A Great Catch (28 page)

Haunting her like ghosts in the shadows of the night, Grandma Kate’s words about God’s calling kept playing over and over in Emily’s mind. She punched her feather pillow and flopped onto her back.

Every time she turned around lately, it seemed someone was reminding her about God. God’s calling. God’s will. God’s plans.
But Lord, what about my plans? What about the things I want? Aren’t those important?
And how am I supposed to discover Your plans for me?

Aunt Millie’s snores trumpeted in the tiny room, and for a brief moment Emily considered tossing her down pillow at her aging aunt. Instead, she hugged it against her chest. Maybe God did want her to continue her suffrage work. God had blessed her efforts so far. The Chicago Stars were here, the game was tomorrow, and if it worked as she hoped it would, it would open the minds of many citizens—at least here in Council Bluffs, Iowa.

Too bad the only difference she could make was in this little corner of the world. Suffrage was a national issue. How long would it be before a woman could vote for president of the United States?

The stifling air made sleep even more difficult to find. She threw off the sheet covering her. Was Carter sleeping any better?

Emily rolled toward the wall and attempted to count sheep. As she began to doze off, the sheep turned into baseballs, flying at her so quickly she had no hope of hitting them. Her queasy stomach knotted tighter than a tatted doily. Then she noticed the smirk on the hurler’s face. Olivia.

It figured.

Emily’s eyes popped open. What if this was all a horrible mistake? What was she doing playing baseball? Carter’s reassurances did little to soothe her now. In a few hours, ready or not, she’d step onto the baseball diamond in front of a thousand people—and one man who could barely stand to be around her.

At last Emily decided to go outside and pray. That had to do more good than listening to Aunt Millie shake the room with her snores.

Not bothering with slippers, Emily padded into the parlor and slipped out the front door. The moon smiled down on her, and she easily made her way to the wicker rocking chairs.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Grandma! You startled me.” Emily pressed a hand to her chest, her heart beating wildly beneath it.

“Couldn’t sleep? Nerves or heat?”

“Both. It’s so hot I think the butterflies in my stomach are cooking.”

Grandma Kate laughed. “Is it the game making you nervous, or the players?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you and Carter.”

Emily dug her toes into the dewy grass. “Grandma—”

“You said you’d tell me what happened, and you’ve yet to do so. Now is as good a time as any.”

The butterflies did a simultaneous nosedive. The money. Emily didn’t want to have to tell her grandmother about that, but she deserved to know.
Lord, help me explain this.

Emily took a solidifying breath. “Grandma, you aren’t aware of this, but funds are missing from your bank account.”

“Sweetheart, please tell me you don’t suspect Carter?”

“I discovered it one night while I was awake and took a look at your ledger. I confronted Carter and—”

“About what?” Her grandmother placed her hand on Emily’s. “Is that why you two have stopped courting? You think he’s stealing from me?”

“I’m so sorry, Grandma. He was simply using me to get access to your money.”

“Poppycock.”

“Excuse me?”

“Emily, I do wish you would have spoken to me before you acted so rashly.” Grandma Kate sighed. “The problem with the missing funds had been going on for a month before I elicited his help. I wanted an outside opinion on the matter. Carter has been helping me discover why or where they’ve gone missing.”

Emily’s breath whooshed from her lungs, and sweat beaded on her upper lip. When her breath returned, it came in ragged gasps as tears flooded her eyes.

“Let me guess. You drew the conclusion that the only reason he was courting you was to get to my money, and he got angry because you didn’t trust him.”

Hot tears of frustration trailed down Emily’s cheeks and onto her cotton gown. Never had she been so angry with herself. Why had she jumped to conclusions? Why hadn’t she trusted Carter? Why hadn’t she prayed about it?

“Oh, Grandma. What have I done?”

Her grandmother took hold of her hand and leaned back in the rocking chair. “Nothing God can’t undo.”

Lord, I know I don’t deserve Your help, but please, please fix the mess I’ve made.

Emily awakened to the pop of firecrackers breaking the quiet of the morning. She rolled over and moaned. The Fourth of July and boys—an obnoxious combination.

