Through Tender Thorns

by Barbara Morriss

  There on the wall in neat, precise letters were the words: “Once filled with love, a heart endures. BDH—1898.” Maizie ran her fingers over the letters, tears in her eyes. Her reaction filled Capp with a new sense of longing in this dark recess of the cave. He related to the words too, but seeing the initials of Buckus Del Henny was confirming. He grabbed her hand and the two walked backed to the fire pit. Capp threw the torch into the fire. Maizie sat on a flat rock and stared blankly into the jumping flames. “Hard for me to understand it all,” Maizie said. “I do believe Buckus added to the cave wall’s story.”

  “Yes—it does appear so. We just don’t have all the story.” After moments of contemplative silence, Capp said abruptly: “You ever been swimming up here? Takes your breath away. Makes you feel alive.”

  “I’d go sometime,” Maizie said. Capp took a seat next to her and gave in to his impulse. Taking her into his arms, he held her, stroked her cheek, her hair. Turning her face toward his, he ran his finger around her lips. She opened her mouth slightly. Suddenly he stopped, his heart racing. He sighed. “Come on. Watch me swim.”

  “Kiss me first,” she said. Capp looked into her firelit eyes. They were so blue, so beautiful. He wanted to love her, hold her, kiss her.

  “Capp, kiss me.” She waited for what seemed a long time and then stood. Capp could see the hurt in her eyes.

  “I’m going for a swim,” he said.

  He left Maizie by the fire and ran up to the edge of the small spring-fed reservoir. He could hear a bullfrog croak and a night bird call. Encouragement, he thought. He quickly removed his boots, his pants, shirt, and hat and ran to the water’s edge. “I’ll be just a minute,” he called, knowing a cold dip in the water would extinguish his desire. Maizie ran from the cave, and with the help of the moonlight she caught a glimpse of him as he went into the spring.

  “Will you stay a minute, Capp? I want to come in!” Not waiting for his answer, she ran behind a bush and pulled off her clothes and shoes. Covering herself as best she could, she ran to the edge of the water, moonbeams lighting her way.

  “Come in. It’s cold in here. Can’t stay much longer.” Holding her breath, she began taking steps into the pond.

  “The bottom is slimy,” Maizie said as she slipped on the limestone and then regained her balance.

  Capp swam toward her. “Come here. I’ll hold your hand. Let’s take a dunk.” Capp grabbed her hand and then counted to three and they went under, fully immersed. As they rose to the moonlit surface, Capp could see the beauty of Maizie’s breasts, the shape of her shoulders. He would steal that image, take it with him. He looked the other way as she stepped out of the artesian reservoir, the moonlight illuminating the reeds and ripples in the water. She ran to the cave, stopping briefly to get her clothes. Capp followed her, shivering. Picking up his clothing, he ran back into the cave.

  Maizie was warming herself by the fire, her clothes on the cave floor beside her, her teeth chattering. Putting down his clothes, he joined her. He threw in another log. Maizie put her hand on Capp’s back. He turned and felt his desires stirring again. Embarrassed, he walked away and quickly put on his pants. “Get dressed, Maizie, before you freeze.” He picked up Maizie’s clothes and handed them to her. She began to climb back into her pants, not hiding this time. Capp turned his gaze back toward the fire, stirred the bed of coals, and added a new log, allowing her privacy.

  The two took a seat on the flat rock at the edge of the fire. It was a good place to warm up and talk.

  “You know I love you,” Capp said.

  “I love you too.” Maizie was quiet as she looked into Capp’s kind face.

  “That’s a big responsibility to love someone. I hurt Josie. If it weren’t for me, her life would be better. I didn’t love her and didn’t care if I hurt her. The sad thing, I realize now she loved me.”

  “She’s doing better. Maybe you helped her.” Capp was silent, his head now in his hands.

  “And Tilly. I played with her and then pushed her away. She nearly got herself killed ’cause of me. And I didn’t care.”

  “Capp what’s wrong?”

