Through Tender Thorns

by Barbara Morriss

  The announcer leaned into his mic and announced the winners: “First place, Omaha; second, Roman Soldier; third, Whiskolo!” Capp ran out onto the track with a lead and grabbed Glory Be’s halter. The crowd’s eyes were all on the horse that ran the race without a jockey, fingers pointing. Some started chanting, “GLORY BE, GLORY BE!”

  “I guess, folks, we should mention that Glory Be, number eight, did not win,” the announcer said. “You have to have a rider, folks. Glory Be is disqualified.” The crowd booed, although most knew this was true. A horse without a rider could not win a race, but that horse could win the hearts of the audience.

  Capp received a boost into the saddle by Wil, who slapped the horse on the rear. Capp turned the thoroughbred and began the cool down around the track. The crowd watched as Capp trotted around the first turn and then back down the backstretch, petting his mane, telling the horse how proud he was and how intelligently he had run the race. The horse’s ears twisted to hear Capp’s familiar voice. No one else heard Capp’s comments but they were all watching horse and rider just the same. It was a poignant moment for the Glidewell team. Glory Be was a fan favorite.

  As Capp brought Glory Be back into the home stretch the crowd began to cheer again, clapping, chanting the horse’s name. Capp turned Glory Be to face the crowd. He waved a thank-you. The crowd roared. Some yelled, “Preakness, Belmont!” Capp smiled and nodded assuring the crowd Glory Be wasn’t giving up. Smiling broadly, Capp retreated to the barn, not wanting to steal all the glory from the other horses, who were now in their appropriate positions to receive their accolades.

  Glory Be had done his best, just as James had wanted. He tried his hardest. He ran an intelligent race. Although Glory Be was disqualified right out of the gate, he’d kept running. Without urging, he’d made a glorious run.

  Chapter 107

  The Celebration

  The Glidewell team were all invited to join James, Mary, and Maizie for dinner to celebrate a memorable Kentucky Derby. When Wil, Capp, Tommy, Corky, Fritz, Eddie, and Ernesto arrived at the Brown Hotel, they were ushered into a room reserved for private dinner parties, which was bursting with flowers sent by Glory Be’s fans. Streamers of blue and orange were hanging from the ceiling of the private room, and a jazz combo played softly in the corner. James was overheard to say, “What would they have done if we had legitimately won the thing?”

  Finally, when the conversation turned to the race itself, a dispirited tone spread in the room. All were trying to put on a brave face, some more successful than others. When the talk turned to the accident in the stall involving Tilly Coombs there was a collective shudder, partly for Tilly and partly for what she may have succeeded in doing. The string of bad luck weighed heavily.

  At the request of James and Mary, Maizie sang a few jazz standards that she and the combo both knew. Her voice was a welcome antidote to the heavy mood. Capp’s heart swelled as he watched her perform. He tried to forget about the last twenty-four hours, and listening to Maizie sing helped to soothe his disappointment.

  When Maizie finished, James stepped forward and gave Maizie a fatherly hug. Then he turned to the crowd. “Mary and I are so proud of her.” Maizie smiled as the room erupted in applause.

  Then James turned to face his team. When the room was quiet and he had everyone’s attention, he began, “There is so much to say. We all experienced unfathomable disappointments over the last two days. I have thought deeply about this. As far as Miss Coombs is concerned, please pray for her recovery. We think we know her intentions, but she has faced a great loss and doesn’t know where to direct her anger. She paid a dear price for her actions, and Mary and I have offered our sincere concerns to the Coombs family. We are grateful no harm came to our horse. So, if you can put all that aside, please do. We have.

  “As far as the Derby today, no one need burden themselves with blame. We were hit hard with unlucky events. Say we were jinxed. Say we were hapless. Say this Derby was ill-fated. But do not blame.”

  The crowd began to clap, but James shushed them.

