We told Brian and Crane what happened briefly, and both Brian and Daniel looked angry.

Brian called Todd a few uncomplimentary names.

"You're okay?" Crane asked me, and Daniel came over to me, putting his arm

around my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I assured them.

"You're shaking," Daniel said, and he wrapped his other arm around me. I had to admit

it felt good right then to have all five of them there.

"I'm just glad the boys came along when they did," I said gratefully.

Crane took Evan's face in one hand. "A bloody nose? That's all?"

"That's all," Evan said.

"What about you?" Brian asked Ford.

"A torn shirt. That's it."

"Who is this clown? How old is he?" Brian asked.

"I think he's nineteen or twenty," I said, looking at Evan and Ford for confirmation.

Brian and Crane exchanged a look, and Brian said, "Evan, you better get cleaned up before

the guys get here."

"I'll throw some lunch together," Crane said.

Evan headed upstairs and Brian told Ford and I to try to clear some more

smoke out. Daniel went to help Crane, and Brian stretched out on the couch.

"I'd like a nice quiet day for once," he said wearily.

77777777777777777

After lunch, Evan was waiting on the porch for his ride, and I went out to lean opposite

of him.

"Are you nervous?" I asked him.

"No. I will be, right before my events, but not yet."

"Thank you. For Todd. You know."

"It's okay."

"I'm sure glad you guys came home."

"I am, too."

"It was scary," I said quietly.

Evan gave me a long look. "Yeah. I don't think he'll try anything like that again."

I was surprised in a way that Evan hadn't told me off for opening the door

to Todd.

"If Ford hadn't gotten in my way, I could have really cleaned his clock," Evan

said, with a grin.

I smiled, too.

"Don't tell Ford I said that. I wouldn't want him to feel bad about his contribution."

I giggled a little. Evan looked down the driveway, where Tim Frank's big red truck

was pulling in, pulling a trailer.

Evan hollared in the door. "Daniel! Let's go!"

"Hey, I put something in your bag," I said, pointing to the duffel bag over Evan's

shoulder.

Evan groaned. "A prank, Harlie? Today? I don't need this today."

"No, not a prank! It's nothing bad. It's a sort of surprise."

"Oh. Okay," Evan said, looking puzzled.

Daniel came out, carrying his own bag.

Crane and Brian came out to say hello to Tim. Evan loaded his horse

into the trailer with Tim's horse. After everybody had talked for a few minutes,

Brian caught Evan around the neck.

"Good luck, and do good. Don't embarrass me," Brian told him.

"I'll try not to," Evan grinned.

Watching them drive down the road, I thought, 'first we were nine, then six, now four."

I looked at Brian and Crane. "It's going to be really quiet around here," I said.

"That's fine with me," Brian said.

7

I spent the evening curled up beside Crane, working on my Thomas Jefferson report.

Ford announced he was going to see Cleo.

"That OK?" he asked Brian.

Adam doesn't like Ford or Guthrie to go out on school nights, so I

waited to see what Brian said. Brian waved a hand at Ford.

"Go ahead on," he said. "Be home before midnight."

Ford said he would be, and then he was gone, too.

Crane and Brian were both reading, and it was so quiet, I wasn't sure I liked

it at all.

I wiggled my way under Crane's arm, pressing myself against his side.

"Report done?" he asked me.

"Uh huh."

I was nearly asleep when Crane gave me a gentle push.

"Go on up to bed, peanut."

"I'm comfortable right here. You make a good pillow. For such a skinny guy, you're pretty

soft."

" Such flattery. You're gonna make my head swell."

7+7+7+7+7+7+7

When I went downstairs the next morning nobody was around. I got a bowl

of cereal, and some coffee, and went into the living room. I turned on the TV, but there

wasn't a lot on to watch. I sighed, and started on my homework.

I was getting really tired of staying home, and not being able to do

anything. I actually missed school. I kept breaking my pencil and resharpening

until I finally threw it against the wall. I stalked into the kitchen and drank

another cup of coffee.

I heard Crane outside talking to Gus. "You're a good boy, yes, Gussie's a good boy."

When Crane came in, he said, "Morning, peanut."

"Hey."

"Did you eat?"

"Yeah."

"Take your medicine?"

"No. I was thinking I'd try to taper off of it."

Crane looked at me doubtfully.

"Why is that?"

"Well, I won't be able to take it when I go back to school."

"Right. But that's not for another week, at least."

I shrugged. "It's not hurting that much at all right now. I just don't

think I need it."

Crane sighed. "The reason it's not hurting right now is because I woke

you up at two this morning to give you a pill. Remember?"

"I know," I said, but added stubbornly, "But I still think I can space

them out more."

Crane still looked skeptical.

"I want to try," I insisted.

