End of Chapter Eleven: Unhurried, Mr. Miller strolled down the hallway toward his office. Being rid of his underlings brought a joyous smile to the Principal's face. He relished the quiet time the end of another school year brought. His mind roamed far away and focused on his upcoming vacation to exotic Athens, Mykonos, and Santorini. The exploration of ancient ruins awaited discovery. As he approached the janitor's closet, Mr. Miller noticed a puddle of water seeped out from underneath the door. Curiosity replaced his anticipation. Oblivious, he opened the door.

"My God in Heaven!" he exclaimed.


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"I'm out of here," David Larkin stated. He popped a wheelie and peeled right onto Forsythe Avenue like a rocket sled on wheels.

Cody and Matt watched him depart then continued north on Cassandra Boulevard. They rode past the Cottom Cattle Company and the Bilby Morgan Horse ranch. In no hurry to get home, they dismounted their bikes and pet Rojo. They had recently discovered the gold-coated Palomino, with a bright yellow tail, in the back pasture of the farm.

Making like a jockey Matt commented, "I wish we could ride him like real cowboys." He pulled an imaginary pistol from the holster on his hip. Firing two shots at Cody, he exclaimed, "Reach for it, sidewinder. BANG! BANG!"

Cody clutched his chest with his hands. He fell backwards on the seat of his pants to the ground and said, "You got me, hombre!"

The friends laughed at their shenanigans. Cody jumped to his feet and pulled a carrot out of his pocket.

Wide-eyed, Matt cracked a grin and asked, "Where'd you get that?"

"Don't tell on me, but I filched it from the lunchroom," Cody replied with an equally broad smile on his face, "they'll never miss it."

Cody fed the veggie to Rojo one broken off piece at a time. In the distance he saw heatwaves bounce from the rural route in front of them. When the last bit of carrot was gone, he quickly mounted his bike and said, "Race you to Three Bridges." Off he dashed before Matt could scamper to his two-wheeler.

"Hey, wait for me!" Matt called behind him.

Cody paused at the viaduct's sandstone facing. Carrying the Texas Railroad across the low-lying estacado, the bridges, their spanned archways, and sprawled outlands bordered the muddy Brazos River. Soon, Matt approached.

Cody wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A crimson red Dodge Charger blew perilously close by them. The car picked up speed as the driver stomped down on the accelerator. Cody guessed the Super Sportster topped out at about seventy miles an hour before it reached a hairpin curve in the road. At the last instant, the driver fishtailed to the left. The maneuver screeched the car's tires. Cody smelled the burned rubber that permeated the air.

A loud, sustained, honk emitted from the vehicle's horn as the driver zoomed across the Talmitch Bridge. Gravel flew from underneath the car's rear wheels. The Charger vibrated and its engine roared, then bolted forward, and veered violently to the right. Cody applauded the performance, and barked three times like a trained seal did when the critter balanced a ball on its nose and clapped its flippers together. To say the least, he was not impressed.

The blond bomber noticed the look of disbelief etched across Matt's face. A siren screamed in protest as a glistening beacon rotated. Deputy Fred Taylor spun the Charger around. In a huff, he headed to the boys' location and rolled down the driver's door window.

"Where are you two scalawags headed?" Taylor demanded. His tone authoritarian.

Cody looked at Deputy Taylor but remained silent. The less he spoke to him the better off he was.

"We're going to see the sheriff," Matt answered.

"You two need to be a whole lot more careful where you ride your trikes before someone comes along and runs you over like I almost did," Deputy Taylor scolded them.

Cody's eyes cut to the bluebonnets that grew along the roadway. Then, he looked up. He knew they had done nothing wrong.

Deputy Taylor glared at him. He pointed a bony finger in Cody's direction as if the act was a warning to the youngster and said, "Especially you, troublemaker. I'm watching you real close, Buzzard Beak. You might have the sheriff bamboozled, but everyone knows the truth that you don't belong anywhere near here. And, when I get the opportunity, I'm gonna run you off where you belong. That's a promise from me."

Without another word, Taylor sped off and disappeared out of sight.

"What's Taylor's problem?" Matt asked.

"It's between us," Cody replied. He heaved a heavy sigh, "Some people think I should have stayed at the Fairwinds Boys Home in Palo Pinto when Earl Anthony Schroder died, not been brought to Astatula. What do they know about anything? C'mon. Let's go snatch some peaches off the trees at Gustoffson's Groves. They should be real ripe by now."

Cody steered his bike back onto Cassandra Boulevard and off they rode.