her roommate, started to snore, Josie quietly made her way to the barn. If stall twenty had been mucked out properly and there was no horse occupying it, she’d set up shop. If a horse was there, she went to the back tack-room closet, her second location. Men knew where she was and if she was available by a green bandana draped over a hook. If she was busy, she hung a red bandana, and the men knew they’d have to wait. It was a simple system. Josie was well known around the backside for being a less-than-meticulous maid, but quite good at granting certain kinds of requests. Josie’s “good work” earned her all kinds of whispered compliments. She was a “working girl,” ready to play whatever game the men wanted.
Wil was checking on a colicky mare in stall eighteen when he discovered the secret goings-on. Wil was not a self-righteous man, but the fact that there was an active trollop working in his barn did not set well. He prided himself on running a “professional” horse center, not a two-bit whorehouse. And that is exactly what Josie charged: two bits.
So in a manner befitting most men, he excused his men for actin’ up—“boys will be boys”—and went after Josie. He told Josie he would not tell the Glidewells if she ceased her amoral behavior immediately. Otherwise he would fire her and send her on her way. After the confrontation, Josie looked at him coldly and walked out the door. She did quit using the horse barn, but the men and Josie found another place to have their “two-bit fun,” right in the men’s bunkhouse linen closet—same hours, same signals, same players. Wil never heard a peep about the new location. He had no reason to check on the bunkhouse.
Despite her backside reputation, Josie took it upon herself to report to the Glidewells that Maizie was a colored girl. She had it in her mind that they ought to know.
One day Josie watched the Glidewell truck leave the lane leading into the Glidewell Ranch. Leon was driving, Maizie sat in the middle, and Philippe was to Maizie’s right. On Tuesdays the three would often make a run into Springfield for supplies. That’s when Josie took her chance.
Josie returned to the bunkhouse, finished her bed making, and took the dirty linens to the washroom. She left everything in a pile and ran up to Mary’s office. The dirty laundry could wait an hour. When she got to the front door of the great house, she was surprised James Glidewell answered the door.
“Yes?” he said.
“May I speak with Mrs. Glidewell?”
“May I help you? Mrs. Glidewell is busy in her office. Forgive me, you are… ?”
“Josie. My name is Josie. I work at the backside. I have some information to tell her. Important information. I know Mrs. Glidewell would want to know.”
“This involves someone at the backside?” asked James.
“Oh no, this is someone here in the ranch house.”
“I’m reluctant to interrupt her, but you say it’s important. Please come in and have a seat here in the foyer. I’ll see if she has time.”
“Thank you.” Josie took a seat in a well-cushioned leather armchair. Josie realized this was the same chair she sat in the day she was interviewed for her job. The painting hanging on the wall was one of a horse and western-style rider, running full clip in a cattle field. The beauty and movement of the painting was lost on her. She had other things on her mind.
“Josie, Mrs. Glidewell will see you. Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, I’d love some,” said Josie, feeling like a proper guest.
“Follow me.” Josie stood and straightened her apron and pulled some loose hairs back over her ears.
Mary immediately stood and shook Josie’s hand. “Come in, Josie. Sit down. How do you like working at the backside? I hear from Thelma that you are doing fine down there. No problems, I hope.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Doing mighty fine, but I have some information you will find very shocking.”
“Really? This sounds serious, Josie.”
“’Fraid it is.”
James returned with three cups of steaming tea. He gave each woman a cup and then sat down himself to enjoy the third. Josie hadn’t expected Mr. Glidewell to be involved, but she was here now—better she speak her mind, even though she felt a little outnumbered.
“You see, you’ve a colored working.” The Glidewells just looked at each other and sipped their tea.
“We are very happy with our staff,” Mary said, setting down her teacup.
“Happy with a colored in the house? Why they are low class, not worth living in such a fine house. Eatin’ in your kitchen. Gettin’ special privileges.”
“Josie,” Mary said gently, “I ran a hotel in Springfield. I managed a large staff and some were colored. Any person having difficulty with that was asked to leave. I did not abide prejudice amongst my staff. If the person could do the work or be trained to do the work, and they caused no problems, they stayed. Things are no different here at the ranch. You understand, Josie?”
James looked up from his teacup and smiled. “Mary here is a tough boss. This colored person you are talking about, is it Ol’ Jon?”
