And I did sleep that night. When I woke up the next morning, it was to banging down the hallway, and the sound of booted
feet, walking back and forth, and an occasional bit of talking or laughing. I laid there for a couple of minutes, looking around the room,
and listening to the hallway's familiar sounds. It wasn't quiet like it was at Daniel's house. It sounded like-well, like home.
For a moment, I was happy just to lay there and listen. I got up and got dressed, feeling hopeful.
7
When I came out of my room a few minutes later, carrying my boots in one hand to put on downstairs, I nearly bumped into Guthrie, coming
down the hallway. We were exchanging a quick conversation, with me telling him that I was going with Brian this morning, and then
with Adam to Stockton this afternoon. It was while we were talking that Evan came out of his bedroom further down the hallway. He was
buttoning up his shirt as he walked.
Immediately, I felt my stomach knot in nerves. I wondered if I could gather up enough courage to say something to him.
"Hey," Guthrie said, in greeting to him.
"Hey," Evan said in return.
As Evan was nearly upon me, obviously bent on passing me without a word, I said, "Morning," trying to keep my voice steady.
Evan flicked a glance my way, and said, "Morning," and passed on by.
I stood there, feeling wounded. His response had been curt, which I wasn't so bothered by. It was the look on his face
when he'd said it. That was what I felt, down to my toes. It hadn't been a glare. At least not exactly. It had been more of a-well, dismissal
is the only way I can describe it.
I sighed, feeling discouraged. Guthrie was looking sympathetic.
"He's never going to talk to me," I fretted.
"He will. Once he gets over his mad," Guthrie said in disagreement.
I shook my head, and we went on down the stairs to the kitchen, where everybody was congregated for breakfast.
Crane gave my neck an affectionate squeeze as he passed behind me, and I sat down, taking eggs and fruit to eat. My brothers
were talking about what needed to be done first, and what could wait until later. Daniel, who was dressed in tattered jeans and a
t-shirt that had seen better days, was wolfing down waffles, and saying that it sounded as though the tractor needed a new
something-or-other. In between his eating and his talking, he looked across the table at me.
"Doing okay?" he asked me.
I gave him a nod, and put a piece of cantaloupe in my mouth.
"Do you have some clothes that need washing?" Hannah asked me.
When I nodded she told me to put them downstairs in front of the washer. "I'll throw them in with my stuff," she said.
I thought about telling her that she didn't have to do my laundry, but it seemed as though it would draw more attention if
I did, so I just said, "Thank you," to her.
Hannah gave me a somewhat puzzled look, and then asked, "What are you doing today?"
"Helping Brian, I think," I said. "And then this afternoon, riding with Adam to Stockton."
"That's good," she said.
I gave Hannah a good look. She looked less tired this morning, but still, her usual cheery face wasn't all that cheery.
"Tomorrow I'll help you in the house," I told her. "Unless there's more stuff outside for me to help with."
"It's fine," she said. "I'll be glad to have you inside with me if you can."
I finished the food on my plate, and when everybody else started getting up, pushing in their chairs, I started clearing the table,
and stacking the dishes.
"Harlie, let's go," Brian said, and I set down the last stack on the counter, and went to the living room, sitting down to pull on
my boots. While I was doing that, Brian came up behind me, and put my cowboy hat on my head.
"Thanks," I said, and pushed it back up off of my forehead a little.
It wasn't just me going with Brian to help. Crane went, too, and Guthrie. And Evan. I listened to Brian's instructions, and the morning
passed quickly. We were patching fence, and counting cattle, at the same time. Crane had a small notebook in his shirt pocket,
and would scribble down the numbers on the cow's ear tags.
When we all met up at one point, Crane said that he hadn't seen numbers 24 or 33. Then they got into an involved discussion about
whether #33 was a bred cow or not.
Guthrie was sitting, taking a long drink out of his canteen, while Crane, Brian and Evan were talking, even squabbling about #33.
