“You would enjoy learning more about the world,” Mary said on one of those evenings. “You’re intelligent. Look at all you have learned in less than a year’s time. I want you to consider completing a high-school education. James said he has a friend, a retired professor from Drury College, who might be able to help you achieve competence in certain subjects and be allowed to enter college without a high-school diploma.”
Sounds like you’ve made up your mind, thought Maizie, a challenge on her lips that she didn’t voice out loud. “So no matter what, I am going to school?”
“I guess you could say that,” said Mary. “I feel I know what’s best.”
Maizie just shrugged. “I’m not cut out for college. I did enjoy school, but now I just don’t know.”
“Give it some thought. I don’t want to put you under any pressure,” said Mary, feeling a tinge of disappointment at Maizie’s lack of enthusiasm.
“But you are putting me under pressure. You make me feel like I should really want to, but I’m not sure.”
“This is important for you and your future. Why waste an opportunity like this? James can make it happen.”
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. But… I don’t want to leave here.”
“Why?”
“I feel my future is here. But if I go to college, you might find someone better than me to do my job. Then I’d be out of work. That scares me.”
“So it isn’t Capp?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“I know you miss him. I can tell.”
“No. I don’t miss him! Quit pretending you know all about me. You don’t. No one does.”
Mary pulled her chair away from the table and stood. As responses to Maizie’s outburst ran through her mind, she hit upon the only question left to ask. “Then why are you so afraid of leaving to attend college?”
“I just told you! Weren’t you listening? I may never get back to Glidewell!” Maizie yelled as she stood and stepped back. In her haste she knocked over a vase on the breakfront. Looking in horror at the broken porcelain, she bent to pick up the pieces. “I’m so sorry,” she said through tears.
“It’s all right, Maizie. No harm done. The vase was not expensive.”
“I just don’t want to go.” Looking at Mary, her hands shaking, she cried, “What if you decide you don’t need me? What if I end up on the outside, beyond the Osage orange-tree fence? I have no one, nothing.” She began to weep. Her sobs were deep, driving her to sit down again, the broken shards still in her hand.
“You’re scared you can’t come back here?” Mary was stunned.
Maizie attempted to breathe deeply but the air caught in her throat. This level of distress wasn’t warranted, Mary thought. She placed a hand on Maizie’s shoulder. “Take some time to think about it. But just know that you are wrong about a few things.”
Maizie lifted her head and turned to Mary. “Like what?”
“You said you have no one. That’s not true.”
“Who? Who do I have? I have no mother, no father, no one.”
“You have us. Maizie, this is your home. You may always come back.”
“Well, Maizie Bean, I been to these places,” said Meadowlark as he ran his finger along the circled towns on Maizie’s map. “I learned some real, honest blues down there. Played piano with a cat named Muddy Waters. His name like that muddy ol’ Mississippi, yessir. But if this map was your mama’s guide to Glidewell Ranch, looks like it was the Yazoo River that haunts your memories. Look here, all these towns are on the Yazoo or near the Yalobusha River. Those are the lazy rivers you been singing and dreaming about.”
Mary noticed that just north of a place called Vicksburg was a tiny symbol of a house on stilts. The town of Vicksburg was circled and there was a large, heavily drawn X next to the name of the town. “Maizie, looks like Vicksburg was where your mama started. Do you think that could be where your mama and daddy are from?”
Maizie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“It makes sense. The X is telling,” James interjected, shaking the ice cubes of his after-dinner drink as he sat back down on a cowhide chair surrounding the low table. “You know the adage X marks the spot? Look, no other towns, although they are circled, have an X. I think Vicksburg is a very important town in your mama’s life. And you and your mama ended up a long way north of Vicksburg.”
“That’s true,” said Maizie, her eyes glued to the map.
“Up a lazy river, child. Don’t forget.” Meadowlark moved closer to Maizie and with his index finger, he traced the river all the way to Tennessee.
Maizie watched, shaking her head, as his finger zigged and zagged along. “I don’t know why my mama never talked about where she was from. She said I was a child of the earth and I was from love, goodness, and light. She’d say, ‘Maizie you aren’t from nowhere. You are here is all’.”
“Mamas sure do know how to say it. But sometimes Mamas just can’t say the truth. ’Cause you’s not from nowhere, Maizie Bean. You is from somewhere. And it is comfortin’ to know where that somewhere is. Why you think your mama not want you to know where you from, Maizie Bean?”
Maizie shrugged a second time and remained quiet.
“Perhaps she was trying to save you from something painful, Maizie. That’s what mamas do,” Mary suggested.
“She told me about my daddy, how he was murdered. So she didn’t save me from that, and that was painful.”
“What’s your daddy’s name?” asked Meadowlark.
“I only know his last name was Freedman. My mama only called him ‘your daddy.’ ‘You got yourself a fine daddy,’ she would say.”
There was a deep silence as the three adults exchanged glances.
“Whenever I asked for more, my mama would stiffen and then she’d say that I knew all that I needed to know. ‘Does no good to hold on to the past,’ she would say. ‘I’ve learned that the hard way,’ she’d say,” explained Maizie. “After a while, when I was older, I just didn’t ask anymore.”
