Meanwhile, back at Cottage Farm, preparations were underway for the big Independence Day celebration, always the high point of the Summer season. The day would be packed with activities beginning with early morning Mass since this July 4th happened to fall on a Sunday. Grampa Giessow did not practice the Catholic religion, but when he learned that many of his clients did, he decided to make it easy for them by building a place of worship, complete with bell and steeple, on his Cottage Farm. He arranged for a Priest to come from the town of DeSoto, 15 miles away, to conduct the rituals. For Grampa Giessow it was a business decision, but it gained him widespread recognition as maybe the only Protestant in the world to own a Catholic church.
Jaybird's mom did not have church on her mind when the cheery call of the Song Sparrow woke her from a sound sleep. She had Jaybird on her mind. She had dutifully prayed for Jaybird's well-being before retiring the night before, and again after the two o'clock feeding of Jaybird's baby sister, but for the moment she was through with prayer, she was ready for action. She sat up in bed, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and swung her feet onto the floor of the cottage. The Coach, always an early riser, was up and frying bacon. Jaybird's mom did not waste words. "We have to go after him," she said.
The thought of going after Jaybird had also occurred to Jaybird's dad, but he had at last rejected the idea, mostly because he was still not entirely convinced that Jaybird was really in trouble. Not that he wasn't worried ... the thought of Jaybird roaming the city with a 30 year-old nut case had him on edge to be sure, but there were good reasons, at least he had convinced himself they were good reasons, why he didn't want to go. "We can't," he said.
Jaybird's mom was indignant. "Why can't we?" she demanded.
"For a lot of reasons ... calm down, Sis."
"How can I calm down when my little boy has lost a finger and is carousing around the city with a lunatic?"
Jaybird's dad turned off the gasoline stove and forked the sizzling bacon onto a plate. He eyed his wife with a sidelong glance, trying to remain calm himself while judging the depth of her concern.
Jaybird's mom pressed her case. "That doctor over in Grubville said they were going to the ball game in St. Louis today, why can't we just go get him?" Her voice had risen to the next level of indignation.
"Don't yell, Sis."
"I'm not yelling," she yelled.
Jaybird's dad put his bacon between two slices of Wonder Bread and sat down at the table. "First of all," he began ... he winced at the malevolent glare his wife was casting on him. "Why don't you eat this bacon sandwich?" he asked, extending it towards his wife."
Jaybird's Mom waved it off. "Don't change the subject, " she cried.
He began again, "Sis, " he said, "It just doesn't make good sense ... First of all, I'm not sure we could even get to Sportsman's Park before the game was over ... you know how bad the roads are. I'm not even sure the road to Morse Mill is even open after that last rain." He paused, then added, "And besides, how can we be sure he's at the game?"
"The doctor said ..."
"I know what the doctor said, but listen, Sis ..." he broke off his response as his mind jumped to what he hoped would be a consoling thought. "Jaybird is a smart kid, Sis, he can take care of himself... remember what he told Doc Land about us not to worry. He'll come back, we have to have faith."
Jaybird's mom knew all about faith, but was finding it small comfort. "I'm worried sick, Coach," she said.
Jaybird's dad nodded. "I know, Sis," he said, "but listen to this ... there's one thing we can do. I'm goin' to speak to Lynch. He can call the St. Louis police and have them go to Sportsman's Park to look for Jaybird. I'll tell him Jaybird has been kidnapped."
They were interrupted by a knock on the screened door. It was Jaybird's Uncle George. He opened the door and came in. "What's all the yelling about?" he asked.
"It's about Jaybird," said Jaybird's mom petulantly.
Uncle George sat down. "Where is he?" he asked.
Jaybird's mom and dad looked at each other. "We think he's in St. Louis," she said.
Uncle George raised his eyebrows. "What's he doing there?" he asked.
Jaybird's mom answered. "He ran off to the ball game." Then she added an unconnected thought that was at the top of her worry list, " They cut off his finger."
"They what?" Uncle George was horrified.
Jaybird's dad tried to explain. "It was that firecracker," he said, "remember what Donnie told us?"
"Yes, but ..." Uncle George couldn't shake the nauseous feeling he was experiencing.
Jaybird's dad told the story of their trip to Grubville, and their meeting with Dr. Land.
Uncle George shook his head. "My God," he said, "Jaybird almost dies and then runs off to St. Looie with that guy, whoever he is. Who is he anyhow? It sounds like he's cast some kind of a spell on Jaybird."
Jaybird's mom and dad looked at each other. They knew Jaybird was impressionable, but they didn't think he could be enchanted, especially by a mysterious stranger who the more they thought about him the more ominous he became.
"We have to go after him," said Jaybird's mom.
Jaybird's dad was convinced. "I think you're right, Sis," he said.
Uncle George said, "Before you go anywhere, how about we check into our home brew? We're goin' to need it for the ball game this afternoon ... which reminds me, Coach. If you take off for St. Looie, who's goin' to do the pitching today?"
Jaybird's Dad looked at his wife. "George is right," he said, "I'm supposed to pitch this afternoon ... we're playing that bunch of hot shots from Hillsboro. I can't go anywhere."
Jaybird's mom was indignant. "Wait a minute, Mr. John Frederick," she huffed, "are you telling me that a two-bit ball game at Cottage Farm against a bunch of broken down farmers is more important than your own son?"
Jaybird's dad knew he was on shaky ground, but he really had been looking forward to taking the mound this afternoon. He sighed deeply, "Sis," he began, but she cut him off.
"Don't Sis me," she wailed, "if you're not going, I'll go by myself."
The Coach threw up his hands. "Take it easy, Sis," he said, "you know you can't do that, you can't even drive, and who's goin' to take care of the baby?" Jaybird's mom was not ready to give up. "I'll get somebody to drive me," she said.
She looked at her brother George who threw up his hands and said, "Don't look at me, Sis, I'm playing second base."
Jaybird's mom abruptly fled the cottage, steam trailing from her ears as she slammed the cottage door behind her.
Jaybird's dad looked at his brother-in-law, and rolled his eyes. "Your sister is goin' to kill me if I don't go after Jaybird," he said.
"You better go," said Uncle George, "Bud can do the pitching. Do you know where to look for Jaybird?"
Jaybird's dad shrugged. "All I know is this horse doctor over in Grubville, the guy who cut off Jaybird's finger, told us they were goin' to see the Browns play a doubleheader with the White Sox."
Uncle George, scratched his head, which was going bald on top like his father. "I doubt if you can get to Sportsman's Park from here before those games are over," he said, " and even if you did, there's a lot of people at those games, how would you find him?"
"Good question," said the Coach, "except it's the Browns ... they don't draw that much, and they're playing another doubleheader tomorrow against Cleveland. I wouldn't mind seeing those games myself."
Uncle George brightened. "Is that kid Feller pitchin' for Cleveland?" he asked, "I read where he could throw the ball more than a hundred miles an hour. I wouldn't mind seein' that myself either."
Jaybird's dad looked at his brother-in-law and smiled. "Yeah," he said, "wouldn't that be somethin'?
A hundred miles an hour. Maybe we could leave after our game this afternoon. We could stay at the house on Delor tonight and get to Sportsman's Park tomorrow morning when they open the gates."
"That sounds good to me," said Uncle George, "should we go tell Edie?"