Through Tender Thorns

by Barbara Morriss

  “I could sure use one,” Capp admitted. “I want to celebrate. Today was a great day. Wild took to those blinders fast. Made a world of difference. What else you know about horses and racing?”

  “I know you looked good on that horse. You ran the challenge race perfectly. Maybe you’re the one who knows all about racing.”

  “You think so?”

  Matilda waited to respond. “Honestly, I don’t think you know much about racing a thoroughbred. Been around guys like you my whole life. I know more than any of them. My daddy taught me since I was old enough to walk.”

  “I’m eager to learn from a thoroughbred expert. Especially one as pretty as you.” Capp offered her his arm. She was a confident lady and undeniably charming, but she refused his arm and took his hand and turned it palm up. Opening her palm, she studied both hands carefully. With the index finger of her free hand, she gently rubbed the calluses on both their hands.

  “You know, Capp. A person can’t work with horses and not have their hands tell the story. Hard work shows not only on the hands but also in the tone of the body.” She looked him in the eyes and rubbed his upper arms, feeling his biceps. “I can see and feel you work hard, like me.”

  “Thank you.”

  The look on her face went from one of enjoyment to one of disbelief. “’Thank you’? You think I’m paying you a compliment?”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “No, I am saying that we are both callused and toned. We are both hardworking. I was making a point. And I know more about horses than you do.”

  “Okay.” Capp laughed, enjoying her spunk.

  “I have something for you. It’s for winning your race.” She opened a small satchel and pulled out a faded blue bandana. She folded it into a triangle. Placing the cloth around Capp’s neck, she tied it in a loose knot. Looking into Capp’s eyes she said, “This was my daddy’s. I want you to have it. Now you look like a real cowboy.” Capp smiled slowly and then kissed her; she reciprocated.

  “Let’s go have that drink. They have ice and mixers available down there. I have my flask right here.” She quickly tapped her left pocket and grabbed his hand. They walked slowly down the stairs, side by side, to the lobby. The bar was empty except for the bellman Capp had met earlier. The attendant motioned to a booth near the bar. Matilda slid in on the old leather and Capp took a seat next to her.

  Matilda told Capp about her daddy’s thoroughbred farm. How she worked on the farm doing man’s work. How the farm had fallen on hard times. She told him how the economy was forcing her father to consider selling. And if he couldn’t sell, he might lose it, all of it. She talked about her dream of running the farm herself. Make it a ranch, she said. She knew she could make a success of it. It was all she’d ever wanted. It was hers, her security, her birthright. She even cried, necessitating that Capp find his handkerchief and wipe her tears.

  As the evening wore on, the conversation became quieter and more intimate. The two cuddled and cooed while the bellman went about his work of making sure their glasses had fresh ice and water. He even refilled Matilda’s flask with whiskey from his stash behind the bar. There was kissing, giggling, hugging, and soft, nuanced utterances.

  “How about you buy our farm, cowboy?” suggested Matilda as she ran her finger down his nose. “You could be famous one day, owning a Louisville horse farm. It’ll be a ranch if I run it. I’ll help you learn. We’ll be a team. We will call our horses the Coombs-Wembley Thoroughbreds.”

  Capp wondered if he dare have such a dream to raise his own horses, make all breeding decisions and training decisions. Who wouldn’t want that?

  “We could be partners. You and me,” she concluded.

  Of course they could be partners. And he’d be great at it. Should he tell her he’d be in Louisville soon? He decided not to mention it. Better to let this moment hang. She lit another cigarette and scooted closer to Capp. Capp put his arm around her, and she whispered in his ear. Looking seriously at her he nodded, and the two climbed back up the airless stairwell to the fourth floor and the room with the turned-down bed.

