“Wait a minute. Keep him saddled. I have to find Mr. Glidewell.”
“He’s down on the rail with Mrs. Glidewell and Wil.”
“Thanks,” said Capp as he ran. The final was about to begin.
“All right, folks, we are ready for the finals. The winner will earn one hundred dollars; the runner-up, fifty. Riding Devil Doll from Glidewell Ranch is our favorite bugler, Corky Wright. His competition is Scout’s Honor, being ridden by Miles Moser. Two great horses and riders,” said Rex Goude. “This will be a fine race.” Riders were ready, the barrier was sprung, and the race began.
Capp found himself secretly hoping that Moser would win the final heat. If Moser lost, Capp’s chance for redemption in James’s eyes would be gone. Capp felt a twinge of guilt, but the chances that Doll, a filly, would beat that big stallion were slim to none. Capp kept his eyes on the match race as he was running toward the viewing knoll, frantically looking for Mr. Glidewell.
Corky was working Doll hard, but the stronger, bigger stallion began to pull away. Moser glowered at the Glidewell team as he passed. Doll kept fighting, running harder as Corky encouraged her on. As the two horses pounded their way down the track, the results were clear. At the finish it was Scout’s Honor, winning by a length. The team of Miles Moser and his horse was headed down the backstretch to the saddling paddock in all their glory.
Capp, on a dead run, finally found James, Maizie, and Mary. “Mr. Glidewell,” he gasped, catching his breath, “I have to make this fast. You got two hundred dollars?”
“Why?”
“I want to challenge Moser to a runoff and win one for the team. He’s a jerk. He couldn’t beat Wild if his life depended on it. One more race. I know it’s just for show but isn’t the whole tournament? This Moser guy needs some competition and Wild will give it to him. We’ll get some respect back. I want the ranch to offer Moser double or nothing. Wild can do it. Please, give me a chance.”
James looked at Mary, who was shaking her head. “Just leave it alone, James.”
James turned to Wil with a competitive glint in his eye. “Wil, what do you think? Should we win back our respect?” asked James.
“Nothin’ in horse racing is for sure.” Wil hesitated, looking from James to Capp to Mary, and then back. “I’d say with no problems at the start, nine times out of ten Capp and Wild would take it.”
Capp’s eyes grew wide with excitement. Looking at the knoll, he could see the crowd was packing their gear and paying their bets. “Hurry,” yelled Capp. “Tell the crowd there will be one more race. Hurry. People are leaving.” Capp began his run back to the paddock. Wil moved quickly to heed Capp’s bidding. He left James nodding his head and yelling, “Run, Wil. Hurry.” James watched as Wil climbed up to the viewing platform and grabbed the mic. Miles was nearly to the saddling paddock. “
Wil’s voice boomed across the track, silencing the crowd. “Hey Miles. Miles Moooooser!” Moser stopped and turned back toward the finish line. “Fine ride, son! That is one fast stallion.” The crowd yelled and Miles raised his hat and bowed in the saddle, a gesture of appreciation to his adoring fans. Then he continued his trot, sitting straight-backed and proud in the saddle.
Wil yelled again. “Hey Miles. Bet your boy is tired from working so hard to beat our Glidewell filly.” The crowd grew silent, while a few chuckled. Miles slowed his horse and turned to look back at the platform. Wil repeated into the mic, “Fine ride, Miles. Bet Scout is tired from beating our pretty little filly.” Moser stared back at the platform and adjusted the hat on his head. Suddenly kicking the stallion in the flank he headed back toward the announcer’s platform. The crowd on the knoll began to whoop and holler, anticipating a row. No one was leaving now.
When Miles Moser reached the announcer’s platform, he yelled up to Wil, “No way is this stallion tired.” He reached down to stroke the horse’s neck. “He could go six more match races if he had to.”
Wil smiled and continued: “I bet he could. Like I said. He’s one fine stallion. I’ll bet you double your winnings or nothing that our Running Wild can take your horse in six furlongs with no problem.” Wil removed the money roll from his coat pocket and waved it in the air.
“Six furlongs is longer,” complained Moser.
“I know. Your horse too tired?”
