Kate didn’t even think about going home when they got off the bus on Wednesday afternoon, but hurried along with Luther, Chip, and Justin to the Wilsons’ house. The quicker they got there the better chance they’d have of being there when Booker arrived—and the less chance that Mom would change her mind. When they arrived, Luther flung his book bag on the front porch and climbed onto the top of a tire swing. Chip gave the swing a push. Justin headed around the side of the house to Mr. Wilson’s shop, and Kate stepped up onto the porch to go inside.
“Uncle Booker’s here!” Luther yelled. Chip grabbed the tire and Luther jumped off. Kate and Justin hurried to the front yard.
A blue van sped along Lost Goat Lane. As it got closer, Kate could make out the driver, a man with big shoulders and the widest grin she had ever seen.
By the time the van came to a complete stop, Luther, Ruby, and Mrs. Wilson were clustered at the driver’s door, each trying to be the first to hug Booker. Mr. Wilson unloaded Booker’s bags. Kate stood on the far side of the van with Justin and Chip, waiting to be introduced. When Booker finally got free of his family’s hugs and came around the van to where they were standing, Kate couldn’t believe what she saw.
This was Booker Wilson, the most famous baseball player who ever lived in this town? The Booker Wilson who was now a coach in Atlanta? That was impossible! Booker Wilson was in a wheelchair!
At least Kate kept her wits about her and remembered not to stare. Justin was so surprised his mouth fell open.
Booker glared at him. “What you staring at, boy?”
“You don’t—” Justin started to say, then remembered himself, and snapped his mouth shut.
“What?” Booker yelled. “What are you meaning to say? I don’t have any feet?”
Booker not only didn’t have feet, he didn’t have much in the way of legs either. What legs he did have ended at the knees, which stuck straight out in front of him. He wore blue jeans, like anybody might, but they were cut off short, like his legs, and sewed up at the bottom.
Booker slipped his hand into the side pocket of his wheelchair and with a lightning movement, threw a baseball hard and fast, right at Justin. Justin was quick and got his hand up in time to catch the ball. But Kate could tell by the way Justin kept rubbing his hand on his pants afterward that it stung like crazy.
“Guess you got a notion that a person with no feet can’t be involved in sports,” Booker said, still glaring at Justin. “Well, let me tell you something.” He looked from Justin to Kate to Chip. “It’s way smarter to mind what people do have than what they don’t!”
Booker spun his wheelchair around and headed toward the back of the van. “Hey, Luther,” he yelled. “I got a bicycle in here, if somebody will help me lift it out.”
Mr. Wilson opened the back door of the van and said, “Give us a hand here, Justin.”
Justin reached in and lifted the bike out—if you could call it a bike. It looked like a piece of junk to Kate.
“It’s got no pedals!” Luther exclaimed.
“No chain either,” said Chip.
“You going to fix it?” Kate asked doubtfully. “Frame’s pretty bent.”
Booker stared at the bicycle as if he had never noticed its problems. He looked hurt.
Justin looked at Booker’s down-turned mouth, then back at the bike. “Looks like it was in an accident,” Justin said. “The wheels are good, though. Practically new.”
Booker rocked back in his wheelchair and grinned at Justin. “By golly, but you are a quick study, my man! No point in whining about what we don’t have. We’re going to do something with what we got. How about carrying this thing around to Papa’s shop?”
Justin didn’t smile, but Kate could tell that he was pleased with Booker’s response. Her brother hefted the bicycle to his shoulder and carried it out to the shed Mr. Wilson used for a workshop.
Booker followed in his wheelchair with Luther running along on one side, Chip on the other. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson and Ruby walked just behind them and Kate brought up the rear. Already Kate could tell there was something about Booker that made you want to stick close to him. He acted like something really interesting might happen any minute.
The crate-like thing was still on Mr. Wilson’s workbench. Kate had never paid much attention to it. She now saw that it had an axle and two shafts: everything needed to make it a cart except wheels.
Booker asked, “Did you find a harness, Papa?”
Mr. Wilson lifted a leather harness off a hook on the wall and held it up. “Think this’ll do?”
“Beautiful!” Booker grinned. “Luther, you and your friend bring old Billy over here and let’s see how he likes it.”
He turned to Justin. “Want to give me a hand getting these wheels off?”
Mr. Wilson handed Booker and Justin each a wrench.
“Heaven’s sake, Sam!” Mrs. Wilson said to her husband. “Our boy’s not got the road dust off and you’ve set him to work!”
