“Is that so? What you going to call the yearling? At the Idle Hour they called him “Little Fella,” and on the pedigree he was named Blue Blessing,” explained Capp.
“Is it okay to change his name again?” asked Maizie.
“Done all the time,” assured Capp.
Maizie began to think and then her face lit up. “I’m going to name him Jebediah. After Jeb.”
Capp looked at Maizie and smiled. “Don’t you want to get to know that little fella first, before you name him?
“No, Jeb’s the one who taught me how to train a foal. He deserves to have a good horse named for him.
Capp looked deeply into Maizie’s blue eyes and nodded. “Listen, Dad and I have to clean up at the bunkhouse. Guess I’ll see you later in Colonel Bradley’s box.”
The Turf Club, as it was called, was reserved for members and their guests. Colonel Bradley had kindly offered James and his family seating at his table. The colonel, a highly respected horseman and breeder, was well known among the club’s workers, who made a special effort to please him.
The colonel proved to be an interesting host and talked about his two champions, Burgoo King and Brother Joe, both qualified for the Derby. “These two stallions are stable mates. People think Burgoo King will work to help Brother Joe win by blocking other horses that challenge him, but I’m telling you here and now there is no such plan. Brother Joe will win it on his own, fair and square.”
James put down his menu. “Does that happen? Horses working to help another horse win?”
“I’m afraid there are races that look like that. But we at Idle Hour don’t intentionally run races that way. Wait until you see my boys run. They are bred for it, love the race, and have heart. Like Blue Larkspur, horse of the year. Now there was a horse that had heart. Never won this Derby, but a courageous animal.”
“I bought two of your mares who were sired by Blue Larkspur. Means a lot to me,” James admitted and again looked at his menu.
“Hope you get a racehorse out of one of them. They are fine mares.”
James smiled proudly at the colonel’s remark.
Mary and Maizie listened to the horse talk but were more interested in the excitement percolating in the dining room. Mary noticed “burgoo stew” on the menu and asked, “So is this stew named after your horse, Colonel?”
“No, burgoo stew is a wonderful concoction created by a friend of mine. It has become quite popular here in Kentucky. Felt I should honor such a good cook by naming a horse after him and his stew. All my horses’ names begin with the letter B like Bradley, so the name worked perfectly.”
“Have you had many winners, Colonel?” asked Mary, still thinking about ordering the stew.
“I have had winners, but only a few have become champions. I’m proud to say that Behave Yourself won the Derby in 1921 and Bubbling Over in 1926. Burgoo King is the son of Bubbling Over. So that horse has a proud heritage.”
“Think my ordering burgoo stew will help your boys win?” James joked.
The colonel laughed. “Couldn’t hurt. I highly recommend the stew. And be sure to finish your lunch off with a slice of Derby pie.”
Chapter 76
Tilly, Tilly, Tilly
Tilly arrived at the backside in the early afternoon looking like the siren she was. She had it all: the looks, the walk, the banter. She enjoyed the cat whistles from the stable hands. She realized her behavior was considered improper, but as she grew older, she enjoyed attracting men’s attention more and more. The more refined men only stared at her as she walked toward the grandstand nearest the finish line. These men with their subtle smiles hung in small groups wearing their fine suits and fedoras. She enjoyed their good, long stares just as much as a cowboy’s whistle.
Climbing up the stairs she saw that her parents had saved her a seat. She sidled in next to her mother and asked to borrow her father’s binoculars. She began to scope the area for Capp. She had no idea where he might watch the race but was certain it would be either in the track’s interior or near the outside rail. She doubted he would have tickets for the grandstand.
“Matilda dear, you look nice,” her mother said. “Where are Martin and all his friends? I do enjoy those boys.”
“They are nipping on flasks by the saddling paddock. I’m looking at them right now.”
“He’s a nice boy, that Martin. Does he drink too much? Why, your dad and I were just saying… ”
“Mother, please. I don’t want to talk right now.” Tilly adjusted herself on the seat, straightened her back, and went back to looking for Capp.
The Churchill Downs grounds were filling up with well-dressed spectators and diehard horserace fans. Men were looking sharp in suits. Since it was a cooler spring day, not wet but overcast, some had on trench coats. The women put forth a display of spring color as well as neutrals and navy. They wore hats in all shapes, styles, and colors. Some, like Tilly’s, were adorned with flowers, but most were simple hats suitable for a spring afternoon: feathered homburgs, down-tilted sailors, pillboxes, and cloches. Men wore fedoras, homburgs, walkers, and boaters. Fashion was on display.
As the preliminary races were about to start, spectators found either their seats or a place to view the finish line. The chatter and excitement began to mount. For each race the horses paraded in front of the stands and spectators placed their bets. The colors on display added beauty and pageantry. The horses were guided into the gates for the start. The bell sounded and they were off!
Each winner of a pre-Derby event enjoyed a moment of glory in the winner’s circle, the jockey smiling broadly and patting the neck of his mount. There were cheers for the lesser races, but everyone was anticipating