“No, Scout ain’t tired, not one bit. He’s just getting warmed up.”
“Seems a fair race. Running Wild and Capp had to run as many races as you and Scout did today.” Wil paused for just a moment as Miles steadied his horse on the track. “Unless of course your horse is tired and you were kidding and six furlongs is too long.”
The crowd snickered.
Miles Moser raised his head. “Two hundred dollars suits me fine! We’ll have our race. I’d love to pocket more money. Easy pickin’s.” Miles Moser showed absolute confidence. The crowd on the green knoll clapped and the backsiders cheered.
“All right, we will see you at the start in thirty minutes.” Wil handed the microphone back to Rex. Spectators and backsiders alike ran to find men willing to place bets on the impromptu “final” race of the day.
Capp jogged to the big barn to check on Wild. The horse was pawing at the loose ground in his stall. Capp smiled, “You ready, boy? We got one more today. Longer race.” The horse raised his head and nickered. “We are going to take it. Hell Wild, we got to take it,” Capp said, stroking his horse’s side. “Wild, you know Mr. Glidewell wants this real bad. We don’t win, he may send us on our way. Where would we go, fella? This place is too good to let it all go.” Capp leaned into the horse’s neck and patted him gently. He clipped the lead onto Wild’s halter and proceeded to the saddling paddock.
Tommy was there to see to Capp’s readiness. When the time was right, he put the blinder bridle on the horse’s head. Wild seemed to immediately relax. Tommy checked to see if the saddle was secure and Capp mounted his horse. He sat while Tommy made sure the stirrups were in the correct position. Then he gave Capp a little coaching. “Have Wild be a stayer. Don’t let him get ahead too soon. Lull Miles into thinking it’s gonna be easy. Then at three furlongs go hard. We can beat this horse, but you have to play it smart.”
Capp knew Tommy was right. He’d have to run an intelligent race. The extra distance did give Wild a chance if there was trouble at the start. This run was personal. It was for Glidewell’s honor and for Capp’s self-respect. A chance to guarantee Capp stayed at Glidewell.
As the two horses approached the start, Corky let loose on his bugle. Capp’s opponent, Miles Moser looked at him and glared and then let his horse rear in an attempt to excite Running Wild. With the blinders on, Wild wasn’t distracted by the act of intimidation, but it made Capp want to win even more. With Capp’s good horse handling, Wild proceeded slowly to the starting line. When the riders were settled, the flag dropped and the barrier was sprung.
“And they’re off!”
Running Wild had a good start and stayed away from the inside rail letting Scout’s Honor take it. All of Capp’s concern about the start barrier was negated with Matilda’s great suggestion. Both horses were gaining speed and rhythm, but Capp stayed behind.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked James in loud, angry tones.
“He’s staying. It’s his plan. Watch and learn, James.”
Capp leaned over his horse and raised his body, centering his weight in the stirrups and on the horse’s neck instead of his back. Capp held Wild to a restrained run, staying behind Moser but close enough. At three furlongs he loosened the reins. Wil patted James on the shoulder. “See, James, Capp is letting Wild race now.” James gripped the rail tighter. A length behind Scout’s Honor, Capp guided Wild closer to the rail and began to gain on Moser. He could feel that Wild’s gait was even and smooth. Each stride felt longer and cleaner, the horse’s head down. Capp and Wild were coming up on Moser and outrunning the competition st
ride for stride. At the five-furlong mark, they were head-to-head on the inside, Moser whipping Scout with the reins and yelling loudly. Capp finally overtook him, finishing a respectable half-length ahead.
It was a brilliant race. As Wild continued his cool down run around the track, the community of Glidewell Ranch and spectators cheered. James could not contain his joy. He picked up Mary and twirled her around and kissed her. Looking at Maizie’s sweet face, James was moved to pick her up too but didn’t.
Miles Moser rode over to James, Mary, and Wil on the rail. Wil looked up and said, “Seems we beat you, Miles.”
Miles looked a bit in shock and said, “Seems we got hustled, Scout and me. Things ain’t been good lately. I needed that money. I shouldn’t have taken your double-or-nothing bet.”
