The Astro Outlaw (4 page)

“Hey, that’s the right size for a baseball,” Mike said. He slipped his baseball into the hole in the case’s gray foam. It fit perfectly. “But I guess that moon rock is more valuable than my baseball.” He took the baseball back.

Commander Rice snapped his briefcase closed and headed for the hallway. “I have to go report this,” he said. Kate followed him out.

As Mike turned to go, something on the ground by the door to the tracks caught his eye. “What’s that?” he said. He picked up the
top half of a green feather. “It’s broken right in the middle.”

“Why didn’t we see that before?” Kate asked.

Commander Rice studied the feather. Then he looked at the door. “I’ll bet it was caught in the door,” he said.

“That means it must have fallen out when we opened the door,” Kate said. “It might have come from whoever took your briefcase!”

“Maybe a parrot stole the moon rock,” Mike said with a grin. “They’re green.”

Commander Rice smiled and held up the feather. “I don’t think a parrot could have carried away the moon rock, Mike. Plus, if you look at its edge you can tell it was dyed green. It used to be gray.”

Kate stared at the broken feather. “That means the Astro Outlaw has the other half.
It’s like a jigsaw puzzle!” Kate loved solving puzzles.

Commander Rice nodded. He slipped the feather into his pocket. “I don’t know how we’ll find him,” he said, shutting the door to the tracks. He looked around the small room one more time.

“Why don’t you kids watch the game for a while?” he said. “After I go to security, I’ll be downstairs to sign autographs. Come back during the seventh-inning stretch.”

Mike nodded. “Don’t forget to tell them about the Astro Outlaw and his gas station deep in the heart of Texas!”

By the time Kate and Mike returned to their seats in the fifth inning, the Colorado Rockies were ahead by one run.

“
Hola
, Kate!
Hola
, Mike!” Mr. Hopkins said. He spoke Spanish and was helping Kate learn it as well. Mr. Hopkins put down his program. “Did you find Commander Rice?” he asked.

“Yes! You won’t believe it. He’d been knocked out cold!” Mike blurted out. “And someone stole the moon rock!”

Kate’s dad and Mr. Ryan looked shocked.

“Is he okay?” Mr. Ryan asked.

“He’s got a bump on his head, but he seems fine,” Kate said. She explained how they had found the astronaut tied up. She also told them about how Mike had found the green feather.

“Wow. That’s some story!” Mr. Hopkins said, shaking his head.

“I’ll say,” Mr. Ryan said. He mopped his brow and brushed back his frizzy black hair. “Maybe I should go check on things.” He stood up to leave. “I’ll meet you after the game, near the entrance.”

Mike looked at the scoreboard above the right-field seats. “I can’t believe the Rockies are winning. Tommy Thompson’s fastball is close to ninety-eight miles per hour! How are the Rockies getting hits off him?”

“He’s having a bad day,” Kate’s dad said. “The Astros—”

In the background, the loudspeaker boomed to life. “And now, it’s time for the Houston Hot Sauce Race!” A gate opened in the right outfield corner, and three figures popped out. They were dressed as tall, thin packets of hot sauce. The first one was bright red. The second was yellow. And the last one was orange. Only their arms and legs stuck out of the costumes.

“Pick which hot sauce will win today’s race!” the announcer went on. “Will it be Mild, Medium, or Hot?”

Mike’s eyes lit up. “Oh boy! I think Hot will win.” He had his eyes on the bright red hot-sauce packet.

“I’m picking Mild,” Kate said. “I like yellow. That leaves you with Medium, Dad.”

When the announcer shouted “Go!” the human hot sauces bumbled down the dirt
warning track. Medium led the race most of the way. But as they rounded home, Mild took the lead. Mild was steps away from the line when Hot shot up from behind and bumped him aside. Hot broke through the blue crepe-paper finish line first!

“Hot has won again!” boomed the loudspeaker. “I guess we like things fiery here in Houston.”

“Told you so!” Mike said. He waved his index finger in the air like a number one sign. He loved competing against Kate. “I win … 
again
,” he said, although he knew he didn’t win as often as he liked.

Kate grabbed Mike’s finger. “Yeah, but only because your hot sauce pushed mine out of the way,” she said. “Don’t worry, Mike. They’re just hot-sauce packets, so they’ll all be squeezed in the end!”

Mike tried to pull his finger away but couldn’t. He didn’t like to admit it, but when she wanted to be, Kate was pretty strong. “I was just, um, stretching my fingers!” he said.

Kate gave Mike’s finger one last tight squeeze and let go.

“Well, speaking of hot sauce,” Mike said, “how about we get some? Like on a hot dog or some fries?”

