Puddlejumpers (15 page)
“Those two ugly ones are the Holsapple twins, Angus and Axel,” Joey whispered. “They don't say squat to me and I'm not even sure they can talk. I'd feel bad for their mom, but she's already dead.”
When Angus cleared his throat, Axel spit, but Ernie couldn't tell them apart. Another man, sinewy, with a face like a ferretâsinister eyes, bad teeth, and a jagged scar on one cheekâslunk from the driver's seat.
“That guy is Dicky Cobb, the foreman,” she pointed out. “I been chased by him plenty.” She lowered her voice and spelled “C-R-A-Z-Y.” Ernie started to ask a question, but she shushed him with an expression that made it clear she was the only one allowed to talk.
Dicky Cobb opened the passenger door and out stepped an aged man in a dark suit with unruly white hair, a gnarled face, and a bent posture supported by an ebony cane.
“The old crooked man is Harvey Holsapple. Got the biggest oil operation in all of Illinois.”
Sassy whinnied, which caused Joey to duck for cover and bump into Ernie. “Watch it,” she hissed. “Pay attention!”
He gave her a disgusted look as she eased back around the corner. They watched undercover as old Holsapple hobbled to a modest one-story farmhouse, its red paint peeling, and rapped on the door of the screened porch with his cane.
“Dude's got no heart, either,” whispered Joey. “He ever catches you alone, you're dead.”
A man emerged from underneath an old combine parked in the shade of the barn. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked in a friendly voice.
The Holsapple clan turned in surprise.
The man approached, wiping his hands on a rag. Though walking with a slight limp, he reminded Ernie of Rocky Harmon. He wasn't as big, but he carried himself with the same easy confidence. Instead of a bat, he had a large wrench in his hand. Ernie thought it would make a good weapon, if needed, but the composed expression on the man's face said that he wasn't looking for a fight.
“Who's that?” asked Ernie.
Joey shot him her most disdainful look. “Dumb Cub, that's the guy who's supposed to act like your dad for three weeks. That's Russ Frazier.” She scanned the yard surmising the situation before slapping Sassy's reins into his hand. “Make sure nobody sneaks up from behind,” she ordered.
“Where you going?” Ernie asked.
“I said, watch my back!”
Ernie watched her scuttle along the rear of the barn and disappear around the corner. Sassy nudged him with her nose and snorted. “Shhhhh,” he hushed, more than a little unnerved by this big animal. “Good horse,” he whispered, then cautiously patted her nose.
Reaching the side of the house, Joey scaled a rickety trellis like a lizard climbing a rock face. After clambering to the crest of the steep roof, she looked back to the barn, where Ernie watched from his concealed position. She gave him the high sign, but he chose to ignore it.
Like three hungry vultures, Angus, Axel, and Dicky Cobb surrounded Russ as Harvey Holsapple used his cane to scratch $275,000 in the dirt. “It's a good price, Russ, considering the way things are,” said Holsapple.
“Well, my answer's still the same, Harveyâmy farm is not for sale.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Holsapple slashed the 7 with his cane, changing the offer to
285.
“Sorry, Harvey, but thanks for the offer,” Russ said firmly.
“What's the matter, scared to make some real bucks for once in your life?” spat Holsapple.
The old man was starting to get his dander up, but Russ refused to be baited. “This might sound corny to you oil fellas, but I just don't get up in the morning thinkin' about dollar bills, never have and never will.”
Ernie, still holding Sassy's reins, watched Joey pad across the crusty shingles. He wished he were up there, too.
“What are you going to do when your wheat dries up and the bank forecloses on your farm?” challenged Holsapple.
Russ smiled. “Faith, Harvey, you got to have faith in Mother Nature. Rain'll come.”
“Oh I seeâ¦faith,” mocked Holsapple as he scanned the cloudless sky. “Like tonight the sky's going to open up and rain down Noah's flood?”
Dicky Cobb and the twins guffawed at Harvey's joke.
“Stupid farmer,” said Cobb with a voice that sounded like his throat was full of gravel. “You people are a dying breed.”
Russ kept his smile, but Holsapple gave Cobb a harsh look. “Take no offense, Russ. Sometimes my foreman wants to talk when he should be listening.”
On the rooftop, Joey's sneaker caught on a broken shingle that tipped her off balance. Flapping her arms, she barely righted herself. With a deep breath, she continued along the roof, hugging it a little closer than before.
Russ extended his hand in a neighborly gesture and shook hands all around. “Now, if you folks don't mind, I've got a guest comin' today and there's some work I need to get done.”
Joey crabbed along the eave in time to see Holsapple take Russ' arm and walk him toward the porch below her.
“Come to your senses, man. The only harvest you're going to get this year is a hundred bushels of dirt.”
Joey leaned out a tad too far and lost her grip. She slid off the roof in a flurry of arms and legs, landing on Holsapple, collapsing him in the dirt. Dicky Cobb jerked her up in a crushing headlock. Joey thrashed about like a wounded tiger. “You chicken-belly corncob!”
“Get your hands off her!” shouted Russ as he rushed in to break Cobb's stranglehold. From behind, Angus knocked Russ to the ground with a hard punch to the head, then Axel delivered a kick to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him.
“Russ!” screamed Joey as she kicked Cobb's shin with all her might and scratched his cheek. Howling in pain, he was about to backhand her a good one when a car engine suddenly fired to life. Everybody froze, then watched dumbfounded as the driverless black Cadillac began to motor past the barn and down a tractor lane, all by itself.
“Get my Cadillac!” screeched Holsapple.
