Kenny and I ended up drifting down the driveway, and sitting on top of the large boulder that sits at the end.

"There's a lot going on around here," Kenny observed, putting his arm around my shoulders.

"Always. But, yeah, even more now," I said.

"The McFaddens are never boring," Kenny said, with a grin.

"Nope."

We sat and talked about stuff for a while, school, and what he'd done at his Gram Ida's the weekend before.

We were watching the sun get lower and lower, changing to a burnt orange color.

"I better get goin'," he said.

"Not yet," I said, turning to face him, and waiting for him to kiss me. He did, until both of us were a little breathless.

I could tell he wanted to kiss some more, because I did, too, but he said, sounding regretful, "I gotta go. I don't want Brian

takin' after me with his shotgun."

I nodded, feeling regretful, too. We slid down from the boulder, and started walking back up the driveway in the dusk.

"I don't think Brian would actually shoot you," I teased.

"No? You don't think so?"

"I'm almost sure of it," I said, and Kenny laughed.

7

Back at the house, I waited until Kenny had driven off down the driveway, and then I went inside, closing the door and turning

off the porch light. Daniel was no longer in the living room, nor was Jill. Brian was, though, stretched out on the couch, with his eyes

closed. I actually thought he was asleep, until he spoke, saying, "I was about to send up a flare."

Meaning, no doubt, that he'd thought it was past time for me to have said goodnight to Kenny and be inside the house.

I paused beside the couch, looking down at him. His eyes were still closed.

"Okay, Bri," I said, in resignation.

"Okay, what?" he countered, opening his eyes and looking at me.

"Okay, I get your point," I specified.

He sat up, then. "Get your shot done and get your snack. It's time for bed."

"Alright," I said, and started to walk towards the kitchen.

"Better hope Crane doesn't find out you were cavorting with Kenny and not gettin' your homework done," Brian said, to my retreating back.

I paused, and looked back over at him. "How do you know I didn't get it done?" I asked, in a bit of a challenge.

"Well, did you?" he countered.

"No," I admitted.

"Well, there you go," Brian said, and stood up.

7

Daniel's last check was mailed to him. He'd called the plant and told them he would be back to work in a couple of weeks, but they said

'sorry, no dice' basically. I knew because I was in the room when he was making the call, and it was obvious, even from one sided, that it

wasn't going so well.

When he hung up, he looked dejected, and went to sink down into one of the recliners. Crane, who'd been working at the desk, took

off his glasses and said, quietly, "They're not going to go for it, huh?"

"Nope," Daniel said. "They said they might have been able to hold the job a week or so, but not two."

I knew, and I knew that Crane did too, obviously, that Daniel was supposed to take it fairly easy for at least three weeks. But Crane hadn't

said anything when Daniel was telling the management on the phone two weeks. He was supposed to rest, and ice his back, and do some stretching.

The stretching was complicated by the bruised ribs, because sometimes it hurt him to take a deep breath. He didn't say so, but I'd heard

Clare talking to him about it, and it was obvious if you were watching him. Only when he didn't know you were watching, of course.

And, with the broken arm, well, I thought it was ridiculous that he'd thought he could go back to work so soon, anyway. The more I thought

about that conversation, the more that I realized that Crane had likely known Daniel's employers would put the kibosh on his returning to work. Thus,

let him make the call and find out on his own. I figured that Daniel already knew, too, that it was a long shot, but he'd stubbornly had to try.

"Want some iced tea?" I asked Daniel.

"No, thanks."

"How about some juice?" I asked.

"I don't need anything, squirt."

Daniel sat, popping his knuckles, looking deep in thought.

"Maybe there's somethin' around town I can do in a couple weeks," he said, then.

"No point in rushing," Crane said, quietly. "You've got time."

"I don't, though, Crane," Daniel objected. "I don't have time."

They were interrupted by the commotion of more McFaddens pouring into the living room. We ate picnic-style that night, sitting around

the living room, and using paper plates. I was still puzzling over Daniel's remark about not having time. I understood he was likely worried

about money, of course, what with Jill, and a baby coming, and now a wrecked truck, and no job. But, still, what was so urgent that he couldn't

take time to heal up?

I thought about asking Adam, or Hannah, or Crane about it, but I didn't want to cause them any more worry than what they

already had. Our household, always full, was growing to bursting, what with Clare and Brian's baby coming in a few months, and now Daniel back home

full time, with Jill in tow. And, of course the baby, when and if they were still living here when the baby was born.

Guthrie didn't seem to mind being regulated to the basement to sleep, just as Ford never complained about sleeping on the couch

when he was home-but still, I thought they should have their room back again, and Jill could sleep in the basement. Not particularly

gracious of me, I knew.

Since Daniel had been home from the hospital the last few days, Jill spent her time either glued to his side, or upstairs in the bedroom.

She sometimes went to the bedroom when Daniel went outside, or when he went to town on an errand with Evan or Crane or whoever.