“We respect your competitive spirit. I tell you what, if you are willing to let us breed your quarter horse with a few of our fillies, we’ll pay you the money you lost.”
“Scout and I got other races to win. It’s how we make our living. Scout doesn’t have no time to be enjoying himself at your fancy ranch.”
“Your choice, Miles,” said Wil.
Wil waited for an answer but none was coming. The two Glidewell men remained silent and stoic. Moser tipped his sweaty hat, kicked Scout in the flank, and trotted toward his horse trailer. He and his horse would be on their way soon, poorer than when they came.
On the viewing knoll, Matilda Coombs was screwing the cap onto her flask. She looked up at her brother and stuck out her hand. He grabbed it and helped his sister to her feet. “Let’s get going,” she said. “You’ve got a train to catch, brother dear.”
“I hate leaving you in the hotel by yourself while you wait for a train.”
She looked down at the track and saw Capp taking a victory lap to the cheers of the crowd. She smiled and turned to her brother. “I’ll be fine. You know me. I’ll find a good book to read.” Her brother laughed, knowing Matilda was not a reader—she was all action. Sitting and reading was something she just didn’t do.
Chapter 49
A Tryst
After the races concluded, participants, guests and all of Glidewell staff were treated to a chuck wagon early-evening dinner. When it broke up around 8:00 p.m., Wil and Capp returned to their bungalow near the track. Wil was exhausted and quickly headed for a shower and on to bed. It wasn’t long before Capp could hear his dad’s familiar snoring. Capp was far from sleepy. He sat restless in an armchair and eyed the truck keys hanging from a hook by the door. He hadn’t planned to go to Springfield to meet up with Matilda, but he wanted to thank her for the blinders tip. There was a moment when he saw her on the viewing knoll in her cowgirl duds and hat, looking as he had remembered her from the auction. There was something attractive about the girl. He smiled just thinking about her.
The train depot wasn’t far away and Capp felt he deserved a little celebration. He went to the writing desk, removed a piece of paper and a pen, and left a brief note for his father. The note was a lie, but just in case his dad woke up and found Capp gone, he wouldn’t worry. Grabbing the keys from their hook, Capp opened the door and left.
The road to Springfield was lonely this time of night. A small cloud briefly blocked the moonlight and then released it, lighting up his way. When he reached the city, a small crowd was hanging around the city square enjoying the remains of the day. He parked at the depot, adjusted his Stetson, and began his walk to the Franklin Hotel. Opening the door, he looked around the poorly lit lobby and saw a man seated in a well-worn chair. Capp felt foolish. She didn’t expect him, so she wouldn’t wait for him in a nearly deserted lobby, idly drumming her fingers. Coming to no sensible conclusion about what to do, he just stood there, feeling a bit out of place. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face a middle-aged man dressed in a shabby bellman uniform.
“Excuse me. You Capp Wembley?”
“Yes, I am. How’d you know?”
“The Stetson gave you away. She’s waiting for you in her room.”
“In her room?”
“Yes, she doesn’t have much time. Train leaves at eleven.”
“Eleven?”
“Do you want to see her, or what?” Capp thought about it for a moment. It was just after nine. Two hours was a long time, but he didn’t have to stay that long. He was attracted to her. She had come to see him race. She was nice to talk to. He needed to say thank you. “Okay, guess I do.”
The bellman pointed to the stairs to the right of the reservations desk. “Sorry the elevator, such as it is, is out.” Capp followed him and felt the air temperature rising with every step they took. “Sure is warm up here,” said Capp.
“Hotter where you are going. Stuffier too. But the rooms have windows. The halls and stairwells don’t.” The two climbed up a fourth flight of stairs and ended up on the top floor. “Matilda is down this hall, room 412,” the bell hop said, extending his palm. Capp looked confused.
“You got money for a tip?”
Capp reached in his pants pocket and found a quarter, handed it to the bellman and asked, “You know her?”
The bellman slipped the quarter into his pocket. “Yep, I do. Know the whole family. They are horse people from Louisville. The brother ain’t, but he comes here too, when the family is around.”
“So she is catching a train?”
“Oh yes, the eleven fifteen. We rent rooms for the half day, so it works in situations like this.”
