James Ross - A Young Adult Trilogy (Prairie Winds Golf Course) Read online

  “That’s easy to remember,” Justin said. “All we have to do is remember the American flag . . . red, white, and blue.”

  “You got it. It’s not much different than what goes on at all the other courses,” Curt explained. “We’re going to move the red locations to white and the white to blue and the blue to red. Understand?”

  “Since this hole has a white flag, then we’re going to move it to the back of the green where the blue flag will be,” Justin announced.

  “And we want to make sure that it is at least four steps from the edge of the green. Today we’re going to put all of the pins on the side of the green that is closest to the cart path,” Curt instructed.

  “How does this spot look?” Keith shouted. He had been busy surveying the green and had walked to a spot where he thought the new pin should go.

  “That looks good to me,” Curt stated. “It’s toward the back of the green and it’s close to the cart path. Nice job. There is no science to it.”

  Curt laid the towel on the ground and placed the bucket of sand nearby. “The most important thing is to make sure that the edges on the hole-cutter are sharp.”

  “How sharp?” Justin asked.

  “Razor sharp if you can get it that way, but don’t cut your finger making sure.” Curt smiled and wondered if maybe he put his foot in his mouth. “Next we stomp on the hole-cutter until the level indicators reach the ground.” With a minimum amount of effort he got the hole-cutter to the proper depth. “Then we give it a twist to cut through the soil.” With a slight twist the soil popped out of the green. “Now we call this the plug and we’re going to put it in the other hole where the flagstick is,” Curt explained. He placed the plug in the bucket.

  “I don’t know if Keith and I should do this today,” Justin mentioned. “I don’t want to be the one messing something like this up.”

  “You won’t, but you can help me. We want to put all of the tools on the towel so we won’t destroy the grass on the green. Keith, you can grab the bucket,” Curt ordered. He walked to the current hole location and removed the flagstick. “The white cup is actually called the liner. We’re going to take that out of the hole and put the plug in the empty hole.” Curt reached down and popped the liner out of the hole. “Now Justin, grab the plug and put it in there.”

  “Do you think I can do it the right way?” Justin asked. He most certainly didn’t want to mess up the process.

  “You can handle it,” Curt assured him. “After he puts the plug in there, then you can sprinkle sand around the old hole, okay Keith?”

  Keith nodded his head and spread sand around the plug after Justin dropped it in the old location. “That’s not too hard,” Keith stated.

  “You guys will do just fine with it after a little practice. Now step on the plug and make sure it gets even with the rest of the green,” Curt instructed. “When it gets watered tonight the plug should even itself up with the rest of the green.”

  “Now what?” Justin’s inquisitive nature was pondering the next step.

  “We have to drop the liner into the hole that we just cut,” Curt told the boys as he dropped the white liner into the newly formed hole.

  “There’s nothing to it,” Keith stated, amazed at what he just saw.

  “Not really,” Curt concurred. “You just have to be willing to get your hands a little dirty. Grab the blue flag out of the cart, Justin.” Justin ran to the cart and grabbed the flagstick with the blue flag. “Switch the sticks and let’s head to the next hole.”

  The trio worked through their routine for a number of holes. After a while the boys got a little confidence and started to take more initiative. Curt felt that with a couple weeks of practice he would be able to send them out on their own to get the job finished.

  “If nothing else happens this summer, then I’m going to get you in shape for the school year,” Curt teased as he pulled up to the irrigation lake. “We’re almost done with the tees and greens. Now you two can take a break right here and get some exercise in.”

  “How many laps do we have to run?” Justin searched for leniency.

  “You run as many as you want and stop whenever you feel like it,” Curt replied. “This is for your own good. I’ll let you out here, but I’m going to pull the truck around to the pampas grass.”

  “You mean the finish line,” Justin corrected.

  “Yeah,” Curt smiled, “the finish line. And I might even have a little surprise waiting for you over there.” The boys jumped out of the truck and started to jog. “I’m going to walk around the lake while you guys run,” Curt yelled as he pulled away in the truck.

