I felt so drained by the time we got home, it seemed to me that I could sleep for a week. It wasn't the good sort of tired, like I

feel after helping work cattle, or spending the day at the creek with Guthrie. This is the kind of tired that seeps into you, and leaves

you feeling limp and useless. I was thrilled with everything that the judge and John had said. But I was still feeling

shell-shocked by everything that day. Sort of wrung-out, emotion-wise. It didn't seem real just yet that the whole nightmare

was over.

"Can I go for a ride?" I asked, as soon as we'd all gotten out of the car at home.

"Come inside with me," Hannah encouraged.

"I'm not trying to be rude, Hannah, but I need to ride," I said, and I looked at Adam.

"Where to?" Adam asked me, and I breathed in relief.

"The south pasture?" I suggested, and after a moment, he nodded.

"Alright. Don't be gone long," he said, his face understanding.

I nodded, and practically ran to the barn, grabbing my saddle and bridle and toting them to the fence beside the

barn. I whistled, and Petra, true to her contrary nature, tossed her head and cantered off. Old Charlie, faithful as ever,

came over to meet me.

"You're a good boy," I told him, "not like that prima donna Petra."

I saddled him hurriedly, and mounted, And then I gave Charlie his head, and I was free.

7

For a while, I galloped Charlie, and then I slowed him to a walk, to cool him down. I let him stop to nibble on some

grass here and there.

I rode to the tree where Guthrie, Ford and I had played in our treehouse. Guthrie had recently begun to work on

repairing it, a little at a time. I hadn't been here for awhile, and I was surprised at how much he'd accomplished.

I let Charlie eat his grass, just being ground-tied. He was trained from years with Doc G not to leave his rider.

I sat on the ground, under the treehouse Oak, and absentmindedly yanked grass with my hand.

I wished with a fierceness that was nearly overwhelming to have Doc G sitting there beside me, under that tree.

I closed my eyes, and thought hard. I could almost hear his soothing brogue.

"Worries are like leather, lass. You can boil them for days, and they're still going to be tough."

"I wish you were here," I said, in a whisper.

I was starting to relax, and feel the unknotting of my spirit that comes from being outside in nature, when I heard horse's hooves

coming. I watched as the horse and rider got closer, but I knew even when it was still a good distance away who it was.

I could tell by the way that he rode. Every one of my brothers seems to have their own style of riding, or their own way of sitting

a horse.

When Guthrie was upon me, he swung down with an easy motion, and let Duke loose to eat grass with Charlie.

"What's cookin', hyena?" he taunted me, as he ambled up to where I sat.

"Not too much," I said, grabbing at another tuft of grass.

Guthrie sank to the ground beside me, stretching his long legs out.

"Adam said it went good today," he said, sounding joyful.

"Yeah. It did," I said, with a sigh of relief.

"That's good, cause I got worried when you didn't show up for school. I kept watchin' for you at lunch."

"With only an hour or so left, there really wasn't much point to coming," I said.

"Naw," he said, in agreement. He gave me a nudge in the ribs. "So we don't have to worry about losing you to the heifer," he

said, referring, I knew, to the insulting nickname that Evan had given Karissa.

"No. I guess you don't," I said.

Guthrie suddenly looked serious. "I'm real glad, Har."

I faced him, meeting his green eyes. "Me, too."

Guthrie turned to look out towards the horses. "Man, when I think about it, well, it really scared me."

For Guthrie to admit that, that he'd been frightened about the possibility of my having to leave, well, it touched me.

"I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have your annoying ass around every day," he said then, effectively ruining

the tender moment.

I gave him a nudge. "Likewise," I said.

I gestured to the treehouse. "You've really done a lot of work on the treehouse."

"Yeah. Ford helped me a little. And Evan, he's been coming almost every time with me to help."

"That's good." At the thought of Evan, I felt a prickle of unease again.

"What can I do about Evan?" I asked Guthrie.

"Still no thaw, huh?" Guthrie asked.

"No. He's as frozen as an ice block," I said.

