FanStory.com - Saving Mr. Calvin - Chapter 6Bby Jim Wile

We began our route to the walnut tree in the distance. There were a number of hills to go over before reaching our goal. We came to the top of a hill, and who should be coming up the other side toward us but Lard and Rube. When they reached the top, they just stared at us. After a few seconds, Lard said, “Morning, Kilian. Who’s the little lass you’re playing with?” Rube just stood staring at Arie with his mouth open.

“Mates, this is Arie Papin. Arie, this big guy is Lard, and that bigger guy is Rube.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lars and Ruben. Kilian has already told me your real names.”

“You’re a cute little thing. Where did you come from?” asked Lard.

“I live on a farm over that way,” she said, pointing off to the east. “We recently moved here from up north a ways.”

Rube continued to stare with his mouth open. Lard punched him in the arm and said, “Say something, ya big galoot. Don’t just stand there gawking.”

“Um… hullo, Miss Arie,” he finally managed. “Are you a pixie?”

“Well, I’ve been called an elf and now a pixie, but I’m just a farm girl, Ruben, and now I’m a kolfer too. Kilian’s been teaching me.”

“Oh, really? I’d like to see this,” said Lard. “Care to join us, you two? We were shooting for those rocks down there.”

I looked at Arie, and she said, “We’d love to. Can I go first?”

I said, "Why don't we let Rube show us the way? Rube, you hit first."

Rube had fashioned a very long kolf to match his size. His upper body was so muscular, though, that it was difficult for him to make much turn. Plus, he tended to swing stiff-armed without any wrist action and consequently couldn’t hit the ball as far as you might expect from a boy his size. Of the three boys, he was the shortest hitter among us. He placed his ball down, took a swing, and managed about 50 paces with it. Not a bad shot, just not very far.

“Arie, why don’t you go next?” I said. I sidled over to Lard and said quietly, “Watch this. She’s going to outhit him.”

She placed her ball on a tuft of grass, took her stance, and with a smooth, unhurried swing with her much shorter kolf, she struck a perfect shot. Her ball lofted high into the air and landed way down the hill, at least ten paces farther than Rube’s ball. Rube’s eyes bugged out, while I said to Lard, “Didn’t I tell ya?”

Rube turned to Arie and said, “How do a wee thing like you hit it sa far, Miss Arie?” He was flabbergasted.

“Here, let me show you, Ruben. See, you have to hit it like you were chopping wood. You don’t split a log with stiff arms. You have to bend your wrists and then whip your hands and arms to split a log. It’s the same here. Bend your wrists some as you take the kolf back, then hold on like that on the way down, and at the last second, whip your hands through. That’s what Kilian taught me, and it works.”

He put another ball down and took his stance. “Wait a second,” she said, walking over to him. She took his big right hand in her two little ones and moved it up to meet his left on the grip end of the kolf. “You’ve got to put your hands closer together too, so they can work together. You’ll see.”

Lard and I were very amused by little Arie coaching the big oaf, and we chortled quietly to ourselves.

“Try a few practice swings first until you get the hang of it,” she advised Rube.

He did as she instructed, and after a few swings, he was able to whip the head of the kolf through much faster than before. He looked down at her with a big silly grin on his face. “Can I try to strike it now, Miss Arie?”

“Have at it, Ruben.”

He addressed his ball again. He was able to take the kolf quite a bit farther back now that he was bending his wrists, and he took a mammoth swipe at the ball, sending it way down the hill, landing it at the bottom, and rolling for another 20 paces. This one ended up nearly 100 paces away—an awesome strike. Rube was grinning from ear to ear, and Arie began clapping for him. “That was smashing, Ruben! You struck it way farther than mine.”

“I did, didn’t I? Did’ja see that, fellers?” he said to Lard and me. “And thank ya’ kindly, Miss Arie.”

After that, she was his new best friend, and he walked beside her every chance he got, chattering away. I could tell she was very amused by him, but she treated him with the utmost respect. They laughed a lot together, but she always laughed with him and never at him. They went off together to shoot for a couple of targets while Lard and I stood talking.

“I think the big lunk has found himself a girlfriend,” said Lard to me. “He’s two heads taller than her and four times her size. Quite a pair, eh?”

“Looks like they adore each other, but I found her first.”

“Oh, she’s just funnin’ with ‘im. She’d never go for a big doofus like him.”

“She sure is good with him, though,” I said.

“Aye, that she is. Where did’ja find her anyways?”

“She actually found me. Remember a couple of days ago when you and Rube were chasing me, and I was just gone? Well, she had seen it all and called me over behind those trees, and she was down in a hole. I got down with her, and she covered it over with branches, and you were none the wiser.”

“So, you did disappear after all? Huh. Yer a lucky feller; she’s a dandy, she is. Did’ja kiss her yet?”

“No, but she kissed me.”

“You hang onto that one, Kilian.”

Pretty soon, Arie and Rube were back, and we decided to all play toward an ash tree 220 paces away. Arie said that it was getting on toward noon, and she would have to leave for home after that. She struck her ball first and hit a good shot, then Rube placed his ball down.

“Now, remember to thrust your hips toward the target a bit before you start down like I showed you, Ruben, and you’ll really smash it,” she said to him.

“I’ll do me best, Miss Arie,” he said, grinning at her.

“Been playing one day and already giving Rube lessons,” I said to Lard, shaking my head. Lard smiled and shook his head too.

Rube reared back with a big turn as his left heel came off the ground. He paused for a fraction at the top before starting down, and with a thrust of his hips and a whipping of his hands through the ball, it virtually exploded into hundreds of pieces as he made contact with it, just as Arie’s had done yesterday.

Laughing, Arie said, “I think we’re going to have to come up with a different ball for you from now on, Ruben. You smashed that one to bits! I don’t think walnut balls will be sturdy enough for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I dinna mean to bust it up.”

“That’s okay, Rube,” I said. Green walnut season is almost over now, and I have the feeling we’re all going to start busting them up soon enough. Arie and I will think of something else to use.”

Rube put down another ball and hit it at only about half power, then Lard and I both hit our first shots. By the time we reached the target, we had all made it in either four or five strokes, and it was time for Arie to say goodbye. I told her I would walk home with her, and Rube asked if he could come too.

“Leave ‘em alone, Rube. You and me gotta go move them sheep to a new spot now,” said Lard.

“Goodbye, Ruben. Goodbye Lars. It was fun kolven with you. I’ll see you again sometime,” and with that, she turned around, took my hand, and we started toward her home.