  Keith and Justin took off running as if they didn’t have a care in the world. If they didn’t like to jog, then it was a surprise to Curt. They looked as playful as a litter of puppies. One would take the lead and the other would chase and vice versa. It was nice to see the kids enjoying themselves on the wide open spaces of the golf course.

  Curt stopped the vehicle by the pampas grass. Across the cart path was a cypress tree that had its mother root tapped into the lake. It was a great spot to park the truck and be lazy. He liked to get his exercise in the morning and thought that he would walk a lap around the lake since he couldn’t jog very far without having to stop. His body was tired all day long nowadays. The simple tasks even caused fatigue.

  He took off to walk around the lake and made sure that he was headed in the opposite direction of the boys. They went by him a couple of times before Curt could get back to the vehicle. “You guys let me know when you’re on the last lap,” Curt yelled to them once as they ran by.

  “Okay. We’ll yell at you,” Justin hollered. They ran for another ten minutes or so and then gave the word to Curt that they were on their final lap around the lake.

  Curt took some twine out of his pocket and tied it around the cypress tree. Then he stretched it across the cart path and hid behind the pampas grass. “Let’s see which one of you wants to win the race,” he yelled across the lake.

  Justin and Keith picked the pace up a notch. Each pushed the other. It was clear that both of them had their competitive juices flowing. As they came off of the final curve Justin pulled ahead of Keith. He flew full speed into the finish line and won by a step. Justin bent over at his waist to catch his breath. When he regained his breathing he looked over at Curt and asked, “Was that the surprise?”

  Curt had a big grin across his face. “I’d thought I’d give you a real finish line instead of an imaginary one.”

  “That was neat,” Justin admitted.

  “And you ran right through it instead of stopping at it. That’s the way to do it,” Curt encouraged his friend. “When you reached that finish line you busted right through it. Way to go.” Curt walked over and gave Justin a high-five. He turned to Keith. “Are you going to be alright?”

  Keith dropped down to one knee and was breathing heavily. “Yeah, I need to catch my breath.”

  “That’s perfect exercise for both of you. When it comes time to run track next year at school these workouts will do you good.” Curt headed to the utility vehicle. “Hop in guys. You two did great this morning. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Curt dropped Justin and Keith off at the back door of the clubhouse so they could go into the locker room and shower. When he pulled the mini-truck around to the cart barn he could see by the cars in the lot that some of the regulars had arrived. Even BowTye had made it in. His bicycle was propped up alongside the building.

  The church had arranged housing for BowTye on the east side of the city. It wasn’t the best of places to offer, but the price was right for his needs . . . . free. The home itself was a one-story frame house that was no larger than about four hundred square feet. It had white siding and a small carport. Both the interior and exterior had undergone a total retrofit to make it habitable.

  A vacant lot was on one side of the house. The grass and weeds were knee high. The grounds were lit
tered with bottles and cans and every scrap of paper the wind could blow through the neighborhood. A weathered elm tree that had seen better days stood by itself at the rear of the lot. An old sidewalk skirted through the lot and signs of a slab foundation from a demolished house were visible.

  On the other side of BowTye’s house was an abandoned residence. The windows and doors were boarded up. The roof was sagging. The foundation had been chipped and broken. A screen door on the side of the house rested on broken hinges and swung in the breeze. It was just a matter of time before the undesirables in the neighborhood would break into the deserted dwelling and use it for a crack house. Graffiti covered its exterior.

  It wasn’t the best scenario for BowTye to be thrown into but considering that he had lost everything when the hurricane tore apart New Orleans he had wound up on his feet so to speak. He had a front room, small kitchen area, a bathroom, and a bedroom. Since he didn’t have a car, the convenient location of the house provided a short bicycle ride to the golf course. Early on, J Dub and Curt decided that BowTye could ride his bicycle to and from the course. On raining days one of them would pick him up.