  “There is another way of looking at this, a better way. We can’t walk away from this experience saying if this or that hadn’t have happened, we would be the winners. That only serves to make us feel angry and resentful. There is no comfort in those feelings. What happened, happened, plain and simple. And I implore you, is the fact that our beautiful horse lost out in the Derby of any real significance? When you think about it, won’t his gallantry and the beauty of his fortitude and athleticism be remembered far longer than who won this Derby? Most will remember the horse who endured a rough start at the gate, lost his rider, and continued to run. That will be the story on everyone’s lips.”

  The audience stirred in recognition. Many nodded, some smiled, and all agreed.

  “When I realized Eddie had been thrown, I was sick and angry. But when I began to focus on what Glory Be was doing, I was uplifted. I found myself rooting for him, thrilled with the way he ran. Glory Be will continue to have a great career because he has the spirit of a champion. No better proof of that than what he did today. There is an ancient saying by Confucius: Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

  “Glory Be taught me that today. We may have fallen, but we did rise. So let’s put the disappointment to rest and enjoy our dinner.” James lifted his drinking glass and concluded: “On to the Preakness!”

  “On to the Preakness!” The audience clapped and cheered. As the effect of James’s inspiring thoughts touched the hearts and minds of those present, Capp took Maizie’s hand and smiled his big Kentucky slow-growing smile.

  The next morning in the newspaper, the outcome of the Kentucky Derby was on the front page. There were two articles: one describing the horse that had won the race; the other, an article about the horse that had won hearts. The picture in the center showed the beautiful horse, stretching long, edging out Omaha at the finish, his saddle blanket emblazoned with his name, Glory Be.

  Chapter 108

  What’s Next?

  May 1935

  Following the Derby, Mary had the time to make a few changes at Glidewell. Mary removed Josie from the domestic staff and found a place for her to work and learn. Ol’ Jon’s back had been giving him problems and he needed some help. He had so much information to share and was a patient mentor. Mary felt that Josie could help him in the garden and learn about plants and herbs. This would be Josie’s education. She’d have a skill that could help sustain her throughout her life. Josie’s hair, always wrapped in a clean head rag, gave her the look of a healer. Mary saw the headwrap as a symbol of Josie’s rebirth and her gratitude to those who’d helped her heal. Josie looked to be at peace. The smile on her face was constant, her eyes warm, her transformation complete, giving Mary great comfort.

  Mary and James would be attending a jazz concert at the Colonial Hotel and spending the night before James left for the Preakness. Some of their favorite jazz performers would be there, including drummer and band leader Jelly Roll Morton. As she reflected on the past few years, she marveled at all she and James had accomplished. The reward of an evening of jazz, old friends and a night in the Colonial Hotel was well deserved.

  Breaking into Mary’s thoughts was the sound of footfalls coming down the hall. It was James.

  “Capp wishes to speak to us in private. Do you have time?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes dear, now. Capp’s waiting in my office. Come, please.” There was a seriousness in James’s voice and a sadness in his eyes.

  Capp sat in a side chair near James’s desk. Mary could see that Capp looked less than happy himself. Dear God, Mary thought. Please, not bad news. She slipped into the chair to the left of James’s desk. James poured himself a glass of water and sat down in his office chair.

  Capp squirmed. Clearing his throat, he began: “I want permission to officially court Maiz
ie when I get back from the Preakness and the Belmont. I want to marry her.”

  Mary felt her face tighten and eyes grow wide. She looked at Capp quickly and then back to James. “Did you know this, James? Did you choose not to tell me?”

  “Capp and I have spoken about the complexities of the relationship.”

  “The complexities? Now there’s an understatement. They can’t marry. It’s against the law. There is no chance for a happy life, the two of them.”

  “We’ve discussed it, yes.”

  “If you discussed it, why is Capp here now asking to marry her?”

  “Mary, Capp is right here. Please include him in this conversation.” Mary fell back into her chair and crossed her arms tightly to her breasts.