I stayed quiet, too, shaking my head when Guthrie offered me the canteen.
"Well, let's find 'em," Brian said, sounding irritated, and we all split up, searching for the two missing cows.
I would have gone out on my own, but Brian said, "Stick with me," so I rode behind him a little, coming up to ride side by side.
The sun was bearing down, and it was getting hot. I had no complaints about that, though. I shaded my eyes, searching against
the trees.
"The #33, that's the fawn-colored one, right?" I asked him.
"Fawn-colored?" Brian asked, giving me an incredulous look. "Brown. She's brown," he stated simply.
For a moment, I forgot myself, responding jokingly with him. "There's brown, and then there's brown, Bri. There's chocolate brown, and there's
coffee-colored brown. Fawn brown is a real light brown-"
Brian brought his horse to a halt, taking off his ball cap, and swiping his forehead with his arm. He gave me a level look and I thought
I saw his eyes sparkle a little at me.
"Come here a minute," he said, beckoning me closer, as he put his hat back on.
I rode Petra over close enough that she was nearly touching his horse. "What?" I asked.
In response, he gave my hat a yank, until it completely covered my face. I pushed it back up, smiling at him a little.
"Okay, Sassy-pants," he told me. "Yes, #33 is what you'd call fawn-colored, I guess."
"Well, okay. Now that I have the correct information, maybe we can find her," I said.
"Well, do it, then," he said, with a chuckle. "Start earnin' your keep."
Twenty minutes or so later, I thought I heard the sound of a baby calf bawling. I'd fallen behind Brian a ways, and I
pulled Petra to a stop, listening.
Then I hollered to Brian. He stopped and rode back towards me. "What?"
"Listen," I told him. "I hear a baby calf."
Brian listened, and gave a nod. "Sounds like it," he agreed, and we rode in the direction of the noise.
We came to the edge of a ravine, not too steep of a one, and down there was #33. And her new calf.
"There we go," Brian said, and pulled his rifle from its holster. He fired a shot into the air, letting everybody else
know that we'd located a cow. And then he swung down from his horse, looking over the edge of the ravine, with his hands on his hips, thinking.
"This is goin' to be hard on an old man," he muttered. And then he went down the edge, slowly, and sliding every couple of feet.
I heard horses coming our way, and Evan rode from one direction, while Crane and Guthrie came from another.
"Do you need your rope. to put on the mama?" I called down to Brian.
"Naw, she'll come up, if her baby's up top," Brian called back.
The other three were there. and off their horses by now, and Evan slid down the hill to help Brian. Brian, who had lifted the calf
in his arms, was starting to struggle up the small hill under the weight. The calf was bawling her head off, making it hard to
hear anything else. Then the mama cow started in.
Brian made it half-way up, and then slid back a little. By the time he reached the top with the calf, Crane reached out to take
over. Evan began to push the mama cow from behind, urging her up the hill. She stumbled and nearly fell, knocking Evan off his feet.
Guthrie began to laugh, and Evan looked up. "When you stop laughin', then you can get your butt down here and help me," he told Guthrie.
"On my way," Guthrie said, still laughing. Between the two of them they got the mother cow started up the hill, and when she reached
the top, she went immediately to her calf.
"Darn fool cow," Evan was muttering. "Pickin' a spot like that to have her baby."
For a long few moments, they all stood there, catching their breath. "Whew," Brian breathed.
"We found #24," Crane was telling Brian.
"Yeah? Good. I guess this'll teach you not to argue with me about whether a cow is bred or not," Brian told Crane, gesturing
towards the calf, who was busy nursing, and swishing her tail back and forth.
Crane shrugged and smiled a little. "Guess it will," he said, not bothered.
7
I'd enjoyed my morning immensely. Being out in the fresh air, and the sunshine, and on horseback, all of those things made it
a winning morning all by themselves. Add to that getting to be with Crane and Guthrie, and Brian, and the joking and horsing around
between Brian and I, well it was a morning well spent. As far as I was concerned.
