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like—” Rick paused.
    This time Evie could clearly make out the sound of a person grunting. “There’s definitely someone there,” she said. She pulled apart the thick green cornstalks and entered the field before her brother could tell her to stop.
    They followed the sound through the dense thicket, emerging after a short walk in a clearing. A boy about Rick’s age stood in the middle of the circle. He wore leather chaps over his denim jeans, and a frilled shirt adorned with a bolo tie. The gold slide on the tie was shaped like a chili pepper. A thick fibrous belt hung low on his hips, and a scabbard dangled from it. Fitted in the scabbard was an old machete, a kind of macho knife. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat ten sizes too big was perched atop the boy’s head. He had dark copper-colored skin and keen eyes, and beside him there was a pile of corn half as tall as he was.
    Evie and Rick watched silently as the boy raised a lasso above his head, swinging it in a circle a few times before grunting loudly and flinging the ring of rope. He snagged a cornstalk and pulled the lasso tight, stripping the ears of corn off the plant. The corn landed in the pile beside him, and with a proud look of accomplishment, the boy recoiled his lasso.
    â€œWow!” Evie exclaimed, unable to stop herself from applauding. “That was amazing!”
    The boy leaped into the air and spun around, startled. “Screaming scorpions! Where did y’all come from?”
    Rick held up his hands defensively. “Don’t shoot! Or, don’t lasso, or whatever.”
    â€œWe’re trying to find Professor Doran,” Evie said. “It’s important.”
    The boy’s eyes darted between the siblings. “I don’t reckon the Prof’s expecting visitors. Who’s we, exactly?”
    â€œProfessor Doran is an old friend of our parents,” Evie explained. “My name is Evie Lane, and this is my brother, Rick. Our business with the professor is really urgent.” She glanced in the direction of the compound.
    The boy tipped back his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “The Prof is conducting a mighty important experiment right now. He’d be madder than a mango in mustard if I interrupted.”
    Evie whispered to Rick. “Do something! We have to talk to Professor Doran right now.”
    Rick whispered back, “What can I do? If we make him mad he might not help us.”
    The boy folded his arms over his puffed out chest. “While y’all’re whispering like a Fort Worth wind, I can hear y’all clear as cooked onion.”
    Rick’s cheeks turned the color of his hair. “Sorry. It’s just that we’re here on an important mission for our parents.”
    â€œYour parents?” The boy’s eyes lit up like the headlights of a pickup truck. “Wait a gosh darn minute. Did y’all say your name was Lane? As in, Lane Industries?”
    â€œThat’s right,” Evie said. “What’s it to ya?”
    â€œWell, shoot, ma’am. Lane Industries. Hoverships! Robo-intelligence. Without your family, I wouldn’t have my carrying carrots, my hover horse, or all sorts a things.”
    â€œThat’s Lane Industries,” Rick said with a proud smile.
    â€œWell, by rhubarb I oughtta take y’all to the Prof right away. Just let me finish up my chores.”
    Grabbing his lasso, the boy whirled like a tornado. He threw out the rope and reeled it back with a snap. Each pull brought in a wheelbarrow’s worth of corn.
    The boy called over his shoulder. “When I do it like this, it always makes me feel like I’m playing
Lasso Lunatic
on my Game Zinger.”
    Rick gasped like he’d uncovered buried treasure. “You’ve played
Lasso Lunatic
? That’s, like, one of the rarest video games of all time!”
    â€œPlay it? Hooo-eee! I got a copy signed by the whole development team. I’ll