I started on my homework after my little talk with Adam in the kitchen. Guthrie came in, though, and told me that my
horse was acting strange.
"What do you mean?" I asked, instantly feeling alarmed.
"He won't come and eat with the rest of the horses," Guthrie said. "He just acts-puny."
I pushed my books off my lap and onto the couch, and was out the door quick.
D.C. (Dark Commander) was in his usual spot beside the corral. He usually hung out there, and he kept the grass
eaten down to a nub. I was always hoping he would venture further out into the pasture, with the other horses, but so far he
hadn't. And, right now he wasn't with the rest of the herd, enjoying the hay that Guthrie had put out. I crawled thru the gate to the pasture instead of opening it.
The horse had his head down, looking more like he had when I'd first brought him home.
I began talking to him softly, and I'd even gone to get an apple from the barn to offer him, but he wasn't interested, even
in that.
I was glad to hear the back door flapping shut, and see Brian striding across the yard towards the corral.
"Something's really wrong, Bri," I said, worriedly.
Brian came thru the pasture gate the same way that I had. He came up beside D.C. and began running his hands
over the horse's sides, and hind quarters.
"Hold his head," Brian told me, and I slipped my fingers thru the halter, and Brian opened D.C.'s mouth.
"Has he been off his feed?" Brian asked me.
"Yeah, maybe a little," I said. "I think maybe he has colic," I said, worriedly.
"What makes you think that?" Brian asked, stepping back, and reaching out to run his hand over D.C.'s head.
"Well, not much of an appetite, and he hasn't been drinking much water."
"How do you know he's not been drinking?" Brian asked.
"I haven't seen him drink-"
"You haven't been out here every minute with him, either, have you?" Brian pointed out.
I shook my head, and Brian said, "He's not nipping at his flank, or pawing the ground, so I don't think he has colic."
Brian patted D.C., and said, "I think the old guy's maybe a little depressed."
"I know he's sad, but depressed?" I asked, skeptically. "Really?"
"It's just a thought, peach."
"Well, but why, though?" I said, in frustration. "I mean, he's got all this pasture, and plenty to eat, and he's not
getting mistreated anymore-"
"You knew it wasn't likely to be an easy fix when you brought him home," Brian reminded me. "Didn't you?"
I sighed. "Yes."
"Should I have Ivy come and take a look at him?" I asked, after a couple of moments passed.
"See how he is in the morning," Brian advised. "If he's not better, then you might mention it to her."
I thought of my skimpy amount of money that I had upstairs in my dresser drawer. Even though I was working for Ivy,
and she was paying me, I just couldn't seem to catch a break. D.C. was costing a lot of money with his care, and I was always
certain about paying Ivy for what I owed her. A couple of times when something had come up with D.C., I'd offered to work
it off instead of being paid. So, anyway, my money supply was meager. Pitiful.
I really should get a second job, I thought, as I went back to the house with Brian. I didn't know if Ivy could afford to pay
me for working on Saturday mornings, too. Maybe I could ask Marie if I could work some shifts at the café.
It was almost as though the hemisphere was conspiring against me, because as we were walking past my truck to
go in the back door, Brian stopped, and went back, crouching down and running his hand over the driver's side left tire.
"Tread's gettin' thin on this tire," he commented, and then proceeded to go around the entire truck, checking the other three
tires.
"On all of them?" I asked, horrified, and thinking of how much tires must cost.
"The front two are okay for a while, but you're gonna need to replace those back two pretty quickly," he said.
"Bat shit," I muttered.
Brian must have heard my muttering because he said, though mildly enough, "Harlie, you've had that truck nearly ten months, and
you've driven it a lot of miles. Tires are bound to wear out, just like everything else."
I sighed. "I know."
"Depending on how new they were when Doc G left you the truck," Brian said, and then we both stood there a moment, thinking
of Doc G. Sometimes the thought or memory of him is enough to cause my chest to pound. Other times, the grief is softer.
"It's just part of bein' a vehicle owner, peach," he told me.
"How much would two new tires be?" I asked.
"It's gonna run around a hundred dollars, more or less."
"Bat shit," I said again, only more clearly.
"Don't let Hannah hear you talking that way," Brian said.
