Two Strikes on Johnny (6 page)

Johnny felt big drops of rain strike his cheeks and his raincoat. They bounced on the walk. He ran out to the road and down
the way his mother had said Michael had gone.

The road was long and narrow and spotted with holes. On one side were deep woods, getting darker all the time. On the other
side was a ditch lined with pussy willows, cattails, and chokecherry trees. Johnny scared up a pair of black crows perched
on one of the trees.
Caw! Caw!
the crows screamed as they flew off.

The rain came down harder and harder. It quickly washed the road and
filled up the holes. Lightning pierced the sky and thunder boomed. Johnny kept running, his shoes kicking up a spray of water
until his pant legs were soaking wet.

Kee … rack! Tr … r … urnble!
The sky opened wide and the rain fell heavily. I can't stop, thought Johnny. I can't! They might be at the bridge!

The bridge was far ahead of him. He could barely see the white posts on both sides. If Mom said that Michael should have been
home by now, maybe he and Sand were under the bridge. It was a steel bridge. A shallow creek flowed underneath it. Johnny
had taken Michael and Sand there often. He had set his minnow trap in the water. The trap caught minnows and Johnny let Michael
hold them in his hand for a while before putting
them in the water pail to take home to his father.

The creek was shallow most of the time. There were places you could easily walk across. But when it stormed, the creek rose
high. It roared like a lion and twisted and frothed like a dragon.

At last Johnny reached the bridge. “Michael!” he shouted against the noise of the storm. “Michael!”

The only answer he received was the beat of the heavy rain. He crawled between the steel cables and started down the steep
rocks. His heart pounded. Tears mixed with the rain on his cheeks.
If Michael and Sand are not here, then the rain must've
…

Wuff!
Johnny's heart skipped a beat. Wuff! Sand's bark!

“Michael! Sand!” Johnny cried.

T
HEY
were standing on a large rock close to the bottom side of the bridge. The water was gushing against the rock, spattering
Michael's feet and Sand's paws.

Sand barked again and wagged her bushy tail. She was standing in front of Michael, keeping Michael back from the water. Michael
was holding her collar tightly. Johnny knew that as long as Sand stood on the rock, so would Michael.

“Oh, Johnny!” Michael cried. “Johnny!”

There was another, smaller rock near the large one on which Michael and Sand stood. Already the water had covered the smaller rock, but Johnny stepped on it. He took Michael's slicker from under his
raincoat and handed it to Michael.

“Here, Michael!” he shouted. “Put it on!”

Michael unfolded it, pushed his arms through the sleeves, buttoned it up.

“Okay! Come on, Michael! Hold out your hand. We must get away from here! The water's almost over that rock now!”

Michael held out his hand. Johnny took it. “Come on, Sand,” he said. “Come on, girl. Let's go.”

Slowly, carefully, Johnny led Michael away from under the bridge and the dangerous waters. He and Sand together helped Michael
up the bank.

They walked on the road toward home.
Squish! Squish! Squish!
went Johnny's
shoes. His feet were soaked, but he didn't mind.

“How — how did you know where to find us?” Michael asked.

“I don't know. I just thought about the bridge because we go there once in a while to catch minnows for Dad. And there isn't
a house this way for two miles. I guess I figured that was the only place you could be.”

“Were you home? Was Mom worried?”

“Well, she wasn't worried too much. She said Sand would take care of you.”

Michael grinned against the rain that spattered his face. “She did, Johnny. She always does. But I don't know what would have
happened if you hadn't come just now. She didn't want me to move from there. I guess she was afraid. I'd fall into the water.”

They walked along for a while in silence. Then Johnny said, “Why did you walk so far from home, Michael? You never walked
this far without me before. Even with Sand with you.”

Michael's smile disappeared as if the rain had suddenly washed it away.

“I — I didn't realize I had walked this far,” he answered quietly.

“But you always seemed to know before. Almost
exactly,”
Johnny said.

Michael had his eyes straight ahead. He didn't seem to have heard what Johnny had said.

“Aw, forget it,” Johnny said then. “I didn't mean anything. Do you want me to tell you about the ball game today?”

Michael did not answer right away, as if he were thinking. Then he said, “If you want to.”

“Don't you
care
to hear about it?”

Michael shrugged. “Was — was it a good game?”

“It sure was. We won for a change. And I got two hits. I really did, Michael. Two hits! And you know what? I scored the winning
run! I ran all the way from first and scored!” He stared at Michael. The expression on Michael's face had not changed at all.

“You believe me, don't you, Michael? I really did get hits this time! And I
did
score the winning run! You do believe me, don't you, Michael?”

“Sure, Johnny. I believe you.”

But Michael didn't believe him. Johnny knew, just as sure as he was walking alongside Michael and Sand, that Michael did not
believe a word Johnny had, said.

J
OHNNY
did not ask Michael to go with him when the Cardinals played the Rangers. He did not think that Michael would care to go.
He knew exactly what Michael thought. What was the use of going to the ball game when all the players would be cheering Johnny
just to make Michael believe that Johnny was. playing good baseball, and when Johnny would tell him he had made a double,
or a triple, or a homer, when maybe all he did was to hit a pop fly, or strike out? Michael would rather stay home and listen
to a big-league game broadcast over the
radio. Then he could really believe what he heard, because he could be sure that every word would be true.

