Chapter 8

Sadly, they didn't get any runs in their next at bat either, and to make matters worse, the dreaded Forster was leading off for the Redcoats. Though he'd yet to get on base, he'd hit the ball every time, and this time was no exception.

To the Longhorns' dismay, he earned himself a triple when he smashed the ball into far right field. The next batter, Sanderson, hit the ball right to Henry, who had only to step on the bag for the out, but the hit still allowed Forster to score.

It wasn't all bad, though. Ryder struck out the next batter looking—poor Hurst, who was batting for Elton, had no idea what hit him—and the next batter was Billy.

Billy was always a wildcard batter. He often struck out, because his tendency was to swing at any pitch he though he could hit; but when he got lucky and connected, he usually got the ball into the outfield.

Such was the case in this instance; though it was shallow, he managed to hit it far enough over Henry's head to earn him a single.

That meant Wyatt was next at bat.

Though the looks he sent Farrow and Ryder could cut steel, he said nothing to them, and after swinging and missing a couple times, he too got lucky, sending the ball into left field. Fred got to the ball relatively quickly, and threw it to Knight, but Billy was called safe at third.

Ryder would have been happy to pick either of them off, but figured it would be better to focus on Thorpe. In his experience with the guy, he'd noticed he had more confidence than skill, but he wasn't to be underestimated.

Cockiness did sometimes lend one a certain amount of power.

This estimation was proven when Thorpe sent the ball sailing high into center field. It wasn't terribly deep, so both runners kept careful watch, and when Jackson easily caught the ball, Wyatt went back to first.

Billy though, tagged up and decided he could make it home.

It seemed he'd forgotten why Jackson was such a good center fielder. Instead of throwing the ball to Levi, or to Ryder, Jackson launched the ball to home plate.

Farrow had tossed her mask aside, and stood with her legs on either side of the plate, ready for the throw. Knowing Billy, she anticipated he might knock into her, so when she caught the ball, she turned to face him, glove closed in front of her with both hands, bending her legs to absorb his impact just before he rammed into her.

Though she shoved against his chest, he succeeded in knocking her over. She clutched her glove to her chest as she turned her body to brace for the fall, while Billy practically did a tap dance on home plate.

"You're out!" The umpire called.

"What?!" Billy roared, turning on him. "Are you blind? She didn't hold on to the ball!"

"I did, actually." Though Ryder and Levi had rushed to help her up, Farrow was already standing, opening her glove to reveal the ball. "And I tagged you as you ran into me."

"For which I'll have to issue you a warning," the ump said, his face stern and unmoving. "Any more foul play from you, and you're outta here. Understand?"

Billy's face was red with indignation, and he looked like he wanted to tear the ump a new one, but he nodded before stomping back to the Redcoats' dugout.

"Are you okay?" Ryder asked Ro as they walked back to their own dugout.

"I'll probably be sore tomorrow, but I'm fine," she said, rubbing a hand over her butt. "Now, there's two innings left and we're ahead by two. The sooner we hold them off, the sooner we can go have a celebratory beer."

"Amen to that."

To their surprise—although, perhaps it shouldn't have been surprising—Billy replaced Denny as the Redcoats' pitcher. Sanderson now stood at second.

Billy was a decent pitcher, but like his batting, his pitching tended to be a little wild. Henry hit the ball into left, but Thorpe made the catch. Jackson waited Billy out, but eventually hit a line drive that Sanderson snagged.

When he got to the plate, Ryder thought he'd mix it up with a little switch hitting; it would have the added benefit of taunting Billy a bit.

He let a few pitches go by. One of them was a strike—barely—and he smirked at Billy. Perhaps he should have been warned by the cold hatred in Billy's eyes, but that was the other thing about wildcards.

They tended to surprise you.

He knew the ball was going to hit him when it reached the halfway point; he turned his body inward, away from the ball, but it still hit him—right in the arm.

Pain exploded, the senses in his arm turned sharp and blistering before settling into a dull but poignant ache. He had no idea if he made any sound, but he heard the bat hit the ground as he gripped his arm.

As Andrew rushed over, Levi rushed from his position on deck to his friend, glaring into Billy's smug face. Before he could ask Ryder if he was alright, the ump glowered at Billy.

"You're OUTTA HERE!" He barked, pumping his arm in the universal motion for "out."

"You can't do that!" Billy yelled back, then pointed at Andrew. "He said something to you, didn't he?"

"Son, if you think I can't tell you did that on purpose, you're mistaken. Pack your bags."

Irate, Billy threw his glove down on the mound. "Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" he declared, then swiped up his glove and marched into the dugout. He cursed the whole time he shoved gear into his bag, but Levi paid him no mind.

"Doesn't he know there's no crying in baseball?" he said to a chuckling Ry, laying a hand on his shoulder before asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ryder gritted through his teeth. "I'll probably have a mother of a bruise, though."

