Blind Your Ponies (51 page)

“Get a good night’s sleep, eat well, and we’ll see you tomorrow in school. We’ve drawn Noxon for the second afternoon game on Thursday. I don’t know anything about them except they have a 17–3 record, so they must know how to toss the pumpkin in the well. We’re staying through Saturday night so you’ll have to bring a change of underwear.”

Sam glanced at each of them, their faces bursting with happiness and anticipation, and he yearned to possess some magical power that would capture this moment and make it last for the rest of their lives.

“We’re going to have fun in Helena. But remember how much fun it is to play better than you can, that besides staying in motels and eating in restaurants and hanging out in the city, the only thing you’ll
always
remember will be how you played. We’re going to remember how we won.”

“Yeeaaahhhh!” the boys shouted and the spectators applauded and cheered.

“Are there any questions?” Sam said.

“Are there any McDonald’s in Helena?” Dean said.

Everyone laughed.

“Yes, Dean, there is at least one McDonald’s,” Sam said, “and you can have McBreakfast and McLunch and McDinner if you want.”

“I want McNoxon,” Pete said. “I want a Divisional McChampionship,” Rob said.

“I want McStone’s McBalls,” Tom said, but so quietly only the huddle at midcourt could hear him.

“Ya, the Twin McBridges I am wanting,” Olaf said with an uncharacteristic steely-eyed glare. They shouted and clapped, a gesture that spread to the bleachers where soon everyone was standing and applauding with the boys. The spontaneous outpouring touched a nerve in all of them, and a chant rose against the confines of the gymnasium’s block walls and wood-beamed ceiling.

“Twin Bridges! Twin Bridges! Twin Bridges! Twin Bridges!”

Sam stood observing the fervor of his team and their boosters, painfully reminded that Twin Bridges would travel to Helena, too, leaving their coach with a McLump in his stomach.

G
RANDMA KNELT ON
a chair with her elbows on the kitchen table. She was working a jigsaw puzzle when Pete sauntered in and slid into a chair.

“Hungry?” she said without looking up, wearing two pair of glasses. “A little.”

He picked up a piece and pressed it in place. She took off one pair of glasses and looked at him. “Get your homework done?”

“Yeah, just some fishy math.”

“Fishy?”

“Every time I get close to Mr. Grant I can smell fish—even some of the papers he hands back smell fishy.”

“That’s all that’s keeping him here: brookies, browns, and cutthroat.”

Grandma got up and cautiously opened the door of the refrigerator, casting one eye to see if Pete had the transmitter in hand. She took out a half gallon of milk, poured a glass, and set it on the table.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Miss the dance?” Parrot squawked from the front room.

“I forgot to cover that mangy bird. I wonder if it will ever remember its old lines?”

“Maybe he knows he’s going to die and he’s cleaning up his act,” Pete said. He pulled his feet onto the chair with his knees under his chin.

“He’ll probably outlive me and you and the whole town,” she said.

She kneeled on the chair and slipped on the second pair of glasses, studying the puzzle.

“I talked to your mother today. I told her to get out here and watch you make history.”

“What did she say?”

“Didn’t think she could get away. I told her to call your dad. He and I never did see eye to eye. It’s a shame they aren’t seeing this.”

She picked up a piece and tried to force it.

“Does it bother you to see the other parents at the games?”

“Naw, Tom’s don’t come, and Olaf’s aren’t here. They don’t even know he’s playing.”

“And yet,” she said, glancing up at him over her glasses, “the Painters never miss and Olaf isn’t even their son.”

She worked the puzzle and Pete drained the glass of milk. “Are Tom and Dean going to stay eligible?” she asked.

“I hope so. With Tom it’s just U.S. history, with Dean it’s every course he’s taking.”

“He’s not a stupid kid.”

“No, he just goofs around and never studies.”

She plopped the glasses on the table and stood stiffly. “I’m worn out, time to hit the hay.”

She was in the front room when Pete spoke.

“Grandma.”

“Yes.” She paused and turned to regard him.

“It bothers me, the other parents at the games. It bothers me a lot.”

She stepped back into the kitchen.

“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.”

“But when I’m bumming about it, before a game, I look over at Denise and then I’m okay and I want to win for her, for all of us.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Peter Strong. This has been the best year of my life, thanks to you.” She bit her lip and turned away.

When the lights were out and they were in bed, Pete called.

