Those listening were entertained, even laughed at times but Maizie remained huddled near Mary. Capp’s friendly conversation with Matilda made her very uncomfortable. But Capp’s turning away from her was hurtful.
“I’m not feeling well,” Maizie whispered in Mary’s ear. “I think I want to go lie down for a while.”
“Really dear, are you sick?
“Just tired. The sun got to me today.”
“You do look a little flushed.” Mary placed the back of her palm on Maizie’s forehead. “Of course, dear. You go lie down. I’ll come check on you soon.”
Maizie stood to leave and looked one more time at Capp. “Good night, Capp,” she said. It seemed he did not hear her and then finally he turned his head slowly towards her. “What?” But Maizie was already halfway across the room.
Chapter 47
Knowing Horses
The evening was waning and stars began to fill the night sky. A lonely robin sung in a tree lining the walk to the backside. Capp, with his hands in his pockets, walked proudly as Matilda put her hand through his arm.
“This place here? How old is it?” she asked.
“We been in operation for quite a few years, nearly a decade. Place is all new. Mr. Glidewell says it’s the best horse ranch in Missouri.”
“I do admit your ranch is pretty but that don’t mean the horses are good.”
“Our quarter horses are top notch. Dad sees to it.”
“Is that why you lost your first race today?”
“No, I lost at the start. I didn’t have enough distance to make it up.”
“I saw your start. You didn’t have control of your horse. If you raise and train thoroughbreds, you need control. They are hot-blooded.”
“I can handle a wild horse.”
“Well, if you get to Louisville, you’ll see what a real horse and real ranch looks like. It ain’t about pretty buildings, it’s about the champions you have in the stalls. There’s no way a man gets known in horse racing if he’s from Missouri.”
They continued on in silence as the music from Meadowlark’s after-dinner concert wafted through the night. Capp turned toward the backside and then suddenly stopped. “You want to see anything down here or return to the house and listen to jazz?”
“Just walk me to my car. It’s parked over by the horse trailers. I have to get back to town.”
They walked the last few hundred yards to the parking area and found her car. Capp opened the door and Matilda slid into the driver’s seat. “You drive?” he asked a bit surprised.
“You are one smart wrangler. I help run a horse ranch. I drive a flatbed too. My daddy taught me when I was twelve. You’d be surprised what all I can do. Now I got to get back to the hotel. My brother will be up, worried and waitin’. You comin’ tomorrow night? I get lonely waitin’ for trains.”
“Not sure. Won’t know until the day is done.”
“Well, come if you can. I’d like the company. My brother will be on his way back home to Lebanon, Missouri.”
Capp smiled and shut the door. She started up the engine and then rested her forearms on the steering wheel. Turning her head toward Capp she said, “You know you might try blinders on that horse of yours. We use ’em on nervous thoroughbreds. Helps at the start and in the pack.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Told you I know about horses and racing.”
“Thanks Ma-til-da.” There was a suggestive quality in Capp’s tone. He smiled his most charming smile. “You can kiss me,” she said as she raised her face toward him. Capp leaned in through the window and kissed her on the cheek. Laughing, she pressed on the accelerator and rolled out of the parking lot and into the lane that led back to the highway. Capp began his walk back up the hill to the limestone-and-timber ranch house with a woman and horse blinders on his mind.
Chapter 48
Sunday Races
August 9, 1931
On Sunday morning at the backside moans and groans could be heard as participants and employees awoke and stretched and then analyzed their next move. All remaining riders went to the stables, checked on their horses, and considered their chances. Capp was no different. He was up and anxious for his early-morning warm-up with Running Wild. He ran to one of the tack rooms on the far end of the barn. Breathing deeply to take in the smell of the leather tack, he walked among the saddle racks looking for his gear. He stopped when he came to the saddle he had chosen for Mary in the parade. It was a smaller saddle, much lighter than his own. He ran to find Tommy O’Rourke, who was working Belle Brodie on the track. As Tommy rounded the bend and breezed across the finish line, Capp waved him to the side.
