As the evening wore on, the conversation became quieter and more intimate. The two cuddled and cooed while the bellman went about his work of making sure their glasses had fresh ice and water. He even refilled Matilda’s flask with whiskey from his stash behind the bar. There was kissing, giggling, hugging, and soft, nuanced utterances.
“How about you buy our farm, cowboy?” suggested Matilda as she ran her finger down his nose. “You could be famous one day, owning a Louisville horse farm. It’ll be a ranch if I run it. I’ll help you learn. We’ll be a team. We will call our horses the Coombs-Wembley Thoroughbreds.”
Capp wondered if he dare have such a dream to raise his own horses, make all breeding decisions and training decisions. Who wouldn’t want that?
“We could be partners. You and me,” she concluded.
Of course they could be partners. And he’d be great at it. Should he tell her he’d be in Louisville soon? He decided not to mention it. Better to let this moment hang. She lit another cigarette and scooted closer to Capp. Capp put his arm around her, and she whispered in his ear. Looking seriously at her he nodded, and the two climbed back up the airless stairwell to the fourth floor and the room with the turned-down bed.
Chapter 50
The Map
Maizie sat up in bed in her small bedroom, letting the weekend of races replay in her mind. She felt pride for the Glidewell Ranch and happiness for Capp, but she was miserable. Matilda was on her mind, and it wasn’t pleasant thinking. She decided she would write an entry in her diary to help her understand all the events and her feelings. Maizie removed her diary from her bedside drawer. She propped up her pillows and climbed into bed, but soon her plans changed. She began to think about her mother and her promise to herself that she would open her mother’s bag when the races were over. Feeling a sense of duty to her mother’s memory, she let go of her own troubles and mustered her courage.
Maizie closed her diary and placed it back in her drawer. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and touched her feet to the floor. She went to her small closet and opened it. In the bottom was the bag she had arrived with months ago. She carried it to the bed. There wasn’t much in it now, only a calico print flour sack filled with her mother’s things. She removed it with a sense of dread but proceeded. Inside she found her mother’s dress, the one she saved for special times. She brought it to her nose. Breathing in deeply, she could smell vanilla extract, her mother’s scent. She rummaged some more and found a neatly folded pillowcase embroidered with the letters G and F. At the very bottom, under a pair of worn shoes stuffed with wool socks, was a death certificate, an old weathered map, and a small canteen. Maizie carefully unfolded the map and laid it on her bed. The map, worn along the fold lines, appeared to be of Mississippi, surrounding states, railroad lines, rivers, towns, and counties.
She noticed there were markings on the map made with graphite—tiny houses, circles, numbers. Maizie had no idea what the marks meant and she didn’t remember her mother ever looking at the map. The evening was growing late and Maizie’s eyes were tired. She carefully refolded it and placed it back in the drawstring bag. Staring at her mama’s flour sack of possessions, she felt empty. Was that all there was? Just a few unimportant possessions and an old, well-used map? She was too tired to ponder it further.
Chapter 51
Sold
Maizie entered the saddling paddock and found Capp saddling a bay mare. Around his neck was a blue bandana. He looked good in the morning light. There was a glow about him, a happiness that she hadn’t noticed all weekend. He was even whistling.
“Capp.” He turned toward her, acknowledging her presence. “I like your neck scarf. It looks good on you,” she said, looking at the faded blue bandana.
“Thank you. Never been one for wearing one of these, but Matilda gave it to me for winning the race.” The smile on Maizie’s face quickly retreated. She struggled to get the next few words out of her mouth. “That’s nice.”
“Yes, she is nice. What you want, Miazie? I’m busy. Don’t have a lot of time.” Maizie, feeling belittled, tried to find something to say. Words were hard to come by with Capp being so dismissive.
“Capp, guess what? I named my colt. The one I helped train.” Capp looked up from his task.
“What did you name him?” asked Capp, turning his back as he tightened a saddle strap.
“I named him Jonny’s Bay Run, after Ol’ Jon.”
Capp turned to face her and said, “Now, that’s a fine name, Maizie. Did you know we sold that colt? When he’s a year old, he’ll be leaving Glidewell and traveling north. Someone at the match races had to have him. They’ll probably rename him.”
Maizie looked at Capp in disbelief. She felt the injustice of all of it begin to percolate. “What? You sold him? Why didn’t you tell me?” Maizie said, her voice filled with hurt, her arms crossed in front of her chest as if this would provide her some comfort.
“Guess I’ve got other things on my mind. We in the horse business know better than to get too attached to a horse,” explained Capp. “I know you’ve been working hard with him, but sellin’ horses is what we do.”
Maizie walked to the horse Capp was saddling. She reached and stroked the horse’s flank. “What’s this horse’s name?”
“Right now her name is