Dicky Cobb threw Joey to the ground and bolted after the car, followed by the hulking twins.
Joey crawled over to Russ, who was still gasping for breath. She buried her face in his chest and hugged him close. The dark shadow of Harvey Holsapple loomed over them, blocking out the sun. He raised his hand and she cringed, but he only brushed the dirt from his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Russ,” he said. “I always hate to see violence. You think about my offer.” Then he turned and hobbled off after the others.
Scrunched low in the Cadillac, Ernie steered with one hand while jamming a rock against the accelerator pedal. He knew this wasn't his fight, but he couldn't just watch those thugs beat up on that poor farmer. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, apart from Mrs. McGinty, it was a bully.
As the Caddy motored along the tractor lane, he opened the door and watched the ground rush past. Steeling himself, he jumped from the car and tumbled across the hard-packed dirt. Scraped and covered in dust, he belly-crawled to a concealed position in the wheat as Cobb and the twins ran past in pursuit of the car. Smiling with satisfaction, he watched until they disappeared over a knoll. Suddenly a gnarled hand jerked him to his feet and he found himself staring into the flushed face of Harvey Holsapple.
“What do you think you're doing?!” snarled Holsapple.
Ernie recoiled from the old man's grip, but Holsapple twisted even tighter. He smacked the boy's back with his cane, hard, as he spit out each word, “That”âWHACK!â“Caddy”âWHACK!â“cost”âWHACK!â“sixty”âWHACK!â“five”âWHACK!â“thousand”âWHACK!â“dollars!” He throttled Ernie by the tie, yanking him nose to nose. “What's your name?!”
Ernie was gasping for breath, surprised by the old man's strength. “Stopâ¦can'tâ¦breathe,” he choked.
Holsapple started to throttle him again, but froze when the Crystal Acorn, dangling on a shoestring around Ernie's neck, popped out from under the boy's shirt. Catching the sun at just the right angle, the ice-blue crystal refracted a sharp light directly into the old man's eyes, blinding him enough so that Ernie was able to break free. He swiped the ebony cane and hurled it into the wheat. Holsapple charged, but Ernie scrambled back just beyond the reach of the old man.
“What is that?” demanded Holsapple.
Ernie whipped the Crystal Acorn off his neck and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.
“I'm talking to you, boy,” he threatened.
Ernie glared defiantly. “My name is Ernie Banks.”
Calming himself as quickly as he'd flared, Holsapple cackled good-naturedly. “All right, Ernie Banks. Now let's have a look at that thing.” Wheezing, he hobbled forward, but Ernie retreated, step for step.
“You owe me for one suitcase and all my clothes,” said Ernie.
“You think so, huh?” said Holsapple gruffly. Belying his age, he raged toward the boy like an angry tornado. Ernie stumbled backward through the wheat, only to run smack into Russ Frazier, who protectively put his arm around him. Ernie wasn't used to being touched by a stranger, or anyone, for that matter, but at this moment he was pretty glad for the help. Joey ran up to slip beneath Russ' other arm.
“That little thief hijacked my Cadillac!” ranted Harvey. Holsapple was scary when he got angry, but Russ held his ground.
“I think that's about enough for today, Harvey. If you've got damages on your car, send me the bill.”
“Oh, you're going to get more than my bill, sir!”
Ignoring the old man's threat, Russ steered the shaken Ernie and Joey back toward the house.
“Mark my words,” Holsapple shouted. “That boy you got there is bound for trouble!”
I
T FELT STRANGE
to be with someone he didn't know, but Ernie thought the house seemed friendly and so did Russ. He followed him into the kitchen, where Russ poured tall glasses of cold milk from the fridge.
“You sure I can't make you something to eat?” asked Russ. “A sandwich, maybe?”
“No thanks, I'm not really hungry. Milk's good.”
Russ drained his glass, then, with a wink, smacked his lips and made an exaggerated
ahhh
of satisfaction. Ernie smiled. It was just the two of them. Joey had volunteered to retrieve his suitcase from the outskirts of town.
“C'mon, Ernie, let's check the damage,” said Russ, motioning him toward the bathroom.
Russ glanced at Ernie's scraped chin before opening the medicine cabinet and removing several bottles. He began to line up medicine by the sink. Ernie sat on the edge of the old claw-foot tub, feigning disinterest but studying Russ' every move.
“So how's life treating you back in Chicago?” Russ asked while mixing his concoction in a small basin.
“It pretty much sucks.”
Russ nodded sympathetically. “I can imagine.” He added a few drops of iodine to his potion. “Sorry I wasn't able to pick you up today.”
“Doesn't matter.”
He glanced at the boy in the medicine cabinet mirror. “I'm having some trouble with my combine and we're getting pretty close to harvest. At least I hope to have a harvest.”
Ernie shrugged. He didn't know what to say and wondered why Russ was trying to explain everything. He wasn't used to it.
“Okay, Dr. Frazier's anti-Holsapple pain reducer and fungus fighter is ready. Guaranteed satisfaction or your money back,” said Russ as he turned from the sink with his basin of red brew.
Ernie stared apprehensively at the blood-colored concoction.
“C'mon, it won't hurt but a minute,” assured Russ. To prove his point, he lifted his own shirt and dabbed the abrasions where he'd been kicked.
Ernie winced. “Those jerks were pretty big.”
Russ chuckled. “Yeah, well, like my dad used to say, âThe bigger they are, the harder they fall'“
Ernie laughed. The man had to be kidding. Russ had gotten the worst of it, by far.