The Goatnappers

by Rosa Jordan

  “What’re you going to do with your old bike?” Justin asked.

  “That’s what I came to tell you. Mom said I could sell one of them, and I could use the money to buy whatever I want.”

  “How much you asking?” Justin held his breath, hoping it would be an amount he could afford. Brad’s other bike was barely two months old. It wasn’t as flashy as the new one, but it was way better than anything Justin had thought about buying. Bright blue, with a chrome passenger seat on the back and a bike computer that showed how fast you were going and how many miles you’d ridden.

  “I don’t know,” Brad said. He thought for a moment, then added, “I need seventy-five dollars to buy the new binoculars I’ve been wanting.”

  Justin knew that even used, the bike was worth way more than that. But seventy-five dollars was also way more than he had. “What’re you going to do with binoculars?” he asked.

  “For bird-watching,” Brad said promptly. “So, do you want to buy my old bike?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Justin said. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Cheerleaders, too,” Brad said.

  “What?”

  “Cheerleaders. With binoculars, we can watch them practice from my bedroom window.”

  Justin grinned. “So what’s this crap about bird-watching?”

  “I watch birds, too. A pair of mockingbirds has a nest in the orange tree in our back yard.” Brad wiggled his eyebrows in a comic way only he could do. “Come over sometime. I’ll show you.”

  Brad zoomed off on his glittering gold bike. Justin stood there, imagining himself sailing along beside Brad on the other bike, the blue one. But where would he get seventy-five dollars? Would anyone pay that much for his little goat?

  When Chip and Luther finally came out of the bathroom, they all went back across the street to join up with the others. The lady at Brenda’s Boutique had said that she would let Ruby and Kate put samples of their one-of-a-kind clothes designs in her shop window, and that’s all they talked about all the way home: clothes and clothes and more clothes. Lily, who was still mad about losing first place to the dressed-up kittens, said she hated girly clothes and told them she wished she had just one pair of stretchy soccer shorts that she could wear from now till she was sixteen.

  Justin could hardly wait till suppertime to tell his mother. “Guess what, Mom?” he said. “Brad’s got an almost-new bike he’ll sell me for seventy-five dollars. You think I could get that much for Little Billy?”

  The moment he finished his question, Chip let out one of his piercing screams. “Nooooo, Justin! You can’t! They’ll turn him into goat-burgers!”

  “Justin,” Mom groaned, “can we talk about this later?”

  Chip kept howling as if they were talking about selling him instead of the goat. “Pleeeease don’t, Justin! Promise you won’t! They’ll kill him. They’ll eat him!”

  “Not necessarily,” Kate said, squeezing Chip’s arm to get his attention. “There was that guy in town who wanted to buy a goat for show business.”

  When they all turned to stare at her, Kate said to Justin, “Oh, I guess you didn’t see him. It was when you took Chip to the restroom.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Justin asked in disbelief.

  “I forgot. But he gave me his card.”

  “What kind of show business?” Mom asked.

  Kate stood up and pulled a business card out of the pocket of her jeans. “Shopping malls and other stuff, I don’t remember. We told him Old Billy wasn’t for sale, but he still gave us his card.”

  She handed the card to Justin. “It was Old Billy he wanted, to pull a cart. The parade was over by then, and I guess he didn’t see Little Billy. Anyway, Little Billy’s not really trained. He just followed Lily because she was feeding him corn chips.”

  “Any goat can be taught to pull a cart, as long as it’s the right size,” Mom said, leaning over Justin’s shoulder to read the card. Corky Grimsted, Shopping Mall Entertainment Specialist. “Why don’t you give him a call?” she suggested.

  “What kind of a guy was he?” Justin asked.

  Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a normal-looking person. He smiled a lot, and cracked a few jokes. I thought he was funny, but Ruby wouldn’t talk to him. She just walked away. She told me later she thought he was trying too hard.” Kate gave Justin an encouraging smile. “But maybe that’s because he wanted a goat really, really, bad. Go on, Justin. Call him.”

