Feeling nervous, as they prepared to take their seats around the supper table, Charlie wondered just what Murdoch was going to

have to say to her. She thought that if he 'boomed' at her, she just might dissolve into tears. She was that tired and wrung out.

But, surprised she was to be. Murdoch only paused beside her, and then wrapped her in a tight hug, and then released her with a

pat to her back, saying nothing about what had happened.

Maybe he knew that Scott had already given her 'what-for', Charlie surmised. Anyway, she was glad about it.

At the supper table, Charlie was quieter than usual, concentrating on filling her empty stomach. Once she was done, and everyone began

rising to their feet, Charlie went, quietly, without speaking, to the library, where she retrieved paper from Murdoch's desk.

She sat down in the big wooden desk chair, and took a pencil, and set about writing up the paragraphs detailing the things that might

have happened during her solo ride to the west. It wasn't that difficult to write. She mentioned the fact of getting lost in the first place; the

concern that it might have gotten dark before she was found; that she had had no water with her; that the family had spent time looking

and worrying for her; and lastly, Charlie addressed the issue of the snake. She found that even when she squeezed her eyes closed, she could see

the snake all stretched out in the sun that way.

The family still hadn't come into the library at that point, for their after-supper drinks, and conversation, winding down from the day.

So Charlie began on her homework. Someone had left her books there, on the corner of Murdoch's desk. She was nearly done writing her

newest spelling words the required five times each when the Lancer men appeared.

They poured their drinks, and sat down, sprawled around the room.

Charlie put her schoolwork back into her books, folded neatly, and stacked them. She took the small report she'd written over to where Scott sat,

in the largest chair.

She handed it to him, silently, laying it atop his knee.

"I'm going to go to bed," she said quietly.

Scott nodded. "I'll be up soon."

Charlie said her goodnights to the others, tonight even giving Teresa a hug. She trudged up the stairs, feeling as though she could

sleep for a solid week.

When Scott came up, just a few minutes later, Charlie was in her nightgown, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

When he'd sat down on the bed, he said, quietly, "What is it that you wanted to tell me about?"

"It was John," Charlie began.

"And Monte?"

"No. Just John," Charlie specified.

"What did he do?" Scott asked. And, Scott, waiting to hear of shouted name-calling and other misbehavior by John, was startled into

silence for a moment by what Charlie said.

"He kept standing there-wherever I was," Charlie began. "And he was giving me these horrible looks. Glares. All during the day. Inside and

outside at recess-"

Scott waited for more. When there was nothing more forthcoming, he prompted, "Did he say anything he shouldn't?"

"No," Charlie said, considering. "He just said that he could stand wherever he wanted to, that I wasn't the boss of him, and there

was no law against it."

"Hmm," Scott said.

Charlie felt all stirred up again now, just thinking about it. "It sounds like nothing!" she said. "But it was 'something'! It was, Scott!"

"I'm sure it seemed that way," Scott said.

"Rebecca thought the same as me," Charlie insisted. "You can ask her!"

"I don't need to do that. I can tell it was upsetting to you," he said calmly.

"I didn't even want to stay outside at recess," Charlie said. "He wouldn't stop doing it."

"Well, it sounds to me as though he's put out because he likely got taken to task by his father, over the slingshot shooting," Scott said.

"I don't care why he's doing it, I just want him to stop," Charlie said, tiredness making her feel tearful again. That, in turn, made her put out

at her own self. She was nothing but a big baby, she accused herself.

"Let's do this," Scott said, in his matter-of-fact, calm way. "Let's see if he's over it by tomorrow. Tired of doing it. If he is, then well and good. If he's still

at it, then I'll have another talk with his father."

"No!" Charlie burst out. "That will just make things worse!"

"Well, alright," Scott said. "How about this? If he continues, we can talk to Miss Susan. Since it's happening during school time, she could

put a stop to it."

Charlie nodded. "That's probably right," she said in agreement. She brushed at the edge of her eye.

"Alright. Plan in place," Scott said, and gave her a slight smile. "Think you can sleep?"

"Yes. But, will you still read?"

"I'll read a bit," he said. And, he did.

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The next morning at school, John, throughout the morning, kept up his glares across the aisle at Charlie. Determined to avoid his face, Charlie gave

up looking in his direction. At first recess, though, John went off to play with some of the other boys. A face which relieved Charlie immensely.

Perhaps Scott had been correct, in his prediction that John would tire of taunting her.

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On Wednesday morning, before she left the house, Charlie took her turn, coaxing various family members to take another box of

groceries and supplies to the old man at his shack.

"It's been four days," she pointed out at the breakfast table. "And, he had that bump on his head and all," she reminded. "We should

at least check on him. He might have had another dizzy spell or something."

"You make a valid point, darling," Murdoch said, looking somewhat amused.

"So will you come for me after school, and we can go see him?" Charlie asked, pleased.

"I can't this afternoon," Murdoch refused.

"Today's not the best day for me, either," Scott said, as Charlie's gaze traveled 'round the table.

"Johnny?" Charlie said.

"Not today, pequeno," Johnny said.