He shook out his arm as if to shake away the pain, but it only served to prove to him how sore he already was. When he looked to the dugout to see all his teammates watching, and Bree's eyes glinting with unshed tears, he nodded to Levi and Andrew. "Let's finish this."

He jogged to first, gave Bree a smile so she knew he was alright, and focused on the game. Denny, of course, came back to the mound; he worked Levi to a full count.

Levi knew he was distracted. First, Farrow had been hurt—twice—and now Ryder's pitching arm was in jeopardy. Although Billy getting thrown out of the game was a highlight, he couldn't help thinking things would get worse before they got better.

He was frustrated with himself for thinking it, for doubting himself and his team, on top of his worry for Farrow and Ry.

He didn't strike out, but he did hit a grounder to short, where it was easily scooped up by Crawford, who stepped on two for the last out.

"Ryder," Bree said to him when he entered the dugout, her voice shaky.

"I'm fine, baby," he assured her.

"Fine or not, you're not pitching this inning." Andrew folded his arms, gave his cousin his no-nonsense look. "Knight will go in for you while you rest your arm. Eddie will take third."

Though he frowned, Ryder nodded.

"Ry." On the other side of the fence next to the dugout, Tina held up a bag of ice. Ro stepped out of the dugout, caught it when Tina tossed it over, handed it to Ry. He took it and placed it over the red welt on his arm, took a seat on the bench as the others went out to take their positions.

"Thanks, Tina," he said to her. "That was quick thinking."

"Ro asked me to run to the concession stand for it." She shrugged, smiled. "But you're welcome."

Farrow didn't know Knight's movements as well as she knew Ryder's, but he was a good pitcher. Steady, dependable. She and Ry had worked with him more after Billy quit, and he'd improved substantially.

His newness was also an advantage in that the other team had yet to get used to him. Farrow thought maybe their luck was picking back up when they got three up, three down; out of the three Redcoats batters—Elliot, Denny, and Willoughby—only Denny had gotten a hit.

Her opinion didn't change when Brandon and Knight both got on base in the top of the ninth; though Manny was thrown out at first, Denny showed some of his nerves by pitching her four balls in a row.

With the bases loaded, Eddie came up to the plate. Unfortunately, he hit an infield fly, called and caught by Denny. Fred faired better, smashing the ball into center, but it was, of course, caught by Forster.

It was disappointing, but what was even more disappointing was the realization that the Redcoats' big hitters were next in the line up.

"At least they're first, so there won't be too many runners on base when Forster demolishes the ball," Manny mumbled, scuffing his cleat against the cement floor of the dugout.

"Hey," Ryder protested. "The game's not over yet. And we're still winning."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Well, now you've jinxed it."

"Come on, you guys. Ryder's right," Levi said quietly. "All we have to do is hold them back for three more outs."

Though they all agreed, Levi wasn't sure he'd convinced everyone, himself included.

Perhaps that was why Crawford hit a double after fouling one off. And when Forster stepped up to bat, Levi could have sworn clouds rolled in, and even the sun wanted to hide.

He didn't demolish the ball, exactly, but he did slam it far enough that it bounced against the back right field fence. Crawford, of course, had no problem scoring, Forster landed himself another triple, and the Longhorns' lead dwindled to one.

Sanderson followed that up by hitting the ball into right field as well; this was caught by Brandon, but Forster tagged up before heading for home.

The score was tied.

The next two hitters were easily dispatched. Hurst, who swung lazily at pitches, struck out, while Elton, who hadn't batted all game but now had to replace Billy in the lineup, hit a grounder to Eddie at third and was thrown out at first.

But the damage was done. They'd have to go into extra innings.

"Alright, you guys," Andrew said when they shuffled into the dugout. "I know this has been a hard game, but we need to pull it back out for just a little longer."

"I know we just gave up a couple runs," Jackson stated. "But if they can come back, so can we. All we need is one run, and we're back on top. We can rally."

Nodding, Andrew continued, "We play it smart. Our primary goal is to get runners on base; try to hit the ball where they can't easily field it."

The team looked around at each other, faces still quiet and solemn. Inside, Farrow's emotions were roiling. She was tired and battered, and stupid Greg Wyatt was smirking at them as he walked up to the plate. He gave them the middle finger as he pulled his mask down over his face.

"We want a rally," she murmured.

"What?" Bree turned to her, though her slow smile told Farrow she'd probably heard, and Farrow smiled back.

"We want a rally," she said louder, her voice turning sing-song.

Bree gave the ground one hard stomp as she followed up with, "Just a little rally!"

"Oh, for…" Fred muttered, but his eye-roll went unnoticed by the two friends as their cheer picked up momentum.

"We want a rally, rally, rally, rally, just a little rally, rally, rally, rally!"