"Maybe you ought to ask Brian to talk to him," Guthrie suggested. "Or I can try-"

"No. He has to want to talk to me. Besides, he thinks he's right about it all." I hesitated a moment. "And, actually he is right."

"You apologized, though. You've tried with him, I know you have," Guthrie said loyally.

"Yeah. I have. But if you hurt somebody, like I did him, well, it's their right to not ever feel the same about you," I said.

"I call bullshit on that," Guthrie said, puffing up like a rooster. "He needs to quit bein' such a hardass. And, I'm just liable

to tell him so, if he doesn't knock it off."

"Tough talk," I said, nudging him in the ribs again.

"You think I won't?" he challenged.

"I know you would," I said, hurriedly, to pacify his male pride. "But I don't want you to. It's my problem. And besides, it

might even make things worse if any of you guys start jumping on him."

Guthrie didn't look convinced, and I added, "Please, Guth."

"Alright. But if he's still actin' this way in say, another week, then I'm gonna say somethin'," he threatened.

"Okay. But not yet."

Guthrie nodded in agreement. "We should get back," he said. "Hannah and Clare are plannin' a big celebration about

the custody thing being over. Brian's even helpin' to cook."

"Oh, wow," I said, feeling a little humbled by the family's elation.

"You know how Hannah is," Guthrie said. "And this whole thing has been hard on her, too."

"I know," I said, and got to my feet, dusting off the seat of my jeans.

7

We had a race going back to the house. Charlie may be old, but he's fast. I was a good thirty feet ahead of Guthrie when we

reached the front pasture.

"Take that!" I said, teasing Guthrie, as I pulled Charlie to a halt.

"Show off," he accused, teasing me back.

We unsaddled and turned the horses out, and then toted our saddles into the barn, still teasing each other.

And there was Evan, mucking out stalls.

"I'll help ya in a minute, Ev," Guthrie said, sounding cheerful, and once he and I were done putting up our tack,

he went to grab a pitchfork to help Evan, and I did, too.

We were all three working steadily, not saying much of anything, and Evan paused at the end of the stall that

I was working in.

"You don't have to do that," he said. "Don't you have the goats to feed?"

"I'll do them in a few minutes," I said, determined to stay cheerful, and positive with him. "I don't mind helping."

There, I thought. Maybe he would realize that my meltdown in the kitchen last night, and my yelling at him, would not be repeated, and that

I was back to the newly mature Harlie.

Evan stood there for another moment or so, looking as though he wanted to say something more, and then he went on about his own chores again.

I sighed. It would have been nice if he'd offered a few words. Something along the lines of 'Thanks, a lot, Har', or

'I'm glad you don't have to go live with the heifer', or something like that.

Of course, I thought, I couldn't really blame Evan. He'd tried the evening before to say something nice to me, when

he'd said that he hoped the meeting would go well. And I'd reacted like a crazy person.

The more I thought about the evening before, the worse I felt. The guilt of the way I'd gone after Evan, sort of like a rabid dog,

well, it was now overshadowing my happiness and relief about the custody suit being over.

"I'm done," Guthrie proclaimed, returning his pitchfork to where it belonged. "You done, Har?" he asked me.

"In a minute," I said. When Evan wasn't watching, I nodded at him, to let Guthrie know that I was going to try to

talk to him.

Guthrie nodded, and went on his way. I worked for a few more minutes in silence, and then I leaned my pitchfork

against a wall, and went to stand in the open space of the stall where Evan was working.

"I don't have to go live with Karissa," I said, into the quietness.

Evan didn't pause in his pitching of the fresh hay that he was lining the cleaned stall with. "I heard. That's good. It's been hard

on the family."

The family. He didn't mention me. Or himself. Just a general 'the family'. I wondered if that signified anything, or I was

just being overly sensitive and looking for a slight from him.

I found myself babbling then, just to keep him talking.

"Well, the judge was a really nice man, and he listened to everything, and then he said that it had been a waste of everybody's time really, for

her to file the custody suit."

"That's good," Evan said again, still spreading the hay around.

I watched him do that, trying to think of the right words to say.

"I went after you last night in the kitchen, kind of crazy," I said. "You said something nice to me, and

I didn't answer the way that I should have." I licked my dry lips, and added, "I'm sorry."

