It was fun, riding along into town with Guthrie. We had the radio cranked up loud, bursting into song together on the chorus of
George Jones, 'Well the "G" men, "T" men, revenuers, too, Searchin' for the place where he made his brew, They were looking, tryin' to book him,
But my pappy kept cookin', Whshhhoooh...white lightnin'
Clarence didn't seem to mind. He settled himself in the center of the seat, on top of his favorite blue blanket that he took nearly everywhere
with him.
We did talk about what we thought might happen with Jill, what the lawyer might advise, all of that.
Guthrie asked me if I'd been scared when those two guys had come to the house.
"Yeah, a little," I admitted. "But then in town later, when I heard Leo talking about us, I wasn't so scared."
When he asked me what happened, I told him that I'd popped up from where I'd been hiding in the truck cab, and mouthed off
to Leo. And how Jill had put herself between the two of us.
At that, Guthrie got sort of quiet, reaching over to turn down the radio. He was shaking his head, slightly.
"What?" I asked.
Guthrie just leveled me with a look.
"What, Guthrie?" I demanded, puzzled.
"That was pretty dumb of you to do," Guthrie said.
My first instinct was to get riled up. Guthrie hadn't been there, he didn't have all the facts...
"He was talking trash, Guthrie," I said, in protest.
"So what? He's not a good guy or he wouldn't even be here. If he was a good guy, he wouldn't have done what he's done to Jill all this time, from what she said. He
could have taken after you-hurt ya, even. Jill must have thought so, too. It was dumb of you," Guthrie said.
I pressed my lips together, and set my mouth, looking out the window at the fields flying by.
After a couple of moments, probably not even five minutes, Guthrie reached over and gave my arm a light punch.
"Come on, Har," he said. "Don't get mad."
"I'm not mad," I said, still looking out the window.
"Yeah. You are."
I blew upwards, making my bangs scatter. "I'm not." I sighed. Guthrie had a valid point. I'd known that as soon as I saw Leo's face storm over, and
when Jill had stepped between us...well, I'd known then that she thought that Leo might, just might, do something to me.
"I shouldn't have," I said, in agreement.
"So I'm what?" Guthrie asked, teasing me, and leaning over to cup his hand behind his ear. "I'm right? Say it, Har. Guthrie, you are right."
"You're such a child," I told him, loftily.
"Yeah. Well, you're lucky Brian and Adam don't know about it. Brian's already mad enough about you standin' on that bucket-"
"It was a crate, not a bucket," I corrected, but I felt my stomach get all knotted. "You're not gonna say anything, are you?"
Guthrie gave me another you're kidding type of look.
Then he shook his head. "Nope."
"Okay," I said, relieved. I hadn't thought that Guthrie really would rat me out.
"If I did, then I'd miss you too much," Guthrie said, reaching over to turn the radio back up.
"Huh? Miss me?" I asked, confused.
"Yeah. If I did tell, Brian would kill you, and I'd miss havin' your dumb butt around-"
"Oh, ha, ha," I said, reaching across Clarence to grind my knuckles into Guthrie's shoulder.
7
We drove up to Kristen's mobile home, and Guthrie parked.
"Frank's car is gone," I said.
"Yeah. Good. I don't wanna look at his sorry, fat face," Guthrie said.
For just a moment I thought about going in with Guthrie, but then, just as quickly, I rejected the idea. Brian would burst a blood
vessel if he found out. Even without Frank there, Brian always said, and Adam did, too, that Frank could come back and cause trouble. They
didn't even allow Guthrie to go to Kristen's to stay for any length of time. They wanted him to take her out, or bring her back to our house.
Always.
"I'll be right back," Guthrie said, and got out, walking up the few steps to the trailer door. I unwrapped a piece of gum, popping it in my mouth,
thinking how much like Adam was, in the way he walked, and even how he stood.
The door opened and I saw Guthrie step inside. Good. It was going to be great to see Kristen. We hardly got a chance to talk at school
lately. Kristen had been acting a little bit strange lately, too-sort of quiet, and withdrawn. It would be good to have a chance to have a
real talk. Maybe to find out what was bothering her...
I looked up. Guthrie was coming back out already. Even though Kristin hadn't known we were coming by, she must be ready to
escape.
The rattle of a car that had seen better days came and Frank pulled up, just as Guthrie had reached the bottom of the steps. Without Kristen, though.
"Bat shit," I muttered. What where the chances, that Frank would show up just in the few minutes we'd been here?
A glance toward Frank and I could see that he was glaring towards Guthrie, and then me. I felt a shudder go down my back.