"How long can I drive on those tires?" I asked, pointing to the offending tires on the back of my truck.
"I don't want to have you drivin' on them much longer at all. Jake's probably got what you need down at his shop."
"But how long?" I insisted.
"Another week or so is about all," Brian said.
I was suddenly so frustrated that I wanted to scream, or break something.
"Gahhh," I said, in irritation, and turned to start walking across to the orchard at a really fast walk.
"Where you goin'?" Brian called after me.
"Just for a walk. I'll be back," I hollered back to him.
I'd been sitting under one of the peach trees for awhile when Kenny came walking over to sit down beside
me.
"Hey," he said, in greeting.
"Hi," I said, and it made me feel better just to see his face. "I didn't hear you drive up."
Kenny's still having some problems with some of the boys at school, who won't let go of what Kenny did last summer, or the fact
that he spent time in the boy's home. And, though his father is making improvements in his cancer treatment, Kenny still has
all of that to worry about, too. But, he mostly always seems positive about things. He's a bit quieter than he used to be, and not as rowdy as the old
happy-go-lucky Kenny, but he still smiles. And, it's a great smile.
"I've gotta help my mom do some stuff in the attic today," he told me. "Lift and tote stuff for her. So, I had to come over now
instead of after supper like I planned."
"That's okay," I told him. "I'm just glad you came."
Kenny reached down and took my hand, lacing his fingers thru mine.
"How is your mom?" I asked. I've always liked Kenny's mother. She's a real old-fashioned Southern belle.
"She's doin' alright," Kenny said. "She wants you to come over for supper soon."
We talked for a few minutes about his parents, and then he asked, "How're things around here?"
"Brian thinks D.C. is depressed. And I need two new tires for my truck. And I got dizzy today on my ride with Ford, and
now everybody's all wigged out about my diabetes."
I finished my tirade, and Kenny widened his eyes. "Wow. That's a lot."
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to unload on you."
"It's okay. Have you tried riding D.C. yet?" he asked.
"No. I was giving him more time. Besides, he doesn't even seem to really like me much. He responds way better to Brian and
Evan than he does to me. Why?" I asked curiously.
"Maybe he misses being ridden."
I crinkled my forehead at Kenny. "What do you mean?"
"Well, he was a race horse," Kenny reminded me. "Maybe since he's gotten built up a little with some good feed, and had
some of his medical stuff taken care of, he might wanna run again. Or at least be ridden."
I was quiet, thinking that over, and Kenny said, "You could try it. Or have Evan get on him and try, if you don't think he
wants you on his back. Maybe he'd start havin' interest in life again."
"It's a good idea," I said, and smiled at him. "I'll try it."
We sat in stillness for a few minutes, and Gus came over to lay beside us. Kenny reached out to rub Gus behind his ears. He
looked over at where Warrior was sitting, close to the house, just staring at us with a dog stare.
"Warrior still remembers," Kenny said, sounding regretful. "He won't come near me."
I knew Kenny was referring to the summer, when he'd kicked Warrior in the meadow late one night, while he'd been out
with those men who were capturing the Mustangs. And, then, Warrior had bitten Kenny, and one of the other men had nicked
Warrior with his gun.
"He'll come around you, sometime," I said, and squeezed his hand.
"I hope so. Maybe, when I come over next time, I'll bring him somethin'. A big, juicy ham bone."
"It's worth a try," I said. "We'll have to make sure that you're the one who actually gives it to him, so he'll associate it
with you."
The back door flapped open. "Harlie! Time for supper!"
I turned to look, and wave at Clare. "Okay!"
"Hi, Kenny!" Clare hollered to Kenny.
Kenny stood up, and called back, "Hey, Clare!"
I stood up, too, as Clare went back inside, the door flapping closed behind her.
"You can't stay for supper?" I asked.
"Naw. I gotta help my mom, like I said. Or else she'll be tryin' to lift all that stuff by herself."
"Okay."
Kenny nodded toward the back door. "How's Clare? She looks good."
"Yeah. She's not showing yet, or anything. But, the morning sickness is better."
"That's good." He took both my hands, and faced me. "I'll see ya at school tomorrow, huh?"
