The Astro Outlaw (2 page)

“Can we see one?” Tex called out.

Commander Rice checked his watch. “We’re out of time. Come to tonight’s game,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be signing autographs near the main entrance. I’ll also have a moon rock on display.” He led the group down the stairs and back to their bus.

“I hope to see you two at the game tonight,” Commander Rice said to Kate and Mike as they boarded the bus. “Mr. Ryan said you were extra-special guests.”

Mike gave him a thumbs-up and went to sit with Kate a few rows from the back. Mr. Hopkins sat in front of them. As the bus started up, he leaned over the top of his seat. “How’d you like that tour?” he asked. “I remember seeing mission control on television when I was younger.”

“It was great!” Mike said. “But I was
hoping we’d get to eat freeze-dried space food. Or some of that space dots ice cream.”

“Real astronauts don’t eat space dots!” Kate piped up. She pointed to a page in the space book she had bought at the gift shop. It was filled with pictures of space food. “They don’t have ice cream in space. They don’t even have refrigerators or freezers. And guess what—NO pizza!”

“No ice cream? No pizza?” Mike yelped. “If I were an astronaut, I’d starve!”

“You won’t starve tonight,” Kate’s dad said. “We’re going out to dinner before the game with Mr. Ryan. Barbecue was our favorite when we worked together for the Dodgers.”

Kate’s father was a scout for the L.A. Dodgers. Kate didn’t see him very often because her parents were divorced. He lived in Los Angeles, and she lived with her mother
in Cooperstown, New York. Mike’s house was just down the street from hers. His parents owned a sporting goods store in town.

The rest of the way back, Mike and Kate took turns pretending to be astronauts and controllers at mission control. Mr. Hopkins flipped through Kate’s space book.

That evening, Mike, Kate, and Mr. Hopkins met Mr. Ryan for dinner at Deano’s Bar-B-Que. Mr. Ryan was short and stocky, with frizzy black hair. He looked more like a wrestler than a baseball scout. But he sure knew a lot of baseball stories. While they waited for their food, Mr. Ryan told Mike and Kate secrets about their favorite players.

After dinner, they walked over to the stadium. Mr. Ryan had reserved seats right behind the Astros’ dugout. When they sat down, Mr. Ryan pointed out the ballpark’s movable roof. It
was wide open. Lights from the city of Houston sparkled against the darkening sky.

“It gets very hot here in Texas. We have one of the few stadiums with a roof that opens and closes,” Mr. Ryan said. “You get such a nice view of the city when the roof is open.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair to admire Houston’s skyline.

“Hey, Mr. Ryan,” Mike broke in, “why is there a train up there?” He pointed to a huge black steam engine and coal car on top of the ballpark’s left-field wall. The train had big red wheels, a bright red cowcatcher, a headlight, and a large black smokestack.

“Trains are an important part of Houston’s history,” Mr. Ryan said. “And the Astros’ ballpark was built on the site of the old train yards. The whistle blows at the start of each game and for every Astros home run and win.”

While they waited for the game to start, Mike tossed his baseball in the air. He always tried to bring one to games. Kate read through the program her dad had bought.

The announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Please give a big round of applause for our special guest tonight, NASA Commander Nicholas Rice! After throwing out the game’s first pitch, he’ll be signing autographs near the main entrance. Stop by and you’ll also be able to see a real, priceless moon rock!”

The crowd stood up and cheered. Everyone waited for Commander Rice to run out to the pitcher’s mound. The Houston Astros catcher crouched behind home plate. After a few minutes, he stood up. He looked from one side to the other like he had lost something. Both teams milled around by their dugouts.

Kate tugged on her father’s shirt. “Shouldn’t Commander Rice be coming out?” she asked.

Kate’s dad scanned the stadium. “Maybe he’s still getting ready,” he said.

Again, the announcer came over the loudspeaker. “Please give a big Texas welcome to our special guest, Commander Rice!”

The crowd cheered. The catcher returned to his crouch. The teams watched from the sidelines. But no astronaut came onto the field. The umpires huddled at first base. Several of them pointed to the clock on the scoreboard.

The loudspeaker crackled one more time. “Houston, we have a problem,” the voice said. “Our astronaut is missing!”

“Missing? Commander Rice is missing?” Mike asked. “What happened? Maybe he’s been kidnapped!”

“I doubt it,” Kate’s dad said. He raised his eyebrows at Mr. Ryan. “He’s probably just caught in traffic or something. Anyway, why would anyone want to kidnap him?”

“Because he’s got a valuable moon rock with him!” Mike said. “It’s a lot easier to steal a moon rock than to go to the moon yourself!”

“Shh,” Kate said. “Something’s happening.”

Out on the field, the head umpire jogged over to the Astros’ dugout. He talked to the manager. A minute later, the Astros ran onto the field. As they did, the steam train on the left-field wall chugged along the tracks. It blew its whistle.
WOOOO-WOOOO!
The train engineer waved to the crowd.

Mr. Hopkins relaxed. He put one arm around Kate. With the other he made notes about the ballpark in his notebook.

“Always working, eh, Dad?” Kate said. “Or are you writing down ideas for my birthday? You know, I’d like a new camera so I can take better pictures for Mike’s website.” Mike wrote about ballparks and baseball on his website,
dugoutscoop.com
. Sometimes Kate helped.