“Great idea,” Kate said, jumping up. “We can race to see who’s faster!”

“You don’t want to leave now,” Mr. Hopkins said. “Adam Bixby is batting.”

Mike and Kate settled back in their seats as Bixby strode to the plate. He leaned over, touched home plate with his pinkie, and said a prayer. Then he took two slow practice swings and waited for the pitcher. The tip of the bat made small circles in the air behind his shoulder. It looked like a bee getting ready to sting.

The pitcher wound up and flung a fastball inside. Bixby’s bat sliced down across the plate.

STRIKE ONE!

The catcher threw the ball back, and Bixby returned to his batting stance. The tip of the
bat buzzed in circles behind his head. Once more, the pitcher unloaded. He launched a slider toward home plate. But instead of dropping down, the ball hung in the strike zone. Again the bat flashed across the plate. Bixby’s wrists snapped the bat forward.
POW!

He connected. The ball zoomed high over second base. Bixby dropped the bat, put his head down, and raced to first. The Rockies’ center fielder sprinted back to the wall. He passed the dirt warning track and sped up a small grassy hill in front of the outfield wall. But the ball dropped just over the fence.

Another home run for Bixby! Now the game was tied!

“What a hit!” Mike exclaimed over the noise of the train whistle and the cheers. “But why is there a hill in center field, Uncle Steve?
Is that legal? I’ve never seen a baseball field with hills!”

Kate’s dad smiled. “It’s called Tal’s Hill,” he said when the noise died down. “A lot of old-fashioned ballparks used to have hills or other uneven areas in the outfield. The Astros thought it would be fun to have one here. So they built the hill. They also added a flagpole near the top of the hill. Outfielders have to watch out for that!”

The inning ended with a pop fly. The center fielder caught it for an easy out.

“Ready for that hot dog now, Mike?” Kate asked. “Dad, do you want anything?”

Mr. Hopkins shook his head. “No thanks,” he said as he handed them some money. “I’m going to buy some of those Kick’n Hot Nachos later. Have fun!”

Food and drink stands lined the main hall.
Texas favorites like nachos, chili, and fajitas sat side by side with hand-carved smoked turkey sandwiches, foot-long hot dogs, snow cones, and cotton candy. Mike and Kate threaded their way from one stand to another, between fans in cowboy boots and hats. It was hard to decide!

Kate finally settled on a taco.
“Un taco con queso, por favor,”
she said in Spanish to the woman behind the counter.

“Cinco dólares,”
the woman replied.

“I like that so many people speak Spanish in Texas!” Kate said. She tasted the taco with cheese and offered a bite to Mike. He chomped down on it as they went to wait in line for some kettle corn.

“Hey, Mike,” Kate said. “Check out the hat on that man over there.” She pointed to a man at the water fountain. He wore blue jeans,
an Astros shirt, and a tan cowboy hat. The hat had a black band around it. There was a bright red feather stuck in the band.

“A feather!” Mike said. “That looks like the one we found, except it’s red.”

“Exactly,” Kate said. “Now look at the other fans with cowboy hats.”

Mike scanned the crowd. Many of the cowboy hats had some type of small feather in the band. Most were bright shades of red, blue, green, yellow, or orange.

Mike couldn’t believe his eyes. “Feathers—they’re everywhere!”

“I’ll bet the one you found came from the Outlaw’s cowboy hat!” Kate said. She snapped her fingers. “And you know what else? Remember how Commander Rice said he smelled straw?”

Mike nodded.

“Some cowboy hats are made of felt or wool. But others are made of straw,” Kate said. “Maybe the Outlaw put a cowboy hat
over Commander Rice’s face! All we have to do is find someone with a broken green feather in their hat!”

Mike groaned. “But, Kate, almost
everyone
here is wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Yeah,” Kate agreed with a sigh. “Still, let’s keep our eyes open, just in case.”

Mike paid for his food, and they went to their seats. The sixth inning had just started. While Mike popped bits of kettle corn into his mouth and took swigs of red PowerPunch, Kate wolfed down her taco. Neither team scored in the sixth, and soon the Rockies were up for the top of the seventh inning. The first Rockies batter hit a double. But the Astros made three quick outs and hustled off the field. It was time for the seventh-inning stretch.

Fans stood up as the sounds of organ
music filled the stadium. The grounds crew neatened up the infield.

“Take me out to the ball game. Take me out with the crowd.…”

Kate jumped up. “We’ll see you later, Dad,” she said. “Mike and I are going to see how Commander Rice is doing. Come on, Mike.” She gave Mike’s T-shirt a tug. “Let’s go get an astronaut’s autograph!”