Sally was carrying a bundle and as she approached them, she smiled broadly, then put the bundle down on a bench.
“What have you got there?” Smoke asked.
“Open it,” Sally said. “The St. Louis Unions aren’t the only ones with uniforms.”
“You bought us uniforms?” Jules asked excitedly.
“I bought all of you matching red shirts,” Sally said. “That, with your blue denim trousers, will make a uniform.”
“Oh, yeah!” Jules said as he held up one of the shirts. “And these here is a lot better-lookin’ than them white pajama-lookin’ things those folks is wearin’.”
Within minutes, every one of Smoke’s men was smartly outfitted with the new red shirt and the result was dramatic. They took on the same aura as the uniformed St. Louis Unions.
Sheriff Carson agreed to be the umpire, and he walked out onto the ball field, leaned over to brush off the home plate, then stood up to bellow out as loud as he could:
“Play ball!”
They had played eight and a half innings of baseball and though the St. Louis Unions were leading, the score, at four to one, was much closer than anyone had thought possible. As it turned out, Jules was a very good baseball player, and Mike, Andy, and Leroy were also quite skilled. The others were good enough to keep the game from getting embarrassingly out of hand.
Now, in the last half of the ninth inning, with none out, Billy was walked, giving them a man on base. Cal singled, but Billy was held at third. Hank popped up and the ball was caught by the Unions’ second baseman. LeRoy struck out, and that brought Jules to the plate.
“Come on, Jules, a home run would tie the game!” Pearlie shouted.
Jules nodded, then struck his bat against the plate a couple of times before looking at the pitcher.
“Boy,” the catcher said from behind him. “I’ve been watching you. You’re a pretty good ballplayer. What are you doing with this bunch of yokels? Why don’t you leave them and come with us?”
“You really think I’m good enough to play with you fellas?” Jules asked.
“I sure do.”
The pitcher fired the first ball to the plate. Jules swung, but missed.
“That didn’t look all that good,” Jules said to the catcher.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Tommy is a very good pitcher. You’ve hit him three times today, and not even the best batter can hit him every time. That’s why if you strike out, nobody would ever suspect you did it on purpose.”
“What do you mean, on purpose?” Jules asked.
“Well, we divide up the gate from every game. If anyone beats us and we have to pay two hundred dollars, it comes out of our pocket. Your pocket, if you join us. So, why don’t you just strike out now and end this game? It’ll be better for all of us if you do.”
Jules swung and missed at the second pitch.
“Attaboy,” the catcher said. “Miss this pitch and you’ll be one of us.”
Jules turned to look at the catcher.
“Mister, if I strike out, it ain’t a’goin’ to be on purpose,” Jules said. “And I wouldn’t want to play with people like you anyway.”
The catcher chuckled. “Have it your way, kid,” he said.
Then he called to the pitcher. “Quit playin’ around with him, Tommy. Throw it past him!”
“No batter, no batter, no batter,” the shortstop called.
“Throw it by him, Tommy. Let’s collect our money and go have a few beers,” the first baseman called.
The left fielder started whistling.
Jules scraped at the ground with his feet and watched as the pitcher wound up, then threw. Jules swung the bat, and had the satisfying feeling of making contact with the ball on the sweet spot of the bat. The ball flew high over the left fielder’s head. Jules tossed the bat aside and started for first base.
Billy came home and Cal rounded second, headed for third, rounded third, and streaked home. Jules was right behind Billy, rounding second as Billy started home. Jules saw the left fielder run for the ball, then pick it up just before Jules reached third. Jules rounded third and started for home as the crowd cheered for him.
Then, to Jules’s surprise, the left fielder made a tremendous throw, and Jules saw the ball fly into the catcher’s mitt just before he reached home plate. Jules slid into home plate, but the catcher was waiting for him and he put the tag on him before he reached the plate.
“You’re out!” the umpire called.
The cheers turned to groans.
“You should’ve took me up on my offer, boy,” the catcher said. “You wound up being out anyway, and now you got nothing to show for it.”
“Yeah, I’ve got something to show for it,” Jules said and he stood up and wiped the dust from the seat of his pants. “I’ve got my honor.”
The high, skirling sound of a fiddle could be heard from one end of the street to the other as the dancers dipped and whirled to the caller’s patter:
“A right and left around the ring