"Awe," Charlie said, in disappointment.

"Manana," Johnny told her.

"I could go with you," Teresa said. "I'm supposed to be at the Stone's this afternoon. We're gathering books for the traveling library. I could

come by the school and get you when I leave there."

Instantly, Charlie perked up. "We could take eggs, couldn't we?"

"Eggs are good," Teresa agreed. "You can make a lot of things with eggs-"

"The two of you are not going there unaccompanied," Murdoch said, from his end of the table.

Both Teresa and Charlie looked to him. He was eyeing them over the top of his coffee cup.

"It's still early in the afternoon," Teresa said, in protest. "I'm sure it would be fine-"

"No," Johnny spoke up. "Besides, I thought you said you wouldn't want to go out there alone, anyway," he said, to Teresa.

"She won't be alone," Charlie said, in an attempt at humor. "I'll be with her. She'll accompany me, and I'll accompany her."

"Charlie," Scott said, in quiet reproof.

"We'll go another afternoon," Murdoch decreed, and stood up, pushing in his chair to the table. And, with that, he left the room.

For a long few moments, there was silence.

"Manana," Johnny said, again, to both Charlie and Teresa. "Start figuring out what you wanna put into the box."

Teresa stood up, and began stacking plates together with more force than necessary. Charlie, watching, saw there was splashes of

angry color on both her cheeks.

"What's your problem?" Johnny demanded.

"Murdoch. And-you," Teresa accused, pointing her finger at Johnny.

"What'd I do?" Johnny asked, holding up both hands.

"There is absolutely no reason why I can't take Charlie out there this afternoon," Teresa expostulated. "You've determined, haven't you,

that the old man is harmless? Strange, but harmless? It's ridiculous-I'm not some helpless twit-"

"Nobody said anything about you being a twit," Scott said, sounding calm, and soothing.

"You stay out of this," Teresa said. "You could have spoken up and defended this whole thing-but you didn't. So, just never mind now."

Charlie, fascinated, yet horrified at the same time, watched Teresa take after both Johnny and Scott.

"Whoo-wee, girl," Johnny said. He got up, going around to where Teresa stood, stacking dishes. "Settle down-no need to get all

worked up-" he went on, settling a hand on Teresa's shoulder.

Teresa reached up and pushed Johnny's hand off her shoulder.

"Don't-" she said. "Just don't. I can do more than have tea in town, and teach Sunday School, you know. I am perfectly capable-I just might

take a full box of groceries out there, anyway!"

"You'd best not," Johnny said, then, in a horrible voice. To Charlie, it was horrible. Quiet. But deadly intense. Unbudging. No sway.

"What Murdoch doesn't know won't hurt him," Teresa quipped, and as she would have turned to go, her hands full of dishes, Johnny

halted her, his hand on her arm.

"But what I know, might hurt you," Johnny said, in that same quiet, deadly tone.

Teresa stared at Johnny, her eyes flashing. "Are you threatening me?" she accused.

"No. I'm not. I'm promisin'."

Teresa gave him her full attention, and the tension between them had Charlie holding her breath.

"You are being ridiculous," Teresa said, again, but Charlie thought that she didn't look quite so forceful now.

"Fine. I'm ridiculous," Johnny said. "Just don't do it." He let go of her arm, and stalked out of the dining room.

Without another word, Teresa took her stack of plates, and stalked out of the room, as well, in the opposite direction.

Charlie looked at Scott, wide-eyed, and he returned her look.

"Hmm," he said.

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Charlie didn't know what transpired between the time she left for school, until Miss Susan dismissed school in the afternoon. But, when

she came out of the school building, walking with Rebecca, she saw that Johnny was waiting, with the wagon, and Teresa beside him on the

wagon seat. Gurth was tied behind the wagon.

Charlie ran over to where the wagon was parked, feeling curious, but only saying, "Hi!" in greeting.

"Hi," Teresa answered, and moved over on the seat, to make room for Charlie. "Come on."

Charlie scrambled up, handing her books and lunch pail off to Teresa.

There was a box of groceries in the back of the wagon, Charlie could see.

"Are we taking the groceries-" Charlie began to ask.

Teresa nodded. "I put in two dozen eggs this time. And some bread. Butter. Cheese. A pound of bacon."

"That sounds wonderful," Charlie agreed. She gave Johnny a covert glance, as he turned the wagon, and proceeded on the way down

the main street, away from the school, and towards the road leading to the shack.

Charlie felt so curious about what had happened, to cause Johnny to change his mind about driving them out to the man's shack, when he and Teresa had

argued only this morning. But, she didn't want to say anything now, thinking it might make Johnny change his mind yet again about driving them. She

made up her mind to ask Teresa about it later, when they were alone.

As they rode, Teresa told Charlie that Scott was in town, as well, and was going to ride out to the shack with them.

Charlie felt really glad about that. Scott had never met the old man. At least she didn't think that he had.

When they were passing by the bank, Scott was just preparing to mount his horse. Johnny whistled comically and Scott looked up,

and Charlie waved at him.

