Today Mrs. Glidewell asked me if anyone at the backside had treated me mean. Now why’d you suppose she’d ask me that? I didn’t tell her about Josie. Better not to, I thought. Sometimes it seems Mrs. Glidewell sure knows about everything. Wonder if she knows I really like Capp? Josie knows. She told me to stay away from Capp; it sounded like a threat. I sure don’t want no problems.
My mama’s things are still in that bag. I can’t look at them. I was thinking about all the stories my mama told me about a little girl who could fly and get out of trouble. When I’m around Capp, I feel like I could fly. When I’m around Capp, I’m not afraid.
Bonne nuit, mon ami,
Maizie Sunday Freedman
Chapter 13
The Horse Auction
Wil Wembley knew quarter horses but did not know a lot about thoroughbreds. It was time to learn. Will decided to attend a thoroughbred auction in Lebanon, two hours from Glidewell. He and Capp left before daybreak the next day and Capp entertained with nonstop chatter expressing his enthusiasm about thoroughbreds. Pulling into the parking area of the horse farm, Wil was happy to see horse trailers everywhere. People in cowboy hats and fedoras were walking toward an indoor arena. Jumping from the cab of their truck, they headed into the auction, eventually taking seats in the grandstand. Each horse on the block was described by the auctioneer, who mentioned the current owner’s name and the thoroughbred’s pedigree. He was careful to describe the horse’s physical attributes: deep chest, lean body, and long, flat muscles. He described the bone structure as fine or medium, the haunches as powerful. Wil made mental notes.
“These thoroughbreds are sure leaner than our quarter horses,” Capp said.
“And leggier, Son. Where our quarter horses love to sprint, these thoroughbreds like the longer races. They are hot and excitable. Just look at them.”
Just then a young, attractive woman took a seat next to Capp. Capp turned to look and tipped his head as if to say hello. She returned the gesture with a smile and began to rummage through her purse.
“Hey, like some gum? I have some in here somewhere,” she said as she dug deeper.
“Maybe. Don’t like Black Jack gum.”
“Wrigley’s. I always have a pack of Wrigley’s. Oh, here it is.” Capp reached to take the gum but she was too fast. She pulled off the covering and pushed the gum into Capp’s mouth and then laughed.
Leaning across Capp’s lap toward Wil she extended her pack of gum and asked, “You like some?” Wil shook his head no and went back to his observations.
The young woman leaned into Capp and whispered, “Is that guy with you?”
“Yup. That’s my dad.”
“He don’t talk?”
“Not much.”
“Guess he looks like you.”
Capp went back to watching the auction.
“You buying a horse today?” she asked.
“Nope. Not today.”
“You may miss a good deal. A lot of these horse breeders need the money.” She took the gum from her mouth and placed it under her bleacher seat. Pulling a compact from her leather purse, she opened it and carefully began to study her face. She checked her mouth and cheeks and pushed her loose, dark brown hair back under her hat. She then pulled a tube of lipstick from her bag and began to apply the red color to her relaxed lips. Looking askance at Capp, she began rubbing her lips together to evenly distribute the lipstick.
Capp was focused on the auction. Seemingly disappointed that he was paying her no mind, she put the tube and compact back in her purse. She deftly unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, then looked quickly down at her cleavage. Crossing her legs, she leaned forward, brushing Capp’s thigh with her hand. “Sorry,” she said. Capp ignored her, continued chewing his gum and kept his eyes on the pretty chestnut filly on the auction block.
“Hey, you want to get a cool drink with me? I’ll buy,” she said. Wil overheard and with a nod and a few flicks of his hand indicated Capp was free to go.
“Bring me back something to drink.” Wil reached in his pocket, pulled out a few coins and handed them to Capp.
Capp followed the woman down the bleachers and out the door to a refreshment stand by the entrance. She asked for two Cokes, paid the attendant two nickels and handed Capp a cold Coke. She sipped daintily while Capp took several large gulps. Covering his mouth with his hand he belched quietly.
