I went along with Crane the rest of the afternoon. He finished patching the fence around the barn corral and then
he said he had to go somewhere in the Jeep.
As he went to get his rifle from the gun cabinet in the living room, I asked him where it was he was going.
"Just something that I want to check out," he said.
"Can I go with you?" I asked him.
He looked thoughtful for a long moment, as if he was considering, and then said, "I guess you can. The sun's hot. Go
get your hat."
I hurried to take my hat from one of the hooks by the back door.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Hannah asked me, from where she and Clare sat working at the table,
rolling bread dough.
"I'm going with Crane," I told her.
As I went to rejoin Crane, and we were heading out the front door, Hannah caught up with us, following us out onto the
porch.
"Crane?" she asked. That was all she said, but Crane understood.
"Everything's alright, Hannah," he told her.
"Well, where are you going?" she asked, nodding towards the rifle he was carrying.
"I'm just going to take a ride, and check out some fence," Crane said.
"Alright," Hannah said, but she still looked and sounded nervous.
"We'll be back before supper," Crane told her, and I followed him to the Jeep.
Crane stopped at the gate past the barn, got out and opened it, and then motioned to me to drive thru.
I scooted over to the driver's seat, and put the Jeep in first gear and pulled thru, coming to a stop. Crane shut
the gate and I scooted back to my own seat.
"Here comes somebody," I said, squinting into the sun, and trying to see who the two riders were that
were approaching from the distance.
"It's Adam, isn't it? And Evan?" I asked.
"Looks like it," Crane said.
When we met up with them, Crane pulled to a stop, and Adam and Evan pulled up their horses.
"What's up?" Adam asked.
"I have a hunch I want to check out," Crane said.
"Where?" Adam asked.
"Up near the property line," Crane said.
"What we talked about earlier?" Adam asked him.
"Yeah."
"Okay," Adam said. "Be careful."
"Will do," Crane said.
Crane and I drove on then, and we had bounced along for quite a distance, when I spoke over the wind
blowing past. "What do you think the blood was from? A bear?"
"I don't know what I think, really."
I subsided then. It was too hard to talk over the wind whipping past.
It was quieter the higher up we went. I saw we were nearly to the line cabin, and Crane parked up above.
Shutting the Jeep off, he got out, picking up his rifle, and going to stand and look down.
Without saying anything, he headed down the slope and so I followed him, and when we reached the bottom
I dusted off my hands where I'd caught myself from falling.
Crane hiked towards the line cabin, and when we got to the front door, he motioned me back a little, and then
kicked the toe of his boot against the closed door.
"Anybody there?" he called out.
No response, and he reached out to open the door, stepping into the cabin.
"You can come in," he told me, and I followed him inside.
I left the door open, and watched Crane as he just sort of walked around, looking around the room.
There were blankets strewn all across the floor, and dirty dishes still on the table.
"Yuck," I said.
"Yeah. Courtesy of the guys staying up here, I guess," he said.
Crane went over and lifted up the mattress on the bed in the corner.
"What are you looking for, exactly?" I asked him, curious.
"Nothing in particular," he said. "Just everything in general."
"Oh," I said, and I went to look into the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. There were quite a stock of canned goods, vegetables,
and canned fruit. There were bananas rotting on the counter, knats buzzing around them. Looking closer, I saw there
was tuna, and cans of Spam.
"Crane, look," I said, and he came closer. "They had a lot of food stocked up."
He surveyed the filled-up cabinets, and nodded. "Yeah. Looks like they planned to stay awhile."
"I don't think they were just staying here," I said. "Seth has family that he can stay with in Murphys. There
has to be a reason why they were camped out up here. Besides just needing a place to stay, I mean."
"Could be," Crane said. He went over to the small closet nearest to the spot in the floor that was broken thru.
Opening the door he rooted around for a couple of moments, and then said, "Well, look here."
