“That’s two broodmares, one stallion, and a foal?”
“Yes,” confirmed Wil.
“The broodmares are going to run about five grand apiece. Their sire is Blue Larkspur, horse of the year in 1930.” James perked up at the mention of Blue Larkspur, the racehorse that kindled his interest in thoroughbred horses. “I know Blue Larkspur. Saw him win at Arlington in 1929. Thrilling to experience.”
“Yep, we are proud to call that horse our own,” said Richmond Blevens. “The stallion you chose gets about five hundred dollars as a stud fee.” Blevens slowed down to do the math in his head. “He did thirty mares last year and could have done more. He’d be a moneymaker for your ranch, fifteen to twenty thousand dollars a year. I think his value at seven years old is fifteen thousand. And the yearling is developing. Hard to tell what he’ll be able to do. You can take the four horses for twenty-five thousand. I’ll throw in the colt.”
Wil, James, and Capp were quiet. James was tapping his pencil on the tabletop, taking his time. “I’ll pay twenty thousand for the lot with the understanding that our stallion will earn us money for five more years. Am I right to figure that way?” James asked, directing his attention to Wil.
Wil picked up the stallion pedigree and looked at it one more time. “James, it’s always a gamble to predict stud fees. But considering the stallion’s age, I think we can assume he’ll earn his keep for at least five years.”
“Earn his keep? Why hell, he’ll do better than that, but you guys talk it over.” Richmond Blevens stood up and retrieved a bottle of bourbon from a nearby desk drawer. With one hand he expertly picked up six shot glasses, walked back to the table, and poured each man a shot. Raising his glass, Richmond said, “To Brother Joe and Burgoo King. May they make us proud at this year’s Derby!” Dale yelled, “Hear, hear!” as all the men downed their shots in one gulp.
“Have you offered twenty grand?” asked Blevens. “’Cause if you did, I will counter at twenty-two five. And remember, that includes transport of all four horses to Churchill Downs. Dale and Clyde can drive the horse trailers there when we all go to the Derby.”
James looked at Wil and Capp. Both were nodding their heads. James stood to shake Richmond’s hand and then turned to pat Wil and Capp on the back. “Guess we did it. Got us some fine stock.” The deal was done. Capp felt his confidence swell. He was a fine horse buyer; he knew his stuff—his education at Churchill Downs had been a good one.
Chapter 70
Rising Star Horse Farm
“Making a ridiculous offer could get us nowhere, only the door,” said Wil as they climbed out of the Buick at the Rising Star Horse Farm. James agreed that a fair price was what they should offer.
“And let’s be prepared to walk away. They might not have any stock we want,” cautioned Wil.
“I understand,” said James, being sensitive to those less fortunate than he.
Pulling up the driveway to the Rising Star, it was evident the farm was failing. The horses in the pastures were few, fences were in disrepair, and the outbuildings needed paint. When they reached the barn, there was one stable hand there to greet them. After brief introductions, the stable hand, an older cowpoke who had seen better days himself, led them to the owner’s house on the property. “Mr. Ganning is expecting you,” he said and knocked on the front door.
When the door finally opened, there stood a short, rotund man of maybe fifty years, holding a pipe in his right hand. “Mr. Glidewell?” Ganning asked, scanning the three strangers at his door. James nodded, introduced Wil and Capp, and extended his hand. Mr. Ganning limply shook James offer of greeting and introduced himself. Putting down his pipe in a ceramic dish on a table near the door, he left it to smolder. He grabbed a coat on the hall tree, changed into riding boots and suggested everyone move on to the porch and back down to the barn.
Mr. Ganning, obviously bitter and upset over his failing circumstances, walked quickly down to the barn, taking two steps for every one of the other four men. He explained he had a few horses he was ready to let go for the right price. One was a young temperamental stallion who was difficult to train. Given his financial situation he had not been able to hire the proper trainer. Another was a three-year-old filly they had tried to breed four times, but none had taken. “We have been using a stud named Dandamore. In his glory days, he won a stake race and made us some money. We retired him and put him out to stud. He’s proven. Sired many foals. Guess it is the filly who ain’t up to it,” explained Ganning. “I’d let her go cheap. Don’t know what good she’d do. We had her with Dandamore a week ago. Gave her one last try,” said Ganning.