  4

  SO LONG, LITTLE BILLY

  Two days later, on Monday afternoon, a maroon station wagon pulled into the Martin driveway, cut across the side yard, and stopped in front of the goat pen. Justin knew right away that it was Mr. Grimsted, because it said so in gold letters on the car door: Corky Grimsted, Animal Trainer & Entertainment Specialist. Justin could also see a large cage-type animal carrier in the back.

  “Mom!” Justin said excitedly, “the man’s here about buying Little Billy.”

  “Good,” Mom said, but she didn’t get up from the floor where she was helping Ruby and Kate cut out a skirt.

  “Aren’t you going with me to talk to him?” he asked.

  Mom didn’t even look up. “It’s your business, son. You handle it.”

  Justin hadn’t expected to do it by himself, but Mom was right. It was his business. But what would he do if Mr. Grimsted wouldn’t give him the seventy-five dollars he had mentioned when they talked on the phone? Mr. Grimsted hadn’t actually said he would pay that much. He’d just said he would come out and take a look. If he offered less, should Justin take it? Or should he hold out for the price of the bike?

  Mr. Grimsted leaned against the corral fence, talking to Chip and Luther. He was wearing a brown suit—a little too dressed up for a visit to a farm—but as Kate had said, he seemed like an ordinary person. Justin figured he might be new in town, because he couldn’t remember seeing him around before.

  “This is Sugar, Little Billy’s mama,” Chip was telling Mr. Grimsted as Justin walked toward them.

  “My grandpa’s goat is Little Billy’s daddy,” Luther chimed in.

  “That the big white billy I saw in town?” Mr. Grimsted asked.

  “Yes,” Luther said, “but my grandpa would never sell him, not in a million years.”

  “My boy, anybody will sell anything if you offer them enough money,” Mr. Grimsted said, as if that was the one thing in life he was absolutely sure of.

  “Not anything,” Chip retorted, wrapping his arms around Go-Girl.

  “Little Billy’s real smart. See?” Luther held a carrot just out of Little Billy’s reach. The little goat reared on his hind legs and walked a few steps, until Luther let him have the carrot.

  “Cute little devil. Exactly what I’m looking for.”

  Mr. Grimsted saw Justin then, and grinned. “If that little chocolate drop was for sale, I’d take him, too. He’d make a great addition to my show.”

  At first Justin didn’t believe he’d heard Mr. Grimsted correctly. When he realized he had, his jaw dropped open. Hadn’t anybody ever told the man that it isn’t polite to make jokes about a person’s race? But before Justin could think of anything to say, Luther leapt up on the fence and said, right in Mr. Grimsted’s face, “You got a nasty mouth, mister!”

  “Hey, I was just kidding!” Mr. Grimsted backed away from the fence and turned to Justin. In a low voice, he said, “Some of ‘em are so touchy they can’t even take a joke.”

  “I don’t think—” Justin was going to say that making remarks about a person’s color wasn’t all that funny, but Mr. Grimsted interrupted.

  “Never mind. I’ll take your goat.” He opened the back door of the station wagon and unlatched the door of the carrier. “Put the little feller right in here.”

  Justin climbed into the pen, picked up Little Billy, and carried him out to the car. The kid kicked and squirmed, making it pretty clear that he didn’t want to be carried anywhere, especially if it meant leaving his mother and sisters
. When the carrier door clicked shut, Little Billy began bleating as if he were being murdered. That upset all the other goats, who ran up and down the fence bleating back to him. Justin hated the desperate sound the goats were making. He wished the man would pay him and leave.

  Ruby walked up as Mr. Grimsted was counting out the money. “Seventy-five, right?” he asked.

  “Yes sir,” Justin replied.

  “You ought to be able to double your money on that deal,” Ruby said, in the none-too-friendly way she spoke to people she didn’t entirely approve of.

  Mr. Grimsted looked hurt. “It was the boy that set the price, not me. If he’s not satisfied, well then …” He glanced over at Justin questioningly, as if to say he was ready to call the deal off if Justin had changed his mind.

  “I’m satisfied,” Justin said quickly.