I went to peer around him as he stepped back, a Nikon camera in his hand, a long-distance lens attached to it.
"Wow," I said. "And they left that?"
"The guy they found here had to leave while the sheriff was here," Crane said. "Likely he didn't take time to collect all
his belongings."
"Do you think he's planning on coming back to get it?" I asked.
"He might be. Could be waiting until he thinks nobody's watching the cabin."
Crane studied the camera more closely. "There's film in here," he said, and then rewound the film, opening the back
of the camera and taking the roll of film out.
"Maybe there's a clue on there," I suggested.
"Could be," Crane agreed.
He gave a last look around, and then ushered me out the door in front of him. "Come on, Nancy Drew," he told me.
"I'm just saying," I protested. "Maybe we should get the film developed and see what he was taking pictures of."
"Good idea."
Crane handed the camera to me to hold, and put the film canister in the glove compartment.
"The guy that the sheriff caught up here says that he's not from around here, and that he won't be around here
for long," I said, without thinking. I was carried away by my whole investigation thing with Crane, and didn't mind
my tongue.
Crane straightened up, after closing the glove compartment. "Huh?" he asked me, giving me his full
attention.
I realized my mistake. I bit at my lip, meeting his gaze.
"Harlie?" he prompted. "How do you know that?"
There was no option but to tell him. So I said, reluctantly, "When we saw him and the dog last night, I talked to him."
There was dead silence for the longest moment. Crane was angry, though. He doesn't show anger the way
the majority of my brothers do, but it's easy to recognize it when it does happen. Which is rare, for Crane.
"I'm listening," he said.
"I thought it was the dog, in the bar," I began. "So when he came out, I was standing beside his truck, and
I just talked to him a little bit."
"Explain how that happened," he said.
"He brought the dog out, and put him in the truck, and then he went back into the bar. So I went over-" I hesitated.
"To look inside the truck?" Crane prompted.
I nodded at him.
"And then he came out, and you and Guthrie just struck up a conversation with him?" Crane asked, sounding grim.
"Not Guthrie."
"What?"
"Not Guthrie. Just me," I clarified.
"Where was Guthrie at this time?"
"Behind the bar, seeing if he could hear anything," I said.
I felt my face get all hot, the way that Crane was looking at me.
"Didn't he think it was a little odd, that you just happened to be waiting there, to talk to him?" Crane asked, an edge
to his voice.
"I told him I was just petting his dog," I admitted.
"For as smart of a kid as you are, sometimes I have to wonder about where your thoughts come from," he said, and
his voice was really stern.
I bit at my lip again, feeling bad. I hate, hate, hate it when Crane is aggravated with me. He's so kind, and patient. It
takes a lot to tick him off. I'd been feeling good lately about how I was getting along with all of my brothers. Now I'd succeeded
in making Crane mad.
"I'm sorry," I said, looking away from him, and looking down at my hands.
"What for?" he asked.
"What?" I asked, looking up again.
"What are you sorry for?"
I hesitated, and he went on, "Sorry that you let it slip?"
I met his look, feeling guilty.
He sighed then, looking out towards the mountains in the distance. And I sat there, quiet, feeling miserable, and watching
his profile.
"I'm grounded again, right?" I said, feeling as though I wanted to cry. I'd just gotten off the worst grounding I'd ever had in my
life, and now I'd probably be right back to it again.
Instead of answering that, Crane said, "Just because you were in town and you felt safe to do that because there were
other people around, doesn't make it alright, Harlie."
He was looking at me again, with an intentness that made me want to squirm.
"It was an impulse, I know, but you really need to think things thru a lot better than that," he said.
I started to say something, but before I could, he said, "Don't tell me that you will, or promise me you won't do something
foolish like that again. Just sit there, and be quiet, and think about it."
And, with that, he started the motor of the Jeep, and we drove. Instead of going back the way that we'd come, he drove
further up, and I knew we had to be getting close to our property line. I stayed quiet, like he'd told me to. I was
too worried about making him even more mad to say anything.
