The supper consisted of the cut-up fruit, the pork chops which Johnny had finished preparing, the bread, and the coffee Charlie had
made.
The pork chops were crispy, and fine. The bread had a slight, a very slight, taste of smoke about it. And the coffee was such that
it caused Murdoch's eyes to widen, and his lips to pucker a bit.
"Is it alright?" Charlie asked him, from her spot at the table, as he took the first sip.
"It's fine," he said.
Johnny, who'd already tasted it, gave his father an impish grin. "Good sturdy coffee, isn't it, Murdoch?" he asked.
"Sturdy. Yes," Murdoch said, in agreement, and took another sip.
"Is it 'strong enough to walk'?" Charlie asked him. "That's what you like, right?"
"That's what I like. And yes, darling, it's strong enough to walk," Murdoch said.
Charlie, feeling a bit better by now, smiled, and took a bite of pork chop.
"Nearly 'strong enough to run', hey, Murdoch?" Johnny said, with another grin at his father.
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Upstairs, later that evening, when it was Charlie's bedtime, Scott read several pages in their book, and then closed it.
Charlie kept her cheek against his arm, where it had been while he read.
"I wanted to show you that I could do well today. That I could be trusted," Charlie said, sounding wistful.
"You showed me that."
"Even though I got the kitchen all smoked-up?"
"That was inexperience, on not knowing about the damper. We've already talked about this. No one is angry at you about it."
Charlie sighed. "Okay."
"Just remember, don't use it again, by yourself like that, until you've had some practice. Alright?"
"Yes."
She still sounded woeful, and Scott laid the book to the side, and put his arm around her, tucking her into his side.
"I think it's one of the nicest things we've all had done for us in a good while," Scott said. "With you thinking to surprise us all that
way. It was thoughtful. I'm proud of you."
All of the frustration, and then the panic of the afternoon's fiasco, faded away for Charlie. Even if it hadn't worked out the
way that she'd planned for it to, Scott was proud of her.
L
The next morning, before breakfast, Johnny caught Charlie around the waist, and swept her under his arm. He had to, he told her,
give her enough spanks to mark the fact that her birthday was approaching soon.
Charlie, who hardly remembered life with her mother, and who had never had a playful relationship with her aunt Katherine, hadn't
been a recipient to the tradition of 'birthday spankings' before in her young life.
She knew of the custom, of course, but hadn't ever been teasingly brought into it.
She giggled, and said, "It's not my birthday yet! You can't do it until my birthday!"
Johnny, who had her upturned, and his hand raised as if to deliver the 'birthday swats', gave a mock disappointed look.
"Not even for practice?" he teased.
"No! Not even for practice!" Charlie chided him.
"Well, darn," Johnny said, and reset her on her feet.
Charlie was still giggling as she slid into her chair at the table.
Over the breakfast of biscuits and gravy, and fried ham, Teresa asked Charlie about her upcoming birthday.
"It's next-Monday, right?" she asked. "Well, that gives us about a week to plan something. It's not every day that a girl turns
eleven. What would you like to do to celebrate, Charlie?"
Charlie looked about the table at all the adults who were regarding her, awaiting her answer.
"You mean I get to choose?" she asked, a bit incredulous.
"Well, within reason," Scott told her. "No trips to France, or gold-inlayed buggies, or anything like that."
Charlie, who appreciated it when Scott was silly or whimsical, smiled at him.
"Like a party," Teresa specified. "We can have a small one, or a larger one with your friends from school."
"Or, instead of a party, we could go somewhere," Scott suggested.
"Like where?" Charlie asked.
"To the city, maybe."
"Stockton?" Charlie asked. That had no appeal for her. Too close to Katherine for her liking.
"San Francisco," Scott said, and Charlie's eyes widened a bit.
"What would we do?" she asked then.
"There's so much to do there," Teresa said, with enthusiasm. She began talking about the shopping that could be done, or the
theatre. Charlie, who detested shopping, unless it was for books, and had no interest in the theatre, said, "I don't think I'd want
to do that."
Teresa looked disappointed for a moment. She must have been planning on coming along to San Francisco.
"A party, then," Scott said. "Small or large?"
Charlie thought for a moment or two, hardly able to believe that she was being given the choices, and even the specialness, of
choosing how she wanted to celebrate her birthday.
"A party with all of us, and Maria and her family, and Jelly, and Mr. Beets?" Charlie suggested. "And, Rebecca and Jason, and maybe
a couple of other kids from school?"
"That sounds fine," Murdoch said, from his end of the table, smiling at Charlie in approval.
"And presents," Johnny reminded, nudging Charlie in the ribs. "Don't forget about the presents."
Charlie smiled at him, her eyes shining.
L
Charlie sat down that evening, before bed, to print out her birthday invitations, in her best handwriting. She would give
to the four kids at school that she wanted to invite, and then mail one to Mr. Beets. Also enclosed in the banker's invitation was
a note from Charlie, telling Mr. Beets that the whole family looked forward to seeing him, and that Murdoch was eager to have another game
of chess with him.
L
The next afternoon, when the children emerged from the school building, shouting with freedom, Charlie saw Johnny, leaning
against the schoolyard fence. Running to him, she said, "Hi! What are you doing here?"
