There's days that start out really good, and there's days that start out really bad. This particular Tuesday was in the latter category. For me, anyway. To make matters worse, Hannah's calming influence was missing. She and Adam were gone to Sacramento for a few days. Adam had been asked to represent our local Cattleman's Association, and he and Hannah had taken Guthrie along.

To start the morning off, several of us overslept, which then caused those that did to be mad at those that didn't, under the premise that they should have gotten us up on time.

I was in the group that didn't get up in response to the insistant buzzing of an alarm clock. I did hear pounding on doors all along the hallway, with Brian's raised voice accompanying it, yelling at the boys to get their behinds out of bed.

I covered my head with my pillow, and went back to sleep. The next time I woke up it was because Brian was throwing my top quilt off of me, and yanking on my feet.

"Harlie!" he said, "let's go!"

"Stop pulling on me!" I snapped, from my cocoon of extra blankets he hadn't succeeded in removing.

My first mistake of the day was not getting up on time. My second, and most probably the unwisest, was in talking to Brian in that tone of voice.

I found myself jerked to an upright sitting position, with Brian glaring at me.

"You're about to buy yourself a truckload of trouble," he growled.

I swept my mass of curly hair back from my face, and quickly tried to make amends.

"I'm sorry, Bri. I guess I'm just really tired."

"You're not the only one. You have five minutes to get downstairs."

"Five minutes?" I tried a smile on him. "That'd make me like a quick change artist, or something."

Brian did not look amused. "Five minutes," he said, "or I'll be back up here, and you DO NOT want that. I've got other things to do today."

Five minutes to get dressed meant I pulled on what I first put my hands on, which happened to be the jeans I'd worn the day before, and a wrinkled shirt. I gathered my hair up in a knot on the top of my head, and went downstairs.

Evan and Ford were arguing in the living room about whose fault it was that Ford had overslept.

"All I'm saying, is you could have woke me up," Ford was pointing out. "I've done it for you plenty of times."

"It's not my job to get you out of bed," Evan argued. Ford kept ranting, while he looked for a science report he said he'd left on the end table. He was asking Crane about it as Crane walked thru from the kitchen.

"Why didn't you put it with the rest of your homework?" Crane pointed out.

"I was going to finish it this morning. Which I don't have time for now, thanks to Evan."

This of course started their argument over about who was at fault for oversleeping.

I went to get a glass of orange juice, and they were still going at it, when I came back.

I was startled when Crane's voice rose above both Evan's and Ford's.

"Both of you, knock it off!"

Crane hardly ever yells, and the fact that he was meant he was having a bad morning, too.

Brian came back in from outside in time to hear Crane's directive.

"Maybe we need to have mandatory early bedtime around here for awhile," Brian said, and he looked at me when he said it. "See if that doesn't help people get up and moving on time."

"I'm just drinking my juice," I protested. "This isn't even my fight. Why are you getting onto me?"

Crane squeezed my shoulder with his hand.

"That's enough, don't be rude," he told me, and I looked away from Brian's glare.

"How's the calf?" Crane asked Brian.

Brian shook his head in discouragement. "I think we better call Doc G."

Crane got the look on his face he always gets when we're short on money and an expense comes up.

Ford found his science paper, and said tersely,

"Let's go," to me.

I realized I'd left my homework upstairs, and started towards the stairs to get it.

Brian caught my wrist. "There's pancakes on the stove."

"We're gonna be late as it is," Ford complained.

"Go eat," Brian told me.

"Leaving in two minutes!" Ford informed me as he went out slamming the door.

"I have to get my homework," I said, and dashed for the stairs. It took me several minutes to locate everything, and I could hear Ford leaning on the horn impatiently. When I came back down, Brian was standing at the front door, hollaring at Ford to stop honking the horn.

"Here," he said, handing me a pancake spread with peanut butter.

"Thanks."

"Daniel did your chores this morning," he said, with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll tell him thank you tonight."

"Right before you go to bed at 8 o'clock."

I gave him an incredulous look, not believing he was serious. But he looked serious, dead serious.

"I'm not the only one who overslept, Bri," I reminded him.