“I was only—” Mr. Wilson tried to protest, but Mrs. Wilson didn’t give him a chance to finish. She patted Booker’s broad shoulder.
“Aren’t you hungry, son?”
“You better be.” Ruby put her hands on her hips. “Because we’ve been cooking for two days!”
“Hungry?” Booker rolled his eyes. “Ladies, I’m so hungry I could eat old Billy without barbecue sauce. It’ll just take us a minute to see if this contraption works, then I’ll be right in.”
Mrs. Wilson laughed. “Come on, Ruby,” she said, heading for the house. “That’s one desperately hungry man. Let’s get dinner on the table.”
Booker started taking one wheel off the bicycle. Justin watched him a minute, then went to work removing the other one. When they had both wheels off, Mr. Wilson fitted them onto the cart. Then he and Justin lifted the cart off the workbench and turned it right-side-up. Chip and Luther returned leading Billy. When they saw the waiting cart, they started laughing. They were finally figuring out what Kate had figured out fifteen minutes ago: the bicycle wasn’t meant to be a bicycle for Luther, but part of a goat cart. Even Billy must have sensed what was going on, because he started tossing his head and prancing like he was on parade. Kate held him while Mr. Wilson buckled him into the new harness. The boys pulled the cart up behind Billy and Mr. Wilson attached the harness to the shaft.
“Kate,” said Mr. Wilson. “Go over there by the water faucet where I was washing vegetables from the garden and bring me some carrot tops. We might have to bribe Billy to behave himself till he gets used to his new responsibilities.”
Kate ran to do as she was told. As she passed under the kitchen window she heard Ruby say, “Woman at the door. Some white woman.”
Kate knew who the white woman was before she got to the side of the porch and the water faucet, because she could see her mom’s car parked out front. Kate knew she should have left for work by now, but she must have waited just to be sure they came straight home like they promised after saying hello to Booker. Which of course they hadn’t. Now she was standing at the screen door with a brown paper bag.
“Why hello, Mrs. Martin.” Mrs. Wilson pushed open the screen door. “Won’t you come in?”
“No, thank you,” Mom said. “I just came to get my children and—”
Mrs. Wilson called over her shoulder, “Come out here, Ruby. It’s the children’s mama.” Mrs. Wilson came out onto the porch, Ruby behind her. “Mrs. Martin, you remember our daughter Ruby?”
“Don’t believe I would have recognized you,” Mom said to Ruby. “Must be ten years since I saw you last.”
Ruby barely nodded at Mom, without smiling or saying hi or anything like that.
“The children are around back,” Mrs. Wilson explained. “Booker’s helping them rig up a goat cart.”
“Kate said he was coming home for Thanksgiving. I didn’t want them to intrude on your family get-together, but Justin just had to meet Booker. I told them they could visit for a minute, but you know kids. They can’t tell a minute from an hour.” Mom hesitated, then shoved the paper bag into Mrs. Wilson’s hands. “And I wanted to give you this.”
“What’s this?” Mrs. Wilson sounded uncertain about taking whatever Mom was handing her.
“I get all the butter I want from the dairy,” Mom explained. “It being the holidays and all, I thought you could use some extra.”
“Like the duck eggs, I guess,” Ruby said, in a kind of sarcastic voice.
“I beg your pardon?” Mom sounded confused.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Wilson said politely. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Martin.”
“It’s not much.” Mom sounded apologetically. “I just found out recently how much time my children have been spending here. You’re bound to’ve fed them more than once.”
“Oh, I’ve fed them now and then.” Mrs. Wilson chuckled. “That littlest of yours sure has an appetite!”
Mom didn’t smile. “I may work seven days a week,” she said in a stiff voice, “but I never miss a night sitting down to dinner with my children.”
Mrs. Wilson’s smile faded. In a voice just as stiff as Mom’s, she said, “Ruby, walk Mrs. Martin around back so she can get her children.”
Kate scooped up the carrot tops and ran toward the goat pasture. She had heard every word, but she didn’t understand what was going on. Why had Mom been so upset with Mrs. Wilson just because she said Chip ate a lot? And why did Ruby … well, Ruby always had attitude. By now Kate had learned that it didn’t always mean she was angry; it was just the way she was. And anyway, if Mom didn’t want to deal with a person like Ruby, she shouldn’t have come there. After all, the Wilsons were their friends, not hers.