  Mr. Grimsted smiled. “Smart boy.” He turned to Ruby. “Seeing as how you’re not in this business, ma’am, you probably don’t realize that right now this goat is nothing but raw material. Not worth half what I just paid. But once I’ve invested six months training him, he very well could fetch two or three hundred.” Grimsted climbed into his station wagon, slammed the door, then stuck his head out the window. “I expect I’ll keep him, though,” he added. “There’s good money in leasing out animals for advertising purposes.”

  With that, Mr. Grimsted waved a cheery goodbye and drove off. They all watched the station wagon bounce across the yard, back down the driveway onto Lost Goat Lane, and swerve onto the highway, headed for town. The car was almost out of sight before Little Billy’s bleats faded away.

  “Mama,” Luther asked Ruby in a low voice, “What are you supposed to do when somebody makes fun of your color?” Luther had obviously asked this question before, but he wanted to hear the answer again.

  “What do you do when a mosquito buzzes around your ear?” Ruby asked, giving Luther an absentminded pat.

  “Pay it no mind,” he answered automatically. “Or if it bites me, slap it.”

  “Right. Anybody makes fun of a person’s color has no more brains than a mosquito. So you treat them the same way. Ignore them. Unless they sting, of course. If they sting, slap ‘em with a good putdown.” Ruby looked down at Luther. “Why? Somebody at school say something to you?”

  “It was that man,” Justin said. “He called Luther a chocolate drop.”

  “Why that—!” She cut herself short and asked Luther, “What did you do, son?”

  “I told him he had a nasty mouth.”

  “I was going to say something, too,” Justin added, “but Luther was quicker. He didn’t let him get away with it.”

  “He said he was just joking,” Luther said.

  “He was just being ignorant,” Ruby snapped, flinging her head so the beads in her long beautiful braids flashed. She bent down and gave Luther a hug. “I’m proud of you, baby. You did exactly the right thing.”

  Then she looked at Justin. “Thanks,” she said, “for standing up for my boy.”

  “Wasn’t anything,” Justin mumbled. Ruby probably thought he was being modest, but the truth was, Justin hadn’t done anything. He’d wanted to tell Mr. Grimsted off, but he just couldn’t think fast enough. It was pretty embarrassing that a seven-year-old was quicker than he was when it came to putting down a rude man like that.

  Justin stuffed the money in his pocket and trudged back toward the house. He was going to have a bike now. Why didn’t he feel happier?

  Grimsted and the goat were far away by now, but it seemed like Justin could still hear Little Billy crying for help.

  The next day Justin bought Brad’s bike. At last, he had his own wheels! He would never have to ride the school bus again—unless it was raining really hard, of course. Pedaling home that afternoon, Justin practically forgot about Little Billy. So much other stuff, good stuff, was happening that he rode along with a satisfied grin on his face. He’d made the varsity baseball team, he had a flashy new bicycle, and his grades had actually improved a tiny bit. On top of that, his fifteenth birthday was coming up soon and he’d be getting his learner’s permit.

  On February 19, Justin’s birthday, Mom got off work a little early, picked him up after ball practice, and took him to the DMV office to get his learner’s permit. He didn’t hesitate one second when she offered to let him drive the pickup home. It wasn’t the first time he had been behind the wheel. Almost a year ago Mom had started letting him practice shifting gears and backing up and going forward in their own driveway. Once he’d gotten good at that, she’d let him drive up and down Lost Goat Lane and on the other dirt roads that ran between the cornfields near their place. But now that he had that learner’s permit, he could drive on roads with traffic—as long as a grown-up was with him, of course.

  Considering that Mom worked on weekends, Justin didn’t know how often she’d find time to go out in the truck with him. He probably wouldn’t get to drive much more often than before. It was just that getting a learner’s permit was what everyone he knew did on their fifteenth birthday. Justin couldn’t take the test for a real driver’s license for another year. In the meantime, though, he had a great bike and didn’t have to ride the school bus with a bunch of elementary and junior high kids.

  Nobody had asked Mr. Grimsted where he was taking Little Billy, and his business card had no address, so Justin never expected to see the goat again. He certainly never expected to see him going down the street on the other side of the school field just when he was about to throw a ball to third base. He was so surprised to see Little Billy that he hesitated a split second, and in that split second the runner made it safe to the base.