"No, but you're the only one who needed dynomite to get blown out of bed."

I swept past him, muttering under my breath.

"You have something to say?" he asked, and I could hear the warning in his voice.

"No!" I said, and climbed into the passenger side of Ford's truck.

7

We were tardy to school, and we had to go to the office to get late slips. When we came out of the office to go our separate ways to class, Ford didn't mince words.

"Thanks a lot, Har," he said, glaring at me.

"So you're blaming ME?"

"Yes, I'm blaming you. I should have left and made you ride the bus."

"Well, why didn't you, then?!"

"Next time I will," he threatened, and stalked off down the hall.

"You know what, Ford?! It's not a crime! It's being LATE! Not bank robbery!" I yelled after him.

Ford ignored me, but Mr. Price, the principal, opened the office door, and said curtly, "Is there a reason, Harlie, that you're yelling in the hallway?"

I don't get in trouble at school, and Mr. Price has never had any reason to talk to me that way.

I was embarrassed. "No, sir, I'm sorry."

"Go to class, please."

I was tired, still hungry, and felt like my wrinkled shirt was obvious to everyone when I had to go into class late. It did not bode well for my morning, and things got worse when I discovered I'd grabbed my English notes, but not the final essay. The one due third hour.

Mrs. Turpen called me over when class was over. "Is your essay finished, Harlie?"

"Yes, ma'm, it's at home. It was a crazy morning at home-"

"Bring it in tomorrow. I'll have to take a letter grade off for being late."

I wanted to protest so badly. Crane had spent two hours helping me with that essay, and he was not going to be happy when he found out that an A was a B, or a B was a C.

"Great," I muttered, as I left the classroom.

My mood didn't improve much during lunch. It was some kind of nasty spinach thing, but I was so hungry I ate it. I was sitting with Lori Nelson and some others girls at a table outside in the sunshine when Allison Butler came over to sit down, too. Allison moved here this school year, when her father bought one of the bigger ranches in the valley. She got popular quickly, and has a reputation for being on the wild side. She said she had a headache from listening to Mrs. Turpen.

She mimicked the teacher until everyone was laughing.

When she said she was going to cut classes the rest of the afternoon, she asked if anyone at the table wanted to come, too.

"No way," Lori said, and she and a couple of the others went to put their lunch trays away.

"How about it, Harlie?" she asked me when I stood up to follow them.

"It'll be fun to get out of here, go for a drive, maybe go swimming or something," she said.

"It sounds fun," I agreed. It also sounded like an idea with trouble attached to it.

"It's a substitute next hour. We won't miss anything."

I knew I shouldn't, knew it with everything in me, but I guess she could see I was wavering.

"Do you even know how to have fun? Do anything besides study?" She smiled and it took some of the bite out of her words.

I thought of the horrendous morning I'd had, and suddenly felt reckless.

"Okay. I'll have to be back here by the time school's out, to ride home with my brother," I told Allison.

"No problem," Allison said.

Crane says when people say 'no problem', it usually means that there is, or will be, a problem.

"Great!" I said.

Slipping away from school was amazingly easy. We just walked out and got into Allison's car, a white convertible. I'd never ridden in a convertible before. Allison drove fast, really fast, onto the highway. We mostly just drove around, until I asked her what time it was. When she checked her watch and told me it was two-thirty, I said I had to get back to the school and meet Ford.

"What's the deal with him?" Allison asked.

" Ford? What do you mean?"

"Is he always so serious?"

"He's serious, but he's lots of fun, too."

"He strikes me as sort of a stick in the mud. You know."

Instantly my hackles were up. No matter if I was mad at one of my brothers, no one was going to insult any of them.

"Ford's funny, he can make anybody laugh! You don't know him at all!"

Allison looked amused at my outburst.

"I'll tell you who I'd like to get to know better, and that's Daniel," she said.

Allison was too young for Daniel. I knew he'd never consider dating Allison, but I didn't bother to try to convince her of that.

"I've got to get back to catch Ford."

"I'll take you home," she offered.

"No, Ford would wonder where I was. And I've got chores."

"So?"

