Charlie's face grew hot with embarrassment, as soon as she stepped into the dining room behind Teresa. The table was
set, and there were already platters of food in the center. As the others began to take their seats at the table, Charlie kept
her head down a bit, avoiding anyone's eyes.
She sat down, somewhat gingerly, in her chair.
As the food began to be passed around the table, Johnny, to Charlie's left, handed her the platter of roast beef. She could
feel Johnny's eyes on her. Charlie took it from him, but kept her focus on the platter. She took one small piece of
meat, and then, next, she took a few potatoes, and some beans. As few as she dared to.
Murdoch asked Teresa various questions about her trip, and what the play she'd seen had been like. For the most
part it was Murdoch and Teresa who carried the conversation. Scott made a remark or two about something or other that
Teresa had spoken of, but that was all. Johnny, meanwhile, was nearly as silent as Charlie, who only answered when
she was spoken to.
When the pie was being served, Johnny nudged Charlie in the side, gently, wordlessly offering her a slice of the
dessert. Charlie shook her head in reply, and still avoided looking directly at him. When the meal was finished, and the family
began standing, Charlie picked up her dishes, plate and glass, silverware, and walked to the kitchen with it. Johnny followed,
carrying his own plate and glass. In the kitchen, Maria gestured to them to set their dishes down, which they did, and then, when
Charlie made to scuttle away, again, Johnny caught at her wrist.
Charlie swept her glance up to him, and Johnny's blue eyes fastened on her face intently.
"You're real mad at me, huh, pequeno?" he asked, softly.
Charlie knew that there'd been no doubt to Murdoch, Teresa and even Maria as to what had happened between
she and Scott earlier, upstairs in her room. With all the squealing and crying and noise that she'd made, it wouldn't be
hard to ascertain that she'd been being spanked. And, though she knew that Johnny had been outside during, she was also
sure that he'd no doubt been filled in on what steps Scott had taken.
So, he knew, and now he was asking her this-if she was mad at him for making her confess to Scott. A confession which
had earned her a sound spanking.
Johnny's eyes were serious, not sparkling, and he looked regretful. Charlie knew, and she knew it deep down, that Johnny
hadn't been certain that Scott would spank her. He'd wanted her to be held accountable, yes, but maybe he was a little bit
sorrowful at the way that it had gone. Maybe. A little bit.
Charlie lifted her shoulders in a light shrug.
"Kids get spankin's, sometimes," Johnny said, still softly, so that his words were for her only. "I did. I'm sure Scott
did, too-and when it's over, then it's over."
Charlie looked toward Maria, and was relieved to see that the older woman was going about her business of stacking
dishes and pouring water into the sink, and did not appear to be in any way listening to the conversation. Though Johnny's
statement about the commonplace practice of spankings amongst kids did not do much to reassure her, Charlie still felt
her conscience pricking her.
"I'm sorry that I worried you, when you had to go looking for me, Johnny. It wasn't-" Charlie's voice trailed off,
"It wasn't the right thing to do."
She met Johnny's eyes this time, and found that she truly did feel sorry for what she'd done.
"We're square, little one," Johnny said.
"Will you still let me go with you, sometimes?" Charlie asked him. "If I'm good?"
"I reckon that I will," Johnny said, smiling at her.
Charlie impulsively reached out to hug Johnny tightly around his waist. Johnny returned her hug, patting
her back.
"Do somethin' for me, will ya?" he asked her, quietly.
"What?" Charlie asked, looking up into his face.
"Go easy on Scott, alright?"
At first Charlie was puzzled, wrinkling her forehead at him. Then she found some of her still-unresolved feeling
about the spanking, and said, low, "He wasn't easy on me."
To her surprise, Johnny chuckled, as if she'd said something amusing.
"I know. But-he's tryin', pequeno. It's not easy for him, either."
Charlie wrinkled her forehead again, puzzled yet. She was about to ask Johnny what he meant, exactly, but Teresa came
past, carrying dishes, and Johnny gave Charlie a smile, and went on his way, towards the library.