“Belle looks good, Tommy. Tough draw for you today. Two Glidewell horses, facing off. Will be a close one. Two fillies, an even race,” said Capp as he stroked Belle’s neck. “You ever race Corky and Doll before?”
“Nope, just workouts. Doll is a quick horse. Belle and I will give it a go. Tough loss yesterday, Capp.”
“I’m over it. Think I’ll lighten my horse’s load. Which of the saddles is the lightest, you know?”
“I’d say the cordovan range saddle that Mary used yesterday would be one of the lightest.”
“How much it weigh?”
“Maybe twenty pounds. It’s a nice saddle. I’ve used it at times.”
“Do you think a lighter saddle could help me and Wild win? If we have trouble at the start, he may need a lighter load to catch up.”
“Hard to say. Weight is distributed more evenly with a bigger saddle. Easier on the horse. But that cordovan has a big-enough seat for a short run. I think it may help. But you’re still going to have the starting mechanism flyin’ up.”
“I’d like to try it, Tommy. I got an idea for the barrier.”
“Sure.”
“Do we have any blinders?” asked Capp.
“You mean blinkers?”
“Used in harness racing and horse racing.”
“There are a couple in here. You want to try ’em?”
“Yes. Any chance you could spring the rope barrier a few times so I can work Wild a bit?”
“Sure. Let me finish here and cool Belle and I’ll be at the barrier.” Capp slapped Tommy’s back, and the Irishman was off for one more turn around the track. Capp looked to the horizon and saw the orange-red sunrise guaranteeing a beautiful dawn, a new day, a new chance.
Maizie was up and dressed and found Mary in her office.
“You feeling better this morning?” asked Mary.
“Yes. I’ll try to stay in the shade today.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ve been going through these letters again.”
“Anything interesting?” asked Maizie.
“Yes. Looks like Capp is going to Louisville to work with thoroughbreds.”
“So Capp is leaving?”
Mary looked at Maizie’s long face. “Maizie, it’s part of his education.” Mary stood and moved to where Maizie was standing, taking both of the young girl’s hands in her own. “Look Maizie, you’re going to be busy. Time will fly. I promise. And besides Capp will be too busy to be thinking about us.”
“What do you mean?”
“That girl last night. Wil told us Capp met her a few months back. She shows up here at Glidewell, when she is all the way from Louisville.”
“You think Capp likes her?” Maizie withdrew her hands.
“Sure he does. And she obviously likes him, or she wouldn’t have come here.”
“So he’ll be seeing her?”
“Her and others. Maizie, he is quite the charmer.”
Maizie turned and abruptly left, leaving Mary to wonder if she’d said the right thing.
At the edge of the rail on the first turn of the track, Matilda watched as horses and riders warmed up before her. She appeared deep in t
hought and then suddenly she stood straighter, her eyes widened. A smile grew on her lips as Capp Wembley and Running Wild, with blinders, no less, took the turn in front of her. She waved both arms enthusiastically, but Capp’s eyes were on the track in front of him as he eased Wild into a steady turn. Her smile quickly evaporated and in its place was a deep frown. She moved from the rail and found her way to a spot on the viewing knoll, where her brother was reading the morning paper. Looking across the knoll she noticed Maizie, the young girl from dinner talking with a groom outside the nearby stables. Leaving her brother to enjoy the morning paper, she walked down the knoll to where Maizie stood.
“Why’d you leave last night?” Matilda asked. Maizie looked up, confused, and Matilda continued: “You left in the middle of dinner.”
Maizie pulled her clipboard to her chest and did not respond.
Matilda said, “What? You don’t know why you left? Forgive me, little girl. I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Maizie. My name is Maizie. I left because I didn’t feel well.”
“You should have stayed. Dessert was good. Capp and I had such a lovely time.”