“Situations like this?” asked Capp.
The bellman smiled and gave him a knowing glance. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Capp headed toward room 412. He knocked on the door, and heard a voice call, “Come in.” Turning the old brass knob, he slowly pushed the unlocked door. He peaked into the room and looked around. The bed was turned down and both windows were open, lace curtains billowing in the evening breeze. He stepped into the room, shut the door, and looked to his left. There on a large overstuffed chair, she sat dressed in a silk robe, her brown hair hanging loosely on her shoulders. He moved closer to her.
Matilda reached for a lighter from a side table then slowly picked up a cigarette from a flat metal case. She flicked the flywheel on the lighter and waited until the flame ignited, the wick casting an eerie light on her face. She expertly brought the cigarette to her mouth, lit it and drew heavily. She then blew the smoke toward the ceiling. She snapped the lighter closed to snuff the flame, and said, “Want a cigarette?”
“No, don’t smoke or chew.”
“You’re a good cowboy, Capp. I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I was curious.”
“That makes two of us.”
“How was your ride home last night?”
She removed her cigarette from her mouth and tapped the side of an ashtray, watching the ashes fall. “Uneventful. My brother was pacing the lobby floor when I returned. He still thinks I’m a child. You have an older sibling?”
“Just me.”
“Older siblings act like your parents. I have way too many parents.”
“I don’t. Just my dad. He don’t worry much.”
She picked up the cigarette again and took another puff. She teasingly blew the smoke toward Capp’s face. He batted away the cigarette smoke. The smell reminded him of his mother. That was about all he remembered of his mother, the smell of a cigarette.
“You got a girlfriend, Capp? I noticed a girl sitting next to you last night. She seemed… well, a little miffed I was there.”
“Maizie? No she ain’t a girlfriend. She works for Mrs. Glidewell. I just know her from around the ranch.”
“I see. Seems she likes you, Capp.” Capp looked surprised that she would surmise such a thing.
“No, Maizie is just a kid.”
“I see.” Matilda looked down and adjusted the loose-fitting robe. “It’s getting late. Let’s get this p
arty started. I’ll finish getting ready. So we can celebrate, you know. We need to talk about you and your racing.”
“Did you see what happened today?”
“Yep. The blinders worked. I knew they would.” Putting out the cigarette in the ashtray, she slid to the edge of her chair and reached for Capp. He grabbed her hand and helped her to a standing position. “I’ll be just a few minutes. Sit down. Make yourself at home.” Capp took a seat on the bed. She waited for a minute, looking in Capp’s direction. “I like you, Capp. I’ll be just a minute.”
Capp watched as she walked to the bathroom. There was a dress hanging on the outside of the door. She lifted the hanger off the hook and closed the door behind her. Capp was taken with her appearance, her self-assurance. All that beauty and sophistication and horse sense had him thinking.
“Capp, see my shoes by the bed?” she yelled through the door. “Could you hand them to me?” Red high heels were neatly positioned at the end of the bed. He stood and bent to pick them up.
“Never did know how women could wear these things.”
She cracked the door, reached through the opening, and grabbed the heels. “Takes practice is all. Just like anything else,” she said and then looked into his eyes, her eyebrows raised, and closed the door. Capp retreated to the edge of the bed.
A few minutes later she made her entrance, dressed in a simple yellow dress with a fitted low-cut bodice and gathered skirt. She smiled at Capp and turned her back to him. Swooping up her hair off her back and neck, she said, “Zip me up, please.” He rose from the bed and did as he was asked. She turned to him and reached for his collar and straightened it. She kissed him lightly on the mouth. Again, he noticed the smell of cigarettes, and this time, a hint of spearmint.
“That’s a thank-you for coming,” she said. Looking at his chest, she slowly unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “There, that’s better. It’s warm tonight.”
“You are right about that,” Capp agreed and pulled her closer. Pulling away, she walked to the side table by the bed and picked up her hairbrush. Brushing her hair in long even strokes, she put her head down to her knees and let her hair fall towards the floor. She gathered her mane into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. “Let’s go to the bar, cowboy.” Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a silver flask. “Whiskey will break the ice.”
Through Tender Thorns Page 17