Charlie headed towards her bedroom, and Murdoch caught her at the bottom of the stairs.
"Where are you off to?" he asked Charlie.
"To my room."
"Not to the library with all of us?" Murdoch asked her, quietly.
Charlie looked down, nearly at her toes, until Murdoch reached out and tipped her chin up with his big hand.
"Charlie?"
"I just want to be by myself, Murdoch," Charlie said.
Murdoch took his hand from her chin, and surveyed her intently for a long few moments, and then
he asked, "Are you sulking about your punishment?"
Charlie had to force herself to meet his eyes, feeling intimidated by that gaze, and his size, and just his
entire general demeanor.
"Because-if you are sulking, then I think you and I should have a talk ourselves," Murdoch added.
"No, sir," Charlie said.
Murdoch's eyebrow rose up, and Charlie realized it had sounded as though she was refusing a talk with him.
"I meant-I'm not sulking," Charlie said, in explanation.
"Alright," Murdoch said. He still did not look entirely pleased, but he said, kindly, "I hope you change your mind and come
down later." He tapped the end of her nose, with his finger.
Upstairs, in her room, Charlie sat at her window seat, her bare feet tucked up underneath, and watched out the
window. She could see the horses in the pasture, and saw some of the ranch hands, as they were working, finishing things
up for the evening, and preparing to head to the bunkhouse.
When the sun was nearly disappearing from the sky, Charlie turned up her lamp, and changed to her nightgown. She
stood in front of the wash basin and scrubbed her hands and then her face. Patting her face dry with a towel, Charlie went
back to her window seat again.
When she heard footsteps in the hall, outside her room, and then a light tap on the door, Charlie sat up a little straighter,
her feet still tucked under her bottom.
"Yes," she said, in answer to the knock.
Scott came in, and he left the door slightly ajar.
He stood near to the window seat for a few moments, and Charlie found it hard to swallow suddenly. She willed the
tears to stay under the surface.
It seemed as though Scott was going to say something, but then he didn't. Charlie heard him sigh softly, and then he
sat down on the window seat next to her.
After a few moments of silence, Scott said, quietly, "We missed you, downstairs."
Charlie looked at him, feeling suddenly shy, for some reason she didn't quite understand.
When Charlie only looked at him, but was quiet, Scott said, in understanding, "Sometimes it helps to be alone, and
think things thru."
Surprised by his comment, Charlie nodded slightly.
To her consternation, Scott asked, "Have you? Thought things thru?"
"I guess, a little," Charlie admitted.
"Well, maybe we should talk a bit more," he said. "What do you think?"
Charlie didn't want to talk about the spanking, not at all. She said, softly, but honestly, "Do we have to talk about it?"
After Scott had talked to his father, once again seeking his advice and direction, he thought he better understood the likely reason
for Charlie's comment.
"Well, how about I talk a little? And, then, maybe you can," Scott suggested. His tone was soft, and Charlie found herself
nodding in agreement.
"It's been dicey with you lately. You haven't been following rules," Scott said. His tone was kind enough, and quiet,
but still-it seemed like another scolding to Charlie.
"Do you understand why you got a spanking?" Scott asked her, then.
Charlie hadn't been expecting any question such as that.
Surprised, she nodded. Reluctantly.
"I'm glad you understand," he said. Scott turned slightly more towards her, holding the book they'd been reading together
between his hands.
"When somebody doesn't care, Charlie, then they just don't bother. But, I care," he said.
Charlie felt the tears threatening more, and Scott could tell that what he was saying was reaching her.
As he'd told Murdoch earlier in the evening, he wanted Charlie to not just obey blindly, but to comprehend the
reasons behind what she considered his strictness.
Encouraged, he went on, "I know it may not have seemed like it to you, but, I did it because I love you."
Charlie looked up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. She didn't feel so embarrassed now, for some reason.
"I love you, too," she managed.