“We are happy you are enjoying the races. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
As Maizie turned to go Matilda added, “Oh, I am enjoying a lot more than just a few nag races. You got a boyfriend, little girl?”
Maizie said nothing but feeling the humiliation of being referred to as a child was maddening. Her confidence withered as the older and more sophisticated Matilda looked on. Maizie would have cried but held on to some semblance of composure. Matilda smiled, seeming to enjoy Maizie’s discomfort. The two looked at each other and as Maizie turned to go, Matilda threw yet another barb. “Well, I’ve got a boyfriend. I am quite sure I’ll see him tonight.” Maizie now knew that Mary might be right; the boyfriend could be Capp.
By one thirty in the afternoon a growing crowd of spectators had gathered on the grassy knoll. A stream of cars continued to make their way down the backside lane, and Jeb had the track wet, leveled, and ready. Rex Goude from KGBX radio was on his viewing platform, going over the draw. Familiar now with the horses and riders, he was well prepared. Corky stood on the north end of the track near the saddling paddock and blew his bugle, indicating it was time for the first racers to saddle up and warm up their horses. Another day of match races was about to start.
“The first event will be the semifinal run in the consolation bracket. Capp Wembley on Running Wild from Glidewell will be racing first against Frank McFar on Filly Flame from Buffalo, Missouri. The two contenders will be approaching the starting barrier soon,” Rex Goude announced.
Capp tried to stay focused during his warm-up. He ran his horse easy along the backstretch. His mind kept returning to yesterday’s disappointment. If only he had taken more time to consider the barrier problem… but there would be no do-overs. Capp settled in, patting his stallion on the neck. “Easy, boy. You’re doing good. We have learned a lot from pretty Miss Ma-til-da,” he whispered in Wild’s ear. Capp sat ready in the saddle. When the flag fell and the starting mechanism was sprung, Running Wild burst forward without a hitch.
Rex Goude cleared his throat and yelled into the loudspeaker, “They’re off!”
It was a good start. The horses were head-to-head in the beginning, but that quickly changed. For the first two furlongs Filly Flame stayed within a half head of Running Wild, but that was as close as she would get. Running Wild began to stretch long and pull hard.
“Looks like it’s going to be the Glidewell Ranch taking this one.” Running Wild won by two lengths as the backside fans cheered loudly. Capp removed his Stetson and continued around the track slowing as he approached the final turn. It was a satisfying victory. Capp would have a chance to compete for the winner in the consolation bracket. Better than nothing. He hoped James could see that he was in the running; he was giving it his all.
Wil, Mary, James, and Maizie were at the finish line, standing abreast at the rail.
“He did it, Wil. Wild was a different horse today,” said James, slapping Wil on his back.
“Those blinders were a great solution.”
“Where did Capp learn that?” asked James.
“Not sure I know. We’ve never used them on our quarter horses.”
“Maizie, aren’t you happy to see Capp win?” Mary asked. “He’ll be in the finals.” Maizie had her back turned and was scanning the knoll. A reflection from a flask caught her eye. The person holding the flask was Capp’s guest from the night before, Matilda. The young woman appeared to be with a man. A feeling of relief washed over Maizie. Maybe that man was the boyfriend she was talking about.
“Maizie? Aren’t you happy? Capp won!” exclaimed Mary trying to lure the young girl into a pleasant conversation.
The look on Maizie’s face was hardly one of joy. She turned to face Mary and said, “Capp wanted more. Wouldn’t you? He wanted to win the winners’ draw. He wanted to make James proud.”
“I think James is proud,” Mary said. “Aren’t you, James?”
“I wish he’d done better yesterday. But yes, I am proud of his win today.”
On the knoll sat Matilda, slowly sipping on a flask full of gin. Her brother, next to her, was on his feet observing the horses and riders around the track. “Great race, sis. You see that?”
