“Your mama couldn’t help but hear that.” Meadowlark gave Maizie a warm smile. “I think you’re a natural, Maizie Bean.”
“A natural?” asked Maizie.
“You have a gift, Maizie. Like your daddy.”
Chapter 42
Maizie’s Diary
August 7, 1931
Oh my, what a night! Meadowlark did a sing-along after dinner and asked me to sing “Up a Lazy River” with him. We harmonized. I sang the easy part and he finds the notes that sound just so nice. He stopped singing and had me do it alone for a while. I imagined that I was singing just for Mama. I was scared at first, but then it just felt good. Everyone said nice things. Having people clap for me was wonderful. Almost as good as when Capp smiles at me.
Something good was happening during my singing, so I looked around for a guardian angel. And then I looked at Mrs. Glidewell whose hand was over her mouth and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Mrs. Glidewell leaned into Mr. Glidewell and he held her. Only a guardian angel would cry like that. Only a guardian angel could understand how much happiness I felt.
After the dinner Mrs. Glidewell came up to me and gave me a big hug and told me to call her Mary from now on. It feels a little strange, her being the lady of the house and all, but I’d like to think she’s a guardian angel. I can’t be sure, though.
It think it’s all right to call a guardian angel by the first name.
Bonne nuit, mon ami,
Maizie Sunday Freedman
Chapter 43
The Parade
August 8, 1931
The opening parade was scheduled to start around ten in the morning on Saturday. Ranch hands had been prepping the track since dawn. Jeb harnessed the draft horses and secured them to the empty water wagon. Two water towers standing tall behind the north paddock were his destination. When the wagon was full of gravity-fed water, he turned the wagon around and headed back to the track. He slowly drove the wagon around the eight-furlong track releasing the water, as a team of men with rakes walked behind the wheels of the wagon, leveling the dirt to insure a good track for the match races.
James, Mary, and Maizie walked down to the track around nine o’clock. Rex Goude, well-known in the area, had agreed to announce and call the races and was busy with a friend from KGBX radio station testing the loudspeakers. Corky polished his bugle, put on his cavalry coat and headed toward the track to see to his mount, Devil Doll. Stable hands and groomers were busy grooming the parade horses. Anticipation filled the air as everyone worked hard to guarantee an impressive event at the Glidewell Ranch.
Maizie was checking in with everyone, making sure all participants had all they needed. One horse rancher from Ava, Missouri, was unhappy sleeping in the bunkhouse. He complained bitterly about the snoring of his bunkmates and feared he would have to find another place to sleep or go home. Maizie ran it past Sugar.
“Wouldn’t you know it, we’d have a prince in the bunch. I’s sho’ don’t think he deserves special treatment.”
Maizie pointed out the man. Sugar approached him, smiling. “I understand you got some problem with the snoring.”
“Yep, couldn’t sleep a wink last night. We got some buzz saws in there,” he said as he brushed his roan quarter horse.
“Well now, ain’t that a problem, men snoring. You know I do believe you could find a place in the barn with the horses. That might be a bit quieter. Up to you,” suggested Sugar, adjusting her head wrap.
“The barn? I ain’t slept in a barn since I was a kid.”
“That’s all we got. Guess you’ll be heading home. I’ll tell Maizie to scratch you from the schedule.” Sugar turned and began to walk away.
“No, wait. I’ll give it another night. I came here to race, not sleep.”
“All right then, you’re staying. Anything else you want to let me know?”
“Yeah, one more thing. That maid over there. The one with the blond hair. What’s her name? She married?” Sugar followed the direction of the man’s pointing finger and saw Claire walking down from the ranch house.
“Now sir, you stay away from our help. It’s none of your business she married or not. Mr. Glidewell don’t like it. If you want to chase tail, you gonna have to go someplace else. We got rules here. No tobacco chewing either.”
“Just thought I’d ask. She was real nice to me earlier.”
“She’s nice to all the guests. Don’t you even think for one minute she’s got an eye on you.”
“All right, all right. Just thought I’d ask,” said the rancher, turning his attention from Sugar to the hat on his head, adjusting the brim to block out the morning sun.
The viewing knoll, now bathed in morning light, was filling with a few spectators. Many guests had spread blankets, while others had brought a few folding chairs. Some found the limited shade of a newly planted tree, while most sported sun umbrellas for later. By the time the races started, the sun high in the sky, the grassy knoll hopefully would be filled with eager spectators.
But now, at 9:30, horse-and-rider teams began to gather in the saddling paddock for the parade. It was a thrilling sight to see them all, sixteen teams in close proximity to each other. Last-minute adjustments to tack were in order. Miles Moser was the first to finish and walked over to Capp, who was preparing Running Wild.
“Hey, you gonna ride that horse there?” he said.
“Sure am.”
“He don’t look like no winner to me. Looks like he’s ready for the farm. You ever run him against a real horse?” Capp said nothing and adjusted a stirrup.
“I said, looks like you got yourself a nag. You take care of him? Looks sickly to me.”