For a moment, they looked at each other, and then he said, quietly, "Comere," and Charlie scooted over,
and onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"M'sorry," she said, pressing her face into his shoulder.
"I want you to do better, that's all."
"I will," Charlie promised. She meant it, and Scott could tell that she did.
"Alright. Good."
Charlie found herself telling him about the foal, and about how Monte had said that girls shouldn't work to train
horses.
"You don't think that, though, do you?" she asked him. "That girls can't do that?"
"Well," he said, sounding considering. Charlie was watching him with those big eyes, wide and wondering, and hopeful. He could
imagine how things would go south again if he was to express his disapproval.
"I think that for anybody to train horses, they need to have a lot of experience first, before they attempt
anything on their own," Scott said, cautiously. Diplomatically.
"Even boys," Charlie verified.
"Even boys."
"I could do it just as well as him, with his uncle's foal, if I learned some things first," Charlie said. "Don't you think?"
"I don't want you to do that," he said, seeing that his easing into the situation wasn't going particularly well.
"I can't go over there to see the foal?" Charlie asked, looking at him as though crushed with disappointment.
"I didn't mean that," Scott said. "You might be able to go see it. Sometime. If you had permission. But, I don't want
you trying to help train a colt, unless it's here, at Lancer, and you're helping Johnny, or Murdoch or I."
"Is it because I'm a girl, that you don't want me to help Monte?" Charlie asked.
"It's not that, particularly, although I suppose it does have something to do with it," he said, in honesty. "It's more that I'd
prefer you learned from Johnny on the right way to go about it. And, it's easier to keep you from getting hurt if you're here
at home."
"Oh," she said, quietly. She was looking contemplative, but she wasn't arguing with him. Scott had a feeling that she
might have put up more of a fuss if she hadn't just earlier been taken to task.
"The mare Johnny bought today is due to foal soon," he reminded her. "You'll have plenty to help with when that happens."
Charlie wanted to protest that that was ages and ages away yet. And, the colt at Monte's uncle's house was here now. And, how was
a foal going to cause her any hurt? But, she held her tongue. She'd only just had a punishment. She was not looking to
repeat it.
"Was Monte's uncle there today, when you went over there?" Scott asked.
"No."
Scott made a hmm sound, and Charlie looked at him questioningly, sensing there was a reason for his question.
"Do you know him? Monte's uncle?" Charlie asked.
"Yes. I know him. Not well, but I know him."
There was something in Scott's tone, that made her curious. "Is there something wrong with him?"
"Not wrong, necessarily," Scott answered, and Charlie could tell he was still choosing his words cautiously. "I just don't want
you going places when we don't know where you are."
Charlie sighed a little. There was no escaping it. No getting around it. Scott was set in his determination for her to
be safe, as he said, and have what was proper behavior.
Right now, at this particular moment, sitting with him, and with the feelings of awkwardness and embarrassment behind
them, Charlie found that she didn't mind his protectiveness so much. It was, at these times, that Charlie found it less
annoying, and more comforting.
"Okay," she said, in humble agreement.
"Okay." He moved Charlie off of his lap. "Get into bed, and we'll read for a bit."
Once they'd finished a chapter of the book, Scott tucked the quilt up around her.
Curious about his childhood, Charlie realized that Scott said very little about that subject typically.
"Was your grandfather kind to you?" she asked, looking up at him.
There was a slight hesitation on Scott's part, just a slight one.
"He treated me well," Scott said.
Charlie wrinkled her forehead at him. "So he was? Kind?"
"He wasn't unkind," Scott specified. "He's not a particularly warm person, so he didn't share his feelings often. Except for
his displeasure at my antics," he added, wryly.
"What are antics?" Charlie asked.
"Shenanigans. Mischief," Scott explained.
At this insight into Scott's boyhood, Charlie became even more curious. "You were into mischief?" she asked him,
finding it hard to believe. She'd always imagined that Scott had been, as a little boy, just as he was now. Or nearly as
he was, at any rate. Serious. Intent. Honorable.