"I'll be there," I said, and we smiled at each other.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Kenny leaned forward and gave me a quick kiss. Nothing too much. "See ya," he said.
"See ya," I echoed.
I went in thru the back door, to the kitchen, where everybody was milling around, washing up, or sitting down to
the table.
"Kenny's not staying?" Clare asked me, as she walked past, and I went to wash my hands.
"No. He has to help his mom. She's cleaning out their attic," I said.
"Oh, Lord," Brian said, and I knew he was remembering when we'd all had to clean out our attic, to prepare it for
remodeling for he and Clare to live in.
"Kenny didn't want his mom lifting all the stuff by herself," I said, thinking to myself what a good guy Kenny really was.
Hannah smiled at me as I slid into my seat at the table. "I'm glad Kenny's there, and that he wants to help," she said.
I knew she was thinking of last summer, when Kenny had been drinking so much, and gotten swayed into trouble, and
had not been present to help his parents, either physically or emotionally.
"Me, too," I said.
7
I wasn't doing so well in my classes. I'd been too busy having fun lately. Just keeping pace was hard enough, so I definitely wasn't
getting ahead with anything. And, I'd started to lose pace now.
That night, I was tucked up in my bed, leaning against the head board, and scribbling at an article on the new archery
club at the high school. I'd promised McQ, the journalism teacher, that I would have it done by the next day.
It was around 8:45, and there was a quick rap of knuckles on my door.
I said 'come in' without raising my head from my hurried writing.
"Hey," Adam said, standing at the opened door.
"Hi," I said, still not looking up.
He crossed the small room over to stand beside the bed.
"What are you workin' on?" he asked.
"An article for the school paper. For journalism class."
"Uh huh. Well, it's time to wrap it for the night," he said.
"Okay. I'm almost done," I said.
Adam reached down, and took the pen from my hand, as I looked up at him.
"You're done now. For tonight," he said.
He looked a bit stern.
"Okay," I said, starting to stack up all the loose papers spread around me.
Some of the papers fell onto the floor as I was moving my legs, and Adam leaned over to pick them up. Straightening them,
and then handing them to me.
"Brian says your tires are gettin' bad," he said.
"Yeah," I said, with a sigh.
I stood up, trying to unkink my legs. I'd sat cross-legged for too long.
"I'll call Jake for you, and have him look at what he's got down at the shop right now. He might need to order some in."
"Okay," I said, still thinking of my lack of funds. I took my stack of papers to lay them on my dresser, where the rest of my
school stuff was. "Is there like-used tires that a person can buy?" I asked.
"Yeah. Sometimes. But, in most cases you're not gettin' a tire any better than the one you're takin' off," Adam said.
I stood there, and we just looked at each other for a few moments.
"I don't have a lot of money saved up," I said. "I was thinking, maybe, the tires could wait-another month or so."
Adam was shaking his head. "No, Harlie."
I sighed. "It was just an idea," I said.
"It's a safety issue, sugar. I haven't looked at 'em myself, but, according to Brian, there's not much waiting time left on
those tires. We don't want you having a blowout on a road somewhere."
"Is this one of those things that I can use some of the money in my savings account for?" I asked, hopefully.
"I'd say it is," he said, and I nodded, relieved.
"Okay."
That would solve the money issue of buying the tires. But, like I said, my actual cash supply is really low. Buying gas
and contributing to the family vehicle insurance bill every month about used up what I did have. (And with D.C. being
my major drain of cash). I'd barely had enough to give any share for Evan and Nancy's wedding present. Daniel, Guthrie, Ford
and I had decided to chip in together and buy them two really nice floor lamps, and a microwave. Daniel had covered
part of my share as it was.
"My money supply is really low," I said, cautiously leading into what I wanted to say to Adam.
He chuckled. "Join the club, sug."
"I'm just not making enough," I said, going over to sit on the edge of my bed.
"I'm sure Ivy's payin' you what she's able to," he said. "I know Doc G paid you a lot more than what she is, but he
was way more established."
"Oh, I know that," I said quickly. "I didn't mean it was because of Ivy, or what I get paid." I knew very well that Doc G,
because he'd been so fond of me, had been extremely generous with his pay to me, and had, besides that, given
me occasional "bonuses", or padded my income just because he wanted to.