It seemed to me that the light had gone out of Daniel. That's how I would describe it. I mean, it wasn't as though he went around

all morose, and he didn't take his frustrations or pain out on anybody else-but he just didn't seem the same.

He was quiet, much more so than he ever had been. It always seemed as though his forehead was wrinkled in worry. It pained me-a lot, to see

him that way.

I'd had the others to observe on how couples complimented one another, and how they bolstered each other up when times got tough.

With Adam and Hannah, there'd been the most time to observe. Their arguments were few, but vocal. Hannah's buoyant personality kept

Adam going when he was feeling discouraged, and he, in return, gave her a strong shoulder to lean on. Brian and Clare-well, Clare had

definitely softened Brian's rough edges, and he seemed to balance her. There was no doubt, at least unofficially, that both Adam and Brian

were the undisputed head of the household. If there was a ruckus, and it came down to it, Adam would have the final say, and Brian-well,

he was mellowed with Clare, and very solicitous towards her, although he still put his foot down at times. Such as when she was so ill with

morning sickness and had still been trying to work long hours.

Evan and Nancy are a bit different, they neither one seem to boss the other one around, a fact which I found interesting because Evan

has always been such a bossy boots. They treat each other with respect and cheer each other up.

Daniel and Jill, though-She just didn't seem to know how to raise Daniel's spirits, because she was too involved in her own

issues and depended on Daniel to raise hers. It just didn't seem that Jill held up her end of the bargain in the relationship.

I said as much one morning, in a general way, in the hearing of both Crane and Hannah.

Jill had been weepy appearing at breakfast, picking at her food, and I saw Daniel try to jolly her around a little, to bring her out of her

mood. Jill managed a small smile at him, and Evan, who'd come down to eat breakfast with us while Nancy went in early to work, asked

Daniel to ride along into town with him.

I knew Daniel had to be getting bored, since he couldn't even do ranch chores. He walked around alot and even cooked several

meals for everybody, since he could do that one-handed, but he couldn't do much else.

I caught up with Evan as he was heading outside. "Can I ride along with you?" I asked him.

"I dunno. Can you?" he countered.

"Please?" I asked, changing my tactics.

"It's okay with me," he said.

"Okay," I said, going back inside and going to tell Hannah where I was going. I went upstairs and got my paycheck that Ivy had given

me, so I could go to the bank. I burst out of the front door, and caught up with Daniel, just as he was easing himself down the

front steps.

"I'm going with you," I announced.

Daniel paused at the side of the truck, resting one hand on the tailgate of Evan's truck. "Oh, yeah?" he said, and looked over the

truck bed at Evan. "No bar hopping now, huh, Evan, since we're draggin' the kid along?"

"I guess not," Evan returned, with a grin.

"We can still go to the bar," I said, cheerfully, glad to have Daniel teasing me again, and climbing up into the truck and taking my spot in the middle.

It took Daniel more effort and time to get into his seat. He was slightly out of breath, just from that.

"You okay?" Evan asked, casually, leaning up to look over at Daniel.

"I'm great. Let's go," Daniel said.

When we were in the city limits of Murphys, and were between the lumberyard and the bar, I said, "Should we make the bar our first stop?"

"Real funny," Evan told me.

"I could go for a Singapore Sling," I said. "Although I doubt if Marvin would know how to make one-he probably wouldn't put nearly enough gin in-"

Instantly, both of them were giving me the eye.

"What the hell?" Evan demanded, releasing the clutch and shutting off the motor.

"Yeah. What the hell?" Daniel echoed.

"What?" I asked, pretending innocence, and lifting my hands, palms up, in a 'what do you mean?' type of way.

"How do you even know what a Singapore Sling is?" Daniel asked, frowning at me so hard it looked like the furrows filled his entire

forehead.

"Yeah. That's what I wanna know, too," Evan said, glaring at me.

I'd been going for the shock value in my comment about the drink, teasing them a little bit. They were both overreacting. Hugely.

"I was just joking around," I protested.

When they both kept frowning and glaring, I said, more strongly, "I was! Good grief, do you think I would be serious about

telling you two that I wanted to drink?"

There. That hadn't come out quite like I'd meant it. I realized it had sounded as though I might want to drink, but that I wouldn't tell them.

"Good grief," I said, again, blowing upwards at the hair that was dangling in my eyes. "I meant that I wouldn't." I looked right to left

and then back again. "I was joking!" I insisted.

"Have you had one before?" Daniel asked.

"No!" I said, immediately. Vehemently. To the right.

"How'd you know there was gin in it, then?" Evan demanded.

Swiveling my neck to the left, I said, "I know what's in lots of the fruity drinks."

Nope. Wrong thing to say again. More glares.

"I did a story for journalism class. For the school paper. About drinks that are popular with teenagers," I said, in a rushed explanation.

They were still both silent, and riled, but didn't seem as tense, so I kept going. "You know, statistics of teens that drink, stuff like that."

"Oh," Daniel said.

"Yeah. 'Oh'," I said.