James was holding his chin and staring at the map with great interest. Suddenly he slapped his hand on the map. “There are answers here. More than we realize. Notice all the towns that are circled, some have a little house with a door and on some of those doors there is a dollar sign.”
“Well, I’d bet that your mama made money in those houses doing work of some kind,” offered Meadowlark. “There’s a dollar sign on the house with stilts.”
All of a sudden, James leaned down very close to the map and said, “Look here, next to the house with stilts there are four hash marks. They are tiny, but they are there.” All lowered their heads to look where James was pointing. Mary ran to her office to grab her trusty magnifying glass. Meadowlark took the glass and studied where James was pointing. The group of eager detectives moved around the map looking from every angle, hoping to discover its secrets.
“You’re right, Mr. Glidewell. I do wonder what those marks could mean,” said Meadowlark.
James was quiet for a while and then he surmised, “Hash marks are generally used to count. I would guess that the hash marks represent units of time or events.” Then he ran his finger to each circled town on the map and as he did he noticed other hash marks. “Look here at Grenada and Holly Springs. These townships have one hash mark, and each one has a small house with a door and a dollar sign. These towns are important too.”
Mary paced the room. “Could it mean that Grenada and Holly Springs were towns where you all lived? Maybe your mama had a job? Could that be it?”
“I know Grenada. Has lots of those plantation mansions. Could be some of those folks needed help. Lots of cotton grown there before the Civil War, but not so much now,” Meadowlark said.
“How old were you when you got to Springfield, Maizie?
” asked Mary.
“I’m not sure, maybe six. It was when I started school. I remember that.”
Leon walked into the room carrying a brandy decanter and four small brandy snifters. “Bonsoir. Brandy, anyone?” he asked. The amateur detectives responded with a nod and Leon began to pour.
“If you were born in Vicksburg in 1915,” began James, “it took your mama six years to get to Springfield. So, if those hash marks mean years, she spent four years near Vicksburg, and one year in Grenada and Holly Springs. That adds up to six years accounted for.” The adults all nodded and then shook their heads. “Yet, I know, the hashmarks could mean something else,” James added.
The room was silent except for the tick tock coming from the old wind-up school clock hanging on the wall. The swinging of the pendulum back and forth measured the contemplative moments.
“Caroline Freedman, your mama, seemed determined to get to Springfield. Why, I wonder?” said James. “Maizie, I have an idea. You said your father was a singer, a very good singer. He died about sixteen or seventeen years ago. That’s not a long time, and someone with a memorable talent and who was lynched by a mob of white men would not be forgotten by those who appreciated him. I bet you someone in Vicksburg knows your mama’s story.”
“I have a musician friend from Vicksburg. Lives there off and on. We could ask him if he knows the story,” said Meadowlark.
“Maizie dear, do you want to do this?” Mary asked. “Do you want to find out who your mama really was and where she came from and why she left?”
Maizie thought about it for a moment. “I do. But I think I already know why.”
“Why?” James questioned.
Maizie looked down again at the old map and ran her finger up the river as Meadow had done. “I think she had an empty heart and was tryin’ to fill it up.”
The three adults looked at one another as Maizie began to refold the fragile map.
Chapter 57
Out on the Town
After work Tilly made her way to the bunkhouses at Churchill Downs. The evening was chilly, but a nice sunset was in the making. The sky was taking on rose and yellow hues near the horizon. She was thinking about what the evening might hold. There on the steps of Bunkhouse #5, she found Capp waiting for her.
“Hey, Capp!” Running up the porch steps she fell into him, tripping on the last step. Capp held her briefly and then let her go, trying to suppress his laughter.
“What are you laughing at, cowboy?”
“You. You nearly killed yourself in those shoes. They ain’t sensible.”
“Says you. I think they make my legs look shapely. Everyone says so.”
“I guess.” He took a long look at her legs and concluded, “You are right about that.”
“See. Sometimes the risk is worth it. Kind of like racing a thoroughbred along the rail.”
The two walked to the parking area. Tilly slid into the driver’s seat of an old pickup truck with “Parkway Farm” painted on the door, while Capp rode shotgun. Turning the key and putting her foot on the accelerator, Tilly revved the engine and they headed toward downtown Louisville. “You want to go drinkin? I know a bar where we can have a Prohibition special.”
“What’s a Prohibition special?”
“Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and a real drink.”
“What’s the drink?”
“It is legal, and sure gets you talkin’. It’s whatever juice they have on hand and your own hooch. I got some here in my flask.”
Capp laughed, loving the adventuresome nature of this girl. “Sounds good,” he said, smiling as he reached his hand to her knee. Tilly rewarded him with a smile.
Tilly pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine. Capp hopped out of the cab and went to open Tilly’s door. She didn’t wait for Capp to assist her, but jumped out quickly, straightened her skirt and pointed the way. “You know, Capp, now that you are here, I think I should spend some time with you in the barns at Churchill Downs. Teach you some things about racing.”