  Coach Donovan didn’t see the goat but he saw Justin’s hesitation. “Blast it all, Martin!” he yelled. “Are you out there to play ball or scratch your behind?”

  Justin jerked his eyes away from Little Billy. He had already seen more than he wanted to see, and it just about made him sick.

  Grimsted had Little Billy hitched to a cart that was much too large for such a small goat. Little Billy kept stopping, then jumping ahead and bleating as if he had been stung by a bee. It wasn’t a bee, though. Mr. Grimsted was poking him with an electric cattle prod exactly like the ones Justin had seen handlers at the auction using to drive livestock around the ring.

  Even after Little Billy and Mr. Grimsted disappeared around the corner, Justin couldn’t stop thinking about the poor goat. When it was his turn up to bat, he struck out on the first three pitches, which caused Coach Donovan to make a loud disgusted noise. By the time practice was over, the coach was glaring at Justin like he was the biggest klutz ever to show up for varsity team practice.

  Justin didn’t bike straight home. Instead, he rode up and down all the streets around the school. It was an ordinary neighborhood with well-kept yards. Most of the houses were modern, but there were a few old ones, the kinds with detached garages. This wasn’t the sort of neighborhood where people kept farm animals. In fact, it probably wasn’t even legal to keep a goat around here.

  Still, Justin reasoned, Grimsted must be keeping him somewhere nearby, because Little Billy couldn’t have pulled that heavy cart very far. Justin rode around the area for half an hour, but saw no sign of Mr. Grimsted or Little Billy. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air.

  5

  CHARLIE

  When Justin got home that Friday afternoon, the living room was a mess, as usual. Ruby was curled up on the couch, hemming a denim skirt. Kate was down on the floor cutting around a pattern. Most of the time they did their candy-making at the Wilson house, but for some reason they had decided that the Martin living room floor was the place to clutter up with fabric, patterns, pins, scissors, and the rest of their sewing junk.

  “You got a date tonight?” Kate asked Ruby in a teasing voice.

  “Naturally.”

  “With who?”

  “With whom,” Ruby said. “Whom I have a date with is—whom do you think?”

  Of course Kate knew, an
d so did Justin. Ruby had been dating his math teacher, Mr. Jackson, since Christmas.

  “Oh, I know,” Kate said, giggling. “You want to brush up on your algebra, so Mr. Richard Jackson is going to take you over to the high school and give you a test and—”

  “He better think of something more fun than a math test if he wants to see this woman again,” Ruby shot back.

  Justin stepped over the fabric spread out on the floor to get to the kitchen. As he passed the window, he saw a car coming up the lane. It was a red sports car, a convertible, with the top down. He didn’t know anyone who owned a car like that.

  The driver, a tall blond man, swung the door of the car open and got out like he belonged there. He waved at Chip, who was alone in the goat pen.

  Justin held his hands up to the windowpane to get a better look at their mystery visitor. Then it struck him in the chest like a hurricane-force wind.

  “DAD?” he gasped.

  Kate’s scissors clattered to the floor. Ruby laid aside the skirt she was hemming. They both rushed over to the window.

  “That’s your dad?” Ruby asked.

  “I-I think so,” Justin said.

  “It’s him,” Kate said hesitantly. “But he looks different.”

  “How long since you saw him last?” Ruby peered out at the man in the yard.

  “Four years,” Justin answered, remembering how he had insisted on saving a piece of his eleventh birthday cake for Dad because he was sure he’d be coming back soon, and how mad he had been at Mom when, months later, she finally threw it out.

  Ruby let out a low whistle. “Pretty fancy red car he’s driving. Wonder what he’s been up to all this time. Has he been in touch?”

  “He used to write to Mom, and send her money,” Justin said. “Then he stopped. Last time I asked, she said she didn’t know where he was.”

  “Well,” Ruby said. “Now you know where he is. Why don’t you go see what he wants?”

  Justin hesitated. What would he say? But since it didn’t look as if their long-lost dad was going to come to the door, Justin went out onto the porch. He expected Kate to be right behind him, but she didn’t move from the window.