  As Curt came through the front door of the clubhouse he could hear the banter from the boys coming from one of the back tables. Fred, Pork Chop, and Rollie were playing a game of round robin backgammon. By the commotion coming from their table it didn’t sound like they could agree on what numbers were on the dice as they were being rolled. BowTye sat in the opposite corner wearing his black pants, white short-sleeved shirt, red bow tie, and burgundy beret. The same pair of suspenders held his pants in place. He was hard at work shining a pair of golf shoes.

  “Good morning everyone,” Curt announced to the room.

  “Where are your sidekicks today?” Julie asked from her perch behind the counter.

  “I put them through their morning run so they’re busy showering downstairs,” Curt replied.

  “Good mornin’ Mister Curt,” BowTye’s booming voice called from the corner. The contrast of his white teeth against his black face prompted Curt to bounce a smile back. BowTye’s upbeat attitude was contagious.

  “What project do you have going on this morning?” Curt asked as Justin and Keith came up the stairs from the locker room.

  “I’m makin’ sure that your shoes are shined Mister Curt. I know how you like to play in polished shoes,” BowTye replied.

  “You can’t move those pieces!” Fred yelled from the far corner.

  “Why can’t I?” Pork Chop shouted back.

  “Because the dice flew off the game board,” Fred hollered back.

  “So what? They are what they are,” Pork Chop defended himself.

  “It doesn’t matter what you think,” Fred chastised him. “Those are the house rules.”

  “What do you think this is some casino or something?” Pork Chop complained.

  “He’s right,” Rollie interjected. The sudden comment caused him to start coughing. “We made that rule a long time ago.” He growled to clear his throat.

  “That’s a bunch of hogwash,” Pork Chop whined.

  Curt stepped in as the arbitrator. “Those are the house rules. That way we can cut down on the arguments. And this one has gone on far too long. Roll the dice over.”

  “See, I told you,” Fred rubbed it in.

  “That’s okay, I didn’t like those two numbers anyway,” Pork Chop shot back.

  “Then why did you say anything in the first place?” Fred said.

  “Just because,” Pork Chop mumbled.

  “The two of them sound like a bunch of little grade school kids,” Curt said to J Dub who had come out of the office to investigate what all of the uproar was about. He turned to Justin and Keith. “I hope you guys don’t act like that when you get older.”

  “It sounded pretty childish,” Justin commented. He looked at the doughnut box, glanced at Fred and Pork Chop, then turned to Curt. “I think that I’ll have an apple or something like that this morning.”

  “I thought that you liked the doughnuts that Fred brought over,” Curt stated.

  “If that’s what happens to you, I think that I’ll start eating better food,” Justin informed Curt. He noticed that Pork Chop was shorter than Fred but had a belly that was almost as large. Pork Chop leaned back in his chair and thumped his stomach. It sounded like a ripe watermelon and looked like three of them were in there.

  “Help yourselves to the doughnuts,” Fred barked over to the boys.

  “Not today,” Justin countered. “Thanks though.”

  “You’re not afraid that you’ll end up like Pork Chop and me, are you?” Fred asked with a hearty laugh.

  “Yeah, I am,” Justin said with a grin. “I just told Curt that I thought I would have an apple.”

  Pork Chop jumped into the fray. “Is he making fun of how fat we are?”

  Fred cackled. “I was born this way. You’re fat because you overeat.”

  “Three squares a day,” Pork Chop bragged.

  “ . . . And looking at your portions, it’s more like about six meals a day. Plus that doesn’t count all your snacking,” Fred scolded his golfing buddy.

  “It’s my nerves,” Pork Chop defended himself.

  “What are you nervous about?” Fred snickered.

  “Business,” Pork Chop came back.

  “My rear end. You made about three million bucks on that penny stock,” Fred reminded him. Years earlier Pork Chop had invested heavily in a penny stock and it had risen in value twenty times over a short period of time. “You’re not nervous about business. You just like to eat too much.”

