Through Tender Thorns

by Barbara Morriss

  On the Wednesday before Mary and Maizie were due to arrive, Capp was working in the barn, hanging tack, and making sure Glory Be’s every need was met. He was anxious for Maizie to arrive so he could show her around and have her observe how much Glory Be had matured. And there was that other thing: he missed her. Leaving the barn around five in the afternoon, Capp felt weary and decided he’d return to the bunkhouse for a shower and nap before dinner in town. There was much to discuss with James, and a nice, quiet dinner was the way to do it.

  As he walked to the bunkhouse, he sensed someone behind him. Turning around, he saw that it was Tilly. She was with Bob Hench’s young stable hand, Skip. Just as Capp arrived at the bunkhouse door, Tilly yelled, “Capp, wait up. Skip and I want to tell you something.” Capp paid no attention, walked through the bunkhouse door, and closed it behind him. Before he could get to his dresser and find some clean clothes, Skip and Tilly were standing at the end of his bed in the empty bunkhouse.

  “Tilly, you shouldn’t be in here.”

  “Who says?”

  “It’s a men’s bunkhouse.”

  “No one really cares, right, Skip?” Capp could tell Skip had been drinking.

  “Skip, you go. Sober up somewhere. Don’t let Bob see you this way. Tilly doesn’t care if you lose your job, but I do. Now get out of here,” said Capp. Skip pulled his arm from Tilly’s grip and left.

  “Oh Capp. Look at you all mad. Now why you want to scare my little boyfriend away?”

  “Boyfriend? He gonna lease your farm? Tilly, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Ah, Capp. I’m just gettin’ excited about the Derby. I hear your horse did well in Arkansas. I just wanted to come and congratulate you. Want some gum?”

  Capp shook his head. “Leave, Tilly. I’m saying it nice. Please.”

  “Capp, let’s go have a swig of whiskey. I got some. Just you and me.”

  “Leave me alone. Now, get out!”

  Tilly stood still. Her demeanor became a slow burn, getting hotter as it radiated through her. She walked up to Capp and slapped him hard on his left cheek. Capp stepped back and put his hand on his jaw. Then, catching him off guard, she kneed him in the groin. Capp bent over in agony. Through his pain and anger, he said in a halting, breathless, whisper, “Tilly, get the hell out of here,” his words peppered with pain.

  She took a flask from her coat pocket and put it to her lips and took a swig. Holding the whiskey in her mouth, she spit it on Capp’s pained face. “You’ll be sorry, Capp Wembley. Nobody treats me so bad. Because of you, I’ll end up with nothing.” She began to cry and turned to go. “It’s your fault, all your fault.”

  Chapter 103

  The Veterinarian’s Office

  End of April 1935

  About mid-morning Tilly got into her car and drove directly to the office of Warren Packman, an equine specialist. Parking her car out of view, she turned off the ignition, tucked her blond hair securely into her cowboy hat, and removed her keys. Looking down at her chest she quickly buttoned her shirt up to the collar. Tilting her rearview mirror in her car, she checked her appearance. She looked different, maybe even unrecognizable. Wearing no makeup made her appear common, unnoticeable, unmemorable. Satisfied that this errand would go well, she opened her car door and walked into the vet’s office.

  “Is Warren here? I need to see him.”

  An assistant behind the counter answered, “No, Dr. Packman is in the field tending to his appointments. May I help you?”

  “My name is Gretchen Sykes. I called him last night requesting a few vials of sodium pentobarbital and a few syringes. Surely he left word with you.”

  “Why no, I haven’t seen him. He’s been spending his days tending horses at Churchill Downs.”

  “My horse is suffering. I can’t bear to shoot him. My dear horse is like a member of our family.”

  “I understand, but…”

  “I talked with Warren at length yesterday. He wouldn’t care if you gave the stuff to me.”

  “What’s wrong with the horse?”

  “Twisted intestine or blockage. He’s distended, in awful pain.”

  “Oh dear, is he lying down?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “I really don’t know if I should do this. The obstruction could clear. But a twisted colon is another story.”