When I looked at her, perplexed, she said,

"Why do you have to do chores?"

"Because there's a lot to do, everybody helps. Don't you do chores? You've got a bigger ranch than us."

"My father has a ranch. I don't. It's nothing to do with me."

For a minute, I felt sorry for her. It was a totally foreign idea to me. I've grown up knowing that our ranch belongs to all of us, and that every one of us has a responsibility to help out.

"Well, it's not like that for me. And i need to get back. Now."

Allison shrugged and turned back towards town. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She shook the pack and took one out.

"Want one?" she asked.

"No."

She tried to light the cigarette, but the wind kept blowing her match out, so she leaned over a little out of the wind. I looked up, and I saw it coming.

Afterwards, it was like it had happened in slow motion. I think I screamed at Allison to turn the steering wheel. I put my hands up in front of my face.

We sat there for a couple minutes, both of us were probably in shock. Then I automatically started taking inventory. My cheek hurt, and my arms were scratched. I could move my arms and legs, but my back hurt where it had hit the door.

Allison, apparently fine, got out and went to the front of the car where it was crushed against the big Oak tree. "Damn it," she swore, and when she turned I saw her nose was bleeding.

I got out gingerly. My legs felt all rubbery, like they didn't want to hold me up. I was shaking, too.

Allison was ranting about her car. "Now what am I going to drive?" she demanded, looking at me as if I'd had something to do with it.

"Well, not this, obviously," I said sarcastically. I suddenly, vehemently, disliked Allison Butler.

"We'll have to start walking," I said.

Allison looked as if that was a totally foreign idea to her. "We can walk back to the highway, and hitchhike into town."

I had no intention of doing that, but I didn't say anything, I just started walking. We hadn't gone very far when I was ready to either smack Allison or walk on without

her. She kept stopping, complaining about how hot it was. Well, I was hot, too, and my back was hurting me. I touched my cheek tentatively. It hurt, too. I wondered how

I could conceal it from the observant eyes waiting for me at home.

She started waving a car down when we climbed up the hill to the highway.

"I'm not getting into a car with someone I don't know," I informed her.

"Well, I'm not walking anymore."

It didn't come to an argument, because the car wizzed past us.

When we finally made it to the outskirts of town, we went into the gas station. Allison started telling Jake she needed her car towed.

Jake and the man who works for him listened to her rant without saying much. They both looked at me. I went to get a bottle of pop, pulling change out

of my jeans. I was so thirsty I had it gone within just a couple of minutes.

Jake passed me, on his way out to fire up his tow truck.

"You're Crane's little sister, aren't you?" he asked me.

I'm used to being known as someone's little sister, so I nodded. There was no use in denying it. I just hoped he didn't have reason to talk

to Crane very often.

"You ok? Looks like you went some rounds with Tyson in the boxing ring."

"I'm okay."

"You need a ride home?"

I hesitated. I did need a ride home, but I needed it right then, not after he picked up Allison's car.

"I'll take her," Old Vernon spoke up. I don't know why he's called Old Vernon, but he's been called that for as long as I can remember.

7

I was hurting and still shaky from the accident, and I was worried about being late for chores. I didn't make conversation on the ride home, until Old Vernon said, "How's Adam? And Hannah?"

"They're fine. They're in Sacramento for an Association meeting."

"Daniel still playin' that guitar?"

"Yeah. He still is."

At the end of the driveway, I asked him to let me out so I could walk up. I sure didn't want Old Vernon talking to any of my brothers, and I didn't care to explain why he'd given me a ride, either.

He looked at me in a peculiar way, but stopped the old truck. "Mind some advice?" he asked me.

I did mind, but I'd been taught to respect my elders, so I tried not to show my impatience.

"Sir?"

"I've known your family since Adam and Brian was just little tykes, and your mama was carrying Crane around in one of them baby slings. Those boys, and that's what they were then, they took on a man's job when your mama and daddy died. It wasn't easy for them."

I knew all that, so I nodded, and waited.

"That girl you're runnin' with, she seems to be a wild one. She drives that car like a bat out of hell. Today it were a tree, one of these days it's likely to be a telephone pole. I'd hate to see you hurt bad, or those boys go thru any more sadness."

