End of Chapter Twelve: Without another word, Taylor sped off and disappeared out of sight.

Bewildered by the deputy's actions, Matt asked, "What's Taylor's problem?"

"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, and not been brought to Astatula." He kicked a rock at his feet, sent it tumbling merrily downhill like the cascading spiral his life had always been in, and continued, "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."


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Deep down inside himself, Cody couldn't help the way he felt. His foster placement with Sheriff Daniels was the only part of his life that ever possessed any real meaning. Exasperated by Deputy Taylor's bubbleheaded harassment, the pugnacious bullock approached the grove.

Cody noticed horizontal rows of wire welded to metal posts and announced, "The end of that fence is what we're looking for. He paused, looked up and observed vertical wires connected to the parallel ones then commented, "Remember that wolf head blanket I wanted so badly. The one we saw at the Apache Native American Powwow we went to on our last field trip."

A raucous caw emitted as a crow flew overhead. After a moment's diversion, Matt recomposed his memory banks. He recalled the blanket well. Full of intricately woven multi-colored threads, both of them had admired the cover. He looked at the shirt Cody wore and replied, "Yeah, wolves are your favorite animal, and that blanket cost a lot more money than we had."

His chest puffed out like an adder, Cody beamed with pride, "It's now on my bed."

Surprised by his proclamation, Matt looked at Cody and asked, "When did Sheriff Daniels buy that blanket for you?"

"Last weekend when we went to the festival," Cody smiled back at him.

He knew Earl Anthony Schroder would never have taken him anywhere fun, or done anything for him. All Earl Anthony Schroder ever did was abuse him. At least Sheriff Daniels never did.

The boys rode on a little further down the road until Cody spotted a wrought iron gate. The wayward wind stopped his bike, dismounted, lowered the kickstand, and encouraged Matt with a hearty, "That'll be easy to climb. Race you. Last one over is a rotten egg!"

Reluctant and indecisive, Matt looked at Cody and asked, "You sure about this? I've heard Old Man Gustoffson is mean and not to mess with him. Everyone knows he doesn't like to have his trees pilfered."

"You believe every rumor you hear?" Cody responded. He'd heard the buzz too, but doubted offenders became fertilizer for newly planted saplings.

Right behind him, Matt sang out, "Boink! Boink! Boink!" as he hopped on one foot like a pogo stick to the ingress.

On the other side of the portal, Cody exclaimed, "All we got to do now is find a good hidey hole."

A magnificent thicket paraded up to the horizon and back. Energized, Matt enthusiastically exclaimed, "Look at all these trees. Bet if we go in there we'll never come out again."

Somehow, that idea appealed to Cody. He could get lost in such a wondrous world. He declared, "Trees aren't like people who try to hurt you all the time."

The explorers bypassed several trees until they arrived at one full of peaches that looked like it had never been pruned. The sandy loam was fertile, offered good growth, and contained no underbrush. The trees hid the ramblers from the huge columned house in the middle of the grove with its Grecian portico, Mediterranean curves, and iron gargoyle that adorned the edge of the roof.

Cody noticed the creature's peculiar rumpled mane and teased, "How'd you like to pet that kitty cat, Mr. Meow?"

Matt's eyes enlarged. He shook his head as if to reply, "No way, Jose! Ain't gonna happen"

Cody spotted what he searched for, and grabbing the trunk of the tree with their arms and legs, the rhesus monkeys shimmied rapidly to their perch. Cody stood in a "Y" of the tree where two strong branches jutted out. From there, he could almost see all the way to Astatula, and the house he knew he should be on his way home to. Matt hung upside down by the back of his knees on a limb.

Drawing a deep breath, Cody asked, "If I tell you a secret promise not to tell no one else?"

Matt replied with a simple, "Yep."

Cody reached for a plump peach that clung precariously nearby. His mouth watered. The cold meatloaf sandwich the school had served students for lunch that day had not settled well with him. A sweet peach or two would go a long way in getting rid of the aftertaste the offering left behind.

Losing his balance, Cody discovered he hadn't stretched carefully enough to grab the fruit and his sneaker slipped off the limb he roosted on, In desperation, he grasped the left arm of the "Y" to keep from crashing to the ground.

"Whoa!" Cody chirped. Saucer-eyed, he stared down at the ground below him, turned to Matt, and said, "I almost fell out of this tree."

Conjuring up memories of his favorite cartoon, Matt cackled, "No kerplats allowed, Wile E. Coyote. I ain't no Road Runner. I'm not picking you up with a spoon."

Undeterred, and more careful, Cody tried again. He plucked the delicacy he craved off the branch at his outstretched fingertips and took a humongous bite. Juice trickled down his smooth chin as he spoke with his mouth full, "Palo Pinto was a nightmare."

Matt swung around the branch he hung on to a seated position. He crossed his arms. Cody hadn't told him much about his past in Palo Pinto before. So, if Cody opened up about that now, he wanted to hear his story.