“No, ain’t him,” said Josie emphatically.
“So havin’ Ol’ Jon is not a problem to you, but someone else is?”
“Well, he don’t work in the house and he don’t sleep in the house.”
“Ol’ Jon sleeps in the servant’s wing of our house,” replied James.
Josie sat a little straighter. “I’m talkin’ about someone so high and mighty they work and sleep in this house, not a servant’s wing.”
“High and mighty?” asked Mary.
Josie was confused. She knew what she was saying was right. She’d seen it where she grew up. “Well yes, saw her takin’ a trail ride with Capp the other day. All “stuck up” like she was better than all of us. Time off for a trail ride on a Friday, when there is work for everyone else to do? And she gets an ol’ trail ride with Capp!”
“Are you talking about Maizie?” asked James.
“Yes. Seems you don’t know she’s colored.”
Mary cleared her throat. “You believe that we, James and I, Philippe, Leon, and others working here at the ranch house give a hoot if someone is colored?”
“There’s segregation laws—you know, Jim Crow.”
“Now Josie, I think it would be wise for you to return to the backside and think about what you are doing at the ranch to make this a better place. Write your thoughts down on a piece of paper. I want to see them. Then I’m wondering if I asked others who work down there, if they’d say your list is true,” explained Mary.
“Well, I don’t think you need to do that,” replied Josie.
“It’s not your business to tell me whether something is or isn’t necessary. I’m your employer and I’m asking you to do it.”
Josie was bewildered by Mary’s reaction. She’d never heard of someone so unbothered by a colored person living in their house.
“Maizie is colored. She told me as much. Seemed proud of it and those blue eyes. It’s not natural.”
“Josie, enough. Are you jealous of Maizie?” asked James.
“No, but she sure gets special treatment. The coloreds shouldn’t have it better than whites.”
“I feel sad for you, Josie. Seems with an attitude like yours life will be very hard. Hate is an emotion that empties your soul.” Mary took a stern look at Josie. “We have no room for hate here at Glidewell.”
“Mary and I agree on this, Josie. We want Glidewell to be a place where people can be themselves, work hard, and treat others right. We believe that tolerance will make us a great horse ranch. Most of our employees fee
l part of that effort. Do you?”
“Most folks would want to know if they had coloreds living in their very house. That’s all I’m saying.”
“The color of someone’s skin is not important to us. What matters is whether they are good hardworking folks. And at any rate, it isn’t your place to tell us who we should or shouldn’t hire,” concluded Mary.
James stood. “Josie, I’ll walk with you to the backside. Just let me run these cups to the kitchen. I’ll meet you in the foyer.” He walked quickly out of the room and saw Maizie headed toward her bedroom. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back toward Mary’s office door.
Josie rose slowly from her chair, gathering herself. She lifted her chin in the air and walked out. She was shocked to see Maizie coming toward her. Maizie stepped aside, putting her back to the wall, leaving plenty of room for Josie to pass. Josie glowered, her dislike for Maizie palpable. Noticing that James Glidewell was well out of earshot, she whispered, “Stay away from Capp or you’ll be sorry.”
Chapter 12
Maizie’s Diary
May 28, 1931
I rode with Philippe and Leon into Springfield today to pick up supplies. We picked out a few dried herbs ’cause Ol’ Jon’s were gone. Philippe says that Ol’ Jon will be having fresh herbs like tarragon and chervil in a bit for our meals at the ranch house. Seems all Ol’ Jon has to do to keep Philippe and Leon happy is grow good herbs.
Ol’ Jon is a nice old man. He has white and gray hair and a beautiful face. His eyes are so kind that I sometimes want to hug him. He smiles when he talks about his garden. He walks tall and straight and strong. He told me a story one day about living in Louisiana. About being a Creole and the cooking and spices and the music. He seemed real proud of it. Like me, he’s mixed. Says he’s Haitian and French. He knows French too. So see, we are like each other. I told him my story, at least what I know. I even told him about my daddy. I don’t usually do that. There were tears in his eyes. He’d seen men lynched. Wouldn’t tell me what it was like. Said it would pain him. Said he didn’t want to burden such a young girl who lost a daddy that way.
Through Tender Thorns Page 5
