When I told Guthrie that I'd called Steven Yager, he turned and squinted at me a little.

"How come?" he asked.

"Because. He's nice. And fun," I said.

"I thought you only went out with him that one time," Guthrie said, speaking of the evening that I'd ended up in the

hospital with a blood sugar crash.

"Yeah, that's right."

At Guthrie's puzzled look, I added, "He's nice, Guth. And we're just friends."

"Does he know that's all it is?" Guthrie asked.

"I'll make sure he knows it," I promised.

We picked Steven up in front of the grocery store in town, where he'd agreed to meet us. He got out of his own

vehicle and climbed into Guthrie's truck, giving us both a wide smile.

"I'm sure glad you called," he said with enthusiasm. "We've got relatives visiting, and I'm glad to get away from

my little cousins."

"It's gonna be fun," I told him, smiling back.

We pulled up in front of the café, and all three of us went inside, where we greeted Kristin, and Guthrie asked her about the

movie.

"I've got to work for twenty more minutes," Kristin said. "Will that make it too late?"

"Naw. That'll work," Guthrie said, and the three of us went to sit in a booth.

When Marie came out of the back room a few minutes later, and spotted us sitting there, she came right over

to us. Guthrie and I both got up, stepping out of the booth to greet Marie with a hug.

"Where have you two been hiding?" she asked us, hugging Guthrie first, and then me. "It seems forever since I saw

you last."

With a sense of guilt, I realized that I hadn't been in to talk to Marie in a few weeks. Of course, part of that time, I'd been

grounded and not allowed to drive.

"We'll do better," I promised her, and she pinched my cheek affectionately, looking at Steven.

"Who's this?" she asked.

I introduced Steven and Marie, and she nodded. "I think I know your daddy," she said. "He's partial to my blueberry cobbler when

he comes in."

"What are you kids up to tonight?" she asked us then.

"Going to Angels Camp to see a movie," Guthrie told her.

"Come back by here when you're done, and you can all have some pie, on the house," Marie said.

"Thanks, Marie," Guthrie said.

When Kristin was done, and had clocked out, the four of us went outside, pausing on the sidewalk.

"I smell like French fries," Kristin said.

"Better than perfume," Guthrie told her, and I rolled my eyes at his corny compliment.

We crowded into Guthrie's truck. It was a tight squeeze, but nobody seemed to mind. We talked a little bit as we drove about

what was going on around, with the shots being fired, and the missing cows. Guthrie asked Steven if they were missing any

of their cattle, and he said no.

"There was some trouble at the Hart's place, though," Steven volunteered. "Somebody with a big truck drove right thru

their fence and across their pasture."

The Hart's ranch was fairly close to ours, and Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"We hadn't heard that," Guthrie said.

"Have you found out about the blood you and Adam saw yet?" Kristin asked. "I mean, whether it was human?"

"Not yet," I told her.

"We should know somethin' soon, though," Guthrie added.

"It's crazy," Kristin said.

"Yeah," the rest of us all said at the same time, and then we laughed, and didn't talk anymore about it right then.

7

When we got to the movie theater in Angels Camp, Guthrie paid for his and Kristin's, and my tickets. Steven paid for his own,

though he offered to pay for mine as well.

Before we went into the dark movie theater, Steven bought popcorn, two big tubs, so we could all have some.

The movie, 'Lethal Weapon', was an action-filled movie. It wasn't really my type of movie, but I still enjoyed it.

Walking out later, Kristin and I both agreed that Mel Gibson was a handsome guy.

We drove back to Murphys, laughing, and singing along with the radio.

"Wanna stop at Marie's?" Guthrie asked, as we got closer.

"Do you want to?" I asked Steven. "Marie's pies are the best."

"Sure. That sounds fun," he said.

We parked a short distance from the café, since there were still cars parked out front.

"I wonder if Daniel and Crane are still in town," I said, looking at Guthrie.

Guthrie looked back at me, with a mischieveous grin. "Wanna look for them?" he asked.

"Okay," I agreed, and so, instead of going into the café, the four of us began to walk along the sidewalks. Most of

the stores were closed by now, although there were lots of cars in front of Butch's, and in front of the bar, of course.

"They're not at the bar," I said, as we paused to the side of the building, which was in need of a paint job.

"Jeeps not here," Guthrie agreed.

We poked our heads inside the swinging doors of the bar for a minute, where there was no sign of either Daniel or Crane.

There was, however, loud laughter ringing out, and, as we would have gone on our way, I heard a yipping, and paused

to look again. I pushed against the swinging door, peering into the darkness of the bar.

"What is it?" Kristin asked, coming back to stand beside me, as Guthrie and Steven walked on.

"Somebody brought their dog to the bar," I told her, not sure if I thought that was funny, or just wrong.

"Really? Where?" she asked, leaning in beside me.

"Over there," I said, and then I tried to focus on the dog in question. A medium-sized dog. Sort of a brown color.

At least it looked sort of brown from where I stood.

"That's the dog I saw up at our cabin," I said.

"Really? Are you sure?" Kristin asked.

"Pretty sure."

