September 8, 1915

“Goot sausage needs no mustard,” Frank Muench bellowed to the crowd in his German smothered Swiss accent. His concession, set up facing the field and near the first base dugout, had a black chalkboard trimmed in blond wood. On the top in carefully drawn bold letters was “New Meat Market.” Below a list of his grilled menu appeared handwritten also in white chalk. The portable charcoal burning device was covered with steaming, grease, popping meats and brats, all grilled to a golden hue. The aroma attracted us like a magnet.

“I like my brats with sauerkraut and mustard,” I informed Frank.

Du Bois chimed with, “Sweet pickle relish and mustard is my favorite.”

Frank, the burly man conceded, “Ja, both are goot combinations. Ist dat vhat you fellers vant?”

We both nodded in approval. He plopped a large spoonful of sauerkraut on the side griddle, spread it out, turned it twice with a spatula and asked, “Bread?”

“Yes.”

He sliced two buns about six inches long and loaded the brats and condiments on them. He pointed at a small table and said with a smile, “You can put the mustard on.”

We lathered them up.

“This has been a good deal for you this summer,” I said while wiping the juice off my chin with my handkerchief.

“Ja, my new market is doing vell and I have one of the best views of the action in the stadium. Julius, I have fifty-pound pails of lard on sale for only six dollars. Vould you like me to deliver one to the Cabin?”

“I saw your ad in the paper. Frank, we use more butter and oil than lard. I’ll mention it to Maggie. Your smoked bacon for 18 cents and smoked shoulder at 13 cents per pound are very attractive prices. I’m sure we’ll order them.”

“Vielen dank, thank you, Julius.” He turned to help his next customer.

Du Bois and I climbed to the top of the bleachers. The stands filled with spectators as we ate. The folks from Hayden boasted of the Prohibitionists being league champions and the Steamboat Strawberries fans countered that we were robbed by the forfeited team’s vote. It was all good natured. I was happy the exhibition game was the final season matchup for the two top teams. Both teams were short regular players. Each team called for volunteers to take a position.

“Is Corina your mistress now?” du Bois questioned.

“She is the married one. I’m just helping with the baby. He charms me and is half his mother.”

Then the first pitch was thrown for a strike.

The Craig, Colorado baseball team circa 1915

“Oh, perhaps gigolo is the correct term?”

“Knock it off, Anthony,” I said watching the game.

“Strike two!” Umpire Sharp shouted. Followed quickly by an animated punch of his arms and “Strike three. The batter’s out.”  Steamboat fans yelled in approval.

“Nonetheless, I’m thinking about the related stories my father and grandfather told me in my youth.”

The next two outs were grounded dribbles to first and third. Hayden took the field and Steamboat prepared to bat.

“Julius, you have never lived in a country torn by war and occupied by the enemy.”

He had my attention.

“It certainly is happening now or will be, but the stories I’ve heard were from the Franco-Prussian War. Villages were overrun, captured by the Prussians and then occupied. The French Army seized the horses and mules. The chickens and fowl stolen during the retreat. The produce fields were destroyed by fire, explosions and the advancing enemy, which pillaged and raped the villages.”

Du Bois and I were distracted by the roar of the crowd. Carver was the first out, Metcalf got a base on balls and Ley smacked a home run. The Berries were up two to zero.

“Continue your story.”

“Old men were beat up, young men killed or imprisoned, and the women violated. The villagers starved during the occupation. My grandfather told me of a Prussian soldier’s remorse for impregnating a young French woman. His unit garrisoned nearby gave him the opportunity to return to the scene of the crime. He brought food for the daughter and her mother and father who was first seduced by the tobacco. Slowly the parents accepted the gifts. The daughter rejected the food and the German. The soldier offered to run the farm and be the father of the baby. The French were defeated and the war apparently over. In shame, the mother delivered her daughter’s baby at their home. The same morning the young woman and child disappeared. They found her by the creek. She had drowned the baby and confessed, ‘I had to do it immediately. I feared I would lose the courage.’ Her desire to be unconquered was more than patriotic. It was a basic human instinct. The boy is half Corina. Her courage is unique, and she wants to keep the child. You are the foundation and her hope of a loving, proper life.”

I pondered, “We’re dealt the cards of life. Sometimes the options are easy and many times, they are not. I have made some bad choices, and truly tried to atone for my mistakes. I wanted to do the right thing and would have married her, but she didn’t divulge her pregnancy to me. Corina discarded me and now she wants me. I hope I’m not making another bad mistake. The delightful baby is the wild card and an unknown combination of Corina and JJ. He’s a dangerous man and I’m worried.”

Du Bois slapped me on the back saying, “We’re young with many pitfalls to come. We just need to stand up, dust off and keep going.”

Angela shouted from the bottom of the bleachers. “Anthony, Julius, I knew you would be at the last game. We just got here. Come down and sit with Charlie and me,” The dog wagged his tail wildly as we climbed down, and it stopped when our eyes met. He seemed to know I was apprehensive.

“I’ll do my best,’ I told du Bois quietly and then rubbed Charlie’s ears saying, “You’re a good dog, sport. What did you do today?” His smile was back, and the short tail whipped from side to side.

Angela informed us, “We walked to the camp and back. Charlotte Perry and Portia Mansfield just loved him. ‘There is just something about a prancing, big, black poodle,’ they said. He was so popular I could have rented him by the hour. Who’s winning?”

“Steamboat, two to nothing.” We said together.

“Do you care if we stay and watch?” she asked. “I’ve watched baseball since I was a little girl.”

“Please do. Can I buy you a sausage?” Du Bois answered.

“I would love that.”

It was a good game. The Prohibitionist tied it up in the fifth inning. Fred Ley drove in two more runs with triples in the sixth and in the eighth inning. Four at bats and four hits plus excellent fielding. The fans think he has all the tools to play in the big leagues. He called me from the stands at the top of the ninth shouting,” Julius, come pitch!” He handed me the ball and said, “Put it over the plate between the knees and armpits. Don’t bounce it like cricket.”

I pitched three outs thanks to good fielding. I write this evening with Charlie resting his chin on my thigh, just above the knee, brown eyes questioning. I asked him, “I don’t know mate. Am I doing the right thing?”

He does not answer.