When she finally convinced her weary body to rise from the bed, she discovered that with morning came an unexpected clarity. She donned her uniform for the afternoon’s game and pulled her hair into a bun, whistling all the while. Adjusting the baseball cap on her head, she offered a quick prayer of thanks to God for providing her with direction.

The screen door slammed behind her as she exited the cabin. Aunt Ethel looked up from her plate and scowled.

“Breakfast?” Grandma Kate asked.

She snagged a muffin from the table. “Where is Aunt Millie?”

“Taking muffins to the Hamlins. Mrs. Hamlin’s rheumatism has been acting up. Where are you going?”

Emily swallowed the cinnamon-laced bite of her raisin muffin. “I’m heading to town to see Martin before the game and to convince him to come have a picnic with us this evening. I think he was keeping the implement company open until noon.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Grandma Kate poured Emily a glass of milk and passed it to her. “You’ve slept half the morning away already, so you’d better hurry or you’ll be late to your own game. Perhaps you can convince Carter to join us for the picnic as well.”

Emily smiled. “We’ll see. I haven’t gotten the go-ahead from God on that yet.” After downing the milk, Emily kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I’ll see you at the game.”

While the streetcars arriving at the lake for the day were packed upon their arrival, Emily discovered she was the only person aboard as the trolley made its return journey to the city. She disembarked on Main Street and trekked to the large, brick Graham Implements building. A train whistled, followed by the familiar
chug-chug-chug
of a locomotive trying to pick up speed. She spotted it nosing its way from behind the Graham building, probably after making a delivery.

Emily wrapped her hand around the brass knob on the door and turned it. Good. It was open. Inside, she found the building mostly deserted. She smiled. Martin had probably given the majority of the employees a holiday, but of course he’d remained.

The building was four stories high, and Martin’s office was at the top. Out of breath by the time she reached the top floor, she paused and waved her hand in front of her face. Being up here in the summer was crazy. Why didn’t Martin take one of the offices downstairs?

Once she caught her breath, Emily traipsed down the hallway, preparing her speech for why he should come celebrate with them after the game. And perhaps, if she got the courage, she might speak to him about Carter too. Getting a man’s perspective certainly couldn’t hurt.

Loud voices echoed from the end of the hall. One of them belonged to Martin. She stopped. Maybe now was not the time.

“You take care of it!” Martin boomed.

“I’m telling you, Carter Stockton wants the money back.”

Carter? She pressed herself against the wall and eased closer. She didn’t recognize the other voice. Wait a minute. Could it be . . . ? If she could only get close enough, she might be able to see if her guess was correct.

“And how did he find out?”

“Apparently he made a deposit and had one of the clerks watching the books.”

“Couldn’t you blame it on someone else?” Martin growled.

“I messed up, okay? I was the only one there besides Jim Wilson.”

The sound of Martin’s squeaky desk chair signaled he’d moved. “But you said you didn’t tell him about my part in this?”

“Yeah, but I guarantee I will if you leave me hanging.”

Emily’s pulse raced. What did Martin have a part in that involved Carter?

“William, take it easy.”

That confirmed it. The second voice belonged to William DeSoto, one of the managers of the bank.

“We’ve got until tomorrow to hand over the money.”

Martin coughed. “I don’t have it and you know it.”

“Well, I’m not giving him my share.”

Silence in Martin’s office emboldened her to move closer.

She jumped when one of the men struck the desk. Then Martin spoke. “I never should have let you talk me into stealing from her.”

Emily gasped and her mind whirled. Martin was taking the money? But why?

“Too late for regrets. You’re involved now, but I’ve got an idea,” Mr. DeSoto said. “There’s another way to handle this. Since Stockton’s the only one who knows, if we take care of him, we take care of the problem.”

“What? You are insane!” Martin’s shouts made the walls shake. “It was bad enough to take my grandmother’s money. We’re not taking this any further.”

Further? Knees weak, Emily clutched at the chair rail along the wall.

Inside the office, a chair squeaked. Then someone lifted a window sash.

“Give Stockton what you have.” Martin’s voice sounded farther away. Perhaps he was near the window now. Emily inched closer to hear. “Then tell him you need more time. That will give me the chance to confess everything to my grandmother like I should have done long ago.”