"Alright," he said quietly.

I got another cup of coffee and went to the living room to finish

my homework. After awhile I was feeling the pinch in my

back. I stood up, and stretched. Ow, that hurt!

I tried to pick a name from the list of Presidents. They all seemed to run

together in front of my eyes. Millard Fillmore. What kind of

name was that?

I stomped back to the kitchen, intent on more coffee.

"Hey," Crane said, from his spot at the sink. "No more coffee."

"Why not?" I asked crossly.

"Because I said so."

I huffed and went to the refrigerator, taking out the orange juice. I went

to get a glass out of the cabinet.

After I poured some juice, I went back to the living room. I did NOT want

to do another report. I was seriously considering just walking out

the door, and going to see Petra in the field, when Crane

called, "Harlie, come back in here and put the juice away."

I muttered under my breath and went back to the kitchen. I yanked

the door of the old Fridgadaire open, and shoved the juice back in.

When I slammed the door shut, it wouldn't close. I shoved some stuff around

and slammed it again. It still wouldn't close.

"Gaaahhh!" I yelled, frustrated.

Crane leaned against the sink, drying his hands, and watching me.

"Stupid damn door!" I swore.

Crane came over and opened the door wide, adjusting the shelf I'd knocked

crooked. When he shut the door, it closed perfectly.

Then he stood there looking at me, his hands on his hips.

"So, you're going to tell me not to swear, right?" I preempted him.

Instead of scolding me, he said, "What's the matter with you this morning?"

"I'm tired of this! I can't do anything! And when I try to do something, it just

hurts! It's been four days since I brushed my hair, cause it HURTS!"

"It's going to take time to feel better, Harlie."

"And, I'm sick and tired of these stupid reports every day! Writing about people

I don't want to know anything about! It's the worst punishment ever, Crane!"

I was breathing hard. I was mad and frustrated at the situation.

Crane surveyed me quietly, waiting until I was done with my tirade.

"I thought we agreed there'd be no complaints about the reports." There was a

warning note in his voice, if I'd taken care to listen to it.

I chose not to listen. "Well, I'm complaining! I don't want to do them anymore! Why

don't you just whack me like Brian did! Then I wouldn't have to write about idiotic

Millard Fillmore!"

Crane looked at me like he was disappointed. He looked a little mad, too. At least

he looked deadly serious, which for Crane is pretty much the same thing as looking

mad.

"Go get your paper and encyclopedia," he said curtly.

I sighed and went to the living room, gathering up paper and pencils, and went

to the bookshelf, looking for volume F. Tears were swimming in my eyes, making it

hard to find it.

I trudged back to the kitchen. Crane was sitting at the table, and he pointed

to the chair beside him. "Sit," he said.

When I did, he took the encyclopedia, flipping thru until he found Millard Fillmore.

He laid it open in front of me.

"Look at me," he said, and I did. All the fight had gone out of me.

"Whether you're fed up with doing these isn't going to figure into it, Harlie. That's

the punishment, and you're going to do them, until you go back to school,

just like we told you. Understood?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"What did I say about complaining about them?"

"Another thousand words," I managed.

"Right." He tapped the paper. "Get busy," he said, standing up.

I started crying for real then, sniffing and swiping at my cheeks while I

tried to write. After a few minutes, Crane set a box of Kleenex on the table

in front of me. "Knock it off," he said, and after that I tried to cry quietly.

I wrote and wrote. I didn't know where Crane had gone, but I finally got up,

trying to stretch. I lugged everything into the living room, and sat down on the

floor, leaning with my back against the couch, hoping a change of position would

help.

Crane came in after awhile, and I looked up at him miserably.

"I'm sorry, Crane. I guess I'm acting like a brat."

"Yeah. You are," he said, but he looked at me kindly. "Ready to take

some medicine now?"

I didn't care right then if I was being weak. I nodded. "Yeah."

Crane went to the kitchen, returning with a pill and milk. When I'd swallowed it,

he held out a hand to pull me up.

I looked at him, puzzled.

"Come on."

I took his hand, and when I was standing beside him, he ushered me towards the

couch. "Take a nap," he said.

"I still have a lot of writing to do," I protested, though the thought of a nap sounded

darn appealing.

"It'll still be there when you get up," he said, covering me with a blanket.

7\seven

When I woke up, I stretched carefully. I felt better. It was quiet and I looked

around the room. Brian was sitting in the chair across from me, writing out checks.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey. You snore, you know that?"

"Says the guy who sounds like a sawmill when he's sleeping."

"Hmm."

"Where's Crane?"

"He went to the store to get groceries for Hannah's Around the World thing. Why,

you need something?"

"No. I just wondered where he was."

I stretched again, peeling off my blanket.

"He probably needed to get away, for a break," I said.