I turned red in embarrassment. Old Vernon had effectively put me in my place.

"I'm not going to worry my brothers. And I'm not going to run around with Allison anymore."

That at least, was all true. I had to plans to hang around Allison anymore, and I was definately not going to let any McFadden male know that I'd been in a dangerous situation today. Therefore, technically, no worry.

"Well, that's good," he said. "Maybe you oughta see a doctor about them cuts and all."

"I will," I said. "Thank you for the ride."

Being as I was an hour and a half late getting home I went straight to the barn to do my chores. Brian and Evan were in the pasture, and unless I could become invisable, I knew there was no way to keep Brian from spotting me.

"You're late!" he yelled across at me.

"Sorry!" I yelled back.

I rushed thru my chores to avoid meeting up with anybody in the barn, and when I heard Daniel's truck starting up I looked out the barn door. He was loading up, getting ready to leave, just like usual. He and Crane were standing on the porch, talking. I knew he only had a quick show tonight in Angel's Camp, but I was glad I wouldn't have him around to deal with.

I went out back to feed Petra an apple, killing time until Daniel left. Petra was in one of her independent skittish moods, and kept prancing away from me.

Daniel, starting down the driveway, saw me in the field, and stopped his truck, and leaned out, standing on the running board, and leaning over the roof of the truck.

"Hey, party girl!" he hollared to me. I waved at him.

"How come you're late?"

"Had to stay after!" I yelled.

"What for?!"

"Test!"

"Alright, see you later!"

I waved again, and as soon as he was gone I threw the apple down, and went to the house. My back was hurting from mucking the stalls, and I knew I needed to wash the cuts on my arms.

I went into the house, looking around, and shut the door as quietly as I could behind me. I could hear Crane whistling in the kitchen.

I went upstairs and looked in the bathroom medicine cabinet for Tylenol. I took the bottle and opened it, groaning. It was empty! Who the heck put an empty bottle back in a cabinet? One of the boys! Probably Evan, I thought darkly.

I went to my room and grabbed clean jeans and a long-sleeved shirt from my dresser, and went to Adam and Hannah's bedroom, locking the door behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief that I'd made it without anybody seeing my face and arms. I stripped off my jeans and t-shirt, and looked at myself in Hannah's full-length mirror. My cheek was red and raw looking. My arms both had scratches, and the right one had a couple that were fairly deep. I turned around to look at my lower back in the mirror. There was a bruise beginning there. I touched it cautiously, and boy, did it hurt!

I ran a tub full of hot water, pouring Epsom Salts in it. My brothers swear by it for muscle aches after a long day in the saddle, and I thought it couldn't hurt.

I soaked in the bathtub for a long time, and then I got dressed slowly. The shirt covered my arms, so I only had my face to worry about. I don't wear a lot of makeup generally, just some lip gloss and once in awhile mascara. I got out Hannah's makeup bag, sorting thru it.

I heard boots coming up the stairs. Then a knock on the door. And another. "Harlie!" It was Ford.

"Brian says come make the salad!"

"I'm in the bathtub!" I lied. "Can you do it?"

"I waited for you after school!" he said, thru the door. "Where the heck were you?"

I turned the water back on in the bathtub. "Can't hear you!" I yelled.

I heard him go back down the stairs, and I turned the water off.

I started putting on foundation, and powder. It looked like it was caked on, even to me. I washed my face, and started again, being careful with my

sore cheek.

More boots on the stairs. "Harlie!" Evan yelled. "Brian says come down!"

"I'm in the bathtub! Tell him I'll eat later!"

Genius idea, I thought. If I could avoid the supper table altogether, that would be the best bet.

I was done putting on the makeup, applied with a heavy hand, when a heavier boot approached the door.

"Harlie!" Brian said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm in the bathtub!" I yelled, turning the water back on for emphasis.

"It's time for supper!"

"I'll eat later!"

"Open the door!"

"I'm in the bathtub, I said!"

"I'm gonna count to twenty, and you better open this door, or I'll get the spare key!" he threatened.

He sounded as if he meant it.