“Guess I was thirsty.”
“So, what’s your name, cowboy?”
“Capp.”
“I like it. Capp. Cowboy Capp. I’m Matilda from Kentucky. My daddy is looking to buy a couple of yearlings. We raise thoroughbreds.”
“Why you come here? Seems Kentucky is where you’d want to buy.”
“Looking for new blood. And besides, my brother lives near here,” she said. “My parents and I come when we get to missing him. But the truth is, prices on thoroughbreds are better here.”
“My dad and I are just here to learn. Our ranch is a ways from here.” He took another long swig of coke. Holding the bottle around its neck, he looked around the grounds. “Nice farm.”
“Sure is,” she said. Changing the subject, she began a long story about her parents, their horse farm near Louisville, and her love of the nightlife around town. “Louisville is an exciting place. Missouri doesn’t have anything much that I can see. But I know how to have a good time.”
Capp finished his Coke. “Look, I’ve got to get back.”
“So, you got a ranch? You rich?” she asked.
He laughed. “Nope. We manage a big quarter-horse ranch here in Missouri.”
“That so. Then why you here? These are racehorses, thoroughbreds.”
“We are thinking about raising a few. My dad has a hankering.”
“So where is your ranch?”
“North of Springfield. Glidewell Ranch. Biggest horse ranch this side of Texas.”
“Glidewell? Easy to remember. That’s what you want your racehorse to do in the backstretch, glide well.”
Capp just smiled and adjusted his Stetson. “Really gotta run. Dad’s waitin’ for his Coke.”
“Oh, I was hoping we could walk. Look at some horses. I could teach you some things.”
“Got to get back to the auction. This ain’t a holiday for us. We’re workin’.”
“Maybe later we can ride into town? Have ourselves some dinner? I know a place near Lebanon.”
“Nope, we got to get straight back to the ranch.”
She pouted. “Darn, we could’ve had some fun.”
Capp looked down at her unbuttoned shirt. She noticed and raised her eyebrows. Reaching in his pocket for the two coins his dad had given him, Capp said, “I bet that’s true, Ma-til-da.” She smiled warmly, then coyly bit her lip. Capp tipped his hat and walked away.
“Hope we’ll cross paths again!” she yelled after him.
Capp looked back over his shoulder and waved.
Chapter 14
The Stetson
Approaching the mess hall, Maizie climbed the steps to the backside dining hall and kitchen. There stood Thelma, helping her husband Billy wipe the tables.
“Excuse me,” Maizie said, stepping cautiously toward her. “Here are hand towels for the men’s bunkhouse. Mrs. Glidewell said I should bring them to you.” Thelma ignored Maizie for a bit and then stood straight and sighed.
“I got no time to be deliverin’ towels. Josie and Claire are busy hanging laundry. You do it.”
“I don’t know where to put ’em, and Mrs. Glidewell said I should give them to you.”
“Well, ain’t you a stubborn little thing. Mrs. Glidewell don’t know how busy I am, I guess. That’s the trouble with rich women who don’t lift a finger around a house. Just take ’em to the men’s bunkhouse. You know where, don’t you?” She eyed Maizie with an angry brow.
&
nbsp; “I sure do. Behind the stables, near the track.”
“That’s right. Door’s always unlocked. All those cowboys and such are busy today with three mares foalin’. Just go in. The linens are stored in a large room on the left. Just put them on a shelf and be done with it. Hightail it back to your fancy ranch house,” Thelma instructed.
“I’ll go,” Maizie said.
“Good. Now don’t you go tellin’ Mrs. Glidewell what I said about her not knowin’ stuff. If she comes at me, I’ll know you told. Understand?”
“Yes,” and Maizie ran down the lane a few hundred yards and came to the men’s bunkhouse.
She opened the first door she came to, and to the left she saw the door that led into the linen closet. She was struck by its size. Two sides of the room were outfitted with shelves suitable for folded laundry, and at the end was an alcove with a sink and a few cleaning supplies, including a mop, duster, and water pail.