"I got done with what I needed to do in town, and I thought I might right home with ya," he responded.
"Before I get Gurth, I was going to mail my invitation to Mr. Beets," Charlie said.
"We'll do that," Johnny said, and, after he'd mounted, he pulled Charlie up behind him, as they rode down the main
street.
"Want to see what sort of pie is on special today?" Charlie asked him, hopefully, as they rode past the café.
"Sounds good, but we'd better do that another day. Maria was baking a chocolate cake when I left."
"Okay."
Once at the post office, Charlie slid down, and went inside to post her letter to Mr. Beets. When she came back out, Johnny
was watching as a crowd gathered around, across the street, talking together.
"What's going on over there?" Charlie asked, pausing, instead of preparing to take her spot behind him again.
"I don't know," Johnny said, still watching.
"Can we go see?"
"It's not any of our business, that I can tell, pequeno."
And then, Val came striding down the sidewalk towards the crowd, who immediately surrounded him, with raised voices.
"It's Val," Charlie said, unnecessarily.
"Uh huh."
The raised voices turned to yelling. Johnny watched another couple of moments, and then dismounted.
"Stay here," he told Charlie, and handed off the reins to her, to watch the horse.
"Can't I come?" she called after him.
"Stay put," he said, without looking back.
Disappointed, Charlie stood there, holding the reins, and trying to see what was going on. The yelling grew louder, then
dissipated a bit. Charlie could hear Val's voice, carrying strongly. Telling someone to hush up. And simmer down.
When a couple of people changed position, Charlie could see Johnny, standing next to Val, just slightly behind him. It didn't
look as though he was saying anything. Just standing there. Like support, Charlie supposed.
She was startled by the voice to her side.
"Hullo, Charlie."
"Oh. Hi, Lucy," Charlie said, turning to look at the other girl.
"They sure are being loud," Lucy said, as both girls returned their attention to the crowd across the street.
"My daddy's over there," Lucy said, as if sounding important.
"Johnny is, too. I wish I could go over and listen," Charlie said.
"Let's go," Lucy prompted, taking another lick from the sucker she held in her hand.
"Johnny said to wait here."
"My daddy said for me to wait over here, too. But, let's go, anyway."
Charlie looked at the other girl, questioningly. "Won't your father get angry with you, for not listening?"
Lucy shrugged, unconcerned. "He'll probably not even notice, and even if he does, I'll just smile at him, and he'll
forget about being angry." She took a few steps into the street, and then looked back at Charlie. "Come on."
Charlie stood where she was, considering. "I don't think I'd better," she said.
Lucy looked puzzled. "Why not?"
"Because. I don't want Johnny to get mad at me."
"Just tell him you forgot what he said before," Lucy said, and Charlie looked at her incredulously.
"You really say that to your father? And he believes it?" she asked.
"Uh huh. He believes whatever I tell him," Lucy said, sounding arrogant.
"Well, I'm staying here," Charlie insisted.
"I'll go over and listen, to see what's going on," Lucy said, and promptly crossed the street.
Charlie watched as Lucy worked her way thru, and for a few minutes she couldn't even see the other girl, hidden as she
was, by the men in the crowd.
There was more raised voices, some shouting, in the group, and Charlie tried to hear what was being shouted.
There was no use, though, there were too many of the folks talking at once. It was just a din.
Finally, a few of the men broke away from the group, and Charlie saw that they were shopkeepers, and then some of the others,
who were dressed in ranching clothing.
Finally, there was only Val and Johnny left, as Lucy waved at Charlie, walking down the sidewalk with her father.
"See you at school tomorrow!" Lucy called out to Charlie, and Charlie took that to mean that Lucy would share what
she'd managed to hear from the group's discussion.
Johnny came back across the street, reclaiming the reins. "Ready to get your horse?" he asked Charlie.
"Yes," Charlie said, and they began walking towards the livery.
"What was happening?" Charlie asked, when Johnny offered no information.
"Mostly nonsense," Johnny said. A very unsatisfactory answer.
Nearly to the stable now, Charlie decided to wait to ask more questions. They claimed Gurth, and began to ride
on the road out of town, towards the ranch.
"Why were they arguing?" Charlie asked Johnny, trying again.
"Disagreein' over how to handle somethin'. Trying to tell Val how to do his job," Johnny said, and Charlie thought he looked as
though he was deep in thought over it.
"What are they disagreeing about?"
"Mostly over who to accuse about the pilferin' takin' place."
"Somebody robbed the store?" Charlie asked.
"Not necessarily robbed. A few odd things here and there have come up missin'."
Charlie knew it was the old man who was being accused. Even before she asked, she knew it.
"They think it's the man, right?" Charlie asked him. "The glass-eyed man?"
"Seems as though that's what they think," Johnny said. He looked at Charlie. "Why did you suppose him first?"
"Because. He's the scapegoat around town," Charlie said. "He's the easiest person to blame."
"He may well be the guilty person, pequeno," Johnny cautioned.
"He may well not be the guilty person," Charlie countered.
At Johnny's raised eyebrow look, Charlie shrugged a little. "I'm only defending him. He seems as though he needs somebody
to do that."
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