As he was lumbering to get out of his small car, Guthrie was beside the truck.
"Where's Kristen?" I hissed, leaning over towards Guthrie's open window.
"Not here," Guthrie said, his eyes on Frank.
"Let's go," I said, urgently.
Guthrie opened the driver's door, but before he could get in, Frank was out of his car, and walking towards us.
"Well, look who's here," Frank said, his eyes narrowing.
Guthrie paused, and I hissed at him again. "Guthrie, let's go!"
Guthrie slid into the seat behind the steering wheel, putting his hand on the key.
"Haven't seen the pair of you 'round here for a while," Frank said. I couldn't tell if he was totally drunk, but his eyes were
sharper than usual. Not so bleary.
"Guess you're not findin' Kristin at home, are ya?" Frank talked on.
Guthrie started the truck, but instead of putting the truck in reverse and leaving, he looked at Frank thru the open window.
"She gonna be home soon?" Guthrie asked.
I reached out and gave Guthrie's leg a pinch. "What are you asking him that for?" I whispered.
Frank may not have heard my words, but he caught something, because he focused his eyes on me instead of Guthrie.
"How's life treating you there, Harlie?" he asked me.
I mumbled that i was just fine, and gave Guthrie a poke to his leg. "Let's go," I hissed at him.
"Well," Guthrie said, in a effort to get Frank to move his hand from the hood of the truck. He put the truck in reverse and we backed out of
the driveway, and drove down the street leading back to the center of town.
"He's such a creep," I said.
"He's somethin, alright," Guthrie said, with disgust.
"Where's Kristin?" I asked, then.
"Buddy didn't say. And I didn't feel like beggin' him to tell me," Guthrie said. Now he sounded mad.
I turned so I could see him better. "I wonder where she is. Maybe she's with her mom?"
Guthrie shrugged, and was silent.
"Want to stop at the Dari Kurl? I'll buy you a chocolate shake," I offered.
"No. Thanks."
"So I guess we just head back home, then, huh?" I asked, giving Clarence a scratch behind his ear.
"Guess so."
So we did that. Turned down the street that would lead to the road out of town.
We passed the Rusty Bucket bar and I gave the parking lot a good look for the second time that day.
"Slow down a minute," I told him.
Guthrie did, looking over the lot as well.
"What?" he asked. "What are you lookin' at?"
"I see their truck," I said, leaning forward, and pointing.
"Whose?"
"The goons!" I said, impatiently. "Leo and Chess!"
Guthrie slowed to a near crawl. "Where?"
"There. The white one," I said. "They're back at the bar again."
'You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!"
Guthrie did a complete stop now. Which in our small town, isn't that big of a deal, really. People who want to go around will just do that,
honking and waving as they do.
"They're still here!" I said, unnecessarily.
"What's your first clue, Sherlock?" Guthrie goaded me.
"They were supposed to leave, though-"
"There's no law about them stopping at the Rusty Bucket for a beer," Guthrie said, looking as though he was deep in thought. He pulled over a bit
more, closer to the edge of the parking lot.
"We better tell Daniel," I said. "And Adam and Brian-"
Guthrie was silent, still looking as though he was contemplating something big.
"What, Guth?" I demanded. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm not thinkin' anything," Guthrie denied. Which he then disproved, because he opened the driver's door and stepped out of the
truck.
Before I could react or demand an explanation, Guthrie was skulking over the grass that needed mowing, and past the trash barrels where
all the beer bottles get thrown into. "Stay here," he said, as he started the skulking.
"Guthrie!" I scooted over to the truck door that he'd left open. "What are you doing? Get back here!"
In answer, Guthrie didn't turn or speak, he just waved a dismissing hand back at me, and kept on walking.
I was frustrated. I was worried. I could almost feel the shot of adrenaline jumping thru my blood. But, I knew one thing. I wasn't going to
just sit there, like a good little girl, while Guthrie potentially put himself into a situation-
Guthrie was my ride or die. Mi compadre. I was out of the truck, and bent on following him, though he was already out of sight.
Must of gone round the back of the bar-
"I'll be right back, Clarence," I told him, closing the truck door. Clarence barely acknowledged the fact that I was leaving him.
I was largely ignoring the trucks and cars going past. I wasn't doing anything illegal-
I heard a bit of squeaky brakes, and then someone calling to me.
"Harlie? Hey!"
I turned to see Evan, leaning out his open truck window, with Nancy in the middle of the seat beside him, and an older man, Nancy's dad,
on the passenger side.
Bat shit, I muttered to myself. What were the chances? First Frank showing up at the exact wrong second, and now Evan...
