“There is somethin’ else too,” said Wil, leaning his elbows on his thighs. “With people watchin’ our horses run, horse farms will want their broodmares to spend time here at the ranch with our stallions. Improve their stock. I’m sure of it. We could double or triple our stud-fee revenues.” He finished his second whiskey. “We can set up races between fillies, stallions, and geldings, all quarter horses. Ain’t nothing not possible. We can write the rules. Have nothin’ to do with bettin’.”
“We could put up one sign that says, ‘No betting,’” said Capp as he hastily reached for the whiskey decanter. “Just one sign. Not too visible, but on the property. No one will pay no mind to the sign. Never have.”
“Let me give it some thought. Nothing more exciting to me than a horse race. The sight of horse and rider is inspirational. And the sound of horses galloping and men hollering is exhilarating.” James nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll come down to the backside one day this week and you can run the quarter horses you are talking about.”
“Come down Wednesday for the morning workout. I’m telling you that some of our horses love to run, and they don’t like coming in second,” said Wil.
“I’ll talk it over with Mary. She might like the idea. She’s good at event planning. I figure it would be a weekend of races. We will have dinner parties here at the ranch for our friends. Mary and I have been wanting to have an open house anyway. No harm to having a few drinks too. Mary and I have quite a cellar full of libations, all legal. We bought it before the law was enacted. Not against the law to drink it. Just against the law to make and sell it.”
“That’s right. Guess the folks with money stockpiled and hoped prohibition would be short lived. Been a dang decade or so already,” said Wil, his whiskey glass in hand, knowing full well if but for James’ cache he would be drinking cheap moonshine like most Americans.
Capp’s excitement was evident as he bounced his knee in an effort to absorb the electricity he was feeling. “Dad was afraid you wouldn’t see it his way. But I told him that every man wants to race horses. It’s the winning that men need. Feels good. Your weekend idea sounds good, Mr. Glidewell.”
“I want our ranch to be the best in the Midwest. I want the greatest horses. I want people talking about Glidewell.” It was clear that this was indeed what James had hoped for and dreamed about.
Wil smiled as he placed his glass on the table where his boots had been a second before. Capp stood and started towards the kitchen, then turned back to James. “Excuse me, Mr. Glidewell, would it be all right for me to take Maizie for a trail ride? We got a horse that’s real gentle. I’d like to show her the property, tell her about the quarry and the Osage orange-tree fence and ol’ Buckus Del Henny. Tell her about the building of Glidewell Ranch.”
James smiled, reached for Capp’s shoulder, and looked him straight in the eyes. “Sounds good to me, Capp, but you’ll have to ask Mary. I’ll warn you she is quite protective of her office assistant.”
Chapter 8
Maizie’s Diary
May 15, 1931
Never knew there could be so many rules about fancy food serving, like which side you stand on when serving and picking up a plate. Mrs. Glidewell wants things just so and I get nervous. Every time I do something right, Leon and Philippe compliment me. In French. “Bon travail, mon cher,” they say. Makes me feel better because I know it means “good work, my dear.” Leon told me so.
But Monday night at dinner, when the Wembleys were here, I fell with a tray. I wanted to cry, but everyone was so nice I ended up being just real embarrassed. Philippe and Leon say I’m doing fine, but I worry I’m not good enough. Seems they could get someone a lot better than me. I won’t quit tryin’ because I have nowhere to go, but making mistakes worries me.
Tonight Capp came into the kitchen. He asked me to come on a horse ride. He seems nice. I like his smile. It starts out barely there, and then it grows, broad and wide, like he’s thinking of something real nice. He always lowers his eyes and shakes his head. Maybe he’s shy. I know about that, ’cause I sure am. Capp says Mrs. Glidewell approves and Friday morning we’ll go horseback riding. Never been on a horse in my life. Hope I don’t embarrass myself.
