Excerpt



Attorney Frank Fahey came to Fair Prairie from St. Paul in 1886, paid cash for a prime lot on Depot Hill overlooking the river, and spent a whopping $1,500 to have a fine home built for himself and his family. Its construction took nearly two years, and Fahey returned to Fair Prairie frequently to consult with banker Everett Prescott and generally make himself known around town. At Prescott’s suggestion, Fahey rented the law offices of the late Judge Andrew G. Chatfield, founder of Fair Prairie, and bought a small advertisement in the Fair Prairie Herald to announce that he was in business to practice law. He consulted frequently with Prescott, enjoyed an occasional glass of beer with “the boys,” and made it a point to drop by the offices of the weekly Herald to chat with the newspaper’s editor, Henry Ferguson. By the time he moved his wife and daughter to Fair Prairie everyone in town knew him and his reputation as a go-getter. He volunteered to be president of the school board, indicated he might run for the town council in the fall, and exhibited a fanatical interest in a sport called base ball. He soon set about enlisting young men to play for the Fair Prairie Red Stockings, a team he intended to form and to manage.

Fahey’s daughter Kathleen entered Fair Prairie High School as a member of Jack’s sophomore class. To the lad’s delight she had red hair and freckles, just like his. But far from having a fiery temper, she was possessed of the sweetest disposition one could imagine. She was tall and slim, nearly as tall as Jack, although Jack hadn’t yet reached his full growth. Most intriguing to him were Kathleen’s soft hazel eyes that seemed to reflect a gentle soul. She wore her hair gathered at the back of her head where it was fixed with a bow and hung down to her waist. She was assigned a desk by the window where the sunshine glistened on her copper locks, mesmerizing her new admirer. She was not only the most beautiful girl Jack had ever seen, but she exuded an air of dazzling sophistication, having come to town from “the cities.” They gravitated toward one another as if drawn by some mystical force that Jack didn’t entirely understand, although he suspected it had to do with their red hair and freckles. During recess all his normal shyness about girls disappeared. The spell that she cast caused him to go right up to her and introduce himself. She fairly glowed at this first attention by a new classmate and soon they were chatting like old friends. On Thursday of the second week of school she allowed him to carry her books and escort her home. It was that day that Frank Fahey got his first glimpse of the tall, well-muscled youth. In no time at all they were out in the Fahey's backyard playing catch with a hard ball that stung Jack’s hand each time he reached out to snag it. But he never let on that it hurt even a little bit, because Kathleen had folded her skirts under her and settled down in the shade of an old elm tree to watch her father and her newfound friend play catch. Jack was mildly amused at Mr. Fahey’s apparent ineptitude. First he sent the ball sailing wide to Jack’s right, forcing him to dive to make the catch. Next it soared over his head so high that he had to leap into the air to catch it. When the ball fell short, hit the lawn, and rolled toward his feet Jack scooped it up and snapped it cleanly into Mr. Fahey’s hand.

“Good arm,” he called out as he shook the pain from his fingers and lofted a high floater that nestled easily into Jack’s grasp. Striding across the lawn toward the boy Mr. Fahey signaled that he had had enough of playing catch.

“That was a good workout, Jack, and I liked what you showed me. You’ve probably heard I’m managing the Fair Prairie Red Stockings,” he said, putting his arm around Jack’s shoulder and leading him toward the pump. “You might also have heard that I’m on the lookout for a good first baseman. We need height at first base,” he confided, “and a strong arm. We’re going to face a few heavy hitters on our schedule this summer, and I want to be ready for ‘em. We’re solid in the infield, but sometimes a little wild in the outfield, if you know what I mean. We could use a big fella like you at first base.”

Fahey paused at the pump, motioned for Jack to grab the handle, and let the cool water flow over his stinging fingers.

“You ever thought of playing ball?”

“Can’t say that I have,” said Jack.

“What do you do all summer?”

Jack hesitated, for Kathy had come forward to join them at the pump, and he was embarrassed to respond to Mr. Fahey’s question. He blushed, and then reluctantly mumbled, “I work at the brickyard.”

“I think you’d like the game. We’ve got some pretty good players lined up. Why don’t you drop around the ball park for practice Saturday morning around nine and let’s see what you can do.”

“Sure,” Jack said, scuffing his shoe in the dirt, flattered at being called a “big fella” and being invited to play base ball by the likes of Frank Fahey. It would also help to ensure a bond with the beauteous Kathleen who even now was smiling happily at her father’s interest in him.