Wil was listening intently. When they got to the corral where the filly was kept, she was looking at the men standing at the fence. Wil liked the looks of the filly, a light chestnut with white markings. She was alert, curious about the strangers in her midst, but thin. Wil had a filly like her who was difficult to breed, but eventually when she was older she conceived. “I’d like my son to check her out. See if she is sound. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. There are leads in the barn,” said Ganning, nodding at his stable hand, who ran to get the necessary tack.
“Don’t need a saddle—just halter, reins, and grab a lunge line too,” yelled Capp.
Returning, the stable hand entered the corral and called to the filly. She came willingly as the handler stood his ground so as not to cause her to shy away. When she was haltered and secured with the lead, Capp got to work checking her conformation and putting her through her paces. She performed well and seemed to enjoy the attention. Capp liked this horse, but without proof she could conceive she may not be a good choice. He undid the lunge line, handed it to the stable hand, and climbed back over the fence.
“Does she have any race experience?” asked Capp.
“A little. She did fine, but our interests were not in training this filly to race,” explained Ganning.
“I see,” said Capp and then walked over to his father, who was alone at the corral fence. “She’s really thin. That may be why she isn’t producing foals.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” said Wil.
“Maybe worms?” suggested Capp, who then walked back to Ganning. “You ever deworm this filly?”
“Yeah, just a few weeks ago. We take care of our horses here,” Ganning said, somewhat insulted at the question.
“Good,” said Capp and then went to speak to James, who was waiting near the corral fence. “I’d get this filly for a good price. I bet you anything we can breed her. She’s a fine horse, a really fine horse, great disposition.” James nodded and slapped Capp on his back as they walked back to Ganning.
“Could we see that stallion you mentioned and Dandamore?” asked Capp.
“Sure, the dark brown horse with the white star is Dandamore. The stallion for sale is the dapple gray with the four black stockings and mane.” The men walked to the paddock to get a closer look.
Asking for a lead, Capp climbed into the paddock and the dapple gray retreated. Capp waited until the horse gave him a good look with two eyes and then he turned and walked away from the horse. The dapple began to cautiously follow Capp. As long as Capp was walking away, the horse didn’t think of him as a threat. Eventually Capp was able to maneuver the horse to the corner of the paddock and attach the lunge line. The workout on the lunge line exposed poor behavior and training, but good conformation, a good gait, and intelligence. Capp and Wil could work with this horse. The stallion had potential.
“We should make an offer for the filly and the stallion. I like them both,” said Capp.
“What would you take for the two?” asked James.
Ganning looked at his perspective buyers. “What you goin’ to do with the filly? She’s barren, like I told you.”
“We like her. We think we can breed her successfully,” said Capp.
“Are you saying I don’t kn
ow what I’m doin’? I was honest with you. She’ll never race and can’t have a foal. You lookin’ for a pleasure ride?”
“Could be,” said Wil. “But look, we like Dandamore’s pedigree. We will pay you for it, in case she’s pregnant. She could be.”
“Think you guys may be disappointed, but I’ll sell you a copy of the pedigree,” said Ganning.
James was considering the offer. “After we confirm the pedigrees, we’d like to offer two grand for the stallion. I’ll give you one thousand for the filly and five hundred dollars for Dandamore’s pedigree. This is a gamble. I’m willing to take the risk. I want to be fair to you. That’s thirty-five hundred. That’s a lot of money in this economy.”
“That’s a steal and you know it. I can’t afford to let these horses go at that price.”
“Seems it’s a good deal for you. I’m buying an ill-behaved stallion that you can’t train and most likely a barren filly. Thirty-five hundred! We will be back in a few days with the cash and a horse trailer. My driver will pick them up. We’ll sign a contract today.”