Mrs. Glidewell had me move into my own room in the ranch house. I wasn’t sure I should because the others didn’t get asked. But she said I had to. I am too young to stay in a bunkhouse, she said. The room is real nice. The quilt on the bed is blue and yellow. I have my own chest of drawers and a hanging closet. I’ve never had it so good. When I was packing my few things in the bunkhouse, Josie said she never liked having a colored sleeping next to her anyways. Funny how some folks are like that. But what she says doesn’t bother me. Well, a little because I sure don’t want trouble. Mr. and Mrs. Glidewell don’t seem to care about me being colored. Maybe they don’t know? They say they love having me in the ranch house. But what if they don’t know my daddy was colored?
I still haven’t looked through my mother’s things.
Good night,
Maizie Sunday Freedman
Chapter 9
The Trail Ride
Maizie looked into her mirror. The brown riding pants and blue-and-pink floral-print shirt that Mary had loaned her were loose fitting but comfortable. She smiled briefly and pulled her hair back into a ponytail securing it with a rubber band. Picking up Mary’s cowboy hat off her bed, she brushed a piece of lint from its brim and placed it on her head. Looking again into the mirror, she was caught off guard by her reflection, a girl she hardly recognized. She realized for the first time that Glidewell was changing her in ways she could have never imagined. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she struggled into the riding boots following a mild tug of war with the bootstraps. Walking down the hall stiffly, because she’d never worn such boots before, she could hear Capp’s voice. She smiled to herself and found Capp and James sitting by the fire in the great hall. Capp jumped up and said, “Let’s get going. Breezy is ready for you.”
“Breezy?”
“Yep Breezy, the mare. She’s waitin’.” Capp smiled, took her hand, and pulled her to the door.
Capp and Maizie headed out to the saddling paddock near the racetrack. There were many stable hands, grooms, and trainers walking in and out of the barn, some leading a horse in, others, a horse out. All the hands were decked out in western gear, well worn, and mostly clean. Some waved at Capp, others tipped their hat to Maizie as they moved through their routines.
Breezy, a beautiful bay filly, and Running Wild, a cream-colored stallion with chestnut mane and forelegs, were both saddled and ready to go.
“Ready to climb on board Breezy here?” Capp asked. “She’s the sweetest mare. She likes a trail ride, slow and easy, but can go fast if you want. She won’t try to knock you off or anything like that.”
“Knock me off?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? I’ve never been on a horse before. I’m worried, all right!”
“Well, Breezy won’t take that out on you.” Capp smiled. “I’d trust her with a four-year-old child. She’s that sweet. Running Wild here is another story. But he likes Breezy and will behave to impress her. He may show off a bit though, but I’m ready for him. Horses are like that. They know if you got horse smarts or not. You can read a good horse by the eyes.”
Maizie looked up at Breezy. The mare blinked, her soft brown eyes warm and engaging. “Want to see Running Wild and I do a turn around the track?” asked Capp. “I’ll get some of the devil out of him, before we get started on the trail ride.”
“Be better if he’d be an angel,” said Maizie. Capp laughed and quickly mounted the horse in one graceful motion. “Walk alongside us to the track.”
As Capp, Running Wild, and Maizie reached the white fence surrounding the eight-furlong track, Capp said, “You can watch from here. Step up on the first rail to get a real good look. I’m going t
o run this big boy around. Just a little workout.” Maizie watched as Capp dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and yelled, “Let’s go, you crazy, wild horse!”
Capp, holding firm on the tight reins, ran the horse down the first stretch. He looked poised and alert. Around the bend he gave slack to the reins, letting the horse go faster into the turn. Capp patted Running Wild’s neck. There was beauty in horse and rider working together. The thundering hoof beats grew louder as Capp and Running Wild drew near where Maizie was perched on the rail. “Whoa, boy,” Capp yelled. He pulled on the reins to slow the stallion down. The horse returned to a trot and then a walk. Running Wild was shaking his head and stepping high. Capp held the reins tight. “Whoa, easy, big fella!” The horse reared slightly and then seemed to heed the command, calmed his gait to return to the saddling paddock.
Capp dismounted, waited for Maizie to run from the track fence, and then wrapped his reins around the paddock fence. Walking the short distance to Breezy, he said, “Well, shall we be on our way?”
