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

by James Ross

  Pabby had never seen anything so exciting. He stood on the tips of his toes and tapped on Doc’s arm. “Watch!”

  “On the outside and charging is TinManLives!”

  “Come on!” J Dub yelled.

  “Get there!” Doc hollered.

  Fred and Pork Chop bowed their heads as Santa’s Leg faded.

  “Coming down to the wire it’s Flo’s Music and TinManLives and by a neck TinManLives takes the first race today at Hoof and Bridle Park. Get your bets in. The next post time is in twenty-four minutes!”

  Pabby jumped in the air. J Dub and Doc stooped to give him a hug and slap him on the back. Pabby ducked his head, extended his arm and let the pair tap his fist. Then he hopped in the air and forced his shoulder into each of their sides. “We won!”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Pork Chop complained. “What do you want for lunch?”

  “It shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Fred said, “that’s about how we always finish when we come over here.”

  “I know. I know.” Pork Chop tore up his betting ticket. “Fourth and out of the money.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Fred grabbed a magic marker and went to the wall. “Give me your scores. It’s time to post them for our pool.” He took the cap off and attached it to the bottom. “How many guys played today?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “That’s right. We had a foursome, fivesome and foursome. The guy that did the best against his handicap gets thirteen points and we go down to one point for the worst.”

  “Just give me one point,” Captain Jer. “I shot the worst.”

  “Do you think the beer had anything to do with it?” Julie shouted from behind the counter.

  “I think that was my problem. I got started too late. My best golf comes when I have at least twelve of them packed away.”

  “Jerry, how can that be?”

  “It calms me down.”

  “You mean to tell me that you’re nervous around the guys that you play with every day?”

  “If you ever stood over a four-footer you’d know how much you get the shakes.”

  Scottie P had blonde hair that was feathered on top and cascaded down to his shoulders. He had a diamond stud in his right lobe and an earring on his left lobe. He was the best player in the group and directed a comment to Julie. “He’s got the yips bad. He might not two putt a four-footer.” He turned and gave his scorecard to Fred.

  “Boxcars, huh? A sixty-six is pretty good shooting. Not bad for a gay boy. What are you, a plus two?” Scottie P nodded.

  “Par is seventy-one out here so you were five under. That’s three shots better than your handicap.” Fred marked the poster board. “Okay guys we got the plus handicapper out of the way. What did everyone else shoot?”

  One by one the guys came up. “Give me an eighty-two,” Elia said.

  “And your handicap is eight?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were three shots worse than your handicap. What happened to you today?”

  “I had to look for Captain Jer’s balls on damn near every hole. It took me out of my game. When you’re in the woods and creeks all day it’s tough to play.”

  The scores continued to come in until the poster board was full. “Can I make a suggestion?” Doc proposed.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Since we just started this contest why don’t we add another participant to our group?”

  “That’s fine. What are you thinking?”

  “We went to the track yesterday and got to witness some uncanny horse sense. I was thinking that maybe we could use a little different scoring system and add Pabby to the pool. J Dub said that he’d front the money.”

  “How are we going to compare golf scores to horse races?”

  “I suggest that Pabby gets three points for every winner he picks at the track. If one of his picks comes in second he gets two points. A third place finish earns him one point. If he doesn’t have a pick in a race then no points are earned.”

  “What do you guys think? Does that make any sense?”

  “The more the merrier,” Paco said. “What’s it going to hurt? The winner is going to buy dinner with the money anyway.”

  “Is that okay with you BowTye? You’re the commissioner.” BowTye smiled and gave a thumbs-up sign.

  “Sure, why not,” Fred agreed. “How did he finish yesterday?”

  “You know exactly how he finished,” Pork Chop complained. “The kid kicked our ass.”

  “We bet six out of nine races. He had four winners and two runner-ups,” Doc said. “Let’s see, that would be sixteen points.”

  “Ah, he takes the point lead,” Pork Chop said.

  “Yeah, but he won’t be picking horses every day that we play,” Doc said. “Go ahead and give him sixteen, Fred. That’s Pabby’s score.”

  Over by the counter Pabby extended his right arm, bowed his head and let J Dub tap his fist. Then he jumped in the air with his arms along his body and tapped his shoulder against J Dub’s side. “You’re my buddy.”

  CHAPTER 32

  J Dub and Curt retreated to the office while the guys continued their banter in the clubhouse. J Dub tossed the lawsuit on the desk. “What are we going to do about this crap?” He picked the document back up and flipped through the pages. “I read it again last night.”

  “It’s a bunch of fiction,” Curt said.

  “You know that and I know that, but we can’t ignore it.” He propped his elbows on the desk and rubbed his face.

  “Once in a while we have to worry about something more than the weather and cutting grass. I went in to see him. It’s your turn to talk to Crash.” Curt glanced at the phone. “Go ahead and call him. Let’s get this settled somehow. We need to find out what the insurance company is going to do.”

  Reluctantly J Dub picked up the phone and dialed. “Could I speak to Muss?” J Dub paused. “Tell him it’s J Dub.”