However, Mr. and Mrs. Doane were anxious to see the game and they did not want Michael to remain home alone.

“But Sand will be home with me!” Michael pleaded.

“It makes no difference,” Mr. Doane said gently. “I'd rather have you come with us, Michael. I don't understand. I thought
you liked going to the games with your brother.”

“I did, but I don't care about it so much any more. Please let me stay home, Dad.”

“Let me settle this,” Mrs. Doane said. “I'll stay home. Dad can go with Johnny. I have a lot of ironing to catch up on, anyway.”

Johnny stared at his mother. He
wanted to say, “Oh, come on, Mom. Come to the game.” He wanted her to come very much, but he kept his mouth closed. He figured
that both his mother and father did not know the exact reason Michael didn't want to go to the game. That was something only
between him and Michael.

It was terrible to have Michael feel like that. Maybe he would grow up and never believe a lot of things that Johnny told
him. He would not trust Johnny. That hurt; Johnny wanted to be trusted. It was a good clean feeling deep inside your heart
when everybody trusted you. When your own brother did not trust you —that, well, that was the worst thing that could happen.

“Come on, Dad. Let's go. I don't want to be late,” Johnny said anxiously. He
only wanted to leave, though, because it was hurting him more and more to stand there near Michael and know exactly how Michael
felt.

“Okay, let's go,” said his father.

Manager Davis had the line-up exactly the same as for the last game. Johnny had hoped that he could bat sixth or seventh in
the batting order, but he had to be satisfied with eighth. At least he was in the starting line-up.

The Rangers had had last raps in their first game with the Cardinals, so now the Cardinals had last raps. The game started.
Marty French yelled at the infielders to make some noise, and noise they made. The air was hot and sticky, but none of the
ball players even thought
about that. As far as they were concerned, it was a perfect day for baseball.

The Rangers' lead-off man popped out to first. The second batter hit a hot grounder back to Davie, who was pitching today,
and Davie threw him out. The next man walked. Then a grounder to shortstop Stevie Little ended the first half of the inning.

The Cardinals didn't do well, either. Peter hit a three-two pitch in the air back to the pitcher. Freddie fanned. And Davie
flied out to left.

In the second inning the Rangers' first batter clouted a double. The next man drew a walk. Then a fly ball was hit out to
center.

“I've got it!” yelled Johnny.

He caught the ball, saw the runner tag up on second and race for third. Johnny reared back and heaved the ball as hard as he could. Butchie caught it on the first hop, shifted quickly, and touched the
runner with the ball.

“Out!” shouted the ump.

“Thataboy, Johnny!” Johnny could hear Marty's voice all the way from the outfield.

Two outs. The man on first had gone to second. Davie stepped on the mound, stretched, and threw. A hit! The ball bounded between
first and second. Kenny Parks raced in after it. He fielded it, threw it home. The throw was wild. The runner scored. The
hitter stopped on second.

The next batter grounded out to third and the inning was over. The Rangers led, 1 to 0.

Marty was first batter for the Cardinals.
After hitting two long foul balls, he struck out. Butchie walked. Stevie reached first on an error by the shortstop. Then
Buddy Greenfield came up. He was hit by a pitched ball and loaded the bases.

Johnny Doane tugged on his cap. Ducks on the pond again. He would hit that ball this time. He just had to.

Crack! A line drive to short! The shortstop fumbled it, picked it up. Every man was running for the next base. Butchie was
making a beeline for home. His cap flew off.

The shortstop threw the ball home. It sailed wide. The catcher couldn't reach it. Butchie scored. Then Stevie crossed the
plate. Buddy stopped on third, Johnny on second.

Two runs!

Johnny wished that the hit had gone clean through the infield, instead of being an error. His batting average needed a boost.
But he had knocked in two runs. He had put the Cardinals ahead. That was what counted the most.

K
ENNY PARKS
hit a dribbler down the third-base line. The Ranger scooped it up and threw Kenny out.

Two away.

Peter walked. Freddie Turner tried twice to bunt. Both times he fouled the ball. The third time he swung and hit a clothesline
drive to short. The shortstop fumbled the ball, then picked it up and threw Johnny out in a close play at third.

The Rangers came up, anxious to even the score or get ahead. They began to yell at Davie.

“Don't let them bother you, Davie, ol
boy!” Marty shouted. “You're better than they are! Just throw 'em in to me!”

But the Rangers pounded Davie's pitches hard. Before the inning was over, they had scored four runs.

“Let's get those runs back,” Manager Davis said when the boys ran in. “Davie, you're up first. Get a hit, boy.”

Davie fouled the first pitch over the backstop. The next two pitches were wide. Then he drove a hot grounder to second which
looked like a sure hit. But the Rangers' second baseman speared it with his glove and rifled it to first.

“Out!” shouted the ump.

Marty went to the plate. He dusted it off with his cap, then waited for the pitch.

“Ball one!”

“Ball two!”

“Stee-rike!”

Then Marty hit a chest-high pitch out to left center for a double.

“There you are!” Manager Davis said excitedly. “Marty started it. Let's keep it going!”

I wish Michael were here, thought Johnny. This game is getting more exciting every minute. Michael would be able to tell by
the noise. He would hear just about everything and enjoy it almost as much as anybody else.