“Not sure I can run a horse yet,” Maizie said. Capp laughed out loud. “You are a smart girl to understand that. No Miss, you aren’t ready, but one day, if you like this, maybe you will be. I saw a girl dress like a guy and jockey a horse in a race. She won,” Capp chuckled. “I was just a boy, but it sure did make an impression.”
“You think a girl can’t race a horse?”
“I’m sayin’ a girl can. I saw it.”
Maizie stood still and waited for instructions. Capp said nothing but hoisted her up to the saddle. She sat stiffly having no idea what to do next. Capp adjusted the stirrups and gave her a few pointers. “Stay centered on the saddle. That’ll keep you from falling off. Nothing to be afraid of.” Capp grinned as he clipped a lead rope to Breezy’s halter. “You look good up there,” he said.
“Why you smiling?” she asked, her face filled with terror.
“You look like you are about ready to ride a buckin’ bull. Relax.”
Maizie breathed in deeply, attempting to calm her nerves.
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her. Capp removed the picnic saddlebags draped over the paddock fence, tied them behind his saddle and mounted his horse. Reaching down, he picked up Breezy’s lead and started down the road.
Riding past the mess hall, Capp tipped his hat to Thelma, who was standing on the steps. “Good morning, Miss Thelma.”
“Mornin’,” said Thelma, who then turned around and yelled into the doorway. Out came Josie, catching the sight of Capp and Maizie riding away.
Many trails meandered around the ranch. Some were deer and cow trails, narrow and ungroomed, but the road to the quarry was wagon-wide, well maintained and eight miles round trip. It was a good first ride for Maizie, easy and beautiful with great views of the verdant rolling landscape and a look at the famous Osage orange-tree hedge fence.
There was a lot to see, so Capp took his time. Maizie, leaning to stroke Breezy’s mane, shifted slightly in the saddle, her shoulders relaxed. The countryside was beautiful and the road took them along the west side. When the Osage orange hedge trees came into view, Maizie asked, “How did all those trees get planted?”
Capp smiled and nodded. “It is an incredible fence. Seems to go forever.” Capp then went on to explain the history of the Osage orange-tree border, which was “horse high, bull strong, and hog tight.” He told her about Buckus Del Henny.
“It’s a truer legend than most, Maizie. They say the ol’ man had a hurt to heal. It was a way to keep the world out.”
“I think I know how he felt,” she said.
The two rode in silence for a while. Suddenly Capp said, “Once just up the road a bit, I found a calf crying for his mama. He tried to cut below the lower limbs and got stuck. I helped the little fella get loose. You should have seen him run. Why his mama was right there under that oak. She mooed really loud. I’d like to think she wanted to thank me. Seems funny he was trying to get out, he had everything he needed on this side of the fence. Trying to get out can cause a heap of trouble.”
Maizie laughed. “Anybody ever get hung up on the fence?”
“Yep. One ranch hand took a thorn and got an infection. Nearly had to cut off his arm. That fence is wicked and beautiful at the same time.”
The road now took a turn due east and headed up through cream and ochre rock formations jutting from the landscape. Capp explained that Mr. Glidewell hired a team of Irish quarry workers from Kansas City to harvest stone for the barn, stables, and ranch house. “You’ll see, Maizie, when we get to the quarry that a lot of stone from one mammoth outcropping has been removed. It’s beautiful up there. There is even an artesian well and reservoir fed with underground water. The Osage Indians thought it sacred. And it does feel like that.”
“Seems this place is more than a person can get a handle on.”
“You are right about that. This ranch is something special.”
“I can see that. Never seen anything like it.”
“You want to go it alone with Breezy here? I think you’re ready. I’ll just unclip that lead rope, and you’ll be ridin’ on your own.”
Maizie looked up at him, still gripping tightly to the horn. Capp smiled again and reached to pat her leg. “You’re good. No reason to be afraid. Just pick up Breezy’s reins.” Maizie did as she was told. “When you’re ready, I’ll undo the lead.”