  “This is Muss.”

  “Hey, Crash. J Dub. How have you been?”

  “Trying to retire.”

  “Aren’t we all?” J Dub listened. A few seconds became a couple of minutes. “But Crash, you’re my insurance agent. That doesn’t make any sense.” He listened again for a minute. “What the heck have we been paying about twenty thousand a year for?” J Dub held the phone a few inches from his ear and made a face at Curt. “That doesn’t make any sense. Crash.” He waited. “Crash.”

  “What happened?” Curt asked.

  “He hung up. Not because he didn’t want to talk to me, but he said that he couldn’t talk to me.”

  “Why?”

  “He said it is not as easy as just paying off a claim. Since the lawsuit was filed we all have rights and problems.”

  “No kidding. We know we have problems.”

  “He said that the attorney for the guy that flipped the cart probably has an investigative team and that they will collect their own facts. He said that the legal team for the insurance company will also send some guys down here and do their own investigation.”

  “And…”

  J Dub lamented what he had to say next. “He already told you. We need to get our own lawyer and fund the cost of our own investigation.”

  “That means spend more money instead of getting this thing settled.”

  “You’ve got it. It’s all going to go to the damn lawyers unless we can get this thing fixed.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Willard Butts had one of those jobs that was quasi-government. From eight in the morning to five in the afternoon he had to play it straight, i.e., coat and tie, no fresh air, a small window and politics. It was the type of job that called for plenty of trips to the coffee pot and a trip outdoors to the sidewalk for those that smoked. That was unless he had an occasion to go on an outside interview. When that happened he got an opportunity to have a better grasp of what went on in daily life.

  Once away from work he was a pretty good guy. He even had a likeable personality.


  The offices of the Attorney Registration and Disciplinary Commission (ARDC) were located about a driver and four-iron away from the state capitol building in Springfield, Illinois. They rented space on the third floor of a downtown office building. Nothing special: a lobby, an unmanned information desk with a phone, elevators. It took a yawn to proceed.

  What came wrapped in a sudden bolt of lightning was the idea that the legal profession needed to establish a commission. The attorneys got together and decided that they needed to have the trust of the public to continue to be effective in the state of Illinois. Nice wording. Fat chance of that in the Land of Lincoln—or in any state for that matter. Since when did lawyers get religion?

  Within the ARDC is the Client Protection Program which exemplifies the legal profession’s attempts to deserve and maintain the public’s trust. This program was established to help clients recover losses caused by a few lawyers that fell short of their professional obligations. One has to chuckle at the thought that the legal profession in Illinois thinks that it only has a few lawyers that cause losses to their clients.

  The annual registration fee that is paid by Illinois lawyers actually funds this program. Absolutely no tax money is used. The ARDC administers the program. The Supreme Court of Illinois appoints four lawyers and three public members as commissioners. These are public service appointments and come with no compensation.

  Many people realize what they get for nothing. In this case it is, more often than not, simply lip service to give the appearance that lawyers care for the public. Clients that have lost money or property due to dishonest conduct by lawyers seek reimbursement from this program. In many cases, that can come only after criminal court cases and years and years of legal wrangling.

  “How did the meeting go with Tanner?” Cheryl Gifford asked after Willard grabbed a seat in her office. She was one of the three appointees from the public sector.

  “Like I thought.” Willard shrugged. He wasn’t about to get upset. He knew the process, the back-and-forth, the stalling tactics and the let’s-take-as-many-days-off-the-calendar approach that the legal profession is famous for. “He asked for more documentation from the Morton estate.”

  “What do you think?”

  “They’re not going to have anything else. They will feel frustrated. Time will elapse. Civil remedies for the estate will expire.” Willard had a tough time not letting apathy invade him. “Let’s face it. Another lawyer is not going to sue another lawyer. Even if that did happen the judge would probably throw the suit out of court.”

  “That’s why we exist.”

  “And these lawyers know all the tactics to cause headaches for us. Tanner Atkins said it best when I sat in his office the other day. He told me to go ahead and investigate this situation. He said he needed more documentation from the estate so that he could provide an assessment of the alleged wrongdoing.”

  “We have to play by the rules.”

  “And they do too. He practically kicked me out of his office. He said that if we got too close to disciplinary action against him then he would simply quit paying his fees to the Illinois bar. He claims that if he’s not a current dues-paying member then it won’t be possible for us to discipline him. It’s as simple as that.”

  “He’s not new to us. We’ve had at least two complaints against him in the past.” Cheryl thumped her pen against her desk. “Look, we know that something is up down there. Southern Illinois acts differently than any other part of this state.”

  “I think that these lawyers operate the same way all over the state.”

  “But it may be a little worse down there.”

  “Nobody is talking and nobody is going to talk.”

  “Then contact the Morton heirs and see if there is anything else that they have. Tell them that we need to provide more documentation to Atkins.”

  “That’s a tough thing to do too. Every time I contact them they start crying. They’ve lost everything. The old lady sleeps all day in a fetal position. They realize that they are in a system that takes time away from them. Even if they do get compensation many of them will either be dead or too old to enjoy it.”