Maizie approached the linen shelves, when she noticed a Stetson hat on a shelf near the alcove entrance. Putting the towels in their place, she reached for the hat and recognized it immediately. It was Capp’s. The hat was brown, sweat stained, with a red hat band, but that wasn’t what assured her it was Capp’s. Inserted into the band were three bird feathers: a hawk, a turkey, and a blue jay. Holding the hat in her hand, she left the bunkhouse and headed toward the barns.
When she got near the smaller horse barn, she took a moment to look in before heading to the larger one. There were five men quietly gazing in wonder at one of the stalls, whispering.
She walked in quietly with the Stetson behind her back. Seeing Capp leaning on a post with his arms crossed and wearing a brand-new hat, she tapped him on the shoulder, feeling a shot of nerves climb her back. Capp turned toward her. “Maizie, you come to see the new foal?” he whispered. “He’s a beauty. Gonna be a champion. Look here.” Capp lifted her up so she could get a good look. Maizie felt the clutch of his warm hands through her shirt. She covered her mouth with her free hand to subdue her gasp. “He’s so beautiful. He’s standing already?”
Capp put her down. “That’s the way a healthy foal does it. What you have there?” Maizie nearly forgot why she had come.
“Oh Capp, I found your hat.”
Capp looked surprised. “I’ve been lookin’ all over. Had to use my dress-up hat for work. Don’t like doin’ that.”
“Well, I found it. Here.” Maizie handed Capp his old Stetson.
“Where’d you find it?”
“It was in the linen closet in the men’s bunkhouse.”
“What were you doing in the bunkhouse?” asked Capp.
“Deliverin’ towels for Mrs. Glidewell.”
With his head bowed, he turned the hat back and forth to make sure it was his. And sure enough, embroidered on the inside label was his name. His dad always had their Stetsons embroidered. “Son, you gonna spend money like that on a good hat, you got to be able to prove it’s yours,” Wil always said.
“Maybe you borrowed some towels from the bunkhouse for your cottage and just left it?” Maizie suggested.
“Yeh, maybe,” Capp said while slapping the old Stetson against his thigh.
Chapter 15
Maizie’s Diary
June 3, 1931
I went to the backside today. I had to talk with Thelma. She still don’t like me. She talked nasty about Mrs. Glidewell too. Doesn’t seem she likes anybody.
I found Capp’s hat in the linen closet. It’s kind of a mystery how it got there. I’ve been thinking about it. I think someone is just playing a trick on Capp. I know he loves that hat. He wears it every day. He’d never just leave it. It’s a habit, him wearing that hat.
I almost opened my mama’s bag tonight, but I got scared.
Bonne nuit, mon ami,
Maizie Sunday Freedman
Chapter 16
The Bandanas
Mary and James sat near the fireplace having a cocktail before Capp and Wil arrived for Monday’s dinner. James leaned back against the couch and sighed.
“What’s the matter, James?” asked Mary as she settled deeper into the cushion.
“Nothing. Just tired, I guess. Rest assured, that was a happy sigh.” The two sat quietly watching the fire licking at the logs.
After a few moments of contemplative silence, Mary turned suddenly, her brow furrowed, and asked, “James, do you think Maizie is colored?”
“Can’t say I’ve given that any thought.” He waited for a response as he sipped on his cocktail. When none came, he looked and noticed Mary’s head down, her index finger rubbing the edge of her glass. “Mary, what’s wrong?”
Lifting her head, she brought her glass to her nose and sniffed the fruity bouquet of her port. Her voice strong, she said with certainty, “Josie is what’s wrong.”
“Did you say Josie?”
“Yes, I did. I have good sense about people. I think we better call her in and have a talk. She’s not working out.”
“Because she told on Maizie’s skin color? You do know, Mary, that you favor that girl? Josie is just jealous.”