  Capp was trying to find the words. Worrying that he may never get it said, he pushed back his fear and let it out.

  “I’m leavin’, Maizie.”

  “I know. You are going to the Preakness and on to the Belmont.”

  “Yes, but I’m not coming back for a long time.”

  Maizie looked at him. Signaling disbelief, tears began to pool in her eyes.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I just got to is all.”

  “When?” she asked as she wiped tears from her face.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, my God, Capp. Tomorrow? I thought you were leaving later this week.”

  “No, tomorrow. Leon is driving me to the train before dawn.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are you going after the races?”

  “Glidewells want me to stay in New York to learn. They’re calling me an ambassador for Glidewell.”

  “That sounds fancy.”

  “Yeah, I know. Fancy. Mr. Glidewell says it’s a promotion.”

  Maizie sat quietly looking into the fire.

  Capp hesitated, rubbing his palms on his thighs, and said, “I have some things to figure out.”

  “I will miss you,” Maizie whispered as she brushed tears from her cheeks.

  “I don’t want you to wait for me, Maizie. I want you to have fun.”

  She turned to him. “Fun? You want me to have fun?”

  “I’ll only hurt you. Maizie, listen to me. We can’t get married. It’s against the law.”

  “You want to marry me?”

  “I think I do, but maybe I’d just leave you. Run off with someone else ’cause there’d be nothing to tie me to you.”

  “You’d do that? You’d leave Glidewell, the horses and me? We can make our own promise to each other. Why do we need a legal paper saying we are married?” Capp had no answer.

  The two fell into a prolonged silence, the firelight fading. An owl hooted from a sycamore tree, breaking the hush. Maizie lifted her head and extended her hand. He reached and gently touched her fingers and then, pulling her toward him, he hugged her. They kissed softly, small light kisses and then a kiss took hold and Capp wanted more than anything to love her. When they came up for air, he gently pulled away and sighed deeply. “We better get going, Maizie.”

  “I love you, Capp. I want you. How can that be wrong?” Capp took off his hat and ran his fingers through his drying hair. He sat quietly, playing with the three feathers in his hat band as if suddenly their position on the band could help him find an answer.

  “I won’t do it. I have to leave you untouched.”

  “But Capp—”

  “Please, Maizie. This is how it has to be.”

  Capp stood and adjusted his Stetson. He looked at Maizie and adjusted her shirt collar and stroked her damp mane of hair. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her up and out of the cave and out to the horses. There, Capp helped her into the saddle. “Want to race back to the ranch house?”

  Maizie smiled, a labored smile. Capp felt the heaviness of her effort. He chose to smile his slow-growing Kentucky smile, the one she loved, but he felt anything but happy.

  “No, I want this trail ride to take a long time. I need to be with you tonight, Capp,” she said.

  “Mary will worry.”

  “James and Mary have gone to town. They are staying at the Colonial Hotel tonight. Anyway, I don’t care if Mary worries.”

  “I promised her I wouldn’t touch you, Maizie.” Maizie sighed a long regretful sigh.

  “A longer way home, please Capp. Just a few more hours.”

  “All right, let’s follow along the
Del Henny fence. Bet those trees are glowing in the moonlight.”

  “I love you, Capp.”

  The lump in Capp’s throat caused him to cough and swallow hard. He only nodded. Climbing into his own saddle, he turned Running Wild toward the trail.

  It was a long, quiet trail ride home. They rode next to the fence, a living, thorny barrier, entwined and growing. A fence planted to protect those who lived within its border. This year, the new growth was vigorous and dense. The thorns contained within the foliage were ready for any onslaught, man or beast. As much as the fence kept evil out, perhaps it kept goodness in. He wondered if the people of Glidewell were safe from society’s cruel laws. Maybe Glidewell was a place he could live out his life with a colored woman, but maybe it wasn’t. Mary certainly didn’t think so. He straightened in the saddle and looked over to the woman he loved. She turned to him and smiled, soft and tender. This was another image he would take with him. Capp nodded his head and patted Running Wild. No words were spoken. In the moonlight with the Osage orange-tree fence to his right, he pledged that when he returned, he would be the man he needed to be. Then he looked up at the moon, his beacon of hope, and felt his heart fill with possibilities as moon shadows danced on the ground beneath him.