  Chapter 50

  The Map

  Maizie sat up in bed in her small bedroom, letting the weekend of races replay in her mind. She felt pride for the Glidewell Ranch and happiness for Capp, but she was miserable. Matilda was on her mind, and it wasn’t pleasant thinking. She decided she would write an entry in her diary to help her understand all the events and her feelings. Maizie removed her diary from her bedside drawer. She propped up her pillows and climbed into bed, but soon her plans changed. She began to think about her mother and her promise to herself that she would open her mother’s bag when the races were over. Feeling a sense of duty to her mother’s memory, she let go of her own troubles and mustered her courage.

  Maizie closed her diary and placed it back in her drawer. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and touched her feet to the floor. She went to her small closet and opened it. In the bottom was the bag she had arrived with months ago. She carried it to the bed. There wasn’t much in it now, only a calico print flour sack filled with her mother’s things. She removed it with a sense of dread but proceeded. Inside she found her mother’s dress, the one she saved for special times. She brought it to her nose. Breathing in deeply, she could smell vanilla extract, her mother’s scent. She rummaged some more and found a neatly folded pillowcase embroidered with the letters G and F. At the very bottom, under a pair of worn shoes stuffed with wool socks, was a death certificate, an old weathered map, and a small canteen. Maizie carefully unfolded the map and laid it on her bed. The map, worn along the fold lines, appeared to be of Mississippi, surrounding states, railroad lines, rivers, towns, and counties.

  She noticed there were markings on the map made with graphite—tiny houses, circles, numbers. Maizie had no idea what the marks meant and she didn’t remember her mother ever looking at the map. The evening was growing late and Maizie’s eyes were tired. She carefully refolded it and placed it back in the drawstring bag. Staring at her mama’s flour sack of possessions, she felt empty. Was that all there was? Just a few unimportant possessions and an old, well-used map? She was too tired to ponder it further.

  Chapter 51

  Sold

  Maizie entered the saddling paddock and found Capp saddling a bay mare. Around his neck was a blue bandana. He looked good in the morning light. There was a glow about him, a happiness that she hadn’t noticed all weekend. He was even whistling.

  “Capp.” He turned toward her, acknowledging her presence. “I like your neck scarf. It looks good on you,” she said, looking at the faded blue bandana.

  “Thank you. Never been one for wearing one of these, but Matilda gave it to me for winning the race.” The smile on Maizie’s face quickly retreated. She struggled to get the next few words out of her mouth. “That’s nice.”

  “Yes, she is nice. What you want, Miazie? I’m busy. Don’t have a lot of time.” Maizie, feeling belittled, tried to find something to say. Words were hard to come by with Capp being so dismissive.

  “Capp, guess what? I named my colt. The one I helped train.” Capp looked up from his task.

  “What did you name him?” asked Capp, turning his back as he tightened a saddle strap.

  “I named him Jonny’s Bay Run, after Ol’ Jon.”

  Capp turned to face her and said, “Now, that’s a fine name, Maizie. Did you know we sold that colt? When he’s a year old, he’ll be leaving Glidewell and traveling north. Someone at the match races had to have him. They’ll probably rename him.”

  Maizie looked at Capp in disbelief. She felt the injustice of all of it begin to percolate. “What? You sold him? Why didn’t you tell me?” Maizie said, her voice filled with hurt, her arms crossed in front of her chest as if this would provide her some comfort.

  “Guess I’ve got other things on my mind. We in the horse business know better
than to get too attached to a horse,” explained Capp. “I know you’ve been working hard with him, but sellin’ horses is what we do.”

  Maizie walked to the horse Capp was saddling. She reached and stroked the horse’s flank. “What’s this horse’s name?”

  “Right now her name is Thunder, but after her training she is going to a ranch in Illinois. They’ll rename her probably.”

  “I see. I guess I never thought about my colt leaving.”

  “They leave, Maizie. That’s all part of it, just like Thunder here.”

  “Just like people, I guess. Can’t get too attached, ’cause they just pick up and leave you hangin’.” The hurt in her eyes was plain to see. The tears were now flowing freely.