"What're you doin'?" Evan hollared over to me.
There wasn't really an answer to that, so while I was trying to think of one, Evan motioned to me.
"Comere," he called.
Nancy was leaning over, giving me a curious look, too.
"Harlie!" Evan said, louder, when I was still standing without moving.
I sighed, and began walking over towards the truck. I halfway hoped Guthrie would come back round the corner right then, and half hoped
that he wouldn't.
"What are you doin' here?" Evan asked, as I reached the truck. "You drivin' Guthrie's truck?"
"No," I said, slowly. "We came to pick Kristin up."
"Yeah?" Evan looked confused. "Where is she? Where's Guthrie?"
"Kristin didn't come. She wasn't home."
"Where's Guthrie then?" Evan asked. He was still asking questions in a relatively calm way, looking mildly curious, not hugely concerned.
I knew that was about to change, though.
When I still hesitated, Nancy said, "You okay?"
"Uh huh. Fine," I said.
Evan's eyes narrowed a bit.
"Where is Guthrie?" he asked, again, in a tone that suggested I shouldn't put him off an answer any longer.
"He'll be right back," I said, still hedging. I for sure didn't want to throw Guthrie under the bus. Gosh darn it, why did Guthrie have to
go and do something crazy and put me in this uncomfortable situation.
"Alright, Harlie," Evan said, apparently having reached his limit of patience. He opened the door so fast it nearly got me, and I took several
steps back. Nancy took the opportunity to scoot over more, so that she was behind the steering wheel now.
"Tell me what's going on," Evan ordered. "Right now."
"Guthrie went round the back," I admitted.
"Of the bar?" Nancy asked, sounding surprised.
"He'll be right back," I said, again.
"What's he doing?" Evan demanded.
"I'm not sure," I said.
Evan's eyes snapped at me. "You're pissing me off," he said, in warning.
I met his gaze, trying to determine the best course of action. Right then, things weren't looking any too good for me, let alone Guthrie.
Besides, we might need Evan...
"We saw the truck. The one those two guys were driving today," I admitted. "We stopped, and Guthrie-" my voice trailed off. I didn't want to
incriminate Guthrie any more than I had to.
"What? What the hell is he thinkin'?" Evan said, looking as though he was going to explode.
"He's just round back," I said, lamely.
"Oh, you're sure of that, are ya?" Evan said. He studied the parking lot for a long moment, and then turned to Nancy.
"Nanc, go on and take your dad home," Evan said. "I'll ride home with the kids."
"I don't want to leave you here, though," Nancy began, and her father added, "I'm alright, Evan. I can help look for the boy-"
"No, that's alright," Evan said. "You go on and get your medicine." He exchanged a look with Nancy, and they seemed to understand each
other without any other words.
"Okay," Nancy said, settling in behind the steering wheel. "How about I take Harlie with me?"
Just as Evan said, 'Yeah, okay, good," I was protesting. "No!"
Nancy looked surprised. "Why not, Harlie?"
"Because-if I go home with you, then I'll have to explain why I'm with you and not with Guthrie-" I said, and turned to Evan.
"Please, Ev, let me ride home with you and Guthrie."
"Oh, alright," Evan said, giving in. But, not very graciously, by the look he was giving me.
"Okay," Nancy said. "See you at home, then."
She put the truck in reverse, and backed into the street, and drove off.
"Get in the truck and stay there," Evan said. He paused, and then said, really sharply, "And don't even think about arguing with me."
"I wasn't going to, Ev," I assured him.
"Right," he said, sounding doubtful. "Get in there, now, and lock the doors."
Even though it was hot, and I was likely to die from heat exhaustion, I didn't point that out. I did think that locking myself in the truck was
carrying things a bit too far, but I bit back my protest.
As Evan started walking thru the lot, and towards the back of the bar, I got into Guthrie's truck and obediently rolled up the windows, and locked the
doors. I sat behind the steering wheel, picking at my cuticles with nervousness, and muttering to Clarence. I was between mad at Guthrie for doing this stupid stunt, and mad at myself for even mentioning seeing the goon's truck in the bar lot.
If I hadn't said anything, we would have been nearly home by now, probably. There was some pumpkin bread left in the kitchen, and I could
have had a piece of that, and gone to my room to read and relax after this horrendous day. Instead, here I sat, in a locked, hot truck, waiting for
my brothers. I was worried about Guthrie, what if he'd done something other than slip around the back of the bar-and I was worried about Evan
being mad. He'd probably lecture us all the way home, and then, if he told Adam and Brian-well, I wouldn't be ending the evening
eating pumpkin bread and reading peacefully in my room.
7
