On Saturday morning, I went along with Brian and Guthrie to town. We went in the old ranch truck, our plans being to pick up the

weekly feed, and run some other errands.

As we bounced along, Guthrie was trying to talk Brian into stopping by the café, for some of Marie's biscuits and gravy.

"Good Lord, boy," Brian said, with a shake of his head. "You just ate."

"It's been two hours," Guthrie grumbled. "And I'm hungry."

"Humph," Brian said.

"You know you're cravin' a piece of her apple pie," Guthrie continued.

"We'll see," Brian said, and Guthrie and I exchanged a grin.

"That means yes," Guthrie told me, loudly, and I laughed.

As we pulled up in the back of the feed store, by the loading dock, I climbed down out of the truck after Brian.

"Can I go see if Ivy's at the office?" I asked Brian. "I just want to say hello."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Hurry back," Guthrie called after me. "Or you'll miss out on goin' to Marie's!"

"I'll be back in a little while," I called back.

I was feeling pretty good. Strong. I thought I might actually go into the vet office. It would be the first time that I'd been

inside since Doc G had died.

Ivy's truck wasn't parked out front, though. I wondered if she was parked around the back of the building. I tried the

door, but it was locked. I looked at the statue of the basset hound, considering looking to see if the key was still hidden there.

But I didn't. I sighed, and turned to go back to the feed store.

I went to tell Brian where I was going, and then I walked on over to the café.

Marie was serving coffee to a table of older ranchers, who I knew made it their regular Saturday practice to come and drink

coffee at the café, and swap stories with each other. I went to sit at the counter, waiting until she breezed back over in my direction.

"Hello, honey-girl," she greeted me, setting the pot of coffee down, and then coming around to give me a hard hug.

"Hi."

"It's about time you came to visit me," she said.

"Guthrie and Brian are coming in, too, in a few minutes. Guthrie wants biscuits and gravy."

"Oh, that's fine," Marie said, looking happy.

Marie sat down next to me, and we talked for a few minutes, until Guthrie and Brian made their appearance. At that point, Marie promptly got

up, greeting them both with a hug, as well.

"I hear you want my biscuits and gravy," Marie said, ruffling Guthrie's hair affectionately.

"I was hoping," Guthrie said.

Marie laughed. "I'll go see what I can round up," she said. "How about you, Brian?"

"A piece of pie. And some coffee," Brian told her.

"What kind of pie?"

"Any kind you bring to the table," Brian said.

As Marie headed to the kitchen, Brian waved his hand at me.

"I'm sitting in a booth," he said.

I got up and followed he and Guthrie to a booth, sitting on the inside while Guthrie plopped down beside me, with Brian across from us.

"How come Clare didn't go to work today?" Guthrie asked Brian, reaching for a packet of sugar, and, opening it, poured it directly into his mouth.

"She's just takin' a few days off," Brian said. "She needs a break."

"Oh," Guthrie said.

"It's pretty rough sometimes, you know, workin' at the hospital," Brian said curtly.

Brian looked tense, and Guthrie held up his hands. "Okay, Bri. I just asked."

"Sorry," Brian said, and Guthrie shrugged.

"It's okay."

I'd listened to the exchange between them without comment. I'd been wondering about Clare myself. She was just as sweet as ever, but seemed

quieter, and kind of 'out of it' lately.

I decided since Guthrie had brought the subject to the forefront, that I'd ask my own questions.

"She's okay though, right?" I asked Brian, feeling worried. "She's not sick, or anything like that, is she?"

"She's just tired. Worn out from dealin' with stuff at work."

Both Guthrie and I were looking at him, seriously, and Brian sighed.

"You two don't need to worry about Clare. She's fine."

We both nodded at him, and settled back as Marie came over to the table, carrying pie, and a plate of biscuits and gravy.

"Lacey's bringing your coffee," Marie told Brian.

"Great," Brian said, reaching for the apple pie.

"Scoot your chair over and let an old lady sit down next to you," Marie told him.

"I don't see any old ladies here," Brian said, giving Marie a wink.

When the new waitress brought Brian's coffee, she brought a plate of scones, too, and I was nibbling on one of those,

and we were all talking, when Lacey came back over to the table.

"There's a phone call for Brian," she said.

Brian got to his feet, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "A man can't even have a piece of pie without bein' bothered," he grumbled, and

we all laughed.