Ganning appeared angry. It wasn’t hard for James to understand the man’s anger. Not everyone was able to ride out this economy. James felt lucky he had taken heed when he did—put his money into metals, safe and secure.
Finally Ganning said, “Let’s go back to the house and I’ll show you the pedigrees and we can write up a contract. When did you say I’d get my money?”
“When my driver returns to pick up the horses, he’ll give you the cash. I assume your stable hand will load the horses.”
“Of course,” said Ganning. He nervously zipped and unzipped his jacket, a habit born of hard times. “So tell me, Mr. Glidewell, have you purchased stock from anyone else around here?”
“Idle Hour Farm,” answered James.
“I see,” said Ganning.
“You heard of it?” asked Capp.
“Oh yes, of course. Who doesn’t know of Colonel Bradley? His ponies are pricey,” responded Ganning. He turned with shoulders slumped to walk back to his house, looking like a man diminished. James and Will peered at each other, feeling a sense of loss for the man. It wouldn’t be long and his farm, the Rising Star, would belong to a bank, his hopes for a comeback gone, his star falling.
Chapter 71
Churchill Downs
Tilly had been working in the backside office all morning. Her back and rear ached from sitting so she decided to walk around and ease the discomfort. Before she left, she found her lipstick in her purse, smoothed on some new color, and popped a stick of Wrigley’s in her mouth. She was thinking about Capp. She missed him. It had been a while. Locking the office door she began to walk around the backside, looking for him while stretching her long legs.
It was eleven o’clock in the morning and the exercising of the horses was winding down. Tilly hurried to the edge of the track and saw four riders making their way down the backstretch.
One rider, on a beautiful dapple-gray stallion, caught her attention. She knew a good rider when she saw one. He was straddling the saddle, leaning over the horse’s neck and using his whip effectively as he maneuvered the horse around a pack of three young thoroughbreds. It was Capp. She was certain. She sighed deeply and a sense of panic overtook her when she realized in a few days’ time he would be gone. She dreamed about Capp nearly every night, and despite his seeming disinterest in her, she had no intentions of forgetting him. She leaned into the railing and waved to him as he rounded the turn for home and crossed the finish line.
Wil was there with a stopwatch and let out a “Hot damn. Capp, this is a racehorse!”
Capp had the horse slow and halt before his cool down. He smiled when he heard the time and then noticed Tilly at the rail; his smile faded abruptly. Chewing eagerly on her gum, she looked his way and then turned slowly and sashayed back to her office.
Unlocking the door, she walked around the counter and fell heavily into her chair. Cradling her head in her palms she took a few deep breaths. Her disappointment in Capp’s reaction was turning to anger. By hook or by crook, Tilly would convince Capp she was the woman for him and Parkway Farm was his future. She hadn’t given up on Martin yet. She knew Martin wanted her. But he still hadn’t asked his dad to buy or lease the farm. Capp, on the other hand, was a guy she could manipulate. She’d done it before. She liked Capp’s prospects. Glidewell was one of the richest men in the Midwest. There had to be a way. Seduction was her favorite game and she was good at it. She had to keep trying.
Chapter 72
Maizie’s Diary
May 5, 1932
I finally wrote a letter to Meadow’s friend in Vicksburg. I told him all about my mama and asked about my daddy. I liked my letter. I used my calligraphy to address the envelope and gave it to Leon to mail. He asked me if this was a friend of mine. I said I hoped so. He smiled.
I want a reply. It will help me understand who I am. Won’t it? I have changed so much since I came here. I know that, and that’s good. But I can’t help but wonder where a girl like me can go, if not here. I still worry about that. I’m scared.
Today James called and invited Mary and me to the Kentucky Derby. He wants to show us the horses and experience the race. We are staying at a big, fancy hotel. Mary said colored people are not allowed, but James would clear the way. He was going to say his wife and daughter would be staying with him. Imagine, we are going to pretend we’re a family. But pretending don’t make it so.