There was a pause.

“What are you doing with that?” Martin’s pitch rose higher and fear laced his voice.

Emily froze.

“Does your office have a key?” Mr. DeSoto asked.

“Yes, it’s in my desk drawer.” There was another pause, and Martin’s voice took on the same tone he used as an employer. “William, don’t be a fool. Put the gun away.”

Gun? Emily’s blood turned to ice. She heard what sounded like a drawer opening.

“Is this it? Good.” Mr. DeSoto’s footfalls moved closer to the doorway.

Needing to hide, Emily slipped into the empty office beside her brother’s. To find her way, she slid her hand along the wall and brushed it against a cobweb. She cringed and yanked her hand away, bumping into a cast-iron umbrella stand. It rattled against the wall. Grabbing the stand, she righted it.

“What was that?” The walls distorted Mr. DeSoto’s words.

“Not sure. No one’s here except us,” Martin said. “Let’s talk about this, William. Listen to me, we’ve got to turn ourselves in.”

“I’ll take care of Stockton. And don’t worry about it. You’ll be locked in here, and our troubles will be over by the end of the day.”

“You can’t do this!” Martin shouted.

Emily heard a scuffle and then a loud thud. She exhaled. No gunshots.
Thank the Lord.
The office door slammed shut. Through a crack in the door casing, Emily caught a glimpse of Mr. DeSoto locking the door and jamming the key in his pocket. He stuffed the gun under his topcoat in the waistband of his pants. Then, after buttoning the coat, he squared his shoulders and looked straight at her hiding place.

She froze. Not a twitch. Not a breath.

After what seemed like forever, he finally shook his head and marched away.

Emily took a shaky breath, fighting tears.

He’s going to kill Carter.

“How ’bout you, sir? Would you like a photo of pretty Miss Maggie Burke?”

Carter turned his head to watch the Chicago Stars’ second bagger, Miss Katie Becker, flounce her way through the crowds, soliciting a collection of photos at a penny a picture. He chuckled. The attractive redhead batted her eyelashes at nearly every balding gentleman and soon had her stack gone.

“Wish I’d have told Katie to save me one of those.” Reggie Wallace, the Owls’ center fielder, swung his arm in a circle.

Carter frowned. “You’re using Miss Becker’s given name and they’ve only been here a day.”

“It doesn’t take long for some of us to woo a girl.” Digger elbowed Fred Brunner.

“Knock it off.” Carter playfully whacked the back of Digger’s head.

“Why? There aren’t any ladies around.”

The mention of ladies sent Carter searching the crowd again for Emily. His stomach clenched. Where was she and why hadn’t she arrived?

“She’ll be here.” Ducky walked several yards from Carter and crouched to catch the warm-up pitches.

Carter hurled one toward Ducky. It went wide.

Ducky snagged it in his padded glove and threw it back in one smooth movement. “So, how many folks do you think are here? I’ve never seen so many at a game.”

Carter glanced around. The Bloomer Girls’ manager had had the temporary fence erected this morning around the field. He told Carter they carried it in a special compartment in their Pullman Palace car so no one could sneak in the game without paying. The newly made bleachers overflowed with hundreds of spectators. Patrons lined the fence and every spare space all the way to left field. At a nickel a person, the box receipts should make the Chicago Stars glad they’d made a stop at the lake resort.

He sent a curveball into Ducky’s glove. “I heard there are eight hundred here at the lake today for the Omaha Butchers Association picnic. There has to be at least that many here at the game. Maybe more.”

Across the way, he spotted the Bloomer Girls’ pitcher hurling the ball with ease and accuracy to the catcher, Hank Russell. Should he go ask Russell about Emily’s whereabouts?

Putting his frustration into his pitch, Carter sent a fastball into Ducky’s glove.

The umpire glanced at his pocket watch and signaled the game to begin. Cheers rent the air, and Carter’s stomach lurched as he jogged to the pitcher’s mound. He turned and spotted Emily’s grandmother and aunts—both of them—sitting in the front row of the new stands. If she’d gotten cold feet, they wouldn’t be in attendance.