  “Warren was quite sure it was a twist. The horse is too old for surgery,” Tilly said, her shoulders tense. “Please.”

  The vet’s assistant hesitated, not sure what to do. She walked to a closet behind her desk full of equine pharmaceuticals, and reluctantly retrieved the sodium pentobarbital.

  Returning to the counter with vials and syringes in hand, she said, “I’m very uncomfortable with this. Highly irregular, but I guess he forgot to tell me. He even called in this morning and didn’t mention anything about this. Are you a new client? I don’t recognize your name.”

  “I’m a neighbor, actually. He just comes when we need him, on his own. That’s why you never heard of me. He told me to wait until morning in case things improve. Please, I need the sedative.”

  The assistant placed the pharmaceuticals in a muslin bag and pulled the drawstring closure. “Are you sure he said for you to come get the sedative and do it yourself? Have you done this before?”

  “A few times. He seemed quite confident my daddy and me could put him down. We just need the medicine.”

  The assistant looked down at the bag and tapped her fingernails on the counter while biting her lip. “Um… I just can’t do this without clearance of some sort. Wouldn’t feel comfortable.”

  Tilly looked up in a panic as the phone rang in the back hall.

  “Oh, that is probably him now. Let me answer it and see.” The woman walked behind a wall and Tilly heard her pick up the phone and say hello. Grabbing the muslin bag, Tilly walked quickly and quietly out the office door. No one saw her drive away, not even the vet’s assistant.

  Chapter 104

  The Confrontation

  On Friday morning, Hank, the driver, delivered James, Mary, and Maizie, who had arrived by train the night before, to Churchill Downs for the early-morning workout. The day was overcast and thunderstorms were predicted for race day. This was not good news. A muddy track could put some horses out of the running. On the other hand, some horses do well in the mud. There was consideration that Glory Be might be shod in mud calks, if necessary, to help him grip the track. It was a decision that was not made lightly. Men at the barn argued that putting an unfamiliar shoe on a horse can disturb his natural gait. “The only benefit I see,” said Bob Hench, “is at the start. It’s a crap shoot, really.” No decision was agreed upon on Friday. James said the decision needed to be made by Wil and his team, not him. It was a vigorous debate being had all over Churchill Downs.

  Maizie joined Capp to watch some of the horses go through their early-morning workouts. Tommy was taking Glory Be around the track in the company of twelve other horses. This was Glory’s warm-up before working in the starting gates. The track was dry. As Tommy and Glory hugged the rail, a large thoroughbred horse pushed them from behind. The challenging jockey urged his thoroughbred closer to Glory Be and bumped the Glidewell stallion in the process. Tommy, riding high in the saddle, was caught off guard, lost his balance and tumbled into the rail. He hit awkwardly on his shoulder and then fell on the ground. Capp and Maizie came running onto the track and found Tommy cussing and writhing in pain.

  “Tommy, you all right?” asked Capp.

  “Dang, that guy got too close.”

  “Yeh, I was watchin’. How you feel?”

  “Can’t say right now. I can’t move my arm. Think it might be out of the socket.”

  “You’ll be ready to ride tomorrow?” asked Capp. Tommy adjusted his position in the dirt and shook his head, his brow so deeply furrowed that he looked twenty years older
. Capp knelt next to Tommy. “We’ll get help. Maizie, run and find Mr. Glidewell. Have someone put a lead on Glory.”

  “Capp, if I can’t ride tomorrow, who’s gonna take it?” asked Tommy.

  “We’ll try to find someone. Don’t worry.”

  Tommy rolled to his good side and moaned, “You do it, Capp.”

  “I’m too heavy. I’m not sure just anyone can handle Glory Be like you. I sure hope you can ride,” said Capp. As Capp looked at Tommy, he saw the pain in his eyes, the grimace on his face. He was certain Tommy was out.

