Through Tender Thorns

by Barbara Morriss

  Corky, in his cavalry uniform, stood and raised his trusty bugle, and to everyone’s surprise he began his rendition of “Boots and Saddles.” Suddenly a familiar clip-clop sounded through the open front door of the ranch house. The entire dinner party stood up to look. Soon all were clapping and cheering as Tommy O’Rourke, on the back of Glory Be, rode into the large front hall, horse hooves sounding their arrival. Tommy was wearing the new cobalt-blue Glidewell silks and orange jockey’s cap. Under Glory Be’s saddle was a bright orange blanket with “Glory Be” embroidered on the side.

  Mary could be overheard saying, “Good God, a horse is in the house.” Laughter filled the room. But as everyone knew, it wasn’t just any horse, it was Glory Be. The stallion had proven himself in many preliminary races to be one of the best racehorses in the nation. Glory Be often finished in the top four, his times fast, his attention keen. Tommy was smiling broadly, tipped his cap, and stayed astride while Rye took pictures of the spectacle. After the arrival of horse and jockey, Capp stood and gave a little speech of his own.

  “Seeing Glory Be here gets me choked up.” Capp looked at his father. “Look at that stallion. He just knows he’s something. We’ve got some fine quarter horses and fine thoroughbreds and are having more all the time, but this guy is special. Dad says he’s one in a million, a freak of nature.” Capp raised his champagne glass again and continued: “Tommy, Dad, Corky and I leave for Churchill Downs soon to hook up with Bob Hench and his team for a few weeks. Then we are off to Arkansas for winter training and races.” Capp paused for a moment and then turned to James and Mary: “It’s gonna be a Kentucky Derby none of us will forget. If Glory Be keeps going the way he has, he’ll win it. With Tommy as his jockey, we can’t lose.”

  Everyone cheered and many moved closer to the horse. The room was alive with excited chatter and laughter.

  Maizie was on her way to get a better view of Glory Be when she nearly ran into Rye Fulton. Rye looked at her and again was enraptured. “Maizie.”

  “Mr. Fulton,” she said, not looking at the photographer. Her eyes focused on the camera he held in his hand.

  “Merry Christmas.” He raised the camera to his chest. “Look, if you ever need new pictures taken for anything, I would do them for free.” Maizie looked up at the sad face of a lonely man, a voyeur behind a camera lens.

  “Mr. Fulton, I don’t think I’ll be needing any just yet. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course,” he said, moving out of her way to let her pass.

  Meadowlark ran to the grand piano and started playing “Camptown Races,” the old Stephen Foster song. The crowd started to sing.

  Camptown ladies sing this song,

  Doo-da, Doo-da

  The Camptown racetrack’s five miles long

  Oh, doo-da day

  Goin’ to run all night

  Goin’ to run all day

  I bet my money on a bob-tailed nag

  Somebody bet on the bay…

  Mary looked up at James and over the music remarked, “This is our glory, James, our friends, our staff, our life here. I’m not sure there could be more. Look at this moment, I wish it could last forever.” James placed his arm around Mary and pulled her toward him.

  Chapter 97

  Maizie’s Diary

  Late December 1934

  Capp and I took a trail ride today. Mary gave us permission. She has to give us permission. I can tell she doesn’t want to. She still thinks I’m just a girl but I’m not.

  I told Capp about a time Mama and I lived in a big house. I know it wasn’t in Vicksburg, but I saw houses like that from the window on the train. Meadowlark called them antebellum houses. Mama worked in the house and I played with the kids. I remember we celebrated Christmas there. We had a Christmas tree and I got a present wrapped in pretty paper with a bow, my first. That was the only Christmas I remember celebrating until I came to Glidewell.

  Mary gave me a string of pearls—a string of pearls! I do love them. But this Christmas was not only a dinner with presents, but also with family and love. Yes, I call the folks at Glidewell my family. I’m not that girl who arrived at Glidewell four years ago. I’m going to college, learning important things. I have to say I had no idea how much I didn’t know about history and literature. I can see what James and Mary meant about an education. I’m learning if you talk a certain way, look a certain way and act a certain way, you get along better in this world.

