Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles, by author Paul Lintern. It is set in the 1860s and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of young people. The books are available from Lintern for $25 a set, tax and shipping included. Each book is about 120 pages written for intermediate readers (4th grade) with local illustrations. Volume I is Amelia Changes Her Tune. Volume II is Isaac and Wolf Paw Find Their Home. Volume III is Autumn Keeps Her Secret. Volume IV is Mr. Gamble Starts a School. Volume V is Jacob Blows his Horn. Volume VI is Cassie Fights the War. Volume VII is Emilene Adopts Her Family.
“Are these players really that good?” David asked Jacob, as his older brother tossed a ball back and forth to him.
“Each one of them is getting $1,000 to play for the team for eight months. At least that’s what Mr. Brinkerhoff said. No one’s ever paid a whole team of players before, at least not out in the open like that,” Jacob replied.
“Where did they come from?”
“From all over. New York, Philadelphia, Boston. That’s what the guys say.”
“Why would they want to play for Cincinnati?”
“I think $1,000 has something to do with it.”
“Would you play for another team if they paid you, Jacob?”
“I doubt that I will ever have to worry about that, but I sure would have to consider it, Little Brother.”
“So, how have they done so far?”
“I don’t know. Hey, Ice Wagon, how has that team done so far?” Jacob asked the first baseman, who was warming up next to him.
“They seem to have cleaned the clocks on several local teams in some exhibition games they played last month, but their season is just beginning. In fact, their first game was rained out in Yellow Springs a couple of days ago,” Ice Wagon said.
“So this is their first official game?” David asked.
“Guess so,” he replied.
“Then let’s take it to them. Let this be a $10,000 flop. Let’s make them wonder why they ever thought to venture to Mansfield,” Jacob said.
“Sure thing, Kid. Hey, Floodgate, how does the field look?” Ice Wagon called to one of the players throwing in the outfield.
“Like someone just tried to take a hayfield and make it look like a rounders — I mean, base ball — park with as little effort as possible. There are rocks and gopher holes everywhere,” Floodgate replied.
“The rain that cancelled the Yellow Springs game also came through here and flooded the bottoms where the ball field usually is,” Ice Wagon explained to David. “Second base there is an island and right field a swamp. That’s why we’re up here on higher ground. It ain’t as wet, but it’s pretty rough.”
“A good team overcomes the obstacles,” chimed in Birdlegs, the right fielder. “Both teams play on the same field, and both teams have to dodge the same gopher holes.”
“Hey, Jacob, why does everyone have such funny nicknames?” David asked, stepping in a little closer.
“They just do,” he replied. “Ice Wagon there is big, but lumbers around the bases like, well, like an ice wagon. Birdlegs is thin but fast, and Floodgates? Well, when things start going wrong for him, everything falls apart.”
“Is that such a good nickname to have?” David asked quietly.
“I’ve wondered about that, too,” he replied.
“Do you have a nickname?”
“Not really.”
“Hey Kid, throw me that ball,” Floodgates said to Jacob.
“Kid, get to your base; game’s ready to start,” Ice Wagon shouted.
“Let’s get out there, Kid. Second base won’t defend itself,” Birdlegs called.
“Well, good luck, uh, Kid.”
David smiled at his brother.
Jacob smiled back as he ran to his place at second base.
Guess I have a kid brother, too, now, David thought.
+ + +
Where is that kid brother of mine? Grace thought as she stepped onto Third Street. He’s the one s’pose to run to Costin’s. If I have to do it, then I’ll make him beat the rugs for me.
Wait a minute, he likes to do that, and I like to go see the Costins. This works out great, and I will even be able to make him feel bad for not being here. She giggled to herself as she skipped.
Whoops. Walk ladylike now…
She gracefully walked ladylike the three blocks to Costin’s grocery store.
“Well, hello amazing Grace Zimmerman. How is our favorite Costin Courier?” a friendly voice called out from a column of shelves as Grace entered the store.
“Happy as a lark, Mr. Tim,” Grace replied, peeking around to see a tall, thin bearded man, about twice her age, standing on a ladder to grab a small sachet from the top shelf.
“And how is that newlywed sister of yours?” another voice called from the other side of the little store.
“I think they’re fine, Mrs. Costin, although I haven’t really seen Cassie since she and Martin were married. It’s been two weeks. They must really be busy.”
“Lots for them to do.”
Tim smiled.
“I suppose,” Grace said. “You know they are fixing up the old Oakland Inn and plan to farm there.”
“That will be perfect for them. Grandpa Zeiter would be pleased,” Mrs. Costin replied. “You know, we feel a special attachment to that couple.”
Grace gave an inquisitive look.
“Cassie met Martin on a train trip to Boston in ’63. He got off in Gettysburg to visit his grandparents, and it was just before that horrible battle.
“My son, John, Tim’s brother, was killed in that battle, although he didn’t die until a few days afterward.
“Your sister and mother stopped to see him, but it was just too late. Johnny loved Cassie like a kid sister.”
Mrs. Costin grew quiet, eyes turning misty. She gave a small sigh, then spoke back up.
“Anyway, Cassie and your mother stayed with the Burns family that night and Cassie and Martin kept writing to each other. Out of sharing that horrible tragedy grew a friendship, then a love, and now a marriage.”
And that was before I knew any of them, Grace thought.