When he did stop, and turn off the engine again, he got out and reached behind the seat, pulling out a set of binoculars.
Then he picked up the rifle, and started walking. "Come on," he told me, and so I scrambled out of the Jeep, too,
and hurried to catch up with him.
We walked for quite a ways, and came to the bottom of what seemed to be a steep climb, up a grassy patch and then
rocks. I followed behind him, not finding it all that easy to manage the climb. He paused a couple of times, waiting for
me to catch up. When we finally reached what seemed to be the top, I was surprised by how high up we really were, and
how beautiful the view was.
We were so high up that looking out and down, it seemed as though the grass met the sky with no space in between, if
that makes any sense. I stepped back just a bit. It was a long, long way down.
Crane settled onto a rock that was big enough to serve as a seat, and set his rifle to the side. Then he pulled the
binoculars out of their case, and began to look thru them, out and down.
I sat down quietly on the ground, with my legs crossed, Indian style.
"It's really pretty up here, isn't it?" Crane asked.
I was so glad that he was talking to me again, not sounding angry, that I gave him a grateful smile.
"It really is," I agreed.
After a moment, I asked, "Where are we? I mean, this isn't our property, right?"
"No. We're on the state park."
"Oh." I hesitated, looking around some more. "Have you been up here before?"
"Yeah. I like coming up here."
He set the binoculars aside. "Here in a bit you might get to see something really special."
"What?" I asked curiously.
"Wait and see."
And so we waited, in quiet. Hawks flew overhead, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms
around them.
And then, suddenly, he asked, "Have you been thinking?"
"Yes. It was wrong, and dumb. Guthrie called me stupid."
"Guthrie's going to hear from me about this whole thing, too," he said. "Though I wouldn't say what he did
was anywhere near as foolish."
I don't want Crane to think I'm foolish. I mean, he's one of the smartest people that I know, and I want him to think
I'm smart, too. I don't want him to think I'm a dumb kid, always acting without thinking.
He went on then, to say that I absolutely had to learn to control my impulses. Think before I decided to do something.
He finished by saying something that really made me cringe.
"God gave you a brain for a reason, Harlie."
I looked out towards the view below, tears springing to my eyes. I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, and rested my
chin on my knees.
"You understand what I'm saying to you?" he asked, when I was silent.
"Yes," I managed, my voice muffled a little.
"I don't think we need tears, do we?" he asked me. "All I'm doing is giving you a talking-to."
"A talking-to from you is the same as a whipping from someone else," I said, tears dropping off my cheeks onto
the knees of my jeans.
"First of all, you've never had a real whipping in your life," Crane said. "Secondly, what do you mean, it's the same?"
"I respect you," I said, trying to stop my tears. "And I care what you think. I don't want you to think I'm dumb, or that
I only do things that are foolish. I want you to be proud of me. And, when you talk to me like this, like you're scolding
me, well, it makes me feel really bad, even though I deserve it."
"Hmm," Crane said, and then we were both quiet for a few minutes.
Then, into the quiet, he said, "Harlie. Come up here."
I turned my head to look at him, and he motioned to me. "Come on. Come sit here."
I got up, and went to sit beside him on the rock.
"I'm glad you care what I think," he said. "That really makes me feel good. And I know how smart you really are. I just
want you to stop and think a little more. Alright?"
I nodded at him, rubbing at my cheek. "Alright."
"Alright," he said again. "Lecture's over."
We sat quietly again, after that. Until Crane straightened up a little, and put the binoculars up to his eyes again, and
then he pointed to the distance, and handed them to me.
"Take a look," he said.
I looked thru the binoculars, but didn't see anything. "What?" I asked.
"Here," he said, and I felt him move them a little to the right. "Now, do you see?"
For a moment I couldn't speak. I'd never seen anything so beautiful.
7