When they got closer to the shack, Charlie could see the dogs, laying near the road, instead of on the porch. They set up an immediate racket, barking.

"Oh," she said, to herself, in disappointment.

"What?" Teresa asked, questioning.

"The dogs are by the road, not on the porch," Charlie said.

"So?" Teresa asked, obviously puzzled.

"It's just-if they're on the porch, and quiet, then that means he's gonna talk in his leprechaun voice, and be calm," Charlie said. "And if the dogs

are roaming around instead, and barking, then he's going to be in his-" she hesitated. "His other mood."

"What does that mean?" Teresa asked. "That makes no sense at all."

"I know it doesn't, but that's the way it is," Charlie said.

"Sounds like nonsense to me," Teresa said.

"It's not," Charlie protested. "Is it, Johnny?"

"It's a puzzlement, all the way around," Johnny said, in agreement. "But, from what I've seen of him, that sums it up alright."

"Now, I'm even more intrigued," Teresa said. "What's his leprechaun voice? What does that mean?"

"Maybe you'll get to hear," Charlie said, as Johnny pulled the wagon up, close to the shack, and pulled the brake.

Charlie had climbed down, and Teresa was doing the same, when Charlie went around to where Scott stood, after dismounting his

horse.

"I'm glad you came," Charlie told him, squeezing his hand. "Now you get to meet him-"

Scott gave her a half-smile, but looked reserved, as he usually did.

Johnny was already pulling the box of groceries from the wagon, and the four of them walked towards the shack.

The dogs were swarming nearby, barking.

"Do they bite?" Teresa asked, stepping closer to Johnny.

Before anybody could respond to that, the old man stepped from around the corner of the shack, shotgun in hand. If anything, he looked

more unkempt than he normally did. His shirt was far too large, and filthy, with what appeared to be dried blood on it. His pants were held up

with a piece of rope as a belt.

"We brought you some more groceries," Charlie said, speaking up.

The old man was silent, staring at the foursome.

Johnny, meanwhile, plowed on. "Want these inside or here on the porch?" he asked, without preamble.

The dogs were barking so loudly, it was difficult to focus on anything but the noise they were making.

Finally, the old man said something. Just one word. Charlie wasn't even certain just what it was, but the dogs immediately quieted, going

to stand next to him.

"I figure I can rustle up some coffee, if ya'd be interested," he said, and came walking up, and past the four of them, opening the

door to the shack, and going inside.

Teresa exchanged a look with Scott, and Charlie said, "Come on," and held the door open. Johnny went in first, carrying the box of food,

Scott and Teresa next, and Charlie at the last.

Inside, the cabin was even messier than it had been the previous weekend. There was papers strewn everywhere, and more projects spread

across the worn table. Fabrics, yarns, ribbons.

"Just set it down there, boy," the old man said, gesturing at Johnny, and then at the table.

Johnny set the box down on the edge of the table, and the old man went to the stove, where he busied himself pouring coffee into

cups, and bringing them two by two to the table.

"Well, sit, sit," he ordered, waving his knarled hands at them all.

Teresa waited to begin drinking her coffee, it seemed, but when Johnny picked up his cup and drank it, Teresa followed suit. Her eyes widened after

one small drink, and she coughed. Charlie, who knew why, having tasted the brew the previous Saturday, felt like smiling.

"I've got no cream to doctor it with," the old man said, eyeing Teresa. "Hope ya ain't one of them dainty females."

"It's fine," Teresa said, her voice sounding strangled.

"Who have ya brought this time?" he asked, looking at Charlie.

"This is Teresa, and this is Scott," Charlie said.

"Hello," Teresa said, politely, and Scott nodded in acknowledgement.

"You a Lancer, too?" the old man asked Teresa, peering at her.

Teresa hesitated, and Johnny spoke up. "That's right."

The old man turned his gaze to Scott. Still, he was seemingly in his 'rough' demeanor, saying, "You a mite on the young side

to be a daddy to the young'un, ain't ya?"

Charlie looked swiftly at Scott, wondering what he was going to say.

"Maybe so," Scott said, "But, I figure I'll age soon enough."

It was the perfect comment, at least it seemed so to Charlie.

She looked toward the old man with satisfaction, wondering what he would say next.

The old man studied Scott in a long, moment of silent study.

And then, he said, "There's always a reason within, even when there's those that refuse to believe," in that soft, lyrical tone that he

interchanged with.

Scott was regarding him just as seriously, and Teresa was looking somewhat startled at the swift and dramatic change. And the cryptic comment, which

made no sense, really.

"I imagine that's so," Scott said, quietly.

The old man smiled, looking pleased.

"You know our names," Johnny spoke up, sounding a bit curt. "What's yours?"

The old man swept his eyes to Johnny. "I'm known by many names," he said, still smiling.

"Well, what's the name you're usin' today?" Johnny persisted, and Teresa said, 'Johnny', in a very low voice, protesting.

With a flourished lift of his right hand, the old man said, "I'm known as Burlson."

"Burlson?" Johnny asked.

The old man gave a nod of his head, and then said, sounding regal, "Sir John Burlson."

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