"I have to admit that I was, at times," Scott said, looking a bit amused at her surprise.
"Like what?" Charlie asked, eager to hear the stories.
"Oh-you don't want to hear about any of that nonsense," Scott said, with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Yes, I do!" Charlie insisted.
"Alright. One story," Scott said, and looked as though he was in thought, sorting thru memories.
He told her, then, of the time that he and a friend, at age seven or eight, had been keeping a raccoon. They'd caught it,
and kept it hidden, feeding and tending to it. One Sunday they sneaked the raccoon into church services, sitting at the back
of the church, and hiding it under their coats. During one of the minister's long-winded prayers, with the congregation's heads bowed
and eyes closed, the raccoon had escaped from the boys, and when the heads were raised and eyes were opened, it was to see
the raccoon had made his way to the front and was busily partaking of the bread set out for communion.
Charlie smiled at the thought of such a thing. "What did everybody say?" she asked.
"It caused an uproar, that's for sure," Scott said.
"What did your grandfather say?"
"He took me to task. I stood up at supper."
"Oh," Charlie said. "It sounds as though it was funny, though."
"He didn't think so."
"Oh," she said, again. "Tell me something else you did," she pleaded.
"Not tonight," Scott refused.
"Did your grandfather tell you that he loved you?" Charlie asked, curiously.
"No, he never did, that I recall," Scott said, tucking the quilt up around her again.
Charlie studied his face, he sounded so matter of fact, not as though what he said made him sorrowful.
"That was a long time for you not to hear someone tell you that," Charlie said.
She saw that she'd surprised him by her comment, because his face softened from the lines that made him look
tired.
"It was," he agreed. "And it would have been nice for him to have said it. But, I knew that he loved me, even though he
didn't put it into words."
"How?" Charlie asked.
"His care of me, making certain that I had the best education, and advantages that he could give me. We would read
together, and study the maps that he kept in his library. He would tell me that he was proud of me, when I did something
that pleased him."
It sounded somewhat better than what she herself had dealt with, living at Katherine's. She'd never once heard Katherine
be encouraging, or tell her that she was proud. They'd never found any common ground, or interests, such as reading, or
drawing, or even map-learning. She'd never told Charlie that she loved her. Truthfully, Charlie knew that Katherine hadn't
even particularly liked her. More as she'd had dislike for Charlie.
"Were you angry, though, when he spanked you, about the raccoon in church?" Charlie asked, finding the insight into
Scott's childhood fascinating.
"No. I wasn't angry."
At her wrinkled forehead, Scott added, "I deserved it, Charlie. If discipline is tempered with love, then there shouldn't
be any anger. On either side. As long as it's done for the right reasons, and without anger by the adult, then that's when
it's beneficial. When it's for the best."
Charlie shifted, and looked up at him, out of wide brown eyes. "Like you and me?" she asked.
"I hope so," he said, with a smile in his eyes. He leaned closer, and tapped her nose with his finger. "Time for sleep."
Charlie caught at his hand before he stood. "Johnny had stepfathers that whipped him. Did you know that?"
Serious again, Scott said, "Yes. I knew."
"Do you think that was for the best, for him?" Charlie asked curiously.
Scott hesitated, and then said, "No. I don't. That wasn't discipline, kiddo. What happened with Johnny. Those men
likely didn't have any care or concern for Johnny." He paused, as if considering whether to continue. "I'm fairly certain that
at least one of them was drunk most of the time. So, definitely not in Johnny's best interests."
"That man was just cruel, just a bully," Charlie stated, feeling sorry for the little boy who had been Johnny.
"We don't know the reasons behind people's behavior," Scott said. "But it seems that way."
"Time for sleep," he said, again.
When Scott had said goodnight, and gone on his way, likely back downstairs to talk to Murdoch again, Charlie
curled up in her comfortable bed. If she laid in just the right position, she could still see out her window. See the moon,
and tonight, the stars. There were so many.
L