  “That yearling wasn’t yours,” Capp replied. “Why you crying?”

  “I was feeling like he was mine, so I am sad.” Maizie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “He was the first living thing I ever named.”

  “You got to grow up,” Capp said, his head turned away from her.

  Maizie stood up and straightened her shoulders. “And what about you? Do you have to grow up?” Maizie looked up at him, her eyes challenging him for the very first time.

  Capp looked at her long and hard. He mounted Thunder, pulled the reins to the left and signaled to the horse it was time to move.

  Maizie moved toward him in a posture of desperation. “I will grow up, Capp. And then what? Are you sayin’ that then I’ll understand how things work?”

  Capp hesitated for a moment, but then tipped his old Stetson and rode away, leaving Maizie standing alone, crying on the dirt lane.

  Later that day Maizie was in the office working at her desk when James entered. “Maizie, will you take these ledgers to Capp? He needs to take them with him to Louisville.”

  “I’d prefer not.”

  “Well, I sure would appreciate it.”

  Maizie looked at James and realized he probably didn’t have the time to be looking for Capp.

  “Maizie, please. You should find him around. Just ask. Someone will know where he is.”

  Holding the leather-bound books, she walked reluctantly along the lane in search of Capp. Hearing an engine behind her, she turned. It was Capp in the flatbed loaded with hay. Maizie waved him down; Capp came to a stop and rolled down the window.

  “What you need?”

  “Mr. Glidewell asked me to give these to you. He said you’d know what they are for.”

  “Writin’ I’m afraid.”

  “Capp, you leavin’ tomorrow?”

  “Sure am. Leavin’ early.”

  “You gonna see that girl Matilda?”

  “She’s a smart gal. Saved my ass in the Sunday races. I might look her up. I’m thinking she and I could be something.”

  “Something?”

  “Yeh, a team. We talked about it.”

  “About what?”

  “Raising thoroughbreds together, like a team.”

  “You can do that here, Capp.”

  “Not the same. If I was a partner with Matilda, I’d be the owner. Now that is something.”

  Maizie did not respond but instead stepped back from the truck and waved Capp through. He put his foot on the accelerator and continued on to the barn. Maizie watched as the truck slid around the bend and for the second time in one day she cried.

  The next morning, Leon ran the Packard down to the Wembley cabin and picked up Capp to take him to the train station. The boy was so excited he couldn’t think. Horses and Kentucky were on his mind. There was a suitcase filled with work clothes and one nice suit for dinners. As he was about to leave, Wil noticed the blank journal and a ledger sitting on the table. “Now son, you almost forgot these. James and I want you to write down everything you learn, so you can share it with us and keep track of your expenses in this ledger.” Capp quickly grabbed both books. Giving his father an awkward hug, he placed his Stetson on his head and joined Leon in the Packard.

  “Leon, take me up to the ranch house first. I want to say good-bye to the Glidewells.” As Leon turned into the circular drive in front of the limestone steps, Capp placed his leather books on the floor and ran up to the door. His good-bye to James was filled with gratitude and reassurance that he was going there to work and learn. James shook his hand, seeming to seal a deal. Mary walked into the office and offered her support as well. “We are depending on you Capp. Serve us well in Louisville.”

  Capp made ready to leave but not before checking on Maizie, in Mary’s office. “I’m leaving, Maizie. Just want to say good-bye,” he said, standing in the doorway.

  Maizie looked up from her work and rose to greet him. She saw before her a handsome rancher—her friend, she had thought, but now she wasn’t sure. Maizie took some envelopes off her desk and handed them to Capp—twelve of them. Capp looked confused. Each one was addressed to the Glidewell Ranch in Maizie’s careful calligraphy.

  “What’s this?”

  “Mrs. Glidewell wants you to write and let us know how you’re doing,” said Maizie. “I’ve been working on them all morning. I was going to run them down, but now that you’re here…”

  “I don’t write letters. Not sure I know how,” Capp admitted.