Something was definitely wrong. This game meant everything to Emily, and nothing short of a disaster would keep her away. If she didn’t show by the fourth inning, he’d go find her—wherever she might be.

Beating on the door, Emily tried to rouse some kind of response from her brother inside. “Martin! Martin!”

She heard a moan, and her heart raced. Shaking the doorknob in vain, she tried to calm herself.
Think. Think. Think.

Please, Lord, show me how to open this door.

The umbrella stand!

After scrambling into the next office, Emily hefted the iron stand into her arms and carried it into the hall. Then, wielding it like a baseball bat, she swung at the lock. The impact jarred her arms and shoulders, and the doorknob clattered to the floor.

She stuck her finger in the hole left by the knob’s shaft and pulled. Her heart sank. The door remained locked.

She peered through the keyhole. Martin lay sprawled on a floral rug.

“Martin!” She beat on the door. “Martin!”

Could she pick the lock? Martin had showed her how to do that once. Pulling a pin from her hair, she inserted it into the hole. She wiggled it around, listening for the clicking of the pins inside.

“Emily.”

“Shh, Martin. I’m trying to open the lock.” Something poked her hairpin from the lock, and she tried to push it back in. Frustrated, she leaned her shoulder against the door. Suddenly it opened and she tumbled inside. She looked up into her brother’s face. “Martin! You’re awake!”

“Barely.”

“How did you—”

He held up the skeleton key, then swayed.

Emily jumped to her feet and looped her arm around his waist. After helping him to his chair, she examined the welt on his head. Now that the danger for him was past, her anger began to flame, mingled with deep hurt and pain. She pushed the feelings down deep. She’d have to deal with them later.

“I’ll get a doctor.”

Martin caught her hand. “You need to find Carter. William DeSoto wants to kill him.”

“I know. I heard everything.” Disappointment filled her voice.

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

Martin rubbed the back of his neck. “I could explain, but there isn’t time.”

Tears clouded her vision.

“Go. Find Carter and tell him what happened. I’d just slow you down. I’ll get the sheriff and tell him everything.” He squeezed her hand. “And Emily, I’m sorry.”

The scoreboard read 3–3 in the bottom of the fourth inning, and the Owls were taking the field as Emily fought her way to the entry gate.

“I’m one of the Owls.” She pointed to her uniform. “I need to get in.”

“Listen, ma’am. I’m not a fool.” The old man shook his head. “The Bloomer Girls are the only ones with ladies on their team.”

Carter spotted her and hurried to meet her, his face etched with concern. “Where have you been?”

“Tell this man to let me in and I’ll tell you.”

“She’s one of us, Charlie.”

“Is that a fact?” Charlie opened the gate and she squeezed in.

“I can see you’re not hurt, so come on. Let’s go. You can tell me later where you were for the last three innings.”

“Carter, you’re in danger.” She grabbed his shirt.

“What?”

The umpire blew his whistle.

“We’ve got to get started. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She refused to relinquish her hold. “Did you hear me? I know you didn’t take Grandma’s money, but William DeSoto did, and he wants to hurt you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me out here in front of a thousand people.”

She dug her nails in his arm. “He wants to kill you, Carter!”

“Are you two lovebirds going to talk all day or play?” Elwood shouted.

“We’ll talk to the sheriff as soon as this game is over. I promise. It’s going to be fine.” He squeezed her hand. “Trust me. I want you to enjoy this game. You’ve worked too hard on it not to.”

Still unsettled, Emily reluctantly took her place as shortstop. Her eyes darted around for any sight of William DeSoto in the packed stands. Surely Carter was right. He’d be safe here, and they’d see the sheriff after the last inning.

Mac McSorely, third bagger, walked over to her. “I’ll cover you as much as I can, but there’s only so much even I can do. So keep your eyes open. You’re an easy target.”

Emily’s pulse pounded. “They’ll try to hit in my direction?”

Mac laughed. “Yeah. Wouldn’t you? Remember, if you catch anything, throw it to first.”

After he returned to cover his base, Emily wiped her sweaty palms on her bloomers and jammed her hand into the padded leather glove.
Please, God, don’t let any balls come to me, and please let Martin find the sheriff and stop Mr. DeSoto.