“Good night, Grandma!”

“Good night, Pete!”

Silence. Then he called again.

“Good night, Parrot.”

“Good night, Parrot,” Grandma said.

“Good night, Tripod.”

“Good night, Tripod.”

“Good night, John Boy,” he called.

“Good night, Jim Bob!” she shouted.

Peter could visualize the Waltons’ house going dark and hear the theme music at the program’s end. He missed his father. Just once he wanted his father to run out onto the floor after a game and hug him and tell him how proud he was.

“Good night, Dad,” he whispered.

Tripod leaped onto the bed and curled up beside him.

A
FTER ANOTHER LIGHT
practice Wednesday, Diana and Sam went to the Blue Willow for dinner. She stopped for her mail at Mavis Powers’s post office while Sam got them a table, no easy task with everyone at this end of the valley hanging around the inn. He found a small one on the tavern side next to the pool table and settled there, contemplating the next opponent. He had to look up Noxon on a map, a small dot on a secondary highway along the Montana boarder with Idaho, sheltered from the west by the Bitterroot Mountain Range. He knew that northwest Montana country had a history of logging, and he guessed that many of the boys on Noxon’s team had fathers with family histories of cutting down magnificent jack or red pine.

He waved at Diana when she came in looking for him. She hurried to the table, peeling off her coat and giggling like a child.

“I got the job! San Diego, they hired me! I don’t believe it, the school I told you about, they have a class in oceanography. Oh, Sam, I can’t believe it. Do you know how many applicants they’d get for an opening like that?”

She waved the letter in the air and glowed in a way he’d never seen, shaking her long hair out of her face and waiting for his response.

“That’s terrific. I knew you’d get it.”

He fought furiously to keep the dying smile on his face, and he wished he had his old glasses on to hide his eyes.

They ordered and ate. She talked about San Diego and he tried to subdue the dread and sorrow in his chest. Would it only be a season for them, too? Would he go to San Diego with her? Would she ask him to?

“Hey, you two. Hiding in a corner?” Andrew said as he approached from the packed dining room.

“Hello,” Sam said, trying to regain his composure and thinking how much he and Andrew had in common, each sitting in the Blue Willow with the woman he loved and then losing her forever.

“Everything’s taken care of. The team has reservations at the Colonial through Saturday night. A lot of us will be staying there, too.”

“Thanks, Andrew,” Sam said. “That’s a pretty fancy joint.” “Nothing’s too good for the team. Hell, how many times will we get this chance? Is there anything else you need?”

Sam could think of several but Andrew couldn’t provide them. “No, nothing I can think of right now.”

“Great, if I don’t see you before, I’ll see you at the game.”

O
UTSIDE THE INN
, he kissed her at her car. She didn’t have her heart in it.

“Can I come out later?” he asked.

“Oh, gosh, I think we both need a good night’s sleep. Besides, I’m going to call my folks. They’ll be excited, I think, and a couple friends. I hope I’m ready to go back to San Diego.”

She drove away, and he knew there was something he needed much more than a good night’s sleep. He had thought they were seeking some mutual stability in their lives, some firm ground in one another, when in reality they were simply cosmic specks being hurled into outer space at the speed of light. It was a familiar turn of events in his life, feeling as though he didn’t matter to someone who mattered so much to him, including her in his plans when he wasn’t included in hers. He noticed the bicycle built for two in the shadows leaning against the wall. He rolled it off the porch and pedaled up Main toward the school. Andrew was right. Sam caught a whiff of lavender. Could he pedal all the way to San Diego?

T
HE TEAM AND
cheerleaders scurried to pack the bus with their suitcases and overnight bags for three nights in Helena. Everyone had arrived except Dean. With the added luggage, Rozinante was stuffed. Sam had them get aboard when he spotted the Cutters’ old red pickup banking up Main
from the south. The Ford rattled to a stop and Dean jumped out. He dashed to the bus, dripping wet with perspiration and hugging a brown grocery sack containing his entire traveling wardrobe. Sam nodded through the bus window at Sally Cutter and everyone cheered as the nearsighted freshman plopped into the right front seat next to Curtis. Sam closed the doors and made a U-turn in front of the school. He honked continuously as they rolled down Main past United Methodist, Willow Creek Tool, the volunteer fire barn, and the Blue Willow. People hurried out onto the porch of the inn and waved, they themselves about to lock up the town and hit the road north.

