Even before she reached home, before she was within sight distance of the ranch, Charlie knew she'd made a mistake.

Another one. What had she been thinking? Going out to talk to the man that way? She'd been told not to do that very thing.

Her mind began to work, trying to figure it out.

She slowed Gurth to a walk.

"I'm a dumb kid," she told the horse. "A real dumb one."

Gurth tossed his head as if he understood just what she was saying.

"You think so, too, don't you?" she asked him, glumly.

Chastising herself, Charlie talked aloud. "I have a wonderful family, and they care about me! And I have you, Gurth, and I have

some friends now, and-I have all of that, and I have to keep being a rotten kid."

When she rode up near the house, Jelly was busily washing his pig. He had a bucket of water, and a scrub brush, and was

scrubbing away, in circular motion. The pig, silly thing that she was, stood still, and let the water drip off her, seeming as if she

enjoyed it.

Scott was there, too, and Murdoch, and they were both laughing as they watched.

"Put pearls on a pig, Jelly, it's still going to be a pig." Scott was telling the older man.

"Just you never mind that," Jelly said. "Rosemary is gonna be the best lookin' pig at the show. The smartest one, too."

Scott laughed again, and Murdoch shook his head, as they turned to greet Charlie.

"Hey there, kiddo," Scott greeted her, reaching up to slip his fingers beneath Gurth's bridle.

"Hi," Charlie said.

Rosemary chose that moment to depart, causing Jelly to tip over the bucket of water, in his attempt to chase her down.

Murdoch laughed again. "Hello, darling," he said.

"Hi, Murdoch."

"How was school today?" Scott asked, looking up at where Charlie still sat on Gurth.

"School was good," Charlie said.

"You're a few minutes later than usual," Scott said. He didn't say it accusingly, just more matter-of-fact, Charlie thought.

"Sorry," Charlie said. She didn't know how else to answer.

"It's alright," Scott said. "I wasn't worried just yet." And then, he smiled at her. A nice smile.

It was the sort of smile from him that always made Charlie feel glad inside.

Charlie tried to smile back, but she didn't think it was a very good one.

"You plan on sitting up there the rest of the day?" Scott asked then, teasing.

"No," Charlie said, and dismounted, running her hand over Gurth for comfort. Both for his, and for her own.

Murdoch and Scott began talking then, about a fence that was in need of repair, and Charlie led Gurth to the

pasture, taking him in, and unsaddling him.

She came back thru the gate, carrying her saddle.

Scott was walking towards her, as she approached the barn to put the saddle away.

"Here, I'll take it," he told her. "You go and gather up your books and dinner pail."

Charlie went to pick up her belongings, from where she'd laid them on the ground beside the corral.

She and Scott met up together, as they approached the house.

"We have a surprise for you, after supper," Scott said.

Charlie looked up at him. "You do?"

"Uh huh."

"What is it?" Charlie asked.

"If I told you now, then it wouldn't be a surprise later, now would it?" Scott asked, and he smiled at her again.

Instead of feeling as excited as she would have at any other time, Charlie felt the guilt of her trespass more strongly.

Johnny was behind them, then, as they went into the house.

"Did you tell her?" he demanded, looking at Scott.

"Tell her what?" Scott asked.

"You know what. About her surprise," Johnny said.

"You're an overgrown kid, you know that?" Scott told him.

Then, to Charlie, Scott said, "I think Johnny's as excited about it as you're going to be."

"Tell me now," Charlie said, looking up at each of them, in turn.

"Scott says after supper, so after supper it has to be," Johnny said.

"Is it for my birthday?" Charlie asked.

"No, not really," Scott said. "It's a 'just-because' sort of thing."

He ran his hand over the back of Charlie's head. "So, you make sure you get your schoolwork finished, alright?"

"Now?" Charlie asked. "What about feeding the cats? And gathering the eggs?"

"We can do that later," Scott said. "Just head on to the library, and do your schoolwork."

The family was secretive about what surprise awaited Charlie. She'd finished her homework, just as the table

was being set for the supper meal. She'd been warned to stay near the front of the house, too, and not look outside.

Once the meal had been finished, everyone walked along, as Charlie was guided to the side yard, Johnny's hands

over her eyes.

Once she was told she could open them, and she did, Charlie saw that a swing had been constructed and hung from a limb

on the huge Oak tree. And, not just any old swing, either. This was a grand swing, indeed. It was wide, and sturdy, and hung with

thick rope. It was painted a shade of royal blue.

Charlie was so surprised that she only stood there for a moment, looking at it. She looked up at Scott, and he smiled at her.

"Well, go on, pequeno," Johnny told her. "Give it a try, for gosh sakes."

Charlie went over to the swing, touching it almost reverently. The wood was so smooth. It had been planed until no splinters were

possible.