  I enjoy all my classes, especially music. Meadowlark taught me a lot, but there is a lot more to learn. I’m in a Gershwin musical review this winter called Girl Crazy. It’s about a ranch! Mary, James, and the whole backside want to come. Capp can’t cause he’ll still be gone. That’s all right.

  Since I returned from Vicksburg, I feel free to be happy. I don’t feel guilty anymore. Meadowlark said he can hear it in my voice when I sing. But he told me not to worry, because a person with a life like mine never loses their “bluesy soul.”

  Bonne nuit, mon ami,

  Maizie Sunday Friedman

  P.S. I dreamt I saw my daddy singing. His voice was like nothing I had ever heard. In my dream, Meadowlark and Sugar were with me. He didn’t see us in the crowd, but it was a good dream. I wonder if he watches over me, like a real angel. I wonder if he knew Mama was going to have a baby. I guess it doesn’t matter now. I guess I’ll never know.

  Chapter 98

  The Glidewell Horse

  January 1935

  Tilly was keeping to herself at home on her daddy’s farm. She slept late in the morning and fought daily with her mother about finding a good, rich man. Occasionally, to calm herself, she would go for a horseback ride through the hills around her farm. Her days and nights were consumed with thoughts of the Missouri wrangler. She was beginning to convince herself things would work out with Capp. They had to.

  The Coombses had received their foreclosure notice from the bank. Tilly had only a few months to get her problem figured out. She thought when Capp saw her, he’d feel for her situation and do all he could. He’d talk Mr. Glidewell into investing in her farm. They’d swing an amazing deal. She was certain.

  George Coombs returned home every evening with news of the backside. He never talked about the impending foreclosure at home. Tilly listened carefully to the backside updates, feigning mild interest. One night he came home with the news that horses in serious training were arriving and would be headed to Arkansas soon.

  “Is that so, Daddy?” questioned Tilly.

  “Yes, Bob’s barn will be empty, and so will many others. It will be quieter around the backside until spring.”

  “Are there any horses on the track who look like Derby winners?” asked Tilly.

  “They don’t run them hard in the cold, but there is one standout.”

  “That so? Where’s the horse from?”

  “The stallion was foaled in Missouri but conceived in Lexington, Kentucky at the Rising Star. He stands out as one of the best.”

  “We don’t see too many horses from Missouri. Is it a Glidewell horse?”

  “It is. The Glidewells have a staff here working with him and three other two-year-old colts. They all look good.”

  “Well, I better get out there and take a look before they leave for Arkansas. What’s the Glidewell horse’s name?”

  “Glory Be.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “He’s a beautiful bay with black points.”

  “I’ll find him and take a look.”

  “No Matilda, stay away from Bob’s barn.” Tilly didn’t give a hoot about her father’s pleading. She was on a mission and would not be deterred. The next morning Tilly drove to Churchill Downs. She had some checking to do.

  Parking near the backside office, Tilly jumped out of her car and opened the office door. The doorbells jingled, drawing Marion, the new secretary f
rom the back office. Marion took one look at Tilly and immediately said, “Oh it’s you. Your daddy isn’t here. He’s at the track.”

  Tilly fingered a few pencils on the counter separating her from Marion. She didn’t look up as she asked, “Glidewell Ranch still here?”

  “Yes, they are. Nice group. Leaving soon for Arkansas.”

  “I know them. One of them’s a good friend. Well, more than that really. Think I’ll go down to the track and see what’s going on.” Tilly turned on a dime and hurried out the door. She didn’t go to the track but rather walked directly to Bob Hench’s barn. There were a few horses in the stalls, covered with warm blankets, eating hay. One young groom waved a friendly greeting. She walked up to him and ran her finger playfully on his cheek.

