up.”
“Right, well, say hello to Mr. Joe Ford, one of our clients.”
Mr. Ford kept his hands in his pockets and barely offered a smile.
“This is my son, Theo,” Mr. Boone said proudly. “He’s in the eighth grade at Strattenburg Middle School.”
Theo nodded quickly and politely and said, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Joe Ford managed to say but only because he had to. He wore a shiny gray suit, with a vest, and a starched white shirt. His hair was frizzled and permed with a couple of strands bouncing over his ears. Theo instantly disliked him and got the impression that Joe Ford didn’t care for him either. Joe Ford, in Theo’s quick assessment, didn’t have time for anyone who could not help him make a buck.
And Mr. Ford did not believe in small talk. He excused himself and left the building. Theo hustled back to his office, clicked on his laptop, and immediately opened a file on Mr. Joe Ford.
Chapter 13
T he three boys—Theo, Woody, and Hardie—along with one dog, Judge, met at Truman Park near downtown as soon as possible after school on Friday. A fishing trip had been organized, and the boys were excited about the adventure. A rough week of school had just ended and it was time to relax. Fishing had been Hardie’s idea. He wanted to show Theo firsthand the Quinn family farm and the beautiful scenery the governor and some other politicians now wanted to destroy. Woody and Theo followed Hardie, with Theo bringing up the rear so Judge and his leash would not get tangled up with the other bikes. Though Judge was only a dog, he felt as if he should lead and the boys should follow. On a leash, though, he obediently trotted alongside Theo and seemed happy just to be included. They zigzagged through the shady streets of the old sections and made their way to a biking trail that looped around the southern part of town and avoided the traffic and residential areas. At a busy intersection, they crossed Highway 75 and soon disappeared down a narrow country lane with trees touching in an arc above it. The town and its congestion and noise were behind them. They sped down hills and grunted up them. They crossed tiny creeks, and, at one point, rattled through an old, abandoned covered bridge.
After thirty minutes, the boys were sweating and Judge needed some water. They paused long enough for him to step into a creek. “Just a few more minutes,” Hardie said. When they had caught their breath, they took off again. They topped a hill and stopped again. Below them was a beautiful valley with a few clearings and lots of trees. Hardie pointed to the only house in view, a white structure far in the distance. “That’s where my grandparents live,” he said, still breathing hard.
The boys took in the scenery as they rested. Hardie pointed to his right and said, “The bypass cuts across the entire valley, one wide gash that begins over there between those two hills and goes through the tallest hill that way.” His right arm swept to his left. “That’s Chalk Hill, and the plan is to level it with dynamite. Just blow it up and flatten it out. Everything else gets bulldozed, then covered with asphalt. Not sure what happens to my grandparents.”
“How can they do this?” Woody asked.
“Ask Theo.”
Theo said, “The law gives the state the right to take anybody’s land. The state has to pay for it, of course, but they still get it.”
“That sucks.”
“It really does,” Hardie said sadly.
They rolled down the hill and minutes later came to a stop in front of the house. Hardie’s grandmother, Mrs. Beverly Quinn, was waiting on the porch with a plate of walnut cookies and ice water. Hardie introduced his friends, and Judge, and she sat with them during the quick snack. Hardie’s grandfather was “puttering” down at the tractor barn, according to his wife. There was no mention of the bypass—that topic seemed too awful to even consider. As Theo ate a cookie and rocked gently in an old
“Right, well, say hello to Mr. Joe Ford, one of our clients.”
Mr. Ford kept his hands in his pockets and barely offered a smile.
“This is my son, Theo,” Mr. Boone said proudly. “He’s in the eighth grade at Strattenburg Middle School.”
Theo nodded quickly and politely and said, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Joe Ford managed to say but only because he had to. He wore a shiny gray suit, with a vest, and a starched white shirt. His hair was frizzled and permed with a couple of strands bouncing over his ears. Theo instantly disliked him and got the impression that Joe Ford didn’t care for him either. Joe Ford, in Theo’s quick assessment, didn’t have time for anyone who could not help him make a buck.
And Mr. Ford did not believe in small talk. He excused himself and left the building. Theo hustled back to his office, clicked on his laptop, and immediately opened a file on Mr. Joe Ford.
Chapter 13
T he three boys—Theo, Woody, and Hardie—along with one dog, Judge, met at Truman Park near downtown as soon as possible after school on Friday. A fishing trip had been organized, and the boys were excited about the adventure. A rough week of school had just ended and it was time to relax. Fishing had been Hardie’s idea. He wanted to show Theo firsthand the Quinn family farm and the beautiful scenery the governor and some other politicians now wanted to destroy. Woody and Theo followed Hardie, with Theo bringing up the rear so Judge and his leash would not get tangled up with the other bikes. Though Judge was only a dog, he felt as if he should lead and the boys should follow. On a leash, though, he obediently trotted alongside Theo and seemed happy just to be included. They zigzagged through the shady streets of the old sections and made their way to a biking trail that looped around the southern part of town and avoided the traffic and residential areas. At a busy intersection, they crossed Highway 75 and soon disappeared down a narrow country lane with trees touching in an arc above it. The town and its congestion and noise were behind them. They sped down hills and grunted up them. They crossed tiny creeks, and, at one point, rattled through an old, abandoned covered bridge.
After thirty minutes, the boys were sweating and Judge needed some water. They paused long enough for him to step into a creek. “Just a few more minutes,” Hardie said. When they had caught their breath, they took off again. They topped a hill and stopped again. Below them was a beautiful valley with a few clearings and lots of trees. Hardie pointed to the only house in view, a white structure far in the distance. “That’s where my grandparents live,” he said, still breathing hard.
The boys took in the scenery as they rested. Hardie pointed to his right and said, “The bypass cuts across the entire valley, one wide gash that begins over there between those two hills and goes through the tallest hill that way.” His right arm swept to his left. “That’s Chalk Hill, and the plan is to level it with dynamite. Just blow it up and flatten it out. Everything else gets bulldozed, then covered with asphalt. Not sure what happens to my grandparents.”
“How can they do this?” Woody asked.
“Ask Theo.”
Theo said, “The law gives the state the right to take anybody’s land. The state has to pay for it, of course, but they still get it.”
“That sucks.”
“It really does,” Hardie said sadly.
They rolled down the hill and minutes later came to a stop in front of the house. Hardie’s grandmother, Mrs. Beverly Quinn, was waiting on the porch with a plate of walnut cookies and ice water. Hardie introduced his friends, and Judge, and she sat with them during the quick snack. Hardie’s grandfather was “puttering” down at the tractor barn, according to his wife. There was no mention of the bypass—that topic seemed too awful to even consider. As Theo ate a cookie and rocked gently in an old
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