“I’m sorry, Tilly. Like I told you from the beginning, I’m workin’. I’m just being honest.”
She turned around. “Sometimes a girl just needs someone to tell her what she wants to hear. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose this place.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Will you write while you’re gone?”
“Why do girls always want a guy to write?”
“Because it means he’s thinking about her.”
“Yeah? There’s a girl back at Glidewell. She wanted me to write. Just isn’t what I do.”
“Maizie?”
“Yeah, Maizie.”
“You said she was just a kid. Why you got to write to her if she’s just a kid?”
“All I said is she wanted me to write.”
“See? I knew she had her eye on you. I told you as much.” Tilly angrily stepped back and looked at him, her face an impending storm. Capp took both her hands and said good-bye. She pulled her hands away. Taking a moment, he looked again at the pasture with the old mares basking in the sunshine. Capp knew Tilly Coombs would never succeed at making this horse farm fit the scope of her dreams. And he was ill equipped to help her.
Chapter 59
Maizie’s Diary
Nov. 2, 1931
I haven’t had many good days lately. Mary’s been telling me I should get a high school education and go to college. It’s like no one thinks I can make my own decisions in life. Everyone seems to know what is best for me. Made me real mad the other day. Sometimes I want to run away, but then I get scared. The truth is, I don’t want to leave Glidewell. I realize that getting mad could cause me to make a big mistake.
Capp sent a letter to the ranch. He is leaving for Arkansas to race horses in pre-Derby stakes. He talked about Matilda. I had the worst feeling when I read it. Now I know what green with envy means. He says everyone at the Downs calls her Tilly. Of course, we all remember her as Matilda. I knew he might run into her, so I am not surprised. But I am sure sorry he did. He says Tilly knows a lot about thoroughbreds, but Bob, his mentor, is teaching him right. He wasn’t sure about Tilly. He said we wouldn’t recognize her because she is blond now. That is all he said. I am glad Capp is going to Arkansas. He’ll be away from her trying to teach him things. Besides that, he is there to work. James says that all the time. Thinking about Tilly makes me angry and sad.
Capp never once asked about any of us. I thought he might at least ask about Wild, but nothing. He said he wasn’t coming home for Christmas. Not to worry, he said. He would celebrate with friends at Churchill Downs.
Mary thinks it’s wonderful that Capp is learning and going to Arkansas. And James is pleased with what he is doing and wants him to stay in Louisville longer. Seems I’m the only one that thinks Capp is being unkind to all of us. I miss him so much. I wonder what Capp does in his spare time. Write in his journal? I doubt it. He is out with Matilda or Tilly or whatever her name is. I can’t think on it too hard; it hurts.
Bonne nuit, mon amie,
Maizie Sunday Freedman
Chapter 60
The Telegram
April 23, 1932
When Capp finally returned to Louisville after his work in Arkansas, he was jubilant. Spring was in the air and the Derby was here. His work in the Bob Hench barn was instructive and Capp’s confidence was growing. He expected James and Wil to arrive any day now.
“Hey, Capp,” came a voice from a barn entrance at the backside. “Tilly has a telegram for you.”
“Thanks!” He pulled on the lead of a bay chestnut stallion thoroughbred and walked the promising racehorse back to the barn.
Capp thanked his lucky stars again that he’d come to Churchill Downs when he did. It was a rare opportunity to work with such a horse. Because of Capp’s skills, Bob had given him the responsibility of working with this fine stallion. Capp was grateful. These were the kinds of experiences he needed. Tilly’s tutoring was less about thoroughbreds and more about their time together. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t miss her a bit when he was in Arkansas. Handing the horse to the groom, Capp headed reluctantly toward the backside manager’s office.
“I’ve been waiting for you all morning.” Tilly stood behind the counter. “You sure been making yourself scarce these days.”
Seeming to not hear her comment, Capp asked, “You got something for me?”
“Oh yes, I got lots for you,” She said, looking as demure as possible.
“Come on Tilly, you know what I mean.”
“Oh, you mean this telegram?” Tilly waved a piece of paper in the air. “From a Mr. Glidewell?”
“Let me see it. I’ve been waitin’ for word since I got back from Arkansas.” He anxiously reached for the telegram and she teasingly pulled it back and put it in her cleavage.
“Take it, Capp. It is for you, after all,” she said. He reached over the counter again, gingerly fetched the telegram from her bosom, and opened it. Capp read it quickly and turned to Tilly.
“Well?” she said.
Capp slapped the telegram in the palm of his hand. “Dad and Mr. Glidewell will be here on the train this afternoon. They want me to meet them at the depot. We’re all going to stay at the Brown Hotel on West Broadway.”
“Nice. Brown Hotel is swank. The Kentucky Derby elites stay there when in town. Are they elites, Capp?”
“Well, if being elite means you think you’re smarter than others, Mr. Glidewell ain’t that. Just that Mr. Glidewell can afford it, the Brown Hotel. He got me a room too.”
“Bet he could afford the Parkway Farm too.”
“Tilly. Drop it.”
“All right then. What you