For a couple of long, long moments there was silence in the truck cab.

"You both totally overreacted," I muttered.

"Not from the way you made it sound," Evan denied. Somebody going into the lumberyard called out to him, and he waved a hand

in greeting.

"I was just joking around with you, like you were before, saying that you couldn't go to the bar because I was along with you-" I let

my voice trail off.

"Okay," Daniel said.

"It's pretty bad, that I can't even joke with you guys," I said, irritated at the both of them. I guess I could see where they might

have gotten the wrong idea, but still-

"You can joke with us," Daniel said, to appease me.

"Apparently not," I said, a trifle haughty. It had been awhile since I'd been jumped on by both of them like this, and had an

overdose of 'bigbrotherlyitis'.

It was just while we were sitting there, in the lumberyard parking lot, that the sun disappeared, and the sky turned darker.

"Looks like a rain comin'," Evan said.

"Yeah. We better get the feed loaded," Daniel said.

"You're not loadin' any of it," Evan told him.

We got out, and Evan lowered the tail gate on the truck, while Daniel went inside, to tell them what we needed.

I went to get a bottle of pop from the machine, glad to be out of the conversation with them. Good grief.

I was leaning against the machine, drinking my Coke, and watching the clouds move, when I heard a piercing whistle, and

Evan was motioning to me to come over to where he'd backed the truck up. He gestured to the bed of the truck.

"Hop up there and pull the tarp down over those sacks," he told me.

I obligingly clambered up into the back of the truck, and worked to arrange the tarp around the front of the sacks. It was just now

beginning to spit rain, and Evan was working at the tail gate end of the truck, doing his own pulling of the tarp across the feed sacks.

Daniel was standing off to the side of the building, talking to another guy. He looked sort of familiar to me, but yet I couldn't quite

place who he was.

"Who's that? The guy that Daniel's talking to?" I asked Evan, as I scrambled over the tarped sacks to the tail gate.

Evan turned to look and then said, "That's Danny Carson."

I sat down so I could slide to the ground. "Danny Carson," I repeated, trying to think what I knew of him.

"Yeah. You know-he used to play drums and guitar at all the bars all over the county-"

"Oh," I said, and then I batted my eyelashes at Evan and said in a fake simpering tone, "Well, I wouldn't know about him, then, because

bars are a big no-no for me, and so are Harvey Wallbangers and Singapore Slings and-"

"That's right," Evan said, dryly, and closed the tail gate.

"It seems like I've seen him around, though, seriously," I said.

"Probably you have. He's played at fairs and stuff around here for years," Evan said.

"Oh," I said, watching this guy.

"Come on," Evan said, and we went to get inside the truck cab to wait for Daniel.

"Got any gum?" I asked him.

"Nope."

"Guthrie always has gum. You don't even have any in here?" I opened the glove compartment, prepared to root around. There was

a bunch of wadded up receipts, and a dog-eared rodeo magazine.

"Get out of there," Evan protested. "I told you I don't have any gum."

I started shoving stuff back in, and he complained, "I tell you I don't have somethin' and you go rootin' thru anyway."

"Okay, okay," I said. "Sorry."

We waited for a couple of minutes, and I said, "Want me to go get Daniel?"

"No. Let him talk if he wants. It's good for him to get out and forget about everything for a while," Evan said.

I turned to look at him. "I agree," I said. I thought then of something, and said, "I guess if I hadn't come along, you and

Daniel could have gone to get a beer together somewhere, for real. That would have done him some good. I should have stayed home."

"Naw," Evan denied. "He doesn't need to be drinkin' with the painkillers he's takin'. We'll do it another time." He gave me a fake jab

to my ribs. "Besides, we don't mind you buttin' in. It's fine that you came along."

"Thanks," I said, with a roll of my eyes.

After a couple of more minutes, Evan said, "Serious, though, Har-I really hope you're not thinkin' about gettin' into any

of that drinkin' scene."

I turned to look at him, and his expression was dead serious. I knew what he was thinking about. The night when he'd been

responsible for me, and I'd taken off to go to that beer bash and gotten sick and lost my boot.

"I'm not," I said.

He was looking sort of skeptical, sort of 'okay, if you say so', and I said, "I'm not! I haven't actually drank since-" I paused, and remembered

that it had been with one of those roofers that Ivy had hired-well, no, I hadn't actually drank that afternoon-

"Since a long time," I substituted firmly. "I don't think I have even since that night of the party that you and Ford came looking for me."

"Yeah?" he asked, as if he really wanted to believe me.

"Yeah."

Evan looked out thru the windshield as a group of little kids ran across in front of us. "Well, that's good," he said. "I'm glad."

Daniel was walking towards the truck, and he got in, just as the rain began to pour.

"Whew," he said, laying a hand on his ribs.

"How's Danny?" Evan asked, starting up the motor.

"He's doin' good. Workin' at a club in Sacramento right now," Daniel said. He seemed lighter, somehow, and I thought he must

have really enjoyed talking music with another musician again.

7