“Oh yeh, sure. The winner is a friend of mine. He has a lot to learn about racing.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep, I’m goin’ to teach him how to win.” She looked up at her brother and smiled while handing him her flask. “Small world. I met him a while back.”
“Nice lookin’ rider. Where’d you meet him?”
“At the horse auction—we hit it off.”
“So is that why you talked me into coming to these match races?”
Matilda smirked and said, “Maybe.”
“Don’t matter. I have had a great time. Seems your friend is a good rider already.”
“He has a long way to go, I’m thinkin’. Course you never were much of a horse person.”
Matilda’s brother shrugged. “Looked good to me.”
As she looked up at her brother, she laughed, tinged with ridicule.
The winner of the next match race would be Capp’s challenger in the consolation bracket: either Hilman Smith on Cinder Dick or Chuck Lowell on Red Sundown. These competitors knew each other well as they hailed from the area known as Cedar Creek. The two men were contentious rivals, a grudge match.
As the two stallions and riders jogged to the starting line, spectators could hear the men cussing as they got into position. Their unfriendly and mean-spirited sparring was of great interest to the crowd. As the two competitors continued their jawing, the flag was dropped. It was a good start, a close race but Chuck Lowell on Red Sundown took it. Hilman Smith angrily rode his horse hard back to the saddling paddock, yelling expletives as he did. Capp would be taking on Chuck Lowell riding Red Sundown in the final heat of the consolation bracket.
Rex Goude, the announcer, stepped up to the microphone. “Coming up now, folks, are the two semi-final match races in the winners’ bracket.”
James and Wil had assumed their position on the rail near the finish line. “Like I said, James. You never know in racing,” said Wil.
“You know, Wil, I was impressed with the way Capp found a solution to his start problem. Just wish he’d done it sooner.”
“The kid has smarts. When he’s motivated, he’ll do what he needs to do. And he won’t cheat none either.”
Rex Goude yelled into his mic, “This is an interesting one, folks: two Glidewell fillies competing head-to-head. Only one can make it to the finals. Corky Wright on Devil Doll against Tommy O’Rourke on Belle Brodie. Those Glidewell horses are beautiful and those orange blankets are easy to see.” Corky kept leaning over and patting Doll’s neck. She pranced proudl
y to the starting line. Doll was a beauty, her white coat gleaming. Belle Brodie was smaller than Doll but a fast sprinter. Many backside betters had their money on Doll; James privately placed a five-dollar bet on Belle to win. He had a feeling.
The flagged dropped, the barrier was raised and the two Glidewell fillies took off running neck and neck. There was nothing to slow them. Both riders indicated to their horses to go for broke, and they did. As they approached the finish line at the four-furlong mark, there was great uncertainty as to who would finish first, but somehow Devil Doll stretched her neck out and won by a nose. The crowd on the knoll were all standing and cheering, enjoying the closest match of the day. James turned to Wil and said, “Guess betting on the long shot gets you nowhere.”
“Only when it does.” Wil laughed as he accepted James’s five dollars.
Next in the lineup was Miles Moser on Scout’s Honor against Neil Favor on Mitt-Me-Kid. What Neil Favor lacked in horsepower he made up in guile. But all the guile in the world wouldn’t have had Scout’s Honor lose this Sunday. The horse was sound and fast and won easily. Scout’s Honor was just too good, Miles Moser just too experienced.
Capp riding Running Wild took the finals in the consolation bracket. Red Sundown seemed no match at all for the Glidewell team. As Capp climbed off the saddle, he regretted even more that he had lost in the first race yesterday. Running Wild was the best horse in the lot, no doubt about it. He had made a mistake not training him harder with the starting mechanism. It had been his fault that he lost. Not bad luck. Not an unruly horse. A trainer’s error.
A stable hand intercepted Capp and attached a lead to Running Wild’s halter. “I’ll see to it Wild gets a good rubdown, Capp,” he said, about to lead the horse back to the barn.
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