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.
Sixteen tallies! Sixteen tallies? Sixteen tallies!
How is that possible?
It was 2-0 when they started. It’s 18-0 now! How can you score 16 tallies before three hands die? And in front of all these people!
David had just experienced what everyone there had experienced. The Cincinnati Red Stockings sent 21 strikers to the plate before three made a “hand dead.”
And they did it in every possible way. All those hits, in every direction except where our men were, and when they did hit it to someone, it was a muff. It can’t all be the rocks.
The Mansfield Independents came sauntering in, looking as though they had just run from Central Park, with horses on their backs.
“I ain’t never been through something as degrading as this,” Gopher Deitz said. “I’ve never seen a ball be so slippery and so sneaky.”
“Don’t blame the ball, our hands had something to do with it,” Ice Wagon said.
“Who is that catcher?” Bull tossed in. “That’s Leonard Beast. He came up three times and tallied all three times.”
“And those Wright brothers. That shortstop just keeps running till he tallies,” Smokey said.
“If it weren’t for that right fielder, who is it, McVey? If it weren’t for him getting two hands dead, we’d still be out there,” Gopher said.
“And my whole dadgum family is here to watch, even my grandma,” Moe, the shortstop, moaned.
“Shoot, don’t remind me,” Jacob said, and he turned to David. “How many of our family is here?”
Pretty much everyone you know and are related to, Brother.
“Some,” he answered. “Do you suppose they saw me drop that easy liner over second?”
Everyone saw that.
“They probably were distracted.”
Or the bad throw you made once you did pick it up.
“And the hits! Good Lord, almighty,” Smokey said. “We needed another dozen fielders out there.”
David looked up on the knoll overlooking the third base side. There were the Zimmermans, gathered on and around a picnic basket and blanket, hardly into their supper of chicken and strawberries, and now they had to stomach this.
He gave them a weak smile and small wave, with a little shrug of the shoulders. Meanwhile, Jacob just kept his gaze on the third base bag, and just mumbled, “Eighteen to nuthin’.”
Middle of the second inning: Cincinnati 18, Mansfield, 0.
+ + +
Jacob walked the wooden shingles up the ladder to Martin, who was perched precariously halfway up on the roof, one foot anchored on an exposed rafter, and an arm reaching down to grab Jacob’s load.
“You boys be careful up there. Nobody has time for broken bones,” Mama called up to them. “You have your concert tomorrow, and that game in a week.”
“No broken bones, got it,” Jacob said, then added, “When was the last time Grandpappy fixed this roof, do you think?”
“At least five, no, seven presidents ago,” Mama replied.
“Can I help?” David asked. “Of course. Please pick up the old shingles that Martin has tossed down and put them in a pile by the cooking fire. Cassie and Martin are camping out there in the lean-to until the Inn is ready.”
“Are you going to make this an Inn again, Cassie?” Grace asked, as she and Emilene started helping her remove wooden floor planks from the dining room.
“Heavens, no. This old place wouldn’t attract anyone but raccoons as overnight guests,” she said.
“Mr. Wiler and the hotels in town have much more to offer, and the train stations are only a couple of blocks away.
“No, we are going to make this our home, and raise cattle and crops here.”
“And children?” Grace smiled.
Emilene giggled.
“When the time is right,” Cassie said, blushing a little.
Mama walked in while the three were still giggling, but just smiled to herself and didn’t say a word, except, “We will want to get the roof secure and then the boys will board over the logs outside, and then they will want to put boards inside, too, and make a new floor and, oh my, you may never get to move in here,” she smiled.
“Where did you stay, Mama?” Grace asked. “Up that ladder and to the left, on a little loft that was next to my parents’ bed, with Uncle Josh till he was about five. Your older uncles stayed out in another small building by the time I could remember. To the right of the ladder were three rooms that guests slept in, when we had guests,” she said.
“How did you fit in that little space?” Emilene asked.
“I was a little girl then,” Mama replied.
“Didn’t it bother you to have so little space for yourself?” Grace asked.
“I never worried about it. The whole farm was mine, with my family. The bed was plenty of space to climb into.”
Suddenly, there was a large crackling sound, a snap and rush of breaking shingles as Martin came crashing through the roof on the spot where Autumn’s bed had been years ago. Because it was such a low space, Martin fell only a few feet, flat on his back. Then slowly sat up, dust and splintered wood covering his head.
Mama and the girls just stood looking at the mess. Cassie came running in, climbed the ladder and ran to Martin.
Finally, Mama said, “Well, that could have been a disaster.”
“Could have been?” Cassie said. “There’s a big hole in our roof!”
“But not a big hole in your husband,” Mama said, as Martin picked himself up and brushed off the clutter. “He can still fix the roof, and no one has to fix him.”
“Maybe it’s more of a miracle,” Mama sighed.