"I can't believe you made me a swing," she said, looking at the family standing there, watching her.

"You asked for one," Scott reminded her.

"I know, but-" Charlie hesitated. She didn't finish her thought, that she hadn't actually dared to hope her request would be fulfilled.

"It's so beautiful," Charlie said, sitting on the swing. "Thank you so much!"

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Charlie sent the swing flying, for, she wasn't sure just how long. At first Scott gave her a few pushes, and then Johnny.

Johnny got her going so high, that he was able to dodge underneath the swing as she was in the air.

Eventually, the family went back inside, and Charlie still kept on. Until Scott came, finally, just out the door, and

said, "Come on in now. It's getting late."

Charlie let the swing come to a stop, and got off reluctantly. She ran her fingers one more time over the smooth, blue,

wood.

That night, as she was saying her goodnights to everyone, she thanked them again, for making the swing.

"It should last a good many years," Murdoch told her.

Charlie hugged Johnny. "Thank you," she said.

"I can't take credit for makin' it," Johnny told her. "That was all Scott's doing."

"You're just the one that nearly broke his neck, tying it to the tree," Teresa said, laughing.

"No such a thing," Johnny denied. "Don't you believe her, pequeno. I'm like a panther. I could climb to the top of any tree."

"I'm glad you didn't fall," Charlie said.

She went up the stairs, and got into her nightgown, and then released her braid, brushing her hair out. She was still doing that,

and struggling with some tangles in her curly hair, when Scott came in.

"Should we read first?" he asked. "Or do you want me to brush your hair out?"

"Read," Charlie said. She did love it when Scott brushed out her hair for her. He was gentle about it, and never tugged too hard, but

he always managed to get even the most stubborn snarls out. But, in this case, she wanted him to read, so she could think some

more while he did that.

When Scott had reached the end of the next chapter, he closed and marked the ending point.

He laid the book aside, and said, "Still want me to brush your hair?"

"Yes," Charlie nodded, and handed him the hair brush, turning her back.

Scott began to brush, and Charlie thought for a few moments.

"I love my swing," she said.

"I'm glad."

"It's twenty times nicer than Lucy's," Charlie went on.

"Twenty times nicer, huh?" Scott asked, sounding amused.

"Yes. Definitely."

She hesitated, and then said, "I know I asked you for one, and all, but-I was still surprised."

When Scott had finished, and handed her the brush, Charlie turned forward again, and looked at him.

"It's nice to be listened to," Charlie said, wondering if he would understand what she was trying to say.

Scott regarded her, his expression steady. "Everybody needs to be listened to," he said.

"I mean, I told you I'd like a swing, and you listened. Listening is sort of different from hearing. Do you know what I mean?" she asked.

"I think I do," Scott said.

"Before I came here," she began, "Before I met you, I knew she heard me, but she didn't really listen."

There was no need for Charlie to specify the 'she' that was spoke of. Katherine.

Scott wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and tugged her closer, in a one-armed hug. "I'm glad you think that I listen

well to what you have to say. I'll try to keep doing that."

Charlie, looking at his face, so familiar now to her, with the lines at the corner of his eyes, felt overwhelmed with emotion.

She pressed her face into his side, her fingers plucking at one of his shirt buttons. "What would have happened to me if I

hadn't met you that day at the train? I don't think that I would have been alright, Scott!"

"Well, we did meet that day, so there's no worries there," Scott said, his tone comforting. He gave her another hug, and

kissed the top of her head. "Time for sleep," he said.

After she was in bed, and the quilt had been tucked around her, Scott said goodnight, and went out, leaving the door just

slightly ajar.

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Charlie waited for sleep to overtake her, but it didn't come. She laid there, listening to the sounds of the big house, and

the people still awake in it. She had to tell Scott about going to the shack today. It made her feel sort of sick inside, thinking

that she'd gone against him. It wasn't asking so much, not to go out to the shack alone. It wasn't unreasonable of him.

Her stomach began to hurt. Could she try what Lucy did with her father? And tell Scott that she'd 'forgotten' for a bit what he'd said?

Just as quickly, Charlie dismissed that notion. Scott wasn't the sort to go along with such nonsense. Besides, it would be

another fib.

Finally, Charlie gave it up, and got out of her bed. She went down the stairs slowly, the carpet rough beneath her bare feet.

She could hear muted voices from the library, and went to stand just to the side of the open doorway. It was Scott and Murdoch.

Scott was sitting in one of the large chairs, a glass in his hand, while Murdoch stood.

Murdoch was saying something about a ranch hand, one of the new ones, and how his wife was very ill. Charlie took a couple more

steps, until she was more in view, but still outside the room.

"Well, I think I'll take myself up to bed," Murdoch said. "Sleep well, son."