The only fly in the ointment was Evan. Not that he'd done anything. He hadn't been rude to me. He hadn't hollered or called
me a name, or any of that. He'd simply ignored me. Acted as if I wasn't there at all.
Which I supposed that I should be grateful for. I sighed, wondering what would happen if I was out alone in a field somewhere,
and was thrown from my horse, and hit my head on a rock, or broke my leg, or something. What if Evan happened to be the one
that came upon me? I wondered if he would just look down at me from his horse, and tell me that he would send help, and then
ride away again.
Maybe he wouldn't even offer to send help. Maybe he'd say in a disgusted way, "That's what you deserve."
I was being silly, and I knew it. When we had unsaddled our horses and put them away, it was time for lunch. We all went
inside, to wash up. Daniel and Adam were already inside, and Adam was starting a pot of coffee.
When Adam asked how the morning had gone, Brian said, "We are the proud owners of a new baby calf, born to #33."
"That's good," Adam said.
"Yep. She's fawn-colored, just like her mama," Brian added, and tugged at my braid. "Right, peach?"
"Right," I said, and he winked at me, going to sit in his own spot at the table.
"What's this?" Adam asked.
"I was educated in the fact that brown does not necessarily mean brown," Brian said.
After lunch, Adam was finishing a second cup of coffee, and he told me that we'd be leaving in an hour or so to go to
Stockton.
I went upstairs, and took a quick shower, and then put on a pair of my better jeans, that I keep for school, and a
tan blouse. I pulled on my boots from Brian, the teal blue ones. And then I took my hairbrush and headed back downstairs,
pulling my braid loose as I walked.
In the living room, I found Clare and Hannah, sitting on the couch.
Clare greeted me with a smile, and Hannah asked, "Want me to brush out your hair for you?"
"Sure. If you want to," I said, still feeling a little shy with her.
"I said so, didn't I?" she replied tartly, sounding more like her old self.
I sat on the floor, cross-legged in front of her, while she brushed at my hair. When Clare got up to go greet Brian on the porch,
there was quiet in the room between Hannah and I.
"I've missed brushing your hair," she said, after a couple of minutes.
I didn't know what to say, really, so I didn't answer.
"It's been a long time. You used to ask me to do it a lot," she went on, softly.
I was still tongue-tied, in a way. It seemed as though Hannah was getting at something, but I wasn't sure what. She
sounded as though she missed me, or missed doing things for me.
"It probably has a ton of tangles in it," I said, for lack of something better to say.
"It's not too bad," she said.
After a couple of moments of thought, I bit at my lip, and then plunged forward. "I'm sorry for what I did, Hannah. Taking off
like that. Worrying everybody." It was easier to say when I was looking out towards the porch, and not at her face.
Hannah didn't answer immediately. I began to think she wasn't going to. Then I heard her sigh a little.
"I know it's been hard for you. This whole thing is just a huge mess. But, please Harlie, don't do anything like that
again-I don't think we could stand up to it-"
"I won't!" I said. "I never would, again."
She was quiet, until she gave my shoulder a pat. "All done, and rebraided," she said, and I twisted a little on the floor to look at her.
"Thanks," I said.
Hannah held out my hairbrush to me. "Like I said, I've missed doing it." She gave me a smile. "Ask me again."
"I will."
Adam came down the stairs, buttoning his shirt sleeves. He was dressed up. Well, for Adam he was dressed up. A nice pair of
jeans, and a blue Western shirt, and his best cowboy boots.
"Be still, my heart," Hannah said, at the sight of him, and Adam leaned down to give her a quick kiss.
"Thanks," he said.
For a moment, it made me glad just to watch them like that, teasing, and then being so loving to each other.
"Are you ready?" Adam asked me.
I nodded, and got to my feet.