  Tommy was transported to a hospital, where an orthopedic nurse was able to pop the shoulder back in place before swelling would have made it very difficult. The doctors concluded that after a period of rest Tommy’s shoulder would be as good as new. But for now Tommy was out of commission. The young Irishman was inconsolable. For just a few seconds he had allowed his mind to wander, and in those few seconds his chance for the glory of running the Kentucky Derby was stripped from him.

  James arrived at the hospital and was shown to the young jockey’s darkened room, where he laid quietly on a bed. James quickly stepped in with words he hoped Tommy would find comforting. Yes, this one chance was lost, but there would be more. He would get his strength back in that arm and ride again. James assured Tommy that no one was disheartened; no one was giving up. Glory Be still had a chance. Tommy could play an important role in talking to his replacement, whoever that might be, about how to handle Glory Be. Tommy nodded, but his heart and spirit remained broken.

  That evening James returned to the hospital with Wil and Capp and Tommy’s replacement, Eddie la Paz. Eddie was a previous Derby winner looking to make a comeback. He was good at handling determined horses, and willing to trust Glory Be’s racing instincts. He’d allow the horse to run the race he wanted but keep him in a winning position. Tommy spent an hour with Eddie talking about his experiences with Glory Be. At times he became very emotional and Eddie, knowing the depth of Tommy’s disappointment, waited while the Glidewell jockey gathered himself.

  When the Glidewell team finally left the hospital, everyone was feeling better. But Capp needed a little distraction and, with James’s permission, he took Maizie out for a walk. Mary was less than enthusiastic, but James convinced her it would be a good thing for them both. Let go of a little steam after such a bad day.

  “Maizie, there is a jazz club near here. James took us there the other night. The show reminded me of you and Meadowlark,” said Capp. “Want to go? We’ll only stay a few minutes.”

  “Are you sure you want to go? It’s been a rough day.”

  “Just for a few minutes.” Capp put his arm around Maizie and together they walked down West Broadway until they came to a club called the Derby.

  “I see why James came here,” teased Maizie.

  “He would have come if the Derby had been called Horse Manure. The jazz is good.” Capp guided Maizie through the door. They were seated at a table off to the side. Capp ordered soda water with grenadine and a maraschino cherry for the two of them. Maizie knew from the onset the jazz was not up to the standard she had come to appreciate. The piano player, bass player, and drummer made up a fairly good trio, playing easy jazz. The vocalist, however, had a small voice and seemed distracted, not delivering the words with feeling.

  As the drinks were delivered, Capp reached to hold Maizie’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re here. It was a big blow today. Glory Be is a good horse, but he needs Tommy. They work together. I’m worried about tomorrow. Things are stacking against us.”

  “What besides Tommy could happen?”

  “Muddy track. Glory Be likes it dry.”

  “You never know what might come along in a horse race,” said Maizie.

  “Right. You never know. If you weren’t here right now, I’d be in the dumps.” Maizie smiled and took a sip from her drink. Capp began to scour the audience, looking at other couples at tables around the room. He noticed a table of four, drinking heavily, smoking cigarettes, and laughing. There was a blond seated at the table, her back to Capp. Something about the blond caused Capp to keep staring. Damn, he thought, it’s Tilly.

  “Maizie, we better get going. By the time I get you back to the hotel, it’ll be nearly ten. We don’t want Mrs. Glidewell to worry,” he said, smiling with difficulty.

  “One more song.”

  Against Capp’s better judgment he agreed to stay for one more. He sat nervously, keeping his eye on the table of partyers. Tilly was animated, talking loudly, paying no attention to the entertainment.

  A waiter on his way to the table next to Capp and Maizie suddenly lost hold of his tray filled with heavy drinks, and it flipped forward, off his shoulder. As the drinks hit the floor, and glass shards and whiskey flew everywhere, all eyes looked to the spectacle. When Capp returned his glance to the blond, his eyes met Tilly’s. She was glaring at him like a lion ready to pounce, her eyes steady, her body still. Suddenly she started toward their table. Capp waited anxiously. When she arrived, Capp sensed she was inebriated.

  “Leave, Tilly,” said Capp as she steadied herself before them.

  “Why? Look at your pretty little girl,” Tilly said.