  “So what if I do,” Pork Chop was protective. “You do too.”

  “Yeah, and we’re both fat,” Fred said matter-of-factly.

  “Why don’t both of you blimps go on a diet then?” Keith butted in out of nowhere.

  Fred and Pork Chop looked at each other with dumbfounded looks as if that was a novel suggestion. “Well . . . because . . . that would take half the fun out of it I guess,” Pork Chop smirked. “Both of you kids do yourself a favor and don’t get like us. I can’t stand how fat I am.”

  “That’s the same thing I told them yesterday,” Fred remarked.

  “Stay off the muffins and the doughnuts and the candy bars and all that stuff that we fat people eat,” Pork Chop bellowed. He and Fred looked at each other and laughed. “At least we didn’t smoke and end up like Rollie.”

  “You boys stay away from the cigarettes,” Rollie warned. He sat at the table with Fred and Pork Chop and was hooked up to a portable oxygen tank. The years of smoking had caused him to have respiratory problems. Two plastic tubes, one going across each cheek and taped beneath his nose, provided the boost he needed to simply breathe. “If it wasn’t for Medicare I wouldn’t even be able to have this contraption.”

  “How long did you smoke?” Justin pried.

  “I started when I went into the service,” Rollie started, “so I guess I was eighteen. It was by far the biggest mistake I ever made in my life.”

  Keith fidgeted with his hands and looked down at the ground. The site of the elderly man hooked up to the oxygen was pathetic. “Why did you start?” he asked.

  “Good question,” Rollie said. “One of the guys was getting shipments in and selling off packs of cigarettes. There wasn’t anything to do so I bought a pack to join the crowd . . . you know, do what everybody else was doing. I should never have taken my first puff.” The frustration with his current condition mounted as he coughed phlegm from his throat.

  Justin and Keith looked at each other with drawn faces as Rollie hacked and spit in a nearby trash can. “That’s disgusting,” Justin whispered to Keith.

  “Excuse me,” Rollie apologized as he reached for a napkin to wipe some discharge off of his chin. The gurgling and guttural sounds to clear his throat sounded as if he was choking from the inside out.

  “Do you want a shot of brandy to wash some of that crap down?” Julie shouted from behind the counter.
Rollie had his hand over his mouth and was busy hacking. “Take that stuff outside before you cause all of us to throw up.”

  Rollie continued to try to clear his throat and violently shook his head up and down in the affirmative. Julie knew that it was his way of telling her to pour a double shot of B & B. She grabbed a snifter, filled it halfway, and hustled it over to him. “Thanks, Darlin’,” he rasped as he continued to try to clear his throat. With a shaky right hand he slowly lifted the glass of Benedictine and brandy to his mouth and took a healthy swig. The reaction to the strong shot caused Rollie to close his eyes and shake his head to the side. “That’s got some kick to it, Sweetheart.”

  “It seems to work every other day that you’re in here,” Julie reminded him. “Why should today be any different?”

  Rollie puckered his lips and let a small breath slowly ease out of his mouth. He closed his eyes to savor the moment. After making another guttural sound with his throat he asked, “When are we going to play today?”

  “Can you play golf like that?” Keith asked. He was amazed that Rollie even suggested it after what he had just gone through.

  “Golf, and for that matter . . . this place, is what gets me out of bed every morning. What else is there to live for at my stage in life?” Rollie grumbled and continued to clear his throat.

  “We’re waiting on Paul,” Fred commented. “Are you going to play today, Curt?”

  “Maybe I’ll take Justin and Keith out so they can watch how the game is played,” he said to Fred. He turned to the boys and asked, “Would you two like that?”

  Both nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Watching the guys play golf would certainly be better than working in their opinion. “That was a forgone conclusion,” Julie observed with a laugh.

  “We’ll have to play a fivesome,” Curt remarked. “Let me check with the management.” He looked over at J Dub and got a slight grin as well as a subtle nod of the head. “We’re good to go!” he announced to the back table.