Chip and Luther were in the cart, which Billy was pulling nicely toward the opposite side of the pasture. When they reached the fence, Luther flapped the reins. Billy turned back toward the goat shed and took off like a flash.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Luther yelled as the cart bounced wildly over the grass, tipping this way and that.
“Hang on!” Chip shouted.
Kate saw that Billy wasn’t going to stop at the shed, but intended to run under it. The shed was high enough for the goat and the cart to go under, but not high enough for the boys, who were standing up in the cart.
“Jump!” Kate yelled.
Chip and Luther leapt from the cart and went rolling across the grass, laughing like maniacs.
Mr. Wilson took the carrot tops from Kate and walked over to the goat shed. “Here, Billy,” he called. “Kate brought you a little snack.”
Billy snatched a mouthful of carrot tops from Mr. Wilson’s hand. When the goat chewed them, they stuck out both sides of his mouth like green whiskers.
“That wasn’t so bad for the first time,” Mr. Wilson laughed. “A little bit of practice and you boys’ll have yourself a first-class harness goat.”
Kate started to tell Justin that Mom was here, then saw Mom and Ruby walking across the yard toward them.
“Mrs. Martin, my brother Booker,” Ruby said in the same cold voice she used to use on Kate before they became almost-friends. “Booker, you remember Mrs. Martin, who lives down there on the highway?”
Booker grinned at Mom. “How could I forget? Used to walk right by her house to catch the school bus.”
“Not the way I remember it.” Mom smiled. “Can’t count the times I saw that bus coming down the highway, and you up Lost Goat Lane. You’d start running, and I swear you got there first every time. My husband used to say you were the only boy in Florida who could outrun a school bus.”
Kate stared at Mom in disbelief. Didn’t she realize what she was saying?
Suddenly it seemed that Mom did realize what she was saying. She turned very red and stammered, “I beg your pardon, Booker. I guess I ought not—”
Booker interrupted the apology. In a soft voice, the first time Kate had heard him speak in a soft voice, he said, “Just because I can’t run anymore, you figure I want folks to forget I ever could?”
Mom looked embarrassed.
“I don’t forget things either, Mrs. Martin. Like that time in Atlanta, and what you did for us.”
Mom’s face turned even redder, but before she had time to answer, Mr. Wilson walked over. “Afternoon, Mrs. Martin. What do you think of my almost-trained goat?”
“Must be as smart as he is handsome,” Mom said quickly. “The kids tell me our Sugar’s likely to bring us one just like him.”
“One or more,” Mr. Wilson grinned. “Billy’s got a history of siring twins.”
“I sure wouldn’t complain about that,” Mom said.
Chip and Luther galloped up. “What’re you doing here, Mom?” Chip demanded. “How come you’re not at work?”
“I came to take you home,” Mom told him. “Remember I said—”
“Awwww. Do we have to go?” Chip strung the question into one long whine.
“Yes, you do,” Mom said firmly. “Booker came to visit his family, and you kids are taking up all his time.”
“No problem!” said Booker with a grin that included all of them. “But I have to get something to eat pretty soon or I’ll be too weak for the big game tomorrow. You’ll all be back for the Big Game, won’t you? Around two?”
“What game?” Justin asked.
“Why, our family’s traditional Thanksgiving Day, break-a-window baseball work-up.” Booker looked from Chip to Kate to Justin. “Of course, we could play without you. But it wouldn’t be much of a game with Ruby and Luther and me by ourselves.”
“Ruby plays baseball?” Kate asked in surprise. She glanced at Ruby.
“Does Ruby play baseball?” Booker leaned toward Kate. “Why, Ruby could’ve played pro if it wasn’t for one thing.”
“What?”
Booker paused dramatically, as if he was about to reveal a big secret. “Fingernails,” he said in a loud whisper.
“Fingernails?” they chorused.
“Lethal weapons,” Booker said solemnly. “Same as carrying a switchblade. A ball sees nails like that, it just naturally tries to avoid them.”
“Oh, Booker!” Ruby grabbed a handful of his tight black curls and gave his head a playful shake. “Get real.”
Luther scrambled up into Booker’s lap. “Gimme a ride, Uncle Booker. A ride to the house!”
“You bet, pal.” Booker glanced up at Ruby. “Good-looking boy you got here, Sis. Not looking too bad yourself either.” He winked at Kate. “Except for the vampire fingernails.”
Mom smiled. “Come on, kids. You can come back tomorrow afternoon.”
As she pushed them toward the car, Chip yelled at Luther, and Luther at him, like they did every single day, “See you tomorrow!”