Her thoughts jumped to Olivia, and her heart grabbed. What would Olivia do when she heard about this whole affair?
Please,
God, help her get through this ordeal too.

By the end of the inning, God had answered at least one of her prayers. Between Carter and Mac, no balls had reached her. Emily took a deep breath. Now, if she could just survive being at bat.

Along with the rest of the Owls, she jogged in and sat down on the bench. Ducky slid over so Carter could settle into the spot beside her.

“Mac, you’re up after Digger,” Carter called.

Graceful yet athletic Maud Nelson, the Chicago Stars’ pitcher, stepped onto the mound while Digger swung his bat several times before stepping into the box. After raising her hands above her head, Maud fired a fast one over the plate.

The spectators cheered at the strike. On the next ball, Digger connected, making it to first despite the stellar throw of the Stars’ pretty left fielder, Maggie Burke.

Emily scanned the crowd. The packed stands thrilled her, but the success of the day was overshadowed by the threat to Carter’s life. Would William DeSoto try to kill him? When? How?

Carter was right. He wouldn’t do it out here in the open.

He gave her a halfhearted smile, and she relaxed a bit. After the game, they’d work it all out. Warmth spread across her chest when she spotted both her aunts and her grandmother sitting in the front row. Aunt Millie waved. Had they been worried about her?

Mac swung and missed. The Owls jeered at him until Carter silenced them. On the next pitch, he made it to second on a line drive. Fred Brunner then connected and sent a fly into left field. Maggie Burke pulled it down and managed to hold Mac at second. Yeula Robertson covered third base and picked off Digger.

Now with two outs, Carter called for the team to step up.

Ducky’s grounder got him to first.

“Okay, Elwood. Bring ’em home.”

Elwood waved to the crowd as he stepped to the plate and eyed the Stars’ pitcher. Maud’s first two pitches landed with a thud in the catcher’s mitt without Elwood tensing a muscle.

Carter stood up. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“They’re girls, Stockton. We’ve got to take it easy on them.”

“They deserve a good game, and we’re going to give it to them.”

Elwood swung a few times and stepped back to the plate. He nailed the next pitch and cleared the bases. The crowd roared, with several men breaking out their revolvers and firing blanks in the air.

“Can they do that?” Emily asked Carter.

He flashed her a grin. “They’ve been doing it the whole game. After all, it is Independence Day. You’re next, Emily.”

She wiped her sweaty palms on her bloomers. “I suppose it’s too late to quit now.”

“You’ll do fine.”

Stepping to the plate, she smiled at Hank.

He grinned back from beneath his mask and punched his fist into his glove. “Well, I daresay you’re the prettiest Owl out here.”

“That’s not saying much.” She chuckled and stepped to the plate.

Maud lifted the ball in the air and sent it sailing toward home plate. Emily’s stomach tightened and she swung, catching only air. She looked at Carter.

“Choke up on the bat. You can do this.”

Heeding Carter’s words, Emily inched her grip toward the bat’s nose and leaned forward over the plate.

On the next swing, she connected. She dribbled a slow roller toward Maud and raced toward first base. When she landed on it only a second before the ball, she stared victoriously at Maud. The pitcher grinned. The crowd cheered and a thrill surged through her. Even Olivia DeSoto applauded—

With William DeSoto looming beside her.

The sight of him made her shiver.

With Carter up next, Emily prepared to run. On the second pitch, Carter hit one over the fence. The guns started going off as Carter jogged down the baseline toward her.

Frantically, he waved both hands, signaling her to run. She took five steps and glanced at the stands. Her heart stopped. DeSoto, like a few of the other men, had his gun out and aimed at the field, except his was pointed directly at Carter.

She spun around and raced back toward first base, screaming for Carter to get down. The crowd roared. He couldn’t hear her.

He appeared to shout at her, motioning for her to run the other way.

She wasn’t
stopping for anything. With her eyes focused solely on him, she tripped on
the edge of first base and stumbled. Carter awkwardly caught her, and together they toppled to the ground and rolled in the dirt.