Stealing Home by Allison K. Pittman

Author:Allison K. Pittman [Pittman, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-60142-237-8
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2009-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

NED

There had been a few uneasy minutes when Ned worried that nobody would come. That all of the hard work and sacrifice was nothing but some overgrown child's folly. He'd encountered more than a few quizzical looks from customers who hunted him down at the railroad tracks only to be told to write down their order, leave it on the nail in the door, and come back to pick it up before ten o'clock the next morning. He'd gone home at night, sore from the day's labor, but exhilarated from the day's play, as he and Duke and Morris would stop everything for a quick round of pepper.

Sometimes, when Ned stood poised at home plate, ready to toss the ball into the air and hit it out to where Duke and Morris stood ready to field it, he'd close his eyes and imagine the roaring of a crowd. He'd never heard such a thing, but he'd been to a White Sox game in Chicago and even one excursion to the Polo Grounds in New York where he'd certainly seen the crowd—a blurred mass of movement, everybody's mouths open in one collective cheer, a sea of fists pummeling the air, an ocean of hat-tossing, back-slapping, beer-sloshing joy.

When he tried to pull a memory to match the vision, the closest he could come was a storm. So to make the experience complete, he'd stand on home plate, close his eyes, and summon not only the roar of the wind, but the pelting power of rain. He imagined tossing the ball up into thick, dark clouds, and when it came down and connected with the bat, he was sure Duke and Morris could hear the thunder.

But this Saturday afternoon was nowhere near a storm, although much to his satisfaction there seemed to be a slow, steady drizzle. This must be how Noah felt, standing on the deck of the ark watching God's promises arrive in pairs. That's how the first of the crowd arrived—courting couples. Men dressed in their Saturday Promenade suits, minus the traditional boater hats; women in frothy layers of lace and bonnets, gloves and lace. The men seemed just as happy to be here as the women seemed surprised, then annoyed. More than one surveyed the ball field, pursed her lips, crossed her arms, and engaged in a foot-stomping argument that could only be summed up in one sentence.

Take me home.

The men, however, didn't take them home, and Ned didn't blame them. These fellows had little opportunity to show off for their women. Being tethered at the elbow for long strolls around the town square gave no chance to be cock of the yard, strutting to get the females' attention. Tonight, the diamond was the yard, the bats and balls their feathers. They would puff up, hit, and strut as fast as they could around the bases, hoping to later reap the benefits of their best girl's ardent arousal.

Oh, and what Ned wouldn't give to be one of them. To

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