Marie kept talking to Guthrie and I while Brian was on the phone. I only glanced Brian's direction once, from where he was

standing, talking on the telephone by the cash register. I could only see the side of his face, but he looked grim, and it looked as though

he was mostly listening, not talking much.

"Brian looks mad," I told Guthrie, nodding towards Brian.

Guthrie looked, too, and shrugged, eating more biscuits and gravy.

I went back to talking with Marie, not looking in Brian's direction again.

When Brian came back to our table, he was reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet.

He pulled out some folded bills, and laid them on the table.

"What's wrong?" Marie asked him, and that's when I looked up. Brian's face was drawn. He looked upset, and angry, too.

"We need to be goin'," he said shortly, in answer to Marie's question.

"What is it, Bri?" Guthrie asked.

"You two sit here for a minute," Marie told Guthrie and I, and stood up, pulling Brian by the arm to the outside of the café.

Guthrie and I watched them out the window. It was obvious from their conversation that something was wrong. After Brian talked, Marie's

facial expression changed. She looked upset, too.

"Something's wrong," I said, feeling a knot in my stomach at seeing the two of them look that way.

"Yeah," Guthrie said, in agreement, pushing his plate away.

"Maybe it's Clare," I said. "Or Isaac. Or-"

"No sense in tryin' to guess until we know," Guthrie said, sounding sensible. He sounded that way, but I knew he was

worried, too, by the way he kept popping his knuckles.

"Let's go out there," I said, standing up, and pointing to where Brian stood outside on the sidewalk with Marie. "And see what's going on."

"Just hang tight for a minute," Guthrie said.

"Come ON, Guthrie," I insisted.

"Just wait," Guthrie said, though he got to his feet as well.

And, since I didn't want to charge out onto the sidewalk by myself, after being told to stay inside, then I waited, too. Not patiently, but

I waited.

Marie and Brian were still talking. While Guthrie and I watched them thru the window, we saw Brian moving his hands around, and then shaking his head.

Marie patted his arm, and talked again, looking serious.

Finally, Marie turned and came back into the café. She motioned to Guthrie and I, and when we came over, she gave us both a squeeze, and

said, "You two go on along with Brian, now."

She sounded weird.

"What is it, Marie?" I asked.

"Your brothers will tell you about it," Marie said.

I remembered the last time that something similar to this had happened. I'd been summoned home in an abrupt way, and had gotten

there to hear that Doc G had died of a heart attack.

I felt suddenly so frightened that my knees felt weak.

"Has somebody died?" I asked Marie, in a quavering voice.

"No!" Marie said, and then she sighed, and smoothed my hair away from my face. "No," she said, more quietly. "It's not a death. Nothing

like that."

I was relieved, but only slightly. I still knew it was something big.

"Now go on," she told us. "I'll talk to you both later."

Guthrie and I went outside, where Brian was standing in front of the truck, leaning against it. He looked up at us, and jingled the keys

in his hand.

"Ready, kids?" he asked us, and then got into the truck.

Guthrie and I exchanged a puzzled look, and then we got in, too. Once I'd settled myself in the middle, and Guthrie had shut the door,

Brian started the motor, and we began to drive out of Murphys.

"I think Adam was wanting to sort the calves this afternoon," Brian said, after a few minutes of silence.

"Okay," Guthrie said.

I couldn't believe that Brian was talking like that, about everyday, normal things.

I twisted in the seat to look at him.

"What's wrong, Bri?" I asked. "It's something bad, isn't it?"

"Well, it's not good," Brian admitted.

"Is somebody sick?" I persisted.

"No," Brian said. "Nobody's sick. We'll talk about it at home."

"Why can't you tell Guthrie and me now?" I insisted.

"Because. It's something we need to discuss, all together. At home." His voice was firm.

"But, Brian-" I began to protest, though Guthrie was poking my leg in an attempt to get me to be silent.

"Harlie!" Brian snapped, his voice a bark. "I said 'No'! Did you hear me?"

I met his furious gaze, and felt myself instinctively moving closer to Guthrie's side.

"I hear," I said, in a really quiet voice, because I could tell that he expected me to answer.

After a few minutes of total, uncomfortable silence in the truck, I heard Brian sigh deeply. Then he reached over and laid his

hand on my knee. "We'll talk in just a few minutes. Alright? Try not to worry."

Try not to worry? I thought that had to be about the craziest thing I'd ever heard.

But all I said was, "Okay."

7