  “My name is Maizie. You’ve met me.”

  “Now I remember you. So you remember me?” asked Tilly, touching her hair.

  “Come on, Maizie, let’s go,” demanded Capp.

  Maizie stood up, and Tilly grabbed her by the wrist. “Capp is so rude. Look, he doesn’t even invite me to sit down. And we were such good friends.” She tightened her grip on Maizie’s wrist and stared into her eyes. Turning to Capp she said, “You been talkin’ about me, Capp?”

  “Let her go this instant.” Capp’s voice had a tinge of threat to it and Tilly complied immediately. “Come Maizie, let’s go.”

  Tilly stared at Capp, daggers flying. “You know what, Capp? You’ve ruined me. You and your pretending to care for me. The farm is gone. My farm is gone!”

  Maizie found Capp’s hand, and they walked toward the door over broken glass and a floor dampened with whiskey. Tilly watched them leave and then returned to her table and ordered a fresh drink and lit another cigarette, allowing her rage to deepen.

  Chapter 105

  Stall Nine at Bob Hench’s Barn

  It was common practice to have at least one groom sleeping in the barn. The night before the race, it was Fritz’s turn to bed down with the horses at Bob Hench’s barn. Fritz was a young German boy hired by Wil and Capp to help with the Glidewell thoroughbreds. He enjoyed the solitude and was known to sing a German lullaby to relax the horses. Fritz made himself a pallet of clean straw near the entrance, covering it with a bedroll. He then secured the barn doors and retired to his sleeping nest. Soon he was dreaming of thoroughbreds running in the wind.

  Around two in the morning, a beat-up car parked on the edge of Churchill Downs. The car had seen better days but drew no attention at this hour. A figure climbed out of the car and began the long hike to the backside. The night was moonless; the threat of heavy rain seemed unlikely anytime soon. The shadowy silhouette, illuminated with a flashlight, looked like a lonesome cowboy wearing a hat, heeled boots, and a trench coat. The individual walked through the field at the edge of the property toward the track, barns, and bunkhouses. Despite the flashlight this trespasser did not raise suspicion. This entrance, a trail really, was for day employees who worked, but did not live, at Churchill Downs. The mysterious figure walked with an unsteady swagger, stood tall, and seemed to know exactly where to go.

  Unknown to most who worked temporarily at the backside, each horse barn had a fire-escape door, big enough for horse and man, in the rear tack room. Management didn’t seem too worried about making that little fact known to the men who spent a few months a year living at the facility. It was a door that was to remain unlocked at all times. And since few knew of it, who would think an intruder wo
uld find their way into a barn through an escape door? Night security for horse and groom was good, or so they thought.

  The lone individual walked now around the edge of Bob Hench’s barn. Finding the little-known tack-room entrance, the figure opened the door and ducked under tack hanging inside from hooks above the door. The flashlight provided light and allowed the intruder to walk through the tack room and along the stalls that lined the barn. A shadow, reflected on the stall doors, stopped at stall nine a ways from where Fritz, the groom watchman, slept soundly.

  The shadowy figure placed the flashlight on the floor, allowing it to shine into the stall. The horse neighed and shifted on his legs, his rear to the stall gate. The mysterious intruder opened the gate and walked in. The stallion, alerted and alarmed, neighed louder, snorted, pinned his ears back, and turned his head toward the stall door in fear. His tail began to twitch, his right leg cocked in a defensive position as the stallion balanced on three legs. The intruder dropped something and immediately crouched to pick it up. The horse let go with a violent kick, his hooves meeting the trespasser’s forehead. The stallion let out a terrified squeal and reared up, his forelegs flailing in the air. Turning, he snorted and reared again, his front hooves landing on the intruder’s arm and collar bone.

  Fritz awoke and heard the cries of a horse in trouble. This was rare. Horses in this barn tended to be calm, the stallions seeming to get along. Fritz jumped up with flashlight in hand, and ran barefoot toward the sound. Other horses were awake and snorting. Fritz’s heart sank when he saw that the open stall door was stall nine, Glory Be’s.