  Chapter 110

  Maizie’s Diary

  Christmas 1935

  It’s been a long time since I have written in this diary. I’ve been writing letters to Capp instead. I got a package from him three days ago. I’m going to save it and open it on New Year’s Day. I want the surprise to last longer. A package from Capp means more than anything to me. It’s a small package wrapped with brown paper and tied up with string. I hid it in my closet. This is the first present I ever got in the mail. He has been gone seven months and sends me a letter every week. I miss him, but I know it’s important he does well in New York. Mary says it is important for him to get his education.

  I love writing him letters. My letters are long and his are short, but Capp says a lot in those few words. Leon gives me Capp’s letters and mails mine before Mary sees them. It’s our secret.

  I love Mary, but I can’t talk with her about Capp. I want to tell her about all that Capp is doing, how hard he’s working, and how kind and sweet his words are. I ache to tell her, but I don’t. Mary still thinks I’m a child, even though I’ll be twenty-one years old in a few months.

  I don’t talk to Mary about Capp, but confide in Leon. Leon sees the goodness in Capp and understands how I feel. Sugar and I go for walks. Sometimes I read parts of Capp’s letters to her because she misses him too. She has so many stories of when Capp was a boy. I feel so lucky to know about Capp through her stories. Her eyes are all warm and smiling when she talks about him, like a real mama, like she loves him.

  Mary and I leave for Paris in the spring. Just eight weeks, she says. I’m worried we will leave before Capp comes home and it will be even longer before I see him. Mary is taking me on this trip for my education, she says. We are going to museums and concerts, taking French language classes and shopping for clothes in Paris. She says the trip is important to my becoming a lady. Truth is, I just want to be Capp’s gal, his love. I’m not sure what being a lady means. I think she means like her. Don’t know if a girl like me could ever be like her.

  Capp says in his letters he has a dog who keeps him company at the training grounds. He didn’t pick out the dog; the dog just found him at the track. He calls her Bella. He says he doesn’t get so lonely anymore. He says he’s becoming who he wants to be, a good man. This winter he is working as an apprentice with the Belmont track vet. He’ll be able to put all the good practices to work when he returns to Glidewell. He also manages all the training and care of the Glidewell horses. He says all five Glidewell horses have competed well. James is happy because he hopes to qualify one of them for the Kentucky Derby. Last year’s Belmont and Preakness didn’t bring Glidewell any fame, but James accepted it. He says Glory Be will have a fine career and one day be a stud out to pasture.

  Capp says he is figuring things out and for me not to worry. So I don’t. I trust Capp. Sometimes I can’t remember what he looks like, so I go into James’ office and look at the framed photos from match-race weekend. The photos are like magic. They take me back. There is one picture of Capp that I love more than the others. He is saddling Breezy for the parade. He is looking at someone standing near. He is smiling. I can see he really likes whoever he is looking at. I pretend that person is me.

  Capp says one day, maybe not too far from now, we may find a way to be together, like lovers, forever. I hope so. Ol’ Jon told me that wishing for things doesn’t make it so, but hope, now there’s something powerful. I believe Ol’ Jon ’cause he’s wise. I hold all the hope for Capp and me in my heart. My heart is full.

  I saddled Jebediah to go to the Castle the other day. I rode along the wagon trail, thinking. I ended up at the artesian well. I let Jebedeiah take a long drink from the spring and went in the cave and looked at the Indian petroglyphs. Using a flashlight from my saddlebag, I walked into the dark recess of the cave to look again at the word Hattie. I thought about the legend of Del Henny bringing a colored woman with him to Glidewell.

