“That means you have to hit the ball.”
Smitty plopped her hands on her hips. “And here I thought we were supposed to eat it. Didn’t you?” She looked around with feigned innocence, and Lydia giggled.
“That could be arranged, sweetheart.” He tossed the ball, then held up a hand. “Wait! I forgot. You’d probably burn it.”
“You’re such a wit.”
“I try, Smitty. Now someonecome up to bat.”
“Go on, Lydia. You know men, no patience whatsoever. Just hit the ball, dear, really hard. You can do it.”
Lydia stepped up to bat. Theodore said something to her, and she let the bat drop and just gaped at him. “Did you hear what he just said?”
Hank grinned and gave the kid a thumbs-up sign. Nothing was more important in ball than learning the insults. They were attempts to break the other player’s concentration. “Let’s play ball!”
“But he just said I had ears like an elephant and I smelled like a pig!”
Hank cackled and gave the kid a wink.
Smitty pinned him with a look of warning. “A fine thing to teach children, Hank.”
“Hey!” Hank gave an innocent shrug. “You wanted to learn how to play baseball. Insults are part of the game.”
“Just ignore them, Lydia. They are only words, dear.”
Hank threw a nice underhanded pitch. No sidearm to a little girl. Even he wasn’t that cruel.
She swung and missed.
“That’s okay, dear.”
Theodore said something again, and Lydia stepped back from the plate. “My feet are not clodhoppers, you brat!” The kid just grinned. Hank didn’t even look at Smitty. He knew what he’d see.
Lydia stepped up to the plate. He pitched, and she slammed the ball high in the air.
She ran toward the base, and they all turned and watched the ball sail right into Muddy’s hands—he was flying at the time.
“You’re out!” Hank yelled.
Muddy flew back to the mound, handed Hank the ball, and flew back to the outfield on a trail of purple smoke.
“Now wait just a minute.” Smitty stormed toward him. “That is not fair. Muddy shouldn’t be able to fly.”
Hank shrugged. “It’s men against women. If you ladies can’t fly, well, that’s not our problem. The rules were set. Men against women. No holding back. So that means flying, too. Now be a good sport and take your shot at the ball, sweetheart. You’re not gonna win this argument.”
Smitty gave Lydia a hug and a word of encouragement, then picked up the bat and strode toward the plate like a woman ready for battle. She stopped first and bent down and shook her finger at the kid. “One word out of you, young man, and I’ll make you scrub the burned pots. Understood?”
The kid wrinkled his nose, nodded, and silently assumed the catcher’s position.
“Now, Smitty, is that fair?”
“Be quiet and pitch the ball, Hank.”
He sidearmed a pitch to her, and she whacked a grounder right at him.
She was on the base before Hank could take a step. He whistled and shook his head. That woman could run faster than anyone he’d ever seen.
She smiled sweetly and gave him a little wave meant to rub his nose in it. He watched her twitch merrily around the base for a minute. She turned back to him, spread her arms out, and sang, “Tah-dah!”