"Why's that?"

"I gave him a hard time," I sighed.

Brian didn't say anything to that, and I laid still, looking around. I saw a

really big spider web in one corner of the ceiling.

"Bri? There's a giant spider web up there," I said, and pointed.

Brian looked. "There sure is."

"Hannah will flip."

"Well, we'll do a clean up around here tonight."

"Evan and Daniel will be home, right?"

"Yep."

I sat up, intent on getting my report done. I wanted to spend time with Daniel

that night.

"Brian?"

"What?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"You know the day of the accident? I thought I'd covered my arms and face

good enough."

"You covered them enough."

"Then how did you know? That something was wrong, I mean."

"I've had a lot of practice being an older brother, peach."

"Oh."

"I see all, hear all, and know all. Don't forget it."

I smiled at him a little. "OK."

It was later when I realized that Brian hadn't answered my question. I still

didn't know how he'd known something was wrong.

7:7:7:7:7:7:7

When Daniel and Evan got home, Tim was asked to stay to eat. Supper was rowdy,

loud and fun. Evan and Tim had both done well, placing second in their team roping,

and Evan placed third in his bareback riding.

"They were ON it," Daniel said proudly.

"So you didn't embarrass me then?" Brian said.

"I guess not," Evan grinned.

When Tim was getting ready to leave, he nodded toward my pajamas

with a grin. "Nice outfit," he said.

"Thank you," I said, unperturbed.

Tim's been Evan's friend a long time, and he was like part of the family. I

knew my pajamas were perfectly modest. Now, if I'd been wearing one

of my shorty baby doll PJs, then I might have been embarrassed.

Daniel slung an arm around my shoulder. "That's all the clothes the poor

kid has," he told Tim.

"Yeah," Brian said dryly. "We keep her in rags, and barefoot."

After Tim was gone, Brian and Crane started handing out chores. I was

drying dishes with Ford when Daniel came thru to get the broom.

"Cobweb duty," he said.

"Don't be afraid, Daniel," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "They can sense

your fear."

"Ha!" Daniel said, jabbing the broom into the air like it was a sword. "I laugh in the

face of spiders."

"They laugh at the face of Daniel, too, I bet," Ford snickered.

"Keep it up, little brother," Daniel warned him.

"Hey," Daniel said quietly, to me on his way past, "That was a nice thing you did for

Evan, with the cookies. I'm proud of you, squirt."

"Did he like them?"

"He sure did. He hardly shared with the rest of us."

Later, while I was coming down with dirty laundry and Evan was going up

with clean laundry, we passed each other on the stairs.

"Hey," he said. "Thanks a lot for the cookies. They were real good."

Evan was smiling and he looked really appreciative. I felt kind of bad

that something so simple on my part meant so much to Evan.

"You're welcome. At least they weren't burned to a crisp like the others."

"The note was nice, too," he said.

"So, can we call truce again?" I asked.

"We can. I'm tired of fighting with you. It gets old, Harlie."

"I'm sorry, Evan. I haven't been very nice lately."

"We can both try harder," he said, and he took the top towel off his pile,

tossing it over my head, before he continued upstairs.

7

The missing three links of our family chain would be home the next day,

and I was glad. I missed Guthrie so much that I ached from it. I wanted to

see Hannah's sweet smile, and I wished for a strong hug from Adam. But I was

nervous, too. I absolutely hate it when Adam lectures me, and I figured as I was in

for a whopper of a lecture.

When the house was clean, and the laundry done, all five guys collapsed

into chairs and onto couches in the living room. I came through carrying a vase

of lilacs I'd picked.

I set the vase on the coffee table, and surveyed them all.

"A man's work is done when down goes the sun; but woman's work is never

done." I quoted.

"I'm beat," Daniel said.

I tapped Daniel's foot with my own. "Housework too tough for you?"

"Get lost, squirt," Daniel said, opening one closed eye to look up at me.

"I'm going," I told him. "I'm going up to bed." I stopped at the foot of

the stairs amid them all telling me good night.

Daniel was sitting up straight now, picking up his guitar.

"Hey, Daniel? Sing me to sleep," I said.

"You insult me, and then expect me to use my golden vocal chords to

lull you to sleep? Why should I?"

"That's okay. Ford will, won't you, Ford?" I said, knowing that would reel Daniel in.

"Go on," Daniel waved a hand at me. "I'll consider it."

Daniel can never pass up an opportunity to sing. He's a born ham. I smiled

as I went upstairs.

By the time I was under my blankets, I could hear Daniel, with Ford joining in, singing

my favorite John Denver song.

'He was born in the summer of his 27th year,

Coming home to a place he'd never been before

He left yesterday behind him,

You might say he was born again,

Might say he found a key to every door.'

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