Out of Three Forks they crossed the interstate and headed up the two-lane highway for the state capitol, singing and jabbering with a boisterous, happy confidence. The Missouri River, timelessly emerging from a watery womb here at its headwaters, frolicked in its infancy alongside the highway.

There were eight basketball teams riding the highways that morning, meaning to strike it rich in the tournament’s last-chance gulch, where losing meant going home.

Scott scrambled around in the aisle, jammed as it was with legs and luggage. He looked beneath the seats, behind the back row, under feet and baggage. Then he stumbled to the front and whispered in Dean’s ear. The Dutch Boy leaped out of his seat.

“We forgot our balls!” Dean shouted. “We forgot our balls!”

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, keeping his eye on the road. “Calm down, calm down. Is that true, Scott?”

“Yeah,” Scott said sheepishly. “I forgot’em in the gym.”

“It’s okay. They’ll have some we can use up there,” Sam said. “We can’t go back for them.”

“I’ve got mine,” Pete said, holding up the ball he constantly kept under his arm.

“Good. That’s one we can practice with,” Diana said.

“I’ve got mine,” Tom exclaimed.

No one said a word, turning to see if the bull rider held up a basketball. Empty-handed, he regarded them with a wry grin. Then a ripple of laughter and whispers circulated through the crammed little bus. Sam wanted to say it out loud, deferring because of the girls present, but the one thing they better not have left behind was their balls.

Elizabeth Chapman’s stomach fluttered when Hazel wheeled her ’76 Caprice into the parking lot at the Carroll College Sports Center. Hazel had piloted the faded-green gas guzzler from Willow Creek with Mavis, Grandma, and Mildred Thompson hitchhiking along, not to mention Tripod. They had talked her out of bringing Parrot. Grandma hustled them through the bright, spacious lobby of the modern facility, wanting to be there in time to watch the boys warm up. They giggled like school girls as Grandma smuggled Tripod through, concealed in her jacket.

“A lady my age has strange lumps all over her body,” she said.

The gym was bigger than a barn and had enough seats for their whole county. Grandma waved at Denise in her wheelchair at the end of the court as the four of them found seats in the bleachers up behind the Willow Creek bench.

Out on the floor Seely-Swan was sending Ennis into the losers’ bracket. Those two schools had mustered a good crowd for the opening Thursday afternoon game while the Willow Creek and Noxon sections had people steadily filing in. They were barely seated when the buzzer ended the first game. Grandma had seen enough to realize that Seely-Swan had a cracker-jack team, a team Willow Creek would meet tomorrow night if they could get by Noxon, but she caught herself counting chickens before they hatched. She settled between Hazel, who had pinned a gold ribbon on her ample blue sweatshirt, and Mavis, who wore a head scarf over her peach-colored hair and rollers. Grandma asked her why she didn’t take the rollers out of her hair and Mavis said she was waiting for a special occasion. Grandma unzipped her Minnesota Twins jacket and Tripod stuck out his head. The tomcat viewed the bustling scene calmly, a soft, warm spot on her jittery stomach.

The Broncs came trotting onto the floor in their gold and blue sweats, and Grandma’s heart leaped. Rob led the way with a basketball under arm
and his teammates stringing behind. The Willow Creek section rose to its feet and cheered, and Grandma recognized more starkly how thin their lines were as the mere half-dozen of them ran a lap around the court. The Noxon fans whooped it up when their team entered from the opposite end in red and white warm-up suits. There seemed to be so many more of them. Mr. Pickett, Miss Murphy, and Scott made their way to the bench with their paraphernalia in the midst of the turmoil. Rob peeled off at midcourt and headed for the west basket, went high, and nearly dunked the ball, bringing oohs and aahs from the hometown fans as the ball hammered off the iron. When Olaf, in turn, jammed it with authority, a response of awed respect rose from all sections of the arena.

The spectators settled in their seats for the warm-ups and the Noxon boys couldn’t help peering downcourt at the towering athlete from Willow Creek. Miss Murphy instructed the Broncs in their stretches and Mr. Pickett paced in front of the bench with obvious jitters. Neither of them would be in Willow Creek for long, but Grandma was glad they’d been there for Peter. The coaches looked classy in their matching shirts and pants, and she thought Mr. Pickett appeared more manly, darn right handsome, without his glasses. He ought to marry that girl, those two youngsters surviving alone in this unpredictable world.