NOTE: I screwed up and skipped a post in my story when posting this morning. So you get a bonus post - if you already read this morning's post, this one is identical and you'll want to read the one above it as it contains important background on what follows... 
Egypt, GA: June 1911:
Nearly three years passed in a blur. The Barrells did indeed get not one, but two hound dogs. Big Rollie immediately picked up one of the wriggling pups in his gnarled paw and said, "This one's name is Blue. Can't have more than one hound and not have one of 'em be a Blue, son." Blue followed Rollie around while the other hound, which Jack named Buster, followed the boys around. The boys, deciding that two Rollies were one too many, started calling Big Rollie by his occasional baseball nickname of Possum. The former catcher turned farm foreman didn't mind. "Y'all can call me anything you like, except late for dinner." Before long, Rufus and Alice noticed that the boys were starting to use "Rollie-isms" in their speech. Rufus found this hilarious, Alice less so.
There was also a new addition to the family. In July of 1910, an eighth son was born. Alice suggested naming him Robert, and Rufus tearfully agreed, remembering his stoic, loyal brother. "But we'll call him Bob or Bobby," he said softly.
Rufus also remained steadfast in his self-imposed exile from baseball. For three consecutive Aprils, Malcolm Presley had sent telegrams to the Barrell Farm, requesting that Rufus return to scouting, even offering to allow him to base himself in Georgia. Each time, Rufus politely thanked him, but refused. Alice sensed however that her husband was getting restless. She wondered if the April 1912 telegram (assuming one arrived) would get the same response.
The boys were growing like weeds and Little Joe was now approaching his 16th birthday. He had filled out quite a bit while working on the farm and was strong as an ox, and stood slightly taller than Rufus, who at 5'11 was among the taller men in Effingham County.
One morning, just after breakfast, Joe surprised his parents by informing them that he'd be leaving after his birthday in August.
"What do you mean, leaving?" Alice asked sharply. Rufus had narrowed his eyes and his mouth tightened into a thin line, but he remained silent.
Joe took a deep breath and began to explain, saying, "I'm not cut out to be a farmer." He looked at Rufus and added, "Like you."
Rufus mulled this over and said, "Fair enough - but what are you going to do?" Alice, her anger apparent in the color rising up her neck, looked ready to add something herself but Rufus put his hand on hers and she bit back her reply.
"I'm going to be a fighter."
Now Alice couldn't be kept silent. "Oh no, you're not," she said, her voice rising. Rufus rubbed his chin - he had suspected this was coming.
Before Alice could continue, Rufus said, "Do you know anything about that... about doing it for a living, I mean."
Joe nodded. "I spoke with Possum about it," Alice rolled her eyes and shook her head angrily, but Joe plowed on. "Now Ma, I know you think he's crazy, or dumb, or both, but he's been around and knows a lot."
Rufus muttered, "That's all true."
"He said there's a fellow down in Atlanta who could take a look at me, and see if I have what it takes to be a boxer. And if I do, he'll train me and set me up with some bouts, starting here in Georgia, but eventually all over the South."
Alice was shaking her head vigorously throughout Joe's entire statement. "You could get yourself killed, or worse, you know."
Joe asked, "What's worse than dying?" but before Alice could reply, Rufus had chimed in: "Where are you going to live in Atlanta?"
"With Gramps, of course," was the expected reply. Joe Reid was still with the Atlanta Peaches, and was now club president. He was also nearing his 60th birthday and not as vigorous as he had been.
Rufus asked Joe to step out so he and Alice could discuss this and his eldest son left the room, a silent plea in his eyes as he locked gazes with Rufus on his way out the door.
"We have to let him go," Rufus said. Alice's cheeks were completely red, a sure sign that her temper was about to boil over, so Rufus calmly added, "If we say no, he'll just sneak off anyway. Better to let him go on good terms so he knows he can always come home if he needs anything."
Alice teared up and moaned, "This is a terrible idea, Rufus."
Rufus shrugged and said, "He does know how to fight, that's for sure." In the time the Barrells had been in Georgia, Joe had whupped any boy who gave him - or his brothers - any guff. "Who knows, he might actually be able to make something of it."
As tears continued running down her face, Alice reluctantly agreed. Rufus went out to tell Joe the news. Rufus decided not to dwell on the clashing sounds of his wife's sobs and his eldest son's whoops of joy. He knew from his own idealistic youth that short of chaining Joe to a post in the yard, there was no way to prevent him from following his dream.
Of the other children, Rollie was the saddest to see Joe go - as the next-oldest, he was closest to Joe and though he often ended up on the wrong end of Joe's aggressive nature, Rollie felt he was tougher for it - and he just genuinely liked his brother, too. Before Joe left, he helped Rollie finish his pet project - some golf-related thing called a "driving range" that Rufus had allowed Rollie to cut out of some of the back forty.
Rufus drove Joe down to Atlanta in the family's new Hupmobile. Joe Reid convinced him to take in a game while in town, and Rufus enjoyed watching baseball again. Reid noticed this and said, in a nonchalant tone, "I have heard some interesting news, Rufus."
Rufus, concentrating on watching the form of the Knoxville pitcher, Eddie Farris, mumbled an 'okay' in reply and was only half-listening when Reid said, "A fellow from Robert Owings' office came down to see if the Peaches would be receptive to direct affiliation with a Fed or Continental club."
Rufus gave his father-in-law his full attention - Owings was the President of FABL. "Direct affiliation, eh? I remember some folks bandying that back and forth a few years ago. The general conclusion was that the minor clubs wouldn't go for it because they'd lose their autonomy."
Reid nodded once and said, "Yes, that is a factor, particularly for the higher level clubs. The little guys who operate on a shoestring? It would be a god-send for them to get some funding out of the big boys. But for a Century League club - or even some of us Dixie outfits? It'll be a tougher sell."
"So what's your stand on this issue, Mr. Club President?" Rufus asked with a grin.
"I think it'd be a great thing, but we'd have to phase it in over time, I think."
"And what does Mr. Reynolds say?" Rufus asked. Josiah Reynolds was the Peaches owner and known to be fiercely independent.
"About what you'd think, but I believe he can be persuaded. From a business standpoint, there could be some financial advantages, if things are structured the right way."
Rufus nodded - and in his head, the wheels had started turning.