“Bob Hench is going to work with me. We talked about it at lunch today.” Tilly made no comment as they approached the door to The Lucky Shoe. Once inside, she said, “Don’t you forget that I know about horses and racing. You’d do well to hang with me. Bet I know stuff Bob doesn’t and—” she hesitated before she said, “And I’m more fun.”
Although the place was busy, they were able to get a table for two. The room was well lit. Hardly a place to find romance, but that was not her goal. Tilly ordered two Prohibition specials. “Look Capp. Just about everyone is having a drink. I think it’s funny how people drink more now than they did before alcohol was made illegal.”
Capp nodded. “That’s true. Guys at Glidewell are always nippin’ on a flask. Seems most folks and businesses have found a way around the prohibition.”
“Seems most look the other way. You drink a lot, Capp?”
“Mostly to be polite.”
“Oh God, you’re too perfect. I love to drink. Makes me feel happy.”
“That’s true. But that happy feeling don’t last forever. You ever notice that?”
“Don’t stop drinking. That’s what I do.” Tilly laughed as the drinks were set on the table.
Capp and Tilly spent the evening talking about horses and farms and her dream of breeding and racing Derby winners. “You could become known for raisin’ and trainin’ fine thoroughbreds,” she said, and Capp listened.
They enjoyed their meal, laughed a lot, reached for each other’s hands, and seemed to relish their reacquaintance.
After dinner, Tilly suggested that they go for a walk around town to sober up before driving back to Churchill Downs. Capp put his arm around her to keep her warm and to steady her. “Thank you, cowboy.” Tilly stopped, stood on her toes and kissed him.
An hour later, they were back at Churchill Downs in the unlit manager’s office. Tilly led Capp into her father’s office using a flashlight from the desk.
“What are we doing here?” Capp asked.
“This is where we will start your education, Capp.” Tilly leaned into him and gently pushed him against the office wall. “I have something I want to teach you,” she whispered.
Capp kissed her, showing he would be a very eager pupil.
Chapter 58
A Telling Tour
Louisville, Kentucky
Capp’s move to Churchill Downs was bearing fruit. He’d enjoyed the last few weeks working with the team in Bob Hench’s barn and was growing more confident about thoroughbreds. Spending time with Tilly was an added bonus. Most of the time it was a drink followed by a tryst in an alley, the backseat of Tilly’s car, or her daddy’s office. Tilly was busy cultivating the idea that Capp would join her in developing her farm into a famous horse ranch. The idea intrigued him, and being young and naïve, he always looked forward to discussing the possibility with Tilly along with other activities.
Three weeks into his apprenticeship Capp felt comfortable enough to borrow a car from Bob Hench to drive to the Parkway Farm, the place Tilly’s family owned. He was excited to finally see it. Tilly had asked him to come spend Saturday with her. They’d have a picnic, ride horses, and play around, talk about raising horses. He liked the sound of that. He just needed to figure out how to get there. He’d been on this old country road for a while and couldn’t help but wonder if he was lost. There was nothing to inform him if he was still headed in the right direction. Pulling over to the side of the road, he looked at Tilly’s hand-drawn map but couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
He got back on the route. Around a bend he came upon a young man walking a large dog along the edge of the road. Capp stopped, rolled down the window and shouted, “You know where the Parkway Ranch is located?”
The man turned, walked to the window, and looked at Capp, but not before his dog had stuck
his big muzzle into the opening. “Down, boy,” the man commanded. “Who’s askin’?”
“Friend of Matilda Coombs. I work at Churchill Downs.”
“Not much of a ranch if you ask me. ’Course, I never did see it when it was in its heyday. Had a big grass fire up there five years ago. Proud to say this big hound dog and me helped put it out. ’Course the wind changin’ helped.”
“So where is the Coombs place?” Capp repeated impatiently.
“Sorry, we all get carried away talking about the Coombs.”
“That so? Why?”
“Lots to talk about, I guess. They’s on hard times. Nearly sold all their horses. One day a bank officer was lost just like you. Asked me how to get there. Now a bank officer making a call during the Depression ain’t a good thing. Means there’s trouble. And that ain’t all. Matilda is pretty popular with the fellas. I guess, you could say she has a reputation. Seems there is always someone wanting to know where she lives. Like I said, plenty to talk about.”
“Please, can you just tell me how to get there?”
“Up the road a bit you’ll see a burned-out barn and a fork in the road. Keep to the right and Parkway’s entrance is a half mile.”
“I’m obliged.”
“You seein’ that girl?”
“No. We’re just friends from work.”
“Yeah? Just know, you ain’t the first friend she’s had up there.”
Capp smiled but the man’s words weighed on his mind. The part about the farm bothered him; the part about Tilly amused him. He put his foot on the gas and continued. Within ten minutes he could see the burned barn in the distance. As Capp grew close, the barn seemed long abandoned and of no use for horse farming, most of the roof gone or about to fall in. Next to the barn were the skeletal remains of a post and barb-wired paddock covered with tall, dry grass. There were no horses in the field. No livestock paths anywhere.
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