"I will. Goodnight," Scott was saying.

And then, Murdoch saw Charlie. "Well, what do we have here?" he asked, in his big voice. "You startled me, darling."

Scott was looking at her now. "What is it, Charlie?"

Charlie found it hard to speak up at that moment, and Murdoch came closer to her, touching her cheek with a big hand.

"A bad dream, likely," Murdoch said. "Hmm?"

Charlie shook her head slightly, and Murdoch said, "Well, I'll say goodnight," and then he was gone, past Charlie and headed

towards the staircase.

"What is it?" Scott asked her, again.

"I can't sleep."

"Do you not feel well?" he asked then.

"It's not that."

"Well, come here," he said, setting down the glass on the nearby table.

Charlie went to him, leaning against the arm of the chair, as Scott reached up to lay his hand on her forehead, and then her cheek.

"You don't feel warm," he said.

"It's not that," she said, again.

"What, then?"

Charlie searched his face, and then, just as though she was nothing but a baby, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

"I've done something-" she began.

Scott wrinkled his forehead, as she went on. "Something you told me not to do."

"Ah," he said, his eyes steady on her face. "I see."

For a moment or so there was silence, though it seemed to Charlie that her own breathing was heavy.

"What is it that you've done?" he asked.

"I went out to the man's shack."

Scott looked startled, at least Charlie thought so.

"You did, huh?" he asked, slowly.

At Charlie's nod, he asked, "When?"

"Today. After school."

Scott sat back in the high-backed chair, and surveyed Charlie, still with a somewhat puzzled expression.

"Why?" he asked her, then.

"I thought-that he might need some food."

"I don't understand," Scott said. "What are you talking about?"

"Folks in town think he's the one stealing things. And he gets into the bins behind the café. I just thought he might

do that because he's hungry."

"And was he there?" Scott asked.

Charlie nodded.

"So, you thought you'd ask him if he needed food," Scott said. "And, you went. Even though we've talked about it before,

and you knew it's something I didn't want you to do."

The way he spoke, it wasn't phrased as a question. Just a statement of how it was.

"That makes me feel sorrowful. That you don't feel as though you have to mind me," Scott said, then.

At his words, and with his eyes looking at her the way that they were, Charlie began to cry. Not loudly, in sobs, but, crying still.

"I don't feel that!" she protested. "I know I have to mind you! It was a mistake!"

"Yes. It was," he said, quietly.

"I know I have to mind you!" she said again, and swiped at her wet cheek.

There was then, a dreadful silence. At least, to Charlie, it seemed so. She could tell Scott was thinking. Considering. He

looked stern.

Finally, Charlie could stand the quiet no longer, though it had, in reality, only been a few moments.

"Do you have to spank me now?" she asked, hating the trepidation she heard in her own voice, but determined to have

courage.

"Do you think that you deserve to be spanked?" he asked.

Charlie bit at her lip. Determined also, to be truthful, she said, reluctantly, "I guess I do."

"Hmm," Scott said, his gaze unwavering. "And, I did tell you, didn't I, that that's what would happen?"

Charlie gave the briefest nod possible.

"Well, here's what I think," Scott began. "You were wrong to disobey me. No matter if your motives are pure, in wanting to help

the man out, you still need to do what I say. You know that, already."

"Yes," Charlie said.

Scott reached out, and put a hand on her side, pulling her over to stand in front of him.

"So," he said, as if he was considering, "I think you'll have a ride to and from school again for the next week, instead of being on your own.

And, you do deserve to be spanked. The one factor in this that helps, is that you came and told me on your own. So-" he paused, looking

as though he was thinking again, "Taking that into consideration, I think just a few wallops are needed. Sound fair?"

Charlie didn't want any wallops. None at all. But, a few sounded vastly preferable to a bunch. Scott was being fair.

She straightened up, and swiped at her cheek again. "Okay," she said, trying to sound brave.

And then, it was over nearly as quickly as it began. Scott pulled her closer, and, not even tipping her over his lap, he

swatted her, once, twice, and three times, while she stood. The first two were so quick and hardly even stung, but the third

did. And, then, he stopped, turning her to face him again.

"Alright. From here on, how is it going to go?" he asked.

"I'm going to listen, and do what you tell me," Charlie said.

"Okay," he said, quietly. He regarded her somberly for a moment or so, and then reached up to rub his thumb over

her wet cheek. He patted her back with slow circles, while she calmed and her breathing settled a bit.

"Think you'll be able to sleep now?" he asked.

Charlie nodded. "I think so."

"Alright." He stood up, and went to turn down the lamp on Murdoch's desk, and then took her hand in his own,

and they went upstairs. At her bedroom door, they parted, and Charlie got back into her warm bed, and found that

sleep was more attainable.

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