| |
New Hope Church scored seven runs in the bottom of the first inning, thanks entirely to four of the six Bickfords. It was more runs than they’d scored all season combined, yet Sandra seemed to be the only one cheering. The spectators in the bleachers were peculiarly somber. She wanted to blame it on the fact that someone had been killed in the adjacent woods, and that they’d just found a bloody bat in their bat bag, but she didn’t think that was it. She was afraid they were uncomfortable that the local riffraff had invaded their softball club.
At this thought, something clicked in her mind. Some might consider Phoenix to have been riffraff too. Maybe he had traveled in some of the same circles as the Bickfords? She shook her head. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. She wasn’t going to get involved with this one.
Jay Baptist pounded the ball in all directions, but if it went near a Bickford, it got scooped up and thrown to first, where Boomer always caught it. Hence, New Hope had two outs before Jay Baptist had scored a run. But then Jay’s coach caught on. “You’ve got to hit it toward short!” he called out. “Keep it on the ground!” In other words, he’d noticed that New Hope had an old man playing shortstop, and that old man was absolutely terrible at fielding the ball. If Jay hit it to first base, second base, or anywhere in the outfield, chances were good that the Bickfords or Boomer would catch it. But this was not the case at shortstop. That coach must have wondered why on earth New Hope was playing such a dud at short when they obviously had so many good players. Or maybe he’d been playing church softball long enough to know exactly what was going on.
Jay’s players did exactly what they were told; they hit two grounders to short, and got two men on base. But when the third batter in a row hit the ball to shortstop again, out of nowhere, the Bickford in left field appeared in the dirt beside Richard Barney, essentially stole his play from him, and then threw the ball to third to get the final out—except that it was Richard’s son playing third base, and he was so appalled at the dishonor that had been done to his father that he didn’t even attempt to tag the bag. He caught the ball, sure, but then he just held it in his glove as he stomped toward the offending Bickford.
Sandra couldn’t hear what Brendan Barney said, but she saw him poke the Bickford in the chest and she braced herself for what she feared was coming. Sure enough, the Bickford drew back and then swung his fist at Brendan’s pretty little face. It appeared that Brendan did not know it was coming, as he made no move to dodge the blow, and was suddenly lying on his side in the dirt.
“Run!” the Jay coach called to his man on third. He was such an opportunist. The runner on third started for home, but the umpire waved him off, called time out, and told him to go back to his base. Then he took off his mask and headed toward the commotion, where two Bickfords held their boxing cousin back from the man on the ground, who didn’t seem in any hurry to get up. He was squirming a lot, so Sandra knew he was alive.
In a move that surprised no one, the umpire threw the boxer out of the game. But then he also ejected Brendan Barney, and this did not go well with Pops at shortstop, who started screaming into the umpire’s face. Looking almost amused, the umpire then threw him out also, and just like that, New Hope was down to a reduced lineup again. Sandra wondered if the rest of the Bickfords would leave, but they didn’t. The boxer went and sat in the truck, where there were probably refreshments, and the rest of them spread out across the field as if this sort of thing happened to them all the time. The Bickford who’d been deemed the substitute trotted out onto the field.
The next Jay batter hit it to shortstop again, which was no longer a wise decision. The Bickford who had moved in from centerfield easily threw the batter out, and it was New Hope’s turn to bat again.
Once Sandra got the scorebook caught up, she pretended she needed to stretch her legs and approached the Bickford she’d earlier rousted out of his pickup. “Well, that was certainly exciting!” She cringed at her own pathetic attempt to make small talk.
He spit into the dirt and she realized he had a chaw in. That wasn’t going to go over well with church leadership. As if any of this was. She wondered if they’d kick her husband out of the church for all this.
“I’m Sandra, Nate’s wife.” She wanted to learn his name, but she wanted to be clear she wasn’t flirting.
He nodded, squinting in the early evening slanting sunlight. “The principal?”
She nodded. “Yep! That’s right.” Stop sounding so chipper, Sandra. It’s weird.
He nodded again but looked away from her.
“Lineup!” Lewis hollered.
Beyond annoyed, she looked down at the book and then hollered out the lineup. Then she looked at the man beside her. “And what’s your name?”
“Danny.”
“Nice to meet you, Danny. You guys sure do seem to be good at softball. We’re glad to have you. This is the first lead we’ve had all season.”
“Yeah ...” He sounded bored with this conversation. “Well, we play a lot.”
They must. “You do?”
“Yeah, in the men’s league. We’re on a few different teams. This is our first church team, though.” He spit again.
“Well, welcome. You know, you mentioned the guy who died. Did you know him?”
His head snapped toward her, and he scowled down at her, his bushy eyebrows smashed together. “No, why?”
She shrugged, backing away a little.
“No reason. Just trying to make conversation.”
Danny seemed to accept this. “Nah, I never heard of ’im. He wasn’t from around here.”