  “Would you try, Capp? Others will be aching to hear about what you’re doing.”

  “But I’ll be back for Christmas.”

  “Please, Capp.”

  “Geesh, this is all gettin’ to be complicated. All I want to do is learn how to train and breed racehorses.”

  Maizie tried to smile. She could only think of one thing to say. “Good-bye, Capp.” There was a strange mix of emotion bubbling up. She felt sad, but she was still angry at Capp.

  “You’ll miss me. Won’t you?” teased Capp.

  “Maybe not. I’ll be busy working.”

  “You work hard. I’ll work hard. Got to get going.”

  “Don’t lose your Stetson.”

  Capp laughed. “I’ll try to keep it firmly planted on my head.” He turned to go, hesitating. Maizie waited, hoping he would say something reassuring, but he left without saying a word. Moving to the window she waited and finally saw Leon turn the car toward the road. She had a view of the Packard as it made its way along the lane to the highway. She waved, knowing Capp could not see the angry tears rolling down her cheeks. Her heartbeat quickened when she thought of Matilda, Capp’s new friend.

  Chapter 52

  The Arrival

  When Capp arrived at the depot in Louisville, there was no delegation from Churchill Downs to greet him. He hadn’t expected it, even though his dad had made a few calls. Who was he to expect there would be someone to greet him? Grabbing his suitcase off the porter’s cart, he walked out to the street. He knew it wouldn’t be difficult to find a ride to the track. Surely, many people were going that way.

  He flagged down a 1930 vermillion-red Ford pickup truck with a stainless-steel radiator, whitewalls, and a chrome spare-tire cover. It was the kind of truck not seen often during these times. Capp flattered its driver by claiming it was the best-looking ride he‘d ever seen. “This truck belongs in a parade, not running ruts on a farm,” said Capp.

  The young driver laughed. “My daddy gave it to me. He runs a horse ranch. Said I’d earned it. Girls sure like it.” The driver, dressed like Capp with a Stetson, polished boots, and a western-style shirt, happily agreed to drop Capp at the entrance to Churchill Downs, Louisville’s source of pride.

  When the pickup finally stopped at the destination, the young man pointed to the entrance. “Hope you find what you’re looking for,” the driver said. “If you meet up with someone named Tilly, tell her Martin said hi. Now there’s a pretty filly, if ever there was one. Willing too. Tilly the filly, we call her.” He laughed out loud as he drove away.

  Capp walked to the entrance and could feel his heart pumping. He took a de
ep breath in an effort to calm himself. His legs had stiffened while on the train. Putting down his suitcase, he stretched each leg and rubbed his thighs deeply. Reaching for the brim of his hat, he made a slight adjustment and proceeded to the buildings that made up Churchill Downs.

  When he arrived at the track, he took a moment to make a 360-degree observation of all that was before him. The viewing stands, the twin spires, the track, the fencing and the workers. The place was humming with activity. There was a rhythm to the operation. Workers were abundant and busy. Horses were being led and exercised on the grounds. Beautiful thoroughbreds of every imaginable color combination: bay, dark bay, chestnut, black, gray, and white.

  Twenty horses were being worked on the track. Capp counted them. Most riders were up in the saddle and holding the reins taut, keeping the horses at an even breeze. Gentle and easy, Capp thought. Let the horses have fun. Make them want to race. He went to the fence on the clubhouse side of the track and just watched for a while.

  The barns and stables made up a backside of immense size. He realized that Glidewell, although smaller, was just as state of the art. For a horse ranch in Missouri, Glidewell was a jewel of a place; however, Churchill Downs was a diamond. Capp realized that its history—the horses and riders that ran here: Black Gold, Behave Yourself, Exterminator, and Regret—made Churchill Downs special. Wil had told Capp that they had been to Churchill Downs when he was a little tyke, but Capp had no memory of it. This was indeed where Capp needed to be. He turned from the fence and went looking for someone who could tell him where to check in.