In the stands, Tina, Cat, and Nora jumped up from the seats and joined in the chant. They repeated it a couple more times, more and more of the fans joining in each time. Even Frank and the Bennet brothers added their voices. When they stopped and those in the bleachers let out some hurrahs of support, Farrow turned back to the team and their now amused faces.

"We can do this," she said simply. "I know we can."

"I'm still looking forward to that celebratory beer," Henry said, grinning and grabbing up a batting helmet.

"Me, too." Levi kept his eyes on Farrow's as he leaned against the fencing. "So let's make sure we get it."

Sufficiently roused, Henry, Jackson, and Ryder got ready to bat.

"You gonna be able to swing okay?" Ro asked Ryder as Levi came to stand beside her.

"It's sore, but I'll manage," Ryder answered, eyeing her. "You doing okay?"

Farrow sighed, allowing her eyes to drift to Wyatt again. "He stole something from me that I loved, and until recently, I thought I'd never get it back. I'll be damned if I'll let him take it again."

"He won't," Levi assured her, then thought of their words the night before and repeated, "I believe that."

She smiled, slid her hand into his. "So do I."

He did believe it, Levi thought. The Longhorns were the better team, and they knew how to be one. He'd struggled not to let Billy and Wyatt's antics get to him, but there was nothing either could do or say to him now. Farrow's strong hand squeezing his only reinforced that belief.

And he wasn't the only one who seemed to have gotten his groove back. Henry, cheeky soul that he was, let a couple pitches go by before crouching to bunt at the last second.

The ball rolled a little ways up the third base line, Denny, Willoughby, and Wyatt all scrambling after it while Henry booked it to first. It was Willoughby who reached the ball first, but Henry reached the bag several seconds before the ball.

Laughing, Levi readied himself as Jackson took the plate.

Jackson seemed to have a plan in mind as well. When he swung and missed, Levi noticed he wasn't swinging as hard as he usually did. On his next swing, Jackson knocked the ball over Denny's head high enough he couldn't reach it, and it landed in shallow center, where Forster had to come up on it. Henry made it safely to two, and Jackson to one.

Then it was Ryder's turn.

Some of the Redcoats were smirking, probably expecting he wouldn't swing very hard, and some even moved in a little.

Levi took some testing swings in time with Denny's pitches as Ryder worked his count to full. Then, when the final pitch appeared to be a strike, Ryder surprised even his own team by bunting just as Henry had.

This time the ball went toward first, so Elliot ran up for it while Sanderson covered first. They threw Ryder out, but both Henry and Jackson had advanced a base.

Levi blew out a breath as he came around the plate to the right side. All he had to do was hit the ball into the outfield, and Henry, maybe even Jackson, could score.

Easy-peasy.

"Levi."

He turned to Andrew, who gave him the new sign for swing away. He nodded, then stepped into the batter's box.

The first pitch was a ball. As with his last at-bat, Wyatt whispered to him as he returned the ball to Denny.

"Ro can really take a hit, huh? I bet she likes it rough."

Levi'd be damned if he dignified that with a response. Wyatt only chuckled when Levi said nothing, but if he said anything else, Levi had tuned him out. He let the next pitch go by, even though it was a strike—he had a feeling the next one was his.

And it was.

It was one of those moments where you just know, and time seems to slow for you even though it doesn't feel slow at all; and Denny had the decency to throw the ball right down the heart of the plate.

Levi swung, and the ball hit the sweet spot; the resounding crack of hard leather against wood echoed in his ears as the ball flew into left field. He'd just rounded first when the cheers reached his ears, and he realized the ball had dropped on the other side of the fence.

He slowed his pace and jogged around the horn, a little in a daze. Andrew slapped him on the back as he rounded third, and when his feet touched home plate it finally hit him.

He'd just hit a home run. A three-run homer. In the championship game.

He re-entered the dugout to the grins and backslaps of his teammates. Bree squealed as she hugged him, and Farrow gave him a look of such heat as she approached him, Levi thought his insides would melt.

She stopped in front of him, tilted her face up to look into his eyes as her lips curved. "Good job, Slugger."

He quirked a brow. "Do I get a victory kiss?"

"Mm." Amusement filled her sultry blue eyes. "Ask me again when the game is over."

The rally wasn't over yet.

Brandon slammed one into right, earning him an easy single; Knight slid a grounder into left between short and third, advancing himself and Brandon.

But the streak ended when Manny hit a liner right between first and second. Sanderson caught it, and tagged out Knight, who hadn't yet had time to turn around for first.

None of this deterred from their good mood, though, Farrow noticed as she moved quickly to put the catcher's gear back on. She had to admit she was a little relieved not to bat again.

"What are you doing?" she asked Ryder when she saw him grab up his glove.