Adam and Hannah said goodbye, and Adam ushered me out the front door. "We're taking the truck," he said,
and I went to get in on the passenger side of our battered farm truck. It was, as Brian liked to say, not pretty, but would
get you where you needed to go.
We'd driven in silence, until we were a few miles up the road.
"Have you been talking to Hannah?" he asked me.
I knew what he meant. He didn't mean in general. He meant about-well, everything that had happened.
"Yes. Well, a little bit," I amended.
"Okay. I think it's going to need to be more than a little bit, though."
I heard the censure in his words, and felt my face get warm.
"Okay," I said, trying to look at him.
"It's not easy to make amends with people. Sometimes it's even harder when it's your family. But it needs to be done," he said.
I felt my throat tighten. Wow. This was going to be difficult. Five minutes into the conversation, and I already felt like escaping out
the truck window.
"I will," I promised. Then, more honestly, I said, "I mean, I'm going to try really hard."
"I talked to John again on Friday," he said. "He says that when he contacted Karissa's lawyer the last time, he said he hadn't been able to
get in touch with her for awhile."
"Does that mean something?" I asked.
"It might. And then again, it might not."
"Oh." I thought for a moment, about what Daniel had said. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. It looked as though I was already going to be
grounded until I was twenty-one. If, by telling Adam this, it helped to settle the custody thing, then so be it.
"I think Karissa might have a drinking problem," I said.
"I'd say she did, for sure," he said, in agreement.
I saw, that just like with Daniel, I was going to have to clarify what I meant.
"I mean, I think she still might," I said. "Sometimes you can smell it on her. And once, she took me out to eat, and she
had several glasses of wine, just at the one meal."
Adam's jaw set a little tighter. "When was this?" he asked.
"Early on. I think just a little while after I met her."
"And you rode with her," he said, and it wasn't a question. It was a flat statement of fact. "After she'd been drinking."
"Yes, sir," I said, feeling miserable.
"Damn it, Harlie," he swore, and smacked the steering wheel a little.
I bit at my lip, and waited.
"I thought you knew better," he said, sounding angry.
"She seemed like she was still okay to drive," I began. "Like it hadn't affected her, really." At his piercing look, I subsided. No excuses. That
was my new motto. So I added, honestly, "But, yes, I did know better."
"There's a considerable number of things that I thought you knew better than to do," he said, darkly. "But by your actions lately, I guess
you don't." He sounded majorly ticked off, and I wilted just a little, intimidated, against my door.
I felt my eyes fill with tears, and I tried to tamp them down.
I stayed quiet, and so did he, for what seemed like a long time. I knew he was trying to get a firmer hold on his
temper. Finally, he asked, "Why are you telling me now?"
"One reason is because Daniel said it might help, if they knew that she drives after she's been drinking."
"That's one reason. Is there another one?" he asked shortly.
I nodded. "Because I don't want to be a liar anymore."
I'd surprised him with that. I could tell. For a moment, his jaw seemed to relax a bit.
"That's good to hear," he said.
"Sometimes, she acts strange, even when I don't think she's been drinking," I went on. "She sort of acts weird."
"Weird, how?" he asked.
I thought about how to explain it. "Well, she acts like she doesn't hear you, and she does things that don't make any sense. Like-when
I went to try to talk to her, and try to get her to drop it? She wouldn't stop the car, even though I told her I had to get
back to class, and that I didn't want to go any further. And then, she stopped the car, and got out by this old trail. She said
Mom used to hike there, or something. And she acted as though she was going to go down it. Even in high heels."
"Hmm," he said. "But she didn't?"
"No. I told her that it was probably private property, and that she couldn't just do that."
"Hmm," he said again.
"Sometimes, she's a little scary," I said. "I mean, not scary like she's going to hurt you, but scary like you just don't know what
she's going to do next." I hesitated a little, looking at him. "Do you know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean," he said.
I was quiet then, until he spoke again. "This might all be worth mentioning to John. I'll call him."
"Okay," I said, feeling a little hopeful.
7