"I was thinking-" I began.
"Uh oh," Adam said, and he came over to sit down beside me on the bed.
"I was thinking about asking Ivy if I could work a couple of Saturdays a month, or something."
"Has she offered that to you?" he asked.
"No," I admitted. "But, I thought I could ask her."
Adam sighed, and looked contemplative, as though he was considering whether to say something or not.
"From what Crane says, Ivy's pretty strapped for cash herself," he said.
"Yeah. She's got student loans."
"She may not be able to swing any more hours for you," Adam said.
"Well," I said, slowly, "If she couldn't, maybe I could do something else on Saturdays."
"Such as?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Work some shifts at the café, or maybe look for something in Angels Camp."
"I don't know, Harlie. You're stretched pretty thin right now as it is."
"I can handle it, Adam," I said, earnestly.
Adam looked doubtful. "Let me think awhile about it," he said. "We'll see how things go for a week or so. I don't like the fact
of you gettin' dizzy like you did today."
"I knew this would happen," I said, before I thought. "That's why I didn't want to tell you."
Once I said that, the conversation changed. It turned into a discussion. A lecture, if you want to call it that. Adam hadn't
really scolded me for awhile. But, he wound up now.
"A comment like that just freed me to not have to do any of that thinkin' about you gettin' another job," he said. "If you
continue to think of the diabetes as a game to play with all of us, somethin' to hide like a little kid, not understanding
how serious it can be-well, then, I reckon that you need to have more watchin' and less freedom."
I don't know if it was because I was tired, or that I'd been 'pushing it hard lately' as they say, but when I heard the
level of intensity in his tone, I just lost it. I caught my breath a little, and started to cry, covering my face with my hands.
After a couple of moments like that, he moved over another couple of inches, and wrapped his arms around me, tugging
me to his side. He didn't say anything at first, and it's not like I was sobbing and he had to wait for that to end.
"What are the tears for, exactly?" he asked me.
"Because-you're right about it not being a game to play," I managed.
"Then why? Why do you do this, Harlie?" he asked. He still sounded aggravated, but not rough. "Why do you treat it
like it's a game? Like it's negotiable?"
I kept my face against his chest, my fingers fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt. "I don't know."
"Do you want me to get angrier?" he asked, giving me a pull so I had to look at him.
"No!" I said.
"Do you need to be punished? Is that it?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No, sir."
"Alright. I asked you a question. I want you to answer it. And not with an 'I don't know' answer."
He had a grip on my upper arms, and was giving me one of those 'I mean total business' looks.
"I guess I act as though the diabetes isn't that big of a deal because-there's so much I wanna do. So many things. It's so
frustrating when it gets in the way. It just makes me so mad sometimes."
"I get that," he said. "Trying to hide it when you're not feelin' well, though, that's not okay. It's not acceptable."
"Okay," I said, looking at him tremulously.
"All of those great things that you want to do-you're not going to be able to do any of them, if your diabetes gets out of
hand, because you'll be too sick," Adam said. Those words had me shaking. Both from the scary truth of what he
was saying, and also how really stern he was being in saying them. My eyes filled up anew, and I wished he would hug me
again.
"Am I makin' it clear enough to you?" he asked.
I nodded, feeling miserable. Adam seemed to take pity on me then, and he sighed, pulling me in tight again, against
his chest.
"If you're feelin' bad, then say so. If you need some help with it, then ask. Act your age with all of it. Take it
seriously. It doesn't have to be your whole life, Harlie. But, it definitely has to be a part of it."
"Okay," I said.
We sat like that for a few more minutes. I don't know how long exactly. Finally, he patted my back and
said, "Have you done your shot?"
"Yeah."
"Need a snack?"
"I had some apple slices and peanut butter," I told him.
"Alright. Well, it's time you got some sleep, then." He patted me again, and disengaged my arms from his side.
When Adam had said good night, and gone out, turning off the light at he went, I curled up under my afghan, thinking that
I should feel horrible. Still miserable. But, for some weird reason, I felt better. It was almost as though having Adam give me a talking-to
like he had had released something inside me. I determined that I would do better, as far as my diabetes was concerned.
SBFSB