  I’ll never know if I’m a Del Henny or not. Mama could have made it up because she wanted to be part of something special. But when I think of the story Millie Camden told me and then look at what Buckus wrote on the rock wall, I feel something, like he was trying to tell me something important. When I think of the quote, “When filled with love, a heart endures,” I know it’s true. Because that’s what happened to me at Glidewell. My heart filled up with singing and people loving me and I endured, just like ol’ Buckus behind the Osage orange-tree fence. And now I will wait until Capp returns.

  Meadowlark says I should write songs about all I feel. He says my feelings are important and my life gives me a bluesy soul. I am thinking my songs would be sad, they’d be about searching for love, family, and home. Sometimes I think I’ve found it all, right here at Glidewell behind the thorny fence. I wonder who was the guardian angel that helped me find this place. Sugar says that I am the one who made it happen. I can’t be sure, but sometimes, sometimes I think she might be right.

  Bonne nuit, mon ami,

  Maizie Sunday Glidewell Freedman

  Acknowledgments

  Through Tender Thorns is a work of historical fiction. Most of the characters are from the author’s imagination. Colonel Bradley of Idle Hour Farm, and Mary and James Glidewell were real people who lived during the time. The events of the novel were largely fabricated. The Vicksburg Massacre of 1874 and The Kentucky Derby of 1932 were well researched and generally accurate. The winners of the Kentucky Derby of 1935 were correctly stated, but there was no Glidewell horse in the competition. The Glidewell Ranch, Parkway Farm, and The Rising Star were all places of fiction.

  Much thanks goes to my editor, Dr. Helga Schier of With Pen and Paper, for invaluable support and creative suggestions. She took a long and bumpy manuscript and helped me turn it into a smoother more intriguing telling. I learned a lot and my book is much better for it. I would like to express appreciation to copy editors Ellen Leach and Maxine Higginbotham for their “eagle eyes”. In addition, much gratitude goes to Jose Ramirez of Pedernales Publishing for all his help, expertise and encouragement. His calm assurance left me knowing I had his support throughout this project no matter how much time it took. Also, Jana Rade, graphic artist of Impact Studios created a book cover that is not only beautiful but also indicative of the time and place capturing the mood of Maizie’s journey.

  Many friends, Eric Rough, Anne Vermeil, Alison Mellberg, Jen Nukton, and Patty Armstrong have taken the time to read and discuss my book. You all inspired me with your thoughtful suggestions and encouragement. To my family members, Jeanette Wolff, Angee Morriss and Garrett Morriss thanks for helping me find my voice in this epic tale.

  Chris Goodlett, Director of Curatori
al and Educational Affairs of the Kentucky Derby Museum, dug deep in the archives and found auction records that helped me determine the cost of a well-bred thoroughbred in the 1930s.

  For all things computer related I have depended on Lyn Ian, an artist. She created my website, my book trailer, and helped me put useful programs to work during the process. She was a source of great inspiration and a confidence builder.

  And lastly, I thank my husband Rich. He not only read and reread my book often but offered me the support, ideas and encouragement I needed to keep on going – my heart is full.

  About the Author

  Barbara Morriss lives in the hills of California’s central coast with her husband Rich and a pug named Gatzbee. Her interests include: reading good books, listening to music, watching good movies, painting with acrylics, creating dolls, and walking with her pug. Having enjoyed historical fiction all her life, she never dreamt that one day she would be writing historical novels. Barbara is now retired after thirty-four years of teaching in the fields of literature, writing, and history. Her works of historical fiction include: Finding Grace, A Promise in Autumn, and Through Tender Thorns.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  The Vicksburg Massacre

  The Destination

  The Arrival

  Maizie’s Diary

  The Glidewell Kitchens

  Maizie’s Diary

  Monday Nights

  Maizie’s Diary

  The Trail Ride

  Maizie’s Diary

  Stall Twenty

  Maizie’s Diary

  The Horse Auction

  The Stetson

  Maizie’s Diary

  The Bandanas

  A Revelation

  The Leaving

  New Rules

  The Truth

  Maizie’s Diary