  “I know you. How old are you now, Skip?”

  “Nineteen, Mrs. Garner. Been here since I was fifteen.”

  “I’m Miss Coombs again, but you’re something. Not many last that long. You must be good, honey.”

  “I am. Bob tells me if I improve my riding skills, I can start working out the thoroughbreds.”

  “Now isn’t that wonderful. Skip, I hear there is a potential Derby winner in this barn.”

  “Well there are a few, but a horse called Glory Be looks the best. He leaves in a few days for Arkansas. He’s right over there in stall nine.” Skip pointed toward the stall, but his eyes were on Tilly.

  “He a Glidewell horse?”

  “Sure is. That horse is the talk of the backside.”

  “Interesting. I’ll take a look. Don’t tell anyone I was here. There is someone I want to surprise. It would ruin it, if he knew I was here.”

  “Who?”

  “Can’t say. It’s a secret. You understand, don’t you Skip? It’s for fun.” He watched Tilly as she walked slowly to stall number nine and looked in on Glory Be. The horse’s rear was positioned toward the stall gate, his head down feeding on fresh hay. She attempted to call him, but the horse wouldn’t turn and face her. She turned to leave, walked up to Skip, kissed him on the lips, and said, “Now, don’t tell anyone I was here. We could have a little fun, you and I, if you can keep a secret.”

  He nodded, but the moment Tilly was gone, Skip turned and went to find Bob and passed on what information he had.

  Chapter 99

  Discomforting News

  Maizie was in the final rehearsals for her performance as the female lead in Girl Crazy, a musical review. The collegiate presentation of the 1930 musical was well cast and rehearsed. James Glidewell purchased tickets for many at the backside and ranch house so that they could attend the opening. Angered to learn that Ol’ Jon, Meadowlark and Sugar would be seated in the back-row, seats reserved for the colored, Mary asked James to intervene. He called the college officials to attempt to be granted an exception. After all he was allowing a few of the horses to be used onstage, but no exception was extended. “Sorry, Mr. Glidewell, you know segregation is the law. They’ll have to sit in the back. They are lucky they can attend at all.”

  Dressing in their finest clothes, the theatergoers gathered in the ranch house for a light dinner and champagne. At precisely 7:20 p.m., four hired cars parked in front to pick up sixteen Glidewell employees, including Josie, and take them to the review. Most had never been to a musical before and were excited to watch Maizie perform. Leon drove Mary, James, and Philippe in the Packard. The few that were delegated to bring and handle the horses during the play had left an hour earlier.

  Lining up outside the college auditorium, theatergoers stood with their umbrellas open. Clutching their tickets, the waiting crowd grew anxious to get out of the pouring rain. Finally the doors opened and the throng made its way into the lobby. The Glidewell horses and their handlers were behind the theater under the eaves, waiting for their cue. Each horse, decked out in western tack and an orange Glidewell horse blanket, waited calmly, grateful the thunder had subsided.

  While James stood in line to purchase sodas for Mary and himself, the college president, Dr. Marcus Charing, tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to accompany him to the side for a brief conversation. As the two men engaged in what looked like an argument, theatergoers were finding their way to their seats.

  Dr. Charing, his voice growing louder, said, “This is our policy. One board member brought this to my attention. We are meeting next week, and Maizie’s, should we say, problem, will be discussed and decided.”

  “Dr. Charing, Maizie has been an asset to this school, a good student and one of your best music students. I see no reason why you and this one board member should make an issue of this now.”

  “Now, now, Mr. Glidewell. We are proud of Maizie too. She is well liked by her teachers and other students. It’s just that this one board member feels she should be attending the colored college. He’s quite adamant about it. Been in my office many times.”

  “You’d do this? You’d kick her out and prevent her from earning her degree? That’s absurd. Please tell me I’m jumping to conclusions here. And as my horses wait in the rain to participate in your show, you’d trouble us this way?”

  “I’m afraid that—”

  “This is absurd.”