Bonne nuit, mon ami,
Maizie Sunday Freedman
P.S. Corky gave me a note today. It was from Rye Fulton. It said he needed to apologize. He said he wasn’t thinking straight when he saw me in the kitchen. He said he thought I was older. He hoped I would understand. Truth is, I don’t. My skin crawls when I think of him.
Chapter 73
Checking in
Mary and Maizie arrived on the train at the Louisville downtown station on the day before the Derby. James ran to greet them with hugs and kisses. Mary was dressed to the nines and Maizie sported a spring hat with her hair tucked under the hat’s brim, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. Arriving at the hotel lobby, James introduced the two women to the doorman as his wife and daughter. When they approached the registrar’s desk, James slid a twenty onto the counter. Smiling, the registrar picked up the bill and put it in his pocket. “Good afternoon, Mr. Glidewell. Looks like your family has arrived.”
“Indeed.” James looked warmly at Mary and Maizie.
“We had no two-bedroom suites, Mr. Glidewell. So we have moved a few guests around and your daughter will be staying directly across the hall from you.”
“That will be satisfactory,” James said. The registrar smiled, date-stamped the registration card and handed James the key to Maizie’s room. James reached to shake his hand. Lifting three suitcases, one tucked securely under his arm, James led Mary and Maizie to the elevator.
After settling into their respective rooms, Mary and Maizie freshened up for cocktails. In a half hour Maizie knocked on the Glidewells’ suite and James let her in. “You look lovely, Maizie. Join us. Hope your room meets with your approval.” James poured three glasses of whiskey.
“My room is nice. Never been to a hotel before.” Her excitement was not lost on James. Pouring her a glass of port, he motioned for her to sit.
“Glad you are here. I knew introducing you as my daughter would throw them off the scent. You passed for white.” Maizie looked at James confused. She never thought of herself as black or white—just slightly colored, the daughter of a white woman. The fact that it mattered made her feel a sense of shame.
“It doesn’t feel too good, thinking I don’t belong here.”
“Now, Maizie, you do belong here. It’s just that all this Jim Crow stuff has people so alert to skin color. It doesn’t matter to us and it shouldn’t matter to you. There will be no problems.”
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Maizie looked down at her glass of port, wondering who she really was.
“Who are the glasses of whiskey for?” asked Mary as she came in from the bedroom.
“Can’t you guess?” James asked.
Maizie looked up from her negative thoughts. “The Wembleys?” she questioned.
“Yep. That’s right. They’ll be here in a minute.” James returned to his seat and began asking questions about the ranch and all the folks who worked there. Among other things, he’d heard that Jeb was still alive but in great pain.
“I think he’s waiting to see the thoroughbreds,” explained Mary. “Maizie and I have been visiting him daily, and when he’s awake, that’s all he talks about.” Suddenly there was a friendly knock on the door.
“Come on in!” James yelled. “The door’s unlocked.”
Pushing the door open, Wil and Capp entered, looking nice in their dinner apparel. No one had ever seen them so “gussied up.”
Chapter 74
Maizie’s Diary
May 6, 1932
It’s confusing to me. James seemed proud he fooled the hotel into thinking I belonged to him. It makes me wonder how all this will end. The older I get, the more confused I am about who I am.
I realized I was in love tonight. I saw Capp, in the flesh. The last time we were together it wasn’t good, but this time… well… it was different. I can’t describe how nervous I was. I just didn’t know what to expect. I’ve been thinking he could care less about me. My heart was pounding and when I saw him, I couldn’t find any words to say. I just stood by my chair. I felt awkward and like a fool. We were friends, weren’t we? Then it happened. Capp walked over to me and lifted me up off the ground. He gave me a big hug. It was so nice. He told me I was prettier than ever. I told him I couldn’t believe I was here in Kentucky. He said he was glad. He also said he was excited to get back to Glidewell. He had enough of Louisville for a while. Hope he meant Tilly too.
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