"Well, there must be a lot of dogs that look like that," Kristin argued.

"Uh huh," I said vaguely, and stepped on into the bar a bit further.

"Harlie, come out," Kristin hissed at me.

"I'm just looking," I said, and then, when a voice spoke from right beside me, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Can I help you with somethin', Harlie?" a gruff voice asked, and I turned to see Mickey Jones, owner of the bar,

right next to me. The music from the jukebox had obviously kept me from hearing him approach.

"Um, no, sir," I said. "I was just looking for someone-"

"Haven't seen any of your brothers tonight," he answered.

"Oh. Okay," I said, trying to appear nonchalant.

"You'd best be gettin' on," Mickey said then. "You're not supposed to be in here, you know."

"Okay," I said, and stepped out, nearly stumbling over Kristin in the process.

"I can't believe you just did that," Kristin said, her eyes wide.

"Guthrie!" I called, and he turned from his spot on down the sidewalk to look at me.

"What?" he hollered back.

I motioned him to come back, and when he hollered, "What?" again, I motioned more vigorously.

He and Steven came back to where we stood. "What d'ya want?" Guthrie demanded.

"There's a dog in there," I said, motioning to inside the bar.

"So what?"

"I think it's the same dog that Evan and I saw up at the line cabin!" I said. "And if it is, then the guy that was inside the cabin

might be in there, too!"

"No way," Guthrie scoffed.

"I'm pretty sure," I said, and he elbowed me aside.

"Let me see," he said, and peered into the inner sanctum of the bar. "Where is it?" he asked.

I stuck my head inside again. "Watch out," I warned. Mickey saw me a few minutes ago."

"Dumb Dora," Guthrie accused me. "Don't know how to do anything without gettin' caught at it."

"Well, go on then, smarty-pants," I told him.

So Guthrie cast a look around for Mickey, and then ran his gaze over the crowd inside. Hank Williams crooned

from the jukebox.

"I don't see a dog anywhere," Guthrie said, after a few minutes.

"He was over that way," I insisted, pointing.

"Naw. Let's go," Guthrie said. "I don't see anything."

We'd started down the sidewalk again, when there was a commotion of laughter, and we looked back. A guy carrying

the medium sized dog came halfway out of the bar door, and then paused, and still laughing, went back inside.

"See, I told you!" I said triumphantly.

"It wasn't Seth, was it?" Guthrie asked, looking fierce.

"No. At least I don't think it was," I said. "He went back in awfully fast."

"It wasn't Seth," Kristin agreed.

"Who is this Seth guy?" Steven asked, as the four of us huddled together, talking.

"He's a horrible person," Kristin said.

"Scum of the earth," Guthrie added.

"We'll tell you later," I told Steven. Then to Guthrie, I said, "Well? Are we gonna try to find out who that guy is?"

"Well," Guthrie said, looking considering, "Let me think a minute."

"I'll go to Marie's, and call Mickey on the phone, and then you can go inside and try to find out, while he's distracted," I suggested.

"We don't need to find out who he is," Guthrie reminded me. "Remember? The sheriff already talked to him. They know who

he is. And he claimed he didn't know he was on private property."

"Yeah," I said, in remembrance. "But maybe he's talking about it in there to somebody. We might find out what he was really

doing up there."

"Hmm," Guthrie said, in thought.

"I don't think you should," Kristin objected.

"I'll go around to the back," Guthrie finally decided. "I'll watch and listen from back there, thru the open windows."

"That's dumb," I told him, but he said, "Come on, Steven."

And then, to Kristin and I, he added, "You girls stay here."

As he and Steven went around to the back of the bar, Kristin and I waited, leaning against the front of the building.

A few short minutes later, and the brown dog trotted out, pausing to sniff at Kristin and I, and then, the same guy came out and

stumbled towards a gray truck parked in front.

"Rufe!" he called to the dog, and the dog obediently turned from Kristin and I and went to him.

He lifted the dog, and put her into the truck thru the open window, and then came back towards us, obviously intent

on going back inside the bar.

This was my chance, and I seized it. "I like your dog," I said, and the guy paused a moment.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking at me glaze-eyed.

"Yeah. What sort of a dog is it?" I asked.

"He's an Australian-Australian shepherd," he said.

"Well, he's beautiful," I said.

"Yeah," the guy said, and stumbled on past us, going back inside.

"I need to work on my flirting skills," I muttered, and then said, "Come on," to Kristin.

"What are you doing now?" she asked, following me.

"Stay over there by the door," I told her. "Watch out and tell me if you see him coming back."

"Harlie, are you crazy?" she hissed, as I went to the driver's window of the truck.

I waved her back, and said, "Hello, boy," to the dog. "Rufe. Is that your name, huh?" I let the dog smell my hand,

and then scratched behind his ears.

"Is it okay if I reach in here?" I asked the dog, as I began to pick up papers on the dash of the truck. Hunting magazines. And others.

Penthouse. A nearly-naked girl smiled from the front cover, and I dropped it in a hurry. Yuck.

Looking in the seat of the truck I saw tools. Hammers. Ropes. Styrofoam cups. Nothing that made the contents of

his truck out of the ordinary.