"My arm is better," he said, stretching it a little. "The ice helped a lot."

She only gave him a bland look.

"Don't give me that, Vac," he said. "Wyatt's up next, and I'm going to strike him out if it's the last thing I do in this game."

"If he says he can pitch, I say let him," Knight said. "I'll sit this one out."

"Are you sure?" Andrew asked him.

Knight shrugged. "I kind of just want to watch the magic happen."

"Then let's make it happen." Ryder grinned. "Three up, three down."

Ryder threw several warm up pitches, each one getting harder and faster. You'd hardly know he'd taken a fastball to his pitching arm, Farrow thought—that is, until you noticed the bruise forming on that arm.

She imagined they'd all be a little bruised after this game. But it would be worth it for the reminder of how hard they'd fought to win.

A few feet away, Wyatt was taking some practice swings.

"Do I sense Torch's flame going out?" he called to Ryder.

"I've got enough left to burn you," Ryder said without looking at him, then threw a blazer smack into Farrow's glove to prove it. She felt the sting against her hand and relished in it.

Sure of himself, Wyatt only smirked.

When he stepped into the batter's box, the death glares he and Ryder exchanged made her think of a wild west duel, heard the flute melody and ‘wah, wah, wah,' in her head, and smiled under her mask.

Ryder proved to be the faster shooter when he threw a tidy slider, and Wyatt swung and whiffed the air. Growling, Wyatt swung harder at the next pitch, a change up, as though that would make his aim more accurate.

It wasn't.

Wyatt's nostrils flared. If he was smart, he'd have let that pitch go by, Farrow thought. But all he seemed capable of focusing on at the moment was his vendetta against her and Ryder.

Farrow gave Ryder a sign, but he shook his head. She chose another and he nodded, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Ah. So he wanted to give Wyatt a pitch he wouldn't be able to resist.

Ryder wound up, hitched his leg, and let the ball fly. From the onset it looked like a perfect fastball, just a little outside. And when Wyatt rotated, swung, the ball curved inward, slapping into Farrow's glove near the inside corner of the plate.

"Strike three!" called the ump.

"No!" Wyatt shouted, and heaved his bat to the ground.

Farrow threw the ball back to Ryder, stood hipshot as she cocked her head at her old foe.

"Didn't you know you shouldn"t play with fire, Wyatt?" she quipped.

"Argh!" was all he could say, and he kicked the bat toward his dugout. The next batter, Thorpe, eyed him as they passed each other, and Farrow thought she heard him say something like, "Dude, chill."

Thorpe nearly struck out, too. But unlike Wyatt, he calmed himself to let a ball go by before swinging again. And when he did, he hit a low liner toward third. Instead of coming up on it in an attempt to catch it, Eddie stayed back; when the ball hit the ground at an angle, bounced up, he snatched it up, threw it to first.

Only one out to go, Farrow thought, and it's in the bag. She was sure the rest of her team was thinking the same thing; she could practically feel their excitement buzzing like a current. Out of her peripheral, she could see Knight and Manny standing in the dugout, watching intently, and their friends and family in the stands starting to cheer for them.

Elliot had more patience than the first two batters. He waited out balls, and when he swung, he nicked the ball a couple times, fouling them back. When he reached a full count, everyone on and off the field went silent, almost as if holding a collective breath.

Ryder went through the motions, threw.

Elliot pivoted, swung.

She heard the bat meet the ball, but didn't see the ball anywhere. It took her a second, but as she heard the cheers erupt, she realized he'd fouled the ball right into her waiting glove; and sure enough, when she looked down at her mitt, the ball had nestled itself inside.

"Yeah!"

She paid no mind to the other team as she jumped up, yanking off her glove and mask and letting them drop to the ground. Ryder was already running to meet her when she moved as fast as her shin guard-clad legs could go, and jumped into his waiting arms.

She laughed as he spun her around, the rest of the team joining in the victory party. When Ryder set Farrow on her feet, he immediately turned and grabbed up Levi in a bear hug, while Bree came up and threw her arms around Farrow.

And then, finally, she was facing a beaming Levi.

"How ‘bout that kiss?" he asked.

He'd only gotten about halfway through the question before she gripped the front of his jersey, tugged him to her. His arms came around her shoulders as their lips met in a perfect, heady kiss.

When they parted, looked around, they saw everyone else was still engaged in their own celebration. Tina was hugging Jackson, Cat had found Henry, and Bree and Ryder in particular were still embracing. Frank was hooting and hollering with his team, pumping his now cast-free arm in the air. Farrow and Levi only grinned at each other as his other brothers surrounded them, clapped them on the back.

"Hey!" Andrew finally called above the ruckus, whistled for their attention. When they all turned to find him standing at home plate with a trophy the size of his torso, he smiled and held it up.

"I think you all earned that beer."