  “Go ahead, Capp. Talk,” said James. Capp glanced at Mary and began.

  “I love her. I realize that now.”

  Mary jumped from her seat, “Have you touched her? Because if you have—”

  “Mary, please. Let the boy talk,” demanded James.

  “This isn’t good. Maizie is fragile.”

  “She isn’t fragile,” said Capp. “Not anymore. She’s grown up. My god, she is twenty years old.”

  “I have plans for her. I may take her to Europe to continue her education,” Mary said.

  “Does she want that? Why do you push her so? Let her be,” said Capp.

  “Of course she wants an education. She’s intellectually curious. In fact, one of my concerns besides the fact that you can’t legally marry her is that she is educated. You’re not. No, I will not allow this. A friendship is fine, but no marriage.”

  “Are you saying I’m not smart enough for Maizie?”

  “James, say something,” pleaded Mary.

  James looked down at his hands and laced his fingers together. “You are a smart kid, Capp. We know that. But I personally don’t approve of the way you have conducted yourself with other women. I would not want that for Maizie. Running off with someone like you, well, it isn’t what we want for her.”

  Capp’s face was sullen. He cradled his head in his hands and said, “Someone like me? I wouldn’t run off with her, we would stay here in Glidewell. We both talk about how much we love it here and how much you both have done and—”

  “Capp, there’s something I haven’t told you,” James interrupted. “When the Belmont is over, I plan for you to stay in New York. I’m sending some horses with you to train there. Maybe race them. Perhaps by then, Tommy can jockey for you. I think it will be good for Glidewell to have a presence on the East Coast. You’ll be Glidewell’s ambassador. I support you, Capp, but Maizie and you—”

  “You’re sending me away? You’re givin’ me a job to get me out of here?”

  “I think it best for everyone,” said James. “Consider it a promotion, an opportunity.”

  “Capp, it isn’t that we don’t like you,” said Mary. “We do, but you and Maizie… it just won’t work out.”

  Capp looked at both of them with his soft brown eyes. He stood, nodded at Mary and reached to shake James’s hand. He left without saying another word.

  Chapter 109

  A Heart Endures

  A moonbeam lit the old wagon trail as Maizie and Capp progressed on their ride to the castle. The air was light, the mood dispirited. The two horses snorted and nickered in a cadence of hoof syncopation. As Capp listened to the sounds around him, he felt weary and forlorn. Mary had been clear. She would not support Capp’s wishes to be with Maizie. He wondered what his chances were without Mary’s support. He reached to his horse’s neck and stroked the stallion lovingly. He always missed Running Wild while he was away, but that was not all he’d miss this time. He looked over at Maizie, sitting tall and confident in Breezy’s saddle. She smiled softly, her face aglow in the moonlight. He’d never loved anyone before Maizie. Love was a wonderful feeling, but he felt wounded after his encounter with the Glidewells. They only had Maizie’s best interest at heart; he knew that, but he wanted to envision a life with Maizie. Now he wasn’t sure if that was possible.

  Maizie lightly kicked Breezy and urged her into a gallop. Capp held Running Wild to a trot giving her a chance to get her horse out in front. When he released his pull, the stallion moved quickly to catch up. Capp tipped his hat to Maizie and rode past her, smiling as he did. Maizie grinned. It was a brief happy moment.

  “Dang you, Capp. Breezy and I were trying to race ahead!”

  “Well, race then!” he yelled. “To the bend in the road. I’ll give you a head start.”

  Maizie encouraged Breezy to a fast clip and pulled around Capp as he had Running Wild hold his ground. Capp let Maizie go, watching as she galloped down the road. Kicking Running Wild’s flank, Capp gained ground but held the stallion back. Maizie raised her free hand in the air and celebrated with a subdued smile as she reached the bend.

  “You’ve learned a lot, Maizie. Makes me proud to see it.”