Mr. Hopkins smiled and slipped the notebook back in his pocket. “I’ll keep that in
mind,” he said. “But I’m afraid you’re never short of birthday ideas.”

“Looks like the game is going to start. Make some noise!” Mr. Ryan said. Kate and Mike clapped with the other fans. Mr. Ryan rolled up his program and thumped it loudly against his palm. “Come on, TOMMY!” he bellowed. “Tommy Thompson is our best pitcher. We can’t lose with him on the mound!”

Thompson didn’t let Mr. Ryan down. He struck out the first three Colorado Rockies in a row.

Mr. Ryan thumped his program against his palm again.
THWWWAPP!
“What’d I tell you?” he said to Mike as the teams switched sides. “Tommy’s great.”

Houston came to bat and quickly got two men on base. Then the Astros’ star hitter, Adam Bixby, strolled up to home plate.

“He’s a great hitter, but watch his stance,” Mr. Hopkins said. “He keeps his feet close together.”

“I hope he hits a home run,” said Mike.

Bixby waited patiently while three balls went by. Usually with three balls and no strikes, batters don’t swing at the next pitch. They know if it’s a ball, they’ll earn a trip to first base. But Bixby didn’t let the pitch go by. His heels dug into the dirt, and his whole body twisted around like a pretzel. He swung hard.

The baseball rocketed up into the air. It flew over the shortstop’s head and into left field. Then it dropped onto an overhang just below the train. Home run!

Bixby jogged around the bases.
WOOOO-WOOOO!
The train whistle echoed through the park. Houston was ahead, three to zero.

Mike and Kate leapt to their feet and
cheered. “Wow!” Mike shouted. “Did you see that? He nailed it! Where did it go?”

“It fell by the gas pump.” Mr. Ryan pointed to the overhang above the left-field wall. “See that porch? There’s a big gas pump on it. Houston is a major oil town. The pump records the total number of home runs the Astros have hit since the stadium was built. I guess they’ll have to add another run to it!”

When everyone sat down, Mr. Hopkins said, “The numbers on the gas pump remind me of something. How about a riddle?”

“Yes!” Kate poked Mike in the chest. “Let’s see who’s faster today!”

Mike swatted at her hand. “I’m ready to hit a fastball over the gas pump,” he said. “Fire away, Uncle Steve.”

Mr. Hopkins stroked his chin. “A fastball. That’s a good idea,” he said.

Mike leaned forward in his seat.

“What’s something that only the Astros and two other teams have that is the same, but different?” Mr. Hopkins asked.

Kate twirled her ponytail and looked up at the Houston skyline. Mike tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “A gas pump?” he blurted out after looking at the outfield.

“No, not quite, Mike. Think more about fastballs. Not home runs,” Mr. Hopkins told him. “Here’s a hint. You can see the answer from here.”

“Ooh,” Kate said. She studied the park. “Fastballs. Fastballs. Pitching. Pitchers …,” she muttered to herself.

Mike jumped up to scan the field. He didn’t want to let Kate win. “It’s, um—”

“Nolan Ryan!” Kate said. She slapped her hand on her armrest. “Nolan Ryan’s number
is right up there!” She pointed to a giant baseball with the number thirty-four on it above the scoreboard.

“That’s right, Kate,” her dad said. “Good job! Nolan Ryan was a famous fastball pitcher. Three different teams have retired his number. But two of them retired the number thirty-four, and one retired the number thirty. So they’re the same, but different.”

Kate flexed her muscles at Mike. “Looks like
I
hit that one over the gas pump.”

“Maybe, but I let you win,” Mike said with a wave of his hand. “How about another riddle, Uncle Steve?”

“Nice try, Mike,” Mr. Hopkins laughed. “Let’s watch the game for now.”

Two more batters reached base, but the Rockies made a double play and struck the next batter out. The inning was over.

“Dad, can we go see if Commander Rice is here?” Kate asked.

“Sure,” Mr. Hopkins said. “Just don’t leave the ballpark. I’ll keep an eye on the game for you.”

Kate and Mike jogged up the steps and down a wide hallway. To the left of the main entrance was a long table. Behind it hung a banner that read
COMMANDER NICHOLAS RICE
. On the table in front of an empty chair lay a stack of pictures of Commander Rice in a blue flight suit. A security guard stood behind the other end of the table. He was busy talking into a walkie-talkie.

Kate leafed through the photos. None were signed. “Where’s Commander Rice?” she asked Mike. “I thought he’d be signing autographs by now.”

“Maybe he’s still missing,” Mike said. He
wiggled his fingers in front of Kate’s face and dropped his voice. “Or maybe he’s lost in space.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Real funny,” she said. “We should wait for him.”

Mike took out his baseball and started tossing it. Then an exhibit on the other side of the doorway caught his eye. It showed the history of Houston’s Union Station. Years ago, Union Station was Houston’s biggest train station. Now it was the main entrance to the Astros’ ballpark. Rows of black-and-white pictures of steam trains, passenger cars, and the old train station hung in the display.

At the end of the display, Mike spotted a clear plastic box about the size of a garbage can. It was filled with black chunks of coal.