  “That’s why we exist—to get to the bottom of these things. Let the file stay open and move it along. Keep digging.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Curt was hard at work on the computer when J Dub walked into the office at Prairie Winds. “Are you having any luck?”

  Curt’s eyes barely looked up from the monitor. “It’s the same problem that we had a few years ago.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Finding a lawyer.”

  “Why don’t you call Sneed up?” The brothers had used him years before to help in a civil matter.

  “He’s not around anymore. He moved to Arizona I think.”

  “This is crazy!” Curt was frustrated. “We’ve got insurance and we can’t get our own insurance company to work out a settlement.”

  “That’s what I don’t understand either,” J Dub agreed.

  “I understand that there is some liability, but that is why we have insurance. I guess it is a question of how much liability is assigned to each party. The insurance company is handling the situation like we were negligent in some way and they are probably going to dispute the claim.”

  “But Crash should at least communicate with us.”

  “He’s doing what his legal department is telling him to do. Obviously with a claim that is more than our liability coverage we have to dispute that. I guess that is why we have to have a lawyer in this thing.”

  “It’s probably smart anyway.”

  “I just wish I could find one.” Curt took his reading glasses off and rubbed his face. “Squinting at this screen isn’t helping my mood any either.” He put his glasses back on and continued. “It’s the same stuff. I can tell you about this law firm and that law firm that either specializes in something else or has a conflict of interest or is too busy or…”

  “. . . doesn’t want to face Tanner Atkins,” J Dub theorized.

  “That’s probably it more than anything else,” Curt conceded. “I’ll find one somewhere. We need a law firm that knows insurance and specializes in liability.” This time he laid his glasses on the desk and rubbed his eyes—one, two, three times. “The best I can figure is that Atkins is playing the role of a premises liability attorney. My research indicates that a lawyer like that simply negotiates a settlement with the insurance company.”

  “But obviously he wants more in damages than what we are insured for.”

  Curt nodded. “We might simply need a defense lawyer to defend ourselves. There’s got to be somebody out there that can help us. And it does kind of tick me off that Crash won’t give us a referral. I guess that sort of draws the line in the sand. We’re adversaries with our own insurance company.”

  “Over a golf cart crash that we had no control over, from parties that played on a free pass and violated the dress code.”

  “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  “How many times have we heard that?”

  CHAPTER 35

  J Dub parked the greens mower after giving the practice green a serious dose of TLC. Dressed in work shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt, ball hat and work boots he was a far cry from how he looked most of the time. Prior to changing into his golf attire he stopped at the entrance of the clubhouse to appreciate the moment.

  The view from the bluff down to the Mississippi River was breathtaking. Driftwood could be seen moving briskly with the current. As luck would have it the heavens above provided a picturesque day for the makeshift miniature golf event that Aieshia and Carla had persuaded him to host.

  Four mini-vans each carrying four kids, two aides, and two volunteers pulled into the parking lot just as J Dub was coming back outside. The thirteen, fourteen and fifteen-year boys and girls from Footprints of Hope piled eagerly out of the vans exhibiting surprise, delight and a broad range of physical impairment.

  One of the aides—bud
dies, the kids called them—placed traffic cones around the perimeter of the putting green. Aiesha had parked her van and opened the side doors. Inside were two large stereo speakers which would soon blast tunes the kids enjoyed. As the vans parked on the lot, the less physically challenged children made their way to the putting green and walked around the cones. Congregating in an orderly manner was a routine they went through every day at school. The only difference on this particular day was that they were outside. Their pace continued until their aide led them to their next activity, which today was going to be putting.

  On the putting green a woman was signing to a young boy who observed her intently and signed back. Their fingers were quick and alive like flames in a wildfire. She handed him a putter, signed more to him what seemed to be about holding it and then motioned in the direction of the flag. She placed a ball at his feet and her hands spoke again. His eyes traveled with keen concentration from her eyes to her lips as she mouthed the words, to her hands as she deftly spelled them out, to the putter, the ball and to the hole. She looked one last time straight through him to make sure he understood then stepped away as he drew the putter back.

  One child pushed a walker with wheels around the exterior of the smooth putting surface. He leaned forward on the handles where he balanced a putter, and with slow, deliberate effort lifted a foot and steadied each step.

  Many of the kids smiled and held hands while drinking in their new green environment and watching friends direct a white ball. Others skipped to the music while the movements of others still were unpredictable. Pabby smiled as he walked arm in arm with two girls, proud to have his peers share what he now considered his place.

  Curt, Fred, Paul and Doc cut holes on the green. Lengths of 2 X 4s were placed on the ground to act as fairway boundaries. Aieshia placed large red circles cut from thin rubber over some of the holes. She knew many of the teens would face an enormous challenge getting the ball into the cup. At least the red circles gave them a better chance of seeing the hole and moving the ball in the right direction. As J Dub surveyed the scene he turned to Julie, “What have we gotten ourselves into?”