  “You let us win. I wish you hadn’t,” she said. Capp did not reply. Her words caught him by surprise. A sadness was brewing between them. Capp felt it. Did she know what he needed to tell her?

  When they reached the quarry, they dismounted and tied the horses to a hitching post. The moon illuminated the limestone rock. It rendered the cold stone seemingly welcoming and warm; the shape of the castle rock punctuated the sky. Capp turned toward the spring. It was particularly loud tonight. Capp felt it was calling him to bring Maizie closer to its melodic song, its cheerful babbling. But instead, he took her by the hand and led her into the cave.

  He removed a small matchbox from his pocket and handed it to Maizie. “Let’s build a fire in the pit. We need more light. There’s wood stacked over there by the entrance. They say Ol’ Del Henny used to come up here at night and build a campfire. See here how he picked at the stone floor to make a shallow pit. Some said he came here to dream of what could have been.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Dad and I met an old codger at a horse auction. He knew this property and Del Henny. Used to sell his moonshine to him. He said Del Henny had unbelievable stories to tell and told ’em best when he was feeling his liquor.”

  Maizie smiled. “He must have been a storyteller like my mama.” Capp began building the fire. “A woman in Vicksburg said my mama was a Del Henny. Don’t know if it’s true.”

  Holding an armload of wood, Capp looked at Maizie and smiled. “Sugar told me. She thought it was true. You could be proud to have a relative like him.” Capp was quiet for a moment and then decided to tell the rest of the story. “The old man told us that Del Henny loved a colored girl. She was goin’ to have his child.”

  “I heard that too. There was a rumor he may have brought her with him.”

  “Seems him being white and her being colored gave them problems,” said Capp. Maizie turned to look at him. She appeared to be listening but said nothing. Capp raised his eyebrows. He lifted his hand and put her hair behind her ears to see her face better. She closed her eyes. Capp was tempted to kiss her but remained still and thoughtful.

  “Capp?”

  She broke into his reverie and startled him. He forced himself away from her and went to put some dry kindling in the pit. Taking the matchbox from Maizie’s hand, he removed a matchstick and struck it on the box. The kindling lit and then crackled, the smoke rising through a natural flue in the top of the cave. As the kindling took hold, he added a few small branches and gave them time to ignite, the flame lighting the cave. Capp felt cheered by the fire. He noticed on the cave wall their large shadows standing stiffly, a space between Maizie and himself. He continued to eye the shadow shapes, the imposing silhouettes. Maizie’s silhouette was now reaching for his arm. She whispered, “Capp?” He quickly looked at her, away from the shadows on the wall. Her beauty struck him in that moment and he smiled.

  “Come here Maizie, there is something I want you
to see.” He walked her over to the back wall of the cave, where light flickered. “Look here. See the drawings.” She looked where Capp was pointing and saw carved and painted symbols. On the surface of the stone were birdlike shapes, human figures, circles and feathered lines. Maizie looked at the drawings and turned to Capp, “What are they?”

  Capp smiled and took her hand. “They are ideas and maybe stories told by the Indians. Jeb used to tell us about them. You never seen ’em before?”

  “No, only been up here a few times. Wonder how Jeb knew what they meant.” Maizie bent down and followed a crack in the rock that led to a vertical, narrow crevice. Nearly hidden from view were other marks on the wall.

  “Capp, look here.” Capp bent down too and looked carefully at the new find, but the shadows were too deep. He ran to light a piece of kindling. Holding the makeshift torch, he returned to where Maizie crouched and the letters became clear.

  “Why, that sure ain’t Indian. These are letters. Looks like the name Hattie,” said Capp.

  “Wonder what it means.”

  “Don’t know. This wall could tell us all kinds of things, if we knew what it all meant. It’s a shame we don’t.”

  Maizie looked at the word again and noticed the care and time it must have taken to etch into the stone. Then, noticing a line stretching around the rock wall into an even darker recess, she and Capp explored further.