  “Sorry, but—”

  “You are right about one thing. You have picked a horrible time to tell me this.”

  “Well, perhaps you would consider paying more now, so that Maizie could receive her degree? I’m sure we could work something out.”

  “What you’re suggesting is extortion. I can’t believe a man of your reputation would stoop this low. Listen, I’m a man of honor. I don’t pay out money to avoid an injustice. I can’t be blackmailed.” James’s brow was now deeply furrowed and the word “blackmailed” rang through the lobby.

  “I’m certain when you calm down, you’ll better understand my predicament.”

  “So tell me, this board member, what makes him think Maizie is colored?”

  “He has a feeling is all. He says he has a sense about these things, and her last name, Freedman. It’s a colored name.”

  “And this is what you come with to argue Maizie does not belong in this school. Someone on your board has a feeling? She has the wrong last name? Preposterous.”

  “Look, I think a meeting is the best idea to figure this out,” said Charing.

  “Excuse me sir, I came to see Maizie perform. My attorney will call you.” James moved away and looked for Mary. He saw her waiting for him anxiously near the auditorium entrance.

  “James, come, the show is about to begin,” Mary called across the lobby.

  He stormed towards her, trying to contain his anger.

  As the lights in the theater dimmed, the stage lights flickered and then beamed brightly. The ambiance was magical. In front of the audience was a large orb of light shining on a crimson velvet curtain. A man—not a man really but a college boy—approached a solitary floor mic. He was dressed in a pre-Depression-era tux, a little worse for wear.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Drury College’s winter production of George and Ira Gershwin’s Girl Crazy, a musical review. Shall we go now to a dude ranch in Arizona? Sit back and enjoy the show. Maestro, take it away.”

  The orchestra began with the overture, hitting notes of joy as well as sadness. The curtain opened, and to the shock and surprise of all except the folks from Glidewell, the horses Breezy and Clean Slate were led in and assumed their positions on stage. The entire Glidewell staff stood and cheered as the horses and handlers found their marks and the review began.

  James could see that Mary was waiting anxiously for Maizie to sing. Near the end of act one, from stage left, Maizie suddenly appeared. She looked like a star, smiling at the audience and nodding at the backside fans in the first few rows. She began to sing the duet “Embraceable You” with her male lead. Her next number was a solo. The Gershwins would have loved her interpretation of their music.
The phrasing of Ira’s lyrics, the mastery of George’s difficult melodies, her command of the audience were all top notch.

  Before her last number, her eyes wandered to the first few rows. There was a young man, nicely dressed, smiling broadly. “Capp,” she whispered under her breath. Then, gathering her emotions, she stepped up to the floor mic and sang the slow beginning of “I’ve Got Rhythm,” the opening words so beautifully phrased that all present were transfixed.

  So full of love for Maizie, James felt his fatherly heart might break under the pressure of it.

  When Maizie finished, the crowd stood to give her an ovation. The backside crowd yelled loudly, maybe too loudly, and from the back row Sugar, Meadowlark, and Ol’ Jon waved their arms in the air. Maizie bowed briefly, fought back a few tears, and the curtain slid in front of her, signaling intermission.

  After the second act was over, the crowd demanded an encore. The director stepped forward, taking a few bows. He knew that it was Maizie they wanted to hear. Grabbing her hand, he led her back to the mic, suggesting that Maizie sing one more song. She asked him if Meadowlark could accompany her. He nodded and then said into the mic, “Yes, Maizie. I think this audience would enjoy another song from you.” The cast standing behind them clapped and said, “Yes, Maizie, sing!”

  Maizie stepped up to the mic and said, “Thank you. I guess I’ll sing.” The crowd chuckled and then clapped again. “This is a special evening for me. My family is here. Just about all of them. We are the Glidewell Ranch. My first voice coach was Meadowlark and if he will come play for me, I’ll sing one more song.”

  Meadowlark yelled from the back of the room, “I’s a comin’, Maizie Bean.”