Making sure her boots were in the stirrups, Maizie let go of the horn, picked up the reins and balanced herself on the saddle. “Guess I’m ready.”
Capp untethered the mare and then turned his horse toward Maizie. “Now hold the reins in your left hand and just give Breezy a tap with your heels. Let your right hand rest loose and relaxed at your side. That sweet mare knows what to do.” Maizie did as she was told, and, heeding the cues, started off slow and steady.
As the two horses continued on the quarry road, Capp pointed out fields of wildflowers: Ozark phlox, Virginia bluebells, and honeysuckle in new bloom. “Everyone knows it’s spring when the bluebells bloom. They are waning a bit now, but we come to depend on them. They lift the winter doldrums right away.”
The limestone outcroppings, rough and captivating with their jagged peaks and edges, offered color and texture in the fields and dramatic interest to the landscape. Capp explained how the fields were perfect for grazing. He pointed to a herd of cattle with calves. He explained that the herd was raised and looked after by a nearby cattleman. “Mr. Glidewell allows the herd to graze here in exchange for a percentage of the dairy products and meat. Mr. Glidewell is a fair man. He only wants what the ranch can consume, no more. Dem, that’s the cattleman, can grow the herd to a real good size and make more profit. The Glidewells run a good ranch which benefits many people.”
“I know that’s true, Capp. They are good to me.”
Capp nodded. “Why, it’s as if my dad built his own horse center. Mr. Glidewell gave him full control. Dad always dreamed of breeding and raising his own line of quarter horses and here was his chance.”
“Is Mr. Glidewell excited about horses?”
“Are you kidding? He’s crazy for them, especially thoroughbred racehorses. He has a big scrapbook in his office of newspaper articles, betting stubs, stuff like that. He’s been to the track. Seen races firsthand. It gets in your blood. But Mr. Glidewell don’t know nothin’ about horses really. He couldn’t have a better team of managers than us.”
“You a manager too, Capp?”
“Not yet, but one day I will be. Horses are in my blood. Been riding since I was little. Mr. Glidewell pays me for what I do. So I guess I’m a manager’s assistant.”
The wagon road came to an end as Maizie and Capp arrived at what was called the Glidewell Castle. It was a peculiar outcropping of rock shaped now like an Irish castle. A cave opening served as the entrance. It was a beautiful sight and took a viewer by surprise. There wasn’t much
need for a good imagination. The stone mass appeared as a castle to all who viewed it.
Capp removed the lead rope from his saddle, attached it to Breezy’s halter and led the horse to a hitching post. Jumping from his mount, he first tied Running Wild to the post and then Breezy. “Come down, Maizie. I’ll catch you. Just swing your right leg around the back here while holding on to the horn. Release your left foot from the stirrup and slide down to the ground.” She did as instructed but her left foot caught. As she struggled to right her error, Capp grabbed her and pulled her foot from the stirrup and set her on the ground. She accidentally stepped into Capp and he instinctively folded his arms around her. For one brief moment, the two clung to each other.
“You okay?”
“Just embarrassed.” With her head pressed to his chest, she could smell the clean fragrance of him, a mixture of leather and lavender. A feeling new to her began to stir and her heart pounded against her chest. She stepped back and rubbed her sweaty palms on her riding pants.
“No need to be embarrassed. Your dismount looked real good at first. Catchin’ your foot in a stirrup is easy to do. Some folks fall, or worse, get hung up. If the horse takes off… well, it’s dangerous. There’s a lot of things that can go wrong.”
Maizie nodded, her eyes downcast as she explored this new feeling of being so close to Capp. Capp untied the lunch bags from his saddle and asked Maizie to undo the canteen. “Come on. We’ll have lunch in the castle.”
Stepping down about six feet on rock hewn steps, there was an entrance to a cave. Cut by the force of swirling water over thousands of years, the cave felt cool and damp. They found two flat benchlike boulders and sat near the entrance while the horses nibbled on grass close by. They began to unpack their lunch. “Where you from, Maizie?”
Through Tender Thorns Page 4