Evan gave a heavy sigh, and then stopped spreading the hay, to hold the iron pitchfork handle in his

gloved hand.

He stood there, just looking at me, his expression serious, and sad, it seemed to me.

"I'd never want you to have to go live somewhere else," he said.

"I know that. I just said all that stuff. I didn't mean it," I said.

Evan was quiet again, just looking at me. He looked so sad that it made me feel sad, too.

"I understand how you feel about me," I said, thinking that I might as well say it all now. "And I understand why you feel

that way. I was just thinking about myself when I took off the way I did. I wasn't thinking about anybody else's feelings

at all. And it's you that I really treated the worst in all of it."

Evan sighed again, and I plunged on, figuring that any minute he was going to get fed up, and tell me he didn't want

to hear anymore.

"I'm trying really hard, not to make promises that are empty," I said. "I want to really mean it when I promise something."

I turned away just a little, so that I wasn't looking directly at him anymore. I began to pick at the wood on the side of the

stall.

"I'm not saying that you have to hang out with me, or let me ask your advice about stuff, or any of that anymore. I just want

to tell you that I'm truly sorry for what I did to you, and-and I promise to try my best to never treat you that way again, and not

to act as if I don't respect you. Because you deserve better," I finished, with a catch in my voice, and tears filling my eyes.

After a long, long moment of silence, in which I continued to pick at the wood on the top rail, Evan said, quietly, "Okay."

There was something in his tone. Something different than what I'd heard from him since I'd been home. Not warmth, exactly.

Just something different. Acceptance.

I looked at him, feeling hopeful. "Okay?" I prompted.

"Yeah. Okay," he said.

"So does that mean, if we both come down for a midnight snack and run into each other in the kitchen, that we

can say hi to each other, and not have it be all weird?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said again. "We should be able to manage that." He went towards the back wall to put the pitchfork away.

"That's good," I said, biting at my lip, and then when I remembered, I grabbed the one that I'd been using, and

followed him, putting it away.

We were walking to the house together, neither of us really talking, but that was alright, I thought. It wasn't a bad

silence. Not anymore.

At the bottom step of the porch, he paused, and stopped walking. "I'd offer to take you and Guthrie out for a game of pool to celebrate the

case bein' over. But I guess you couldn't go, bein' as how you're grounded and all."

I was so happy in that moment. I can't even describe how happy I was. "No, I don't think Adam would let me go. But

it's okay. It means a lot that you asked me," I said, and stood still, too, looking at him.

"I guess we could play a game of Monopoly after supper instead," he said.

That's when I knew. Right at that second, I knew that everything was going to be alright with Evan and I. He hates to play

Monopoly, and he'll only do it like once or twice a year, if even that. So, for him to offer like he did? Well, there was nothing

he could have said or done that would have proven any stronger that he was willing to begin to let bygones be bygones.

"That'd be great," I said, and I was embarrassed by the tears that filled my eyes again.

"You don't have to cry about it," he said, and he looked a little embarrassed, too.

The screen door was pushed open at the top of the stairs, and Crane appeared in the doorway. "Hey, you two," he said. "Time to come

in and have some celebratory supper."

"We're comin'," Evan told him.

When Crane had gone back in, the screen door closing with a bang, I said, "Now I know you really have

forgiven me, if you're willing to play a game that you hate."

"Hate's a strong word. I dislike it strongly," he said, and I thought he sounded nearly like the old joking Evan. Then

he seemed serious again. "But I guess I can tolerate havin' you kick my butt at Monopoly for one night."

I smiled at him, thru watery eyes. "Or," I suggested, "We could have a marathon of Monopoly and play every night this week. Two

tables, and the winners play each other the next night?"

Evan gave me a gentle shove to start me up the stairs. "Don't push your luck," he said.

7

This ends the story of 'A Leopard's Spots'. It has been such a joy to write this story, and I hate to end it. More McFadden

stories are residing in my mind. I have put fingers to keys and begun one already. Thanks to all my reviewers! Long live the

McFaddens!