“I hate leaving you in the hotel by yourself while you wait for a train.”
She looked down at the track and saw Capp taking a victory lap to the cheers of the crowd. She smiled and turned to her brother. “I’ll be fine. You know me. I’ll find a good book to read.” Her brother laughed, knowing Matilda was not a reader—she was all action. Sitting and reading was something she just didn’t do.
Chapter 49
A Tryst
After the races concluded, participants, guests and all of Glidewell staff were treated to a chuck wagon early-evening dinner. When it broke up around 8:00 p.m., Wil and Capp returned to their bungalow near the track. Wil was exhausted and quickly headed for a shower and on to bed. It wasn’t long before Capp could hear his dad’s familiar snoring. Capp was far from sleepy. He sat restless in an armchair and eyed the truck keys hanging from a hook by the door. He hadn’t planned to go to Springfield to meet up with Matilda, but he wanted to thank her for the blinders tip. There was a moment when he saw her on the viewing knoll in her cowgirl duds and hat, looking as he had remembered her from the auction. There was something attractive about the girl. He smiled just thinking about her.
The train depot wasn’t far away and Capp felt he deserved a little celebration. He went to the writing desk, removed a piece of paper and a pen, and left a brief note for his father. The note was a lie, but just in case his dad woke up and found Capp gone, he wouldn’t worry. Grabbing the keys from their hook, Capp opened the door and left.
The road to Springfield was lonely this time of night. A small cloud briefly blocked the moonlight and then released it, lighting up his way. When he reached the city, a small crowd was hanging around the city square enjoying the remains of the day. He parked at the depot, adjusted his Stetson, and began his walk to the Franklin Hotel. Opening the door, he looked around the poorly lit lobby and saw a man seated in a well-worn chair. Capp felt foolish. She didn’t expect him, so she wouldn’t wait for him in a nearly deserted lobby, idly drumming her fingers. Coming to no sensible conclusion about what to do, he just stood there, feeling a bit out of place. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face a middle-aged man dressed in a shabby bellman uniform.
“Excuse me. You Capp Wembley?”
“Yes, I am. How’d you know?”
“The Stetson gave you away. She’s waiting for you in her room.”
“In her room?”
“Yes, she doesn’t have much time. Train leaves at eleven.”
“Eleven?”
“Do you want to see her, or what?” Capp thought about it for a moment. It was just after nine. Two hours was a long time, but he didn’t have to stay that long. He was attracted to her. She had come to see him race. She was nice to talk to. He needed to say thank you. “Okay, guess I do.”
The bellman pointed to the stairs to the right of the reservations desk. “Sorry the elevator, such as it is, is out.” Capp followed him and felt the air temperature rising with every step they took. “Sure is warm up here,” said Capp.
“Hotter where you are going. Stuffier too. But the rooms have windows. The halls and stairwells don’t.” The two climbed up a fourth flight of stairs and ended up on the top floor. “Matilda is down this hall, room 412,” the bell hop said, extending his palm. Capp looked confused.
“You got money for a tip?”
Capp reached in his pants pocket and found a quarter, handed it to the bellman and asked, “You know her?”
The bellman slipped the quarter into his pocket. “Yep, I do. Know the whole family. They are horse people from Louisville. The brother ain’t, but he comes here too, when the family is around.”
“So she is catching a train?”
“Oh yes, the eleven fifteen. We rent rooms for the half day, so it works in situations like this.”
“Situations like this?” asked Capp.
The bellman smiled and gave him a knowing glance. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Capp headed toward room 412. He knocked on the door, and heard a voice call, “Come in.” Turning the old brass knob, he slowly pushed the unlocked door. He peaked into the room and looked around. The bed was turned down and both windows were open, lace curtains billowing in the evening breeze. He stepped into the room, shut the door, and looked to his left. There on a large overstuffed chair, she sat dressed in a silk robe, her brown hair hanging loosely on her shoulders. He moved closer to her.
Matilda reached for a lighter from a side table then slowly picked up a cigarette from a flat metal case. She flicked the flywheel on the lighter and waited until the flame ignited, the wick casting an eerie light on her face. She expertly brought the cigarette to her mouth, lit it and drew heavily. She then blew the smoke toward the ceiling. She snapped the lighter closed to snuff the flame, and said, “Want a cigarette?”
“No, don’t smoke or chew.”
“You’re a good cowboy, Capp. I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I was curious.”
“That makes two of us.”
“How was your ride home last night?”
She removed her cigarette from her mouth and tapped the side of an ashtray, watching the ashes fall. “Uneventful. My brother was pacing the lobby floor when I returned. He still thinks I’m a child. You have an older sibling?”
“Just me.”
“Older siblings act like your parents. I have way too many parents.”
“I don’t. Just my dad. He don’t worry much.”
She picked up the cigarette again and took another puff. She teasingly blew the smoke toward Capp’s face. He batted away the cigarette smoke. The smell reminded him of his mother. That was about all he remembered of his mother, the