“Josie is twenty-two years old. She’s not a child, nor should she act like one. Maizie is young and naïve. Her life before Glidewell was hard. She has no family. She needs someone to look out for her.”
“There you go again, favoring Maizie. Maybe Josie needs someone to understand her. Maybe she has no family.”
“Josie is a woman, not a child.”
“That’s true, but twenty-two isn’t all grown up.”
“I do favor Maizie. I admit it. I want to guide and educate her. I want to give her a life. I want…”
“Mary, dear. I’m hesitant to suggest…”
“Suggest what?”
“Do you think you want all these things for Maizie because… well, because we never had our own child? I mean your interest in this young lady is noble and kind, but I worry that your feelings are starting to run this household rather than your sharp business mind.”
Mary looked up. James could see tears well in Mary’s eyes. She said nothing, nor did she need to. James understood and felt bad for having brought up the subject.
The evening with the Wembleys was filled with talk about their trip to the yearling auction. James hung on everything Capp and Wil said. The three men, all excited about the prospects of raising and breeding thoroughbreds, paid little mind to Mary’s sullenness.
After dinner, Leon served coffee and macarons by the fireplace in the grand hall. James had waited long enough to bring up the problem that was weighing heavily in the air.
“Mary and I were wondering if there was a problem down at the backside.” James took a sip of coffee before he continued: “Discord among employees, perhaps? We sure would like to nip it in the bud, if there is. You can’t run a fine horse ranch or any organization when the employees are unhappy.” Wil Wembley, a man of few words but as honest as the day was long, put his fork down and then leaned toward James.
“We put a stop to it,” said Wil. “Don’t think it made folks unhappy though.”
“It didn’t? Then why did you stop it, Wil?” asked James, challenging his manager. “This sounds curious. Can you elaborate?”
“Seems we got a girl down there thinking she needed to make more money,” Wil explained. “But like I said, I put a stop to it.”
James nodded. Capp shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Mary seemed confused.
“Wil, forgive me, what are we talking about?”
“I just don’t feel comfortable talkin’ about it with a fine lady here,” said Wil.
Mary rolled her eyes. “Tell us, this is our business. Our employees are important to us.”
“Well, we had a time when one of the girls was playin’ with the boys. They’d pay her. I told her to stop it. And she did.”
Capp cle
ared his throat, dropping his macaron. He immediately jumped up and retrieved it from the wood floor.
“Who was it?” James asked.
“Josie, the bunkhouse maid.”
“I’m not surprised.” Mary looked directly at James.
“You are sure she has changed her ways?” asked James.
“I believe so. Ain’t seen no evidence that she’s using the stalls or tack room anymore.”
“Capp, you knew about this?” asked Mary.
Capp looked at his father. “No, Mrs. Glidewell. Didn’t hear it.” He coughed softly and took a drink of water.
“Come on, Capp. Surely you did,” said Mary.
“Wil, you didn’t tell Capp about it?” questioned James.
“No, I didn’t. Didn’t want to involve him,” said Wil.
Capp wiped his mouth with his linen napkin and cleared his throat again. “Well maybe I heard a little. Some of the guys would tease about it.”
“Weren’t you curious, Capp? Seems this would be a big thing going on,” asked Mary.
Just then Maizie walked into the dining room, carrying a container, smiling. “More coffee?” Wil nodded, and Maizie poured the hot brew into his cup. “Capp, coffee?” Capp shook his head, as did James and Mary. Maizie retreated to the kitchen.
Capp stood and asked to be excused. “Sure Capp, take your time,” said James.
Maizie was wiping down the cabinet fronts when Capp walked in. “Maizie, can we talk?”
“Sure. Did you lose your Stetson again?” she teased. Looking at Capp, she saw there was no smile; his eyes were serious.
“No, but I want to talk with you about that.” Capp pulled her out the back of the kitchen onto the dining porch. He sat on the railing with his back to the lane that led to the horse barns, paddocks, and track.
Through Tender Thorns Page 6