I was reaching for another piece of paper off the dash to read when Kristin gave a quick, low whistle.

"Hey," she hissed. "He's coming out!"

I drew my hand back, as the guy approached me. I didn't have time to move away from the truck, so

I just leaned there, trying to look casual.

"What are you doin'?" he demanded of me.

"I was just petting your dog," I said, blurting out the first thing that came to my mind.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking as though he didn't believe me.

"Yeah. I like your truck, too," I added, trying to smile at him.

"Yeah?" he asked again, coming closer to me.

"Uh huh," I said, and I could see Kristin behind him, motioning wildly to me to come. She looked panicked. I felt

that way, but tried hard not to show it.

"Do you live around here?" I asked then, as he stared at me, bleary-eyed.

I thought he looked as though he was in his late twenties or around there. He wasn't bad looking, but I don't think he'd

taken a bath for awhile.

"Nope," he said. "At least, not for very long."

"Oh," I said, wondering what he meant by that.

"How 'bout you?" he asked, stepping even closer to me. By now he was practically up on me, leaning one hand

on the side of the truck. "You live nearby?"

"Um, no," I said, trying to think fast. "I'm just visiting somebody here."

He peered closer at me, and then reached out to lift one of my wayward curls. I saw Kristin sprint from her spot and

run toward the back of the bar, and I knew she'd gone to fetch Guthrie.

I felt the panic rise higher. Guthrie would go crazy, and try to fight. We'd both be in trouble at home.

I stepped around him, and said, "I need to get going."

He caught at my wrist. "What's your hurry?"

"I'm late," I said, and tried another smile. It must have been a good smile, as far as he was concerned, because his

grip loosened. I hurried over to the side of the bar, and then went around to the back, so I could meet up with Guthrie, rather

than have him charge around front.

"Hi," I said, breathlessly, as I ran nearly smack-dab into Guthrie, followed shortly by Kristin and Steven.

"Where's the guy?" Guthrie said, really loud, and I pulled at his arm to stop him.

"Shh," I said.

"Don't shush me," he said, yanking his arm loose. "Kristin says-"

"It's okay," I said, trying to sound soothing. "He's leaving. Just let him go."

Guthrie charged on past me, and to the front of the bar, with us following him. The guy was behind the wheel of his truck

and was starting the motor. I tugged hard on Guthrie, telling him that the guy hadn't done anything.

"What were you doin'?" Guthrie demanded of me, and I was relieved that he was letting the guy drive away.

"I was just looking-to see if I could find out anything about him, you know?" I said.

"And he caught you?" Guthrie looked shocked.

"No," I said quickly. "He thought I was just petting his dog."

Guthrie stood and stared at me, and while he wasn't shouting at me, I could tell he was mad. But he put a lid on it,

and to Kristin and Steven it appeared that he was alright.

"Let's go to Marie's," he said, and we all went over to the café, where Marie served us up pie with ice cream on top.

I knew I shouldn't eat that much sugar, but since I hadn't eaten any candy at the movies, I told myself it would be alright.

Marie asked how the movie had been, and sat and talked to us for awhile.

When she said that she'd seen us drive by earlier, and asked where we'd been for the last thirty minutes, we all looked

at one another, and then Guthrie said, "We were just lookin' for Crane and Daniel. Messin' around."

Marie nodded, but I thought that she looked questioning, though she didn't say anything at that particular moment.

After we left the café, Steven went to his own truck, and we drove Kristin home.

"You could spend the night," I told her, both because I wanted her to do so, and also for the fact that I wasn't

anxious to have Guthrie begin to fuss at me.

"I would, but I have to go to work early tomorrow," Kristin said.

So we dropped Kristin off, and I waited for him to say something. When he just popped a piece of gum in his

mouth, and didn't say anything for a few minutes, I turned sideways in the truck seat to face him.

"I was just trying to see if I could find out anything," I defended myself.

"It was stupid," he said shortly.

"He believed me when I said I was just petting his dog," I insisted.

"Stupid," he repeated.

"Stop calling me stupid!"

"It's the truth," he said.

"You're the one who wanted to throw smoke bombs down the chimney at the cabin," I reminded him. "All I

did was look at a few papers and stuff."

"The difference is-I didn't actually do it," he said.

I huffed at him, and flopped against the door of the truck. "Okay, boss man," I muttered under my breath.

I meant it just the way that it sounded. It was not meant as a compliment.

Guthrie glared at me. He knew just how I meant it, too.

"Let's not fight," I said.

When he was silent, I accused, "Or do you WANT to fight?"

"No."

"Okay," I said, and after a couple of minutes, he threw his wadded up gum wrapper at my head.

"Are we going to tell everybody else about seeing that guy?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said, looking thoughtful.

"I think I should tell Adam," I said, after another few moments.

"Tell him what, though?" Guthrie asked. "We're not even sure that's the same dog or same guy that were up at the cabin."

"I'm sure about the dog, Guth."

"Well," he said, and shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe we should. You goin' to tell him about rooting thru his truck, too?"

"Well, no," I said. "I'm not crazy."

7