I began to appeal to Ford and Evan as soon as possible, asking them both what they were planning at the end of the driveway,

should Seth have the nerve to actually show himself.

Ford just grinned at me, and said, "You'll see."

He and Evan were in the kitchen raiding the refrigerator, and I hitched myself up onto the kitchen counter to sit, watching

them.

"Tell me. Please?" I asked.

"Just a little joke," Ford said.

"Can I help, though?" I asked.

"Little girls need to be in bed," Evan said, in a way that I found maddening, even though he was joking with me.

"Man, there's no cookies," he complained then, lifting the lid from the cookie jar and peering inside.

"Guthrie's eaten everything in sight," Ford said, closing the refrigerator door.

By now Evan was perusing the cabinets. "Not even any store-bought cookies," he said, opening and closing the cabinet doors.

"I could make some," I said softly, in an off-hand way, picking at my cuticle as if it were of great interest. Out of the corner of my

eye, I could see that I had their attention.

"Some lemon bars," I went on. "And some oatmeal-raisin, probably," I added, naming their favorites.

Evan shut the last cabinet door. "That'll work," he said, sounding happy.

"Yeah," Ford agreed. "Sounds great, Har."

"If," I said, with a pause, "I get to be in on whatever you have planned for Seth tonight."

"Well, sure," Evan said, and then he grinned. "We were gonna let you anyway."

"Yeah," Ford said, in agreement, grinning too.

I blinked at both of them for a long few moments. "You didn't say that," I accused. "You acted like I couldn't!"

"We were just yanking your chain a little," Ford said.

"Besides," Evan said, walking to the door, and then pausing to look at me. "We knew if we worked it right, you'd make cookies."

He grinned at me again, and then went out the back door, letting the screen shut with a slam.

I looked at Ford. "I've been had," I said.

"Yep," he said, and went out the back door, too.

7

So I spent the afternoon making cookies of various shapes and flavors. Lemon bars for Ford, and oatmeal-raisin for Evan. Since I

hadn't made any for him for a long time, I also stirred up a batch of molasses ones for Adam. While I was mixing and measuring, I

kept up a running conversation with Warrior, who was watching me from his corner bed.

When everybody got back that had gone with the sheriff earlier, I had several interested brothers coming into the kitchen,

sniffing in appreciation.

"Something smells good," Crane said.

"Yeah," Daniel said, coming over and trying to scoop up one of the lemon bars that I had just taken out of the oven.

"Daniel, they're not even cool yet," I protested.

"It's fine," Daniel said, filling his mouth with the bar.

"Good grief," I said.

"Where's the no-bakes?" Daniel asked then, peering around the kitchen.

"I didn't make any no-bake ones," I told him.

"Well, why the heck not?" Daniel asked, pretending to be insulted. "You see how it works around here, huh, Brian? We don't

count for anything. She just caters to Ford and Evan."

"I see," Brian said, going along with the teasing.

"What's this?" Adam asked, coming closer and seeing the molasses cookies that I had cooling on the rack. "Molasses cookies?"

"Yeah," I said, and smiled at him, pushing my hair back from my face. It was hot in the kitchen with the oven on.

"Fantastic," Adam said, biting into one of the molasses cookies.

"Oh, ho," Daniel said. "Catering to Adam, too. How about that, Brian?"

"The insult continues," Brian said.

Those few minutes of light-hearted teasing were fun. Until the conversation turned serious and foreboding, dealing with

what they'd discovered while searching over our pastures with the sheriff and his deputy.

"Could they tell much?" I asked.

"Not an awful lot," Adam said, sounding regretful.

"So no leads yet?" I asked, disappointed.

"They left a lot of beer cans spread around, some trash," Brian said.

"That's it?" Evan asked.

"They've got a couple of theories, nothing definite," Adam said, going to the coffeepot and scooping coffee.

"I think a chimpanzee could do a better job of solving this than the sheriff's office is doing," I said, cutting up the lemon squares. I was struck

by how quickly the kitchen became quiet.

"What?" I asked, sort of flippantly.

For a long moment, nobody said anything at all. Adam looked as though he was going to say something, but then he

hesitated just a bit.

"You shouldn't say that, Harlie," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Things like this take time," he said then.

I looked away from his serious face, to Crane's disapproving one. I thought that Brian and Daniel looked slightly

amused by my chimpanzee reference.

I was encouraged enough by their slight smiles that I might have made another joking remark, but one more look at

Crane and I stopped, my words never forming.

"I'm just joking," I defended myself, and looked away from Crane.

7

That night long after the supper dishes were washed, and everybody was settling in for the evening, I watched as Evan, Guthrie and Ford

make preparations to "welcome" Seth, should he appear.

When ten o'clock came around, the four of us went to the end of the driveway, armed with lanterns and various other products. They stationed

themselves, and me, in three separate locations. Guthrie and Evan were across the road from our driveway, behind the trees, and Ford was on our

side of the road, but down a good ways.

Once I knew their plan, I suggested, (helpfully, I thought), that I should wait atop one of the big rocks by our road, so that Seth

would think I had really come to meet him.

This idea was quickly squashed by Evan and Ford, and so I found myself with Ford, sitting in the darkness, waiting.

It was after ten-thirty and there still had been so sign of an approaching vehicle. Then headlights appeared from a half-mile away.

"Remember," Evan called across the road to Ford, "Nothing until he actually stops, and we're sure it's him. We don't want to have the wrong

truck and give old man Northern down the road a heart attack as he's driving home with his nightly ice cream cone."

So we waited. The headlights came nearer, and the vehicle slowed down. A good sign, I thought, that it was Seth.

And, sure enough, the truck came to stop a good distance down the road, the door opening and closing, softly though. And then

the sound of walking on the gravel, towards the lantern "bait" that Guthrie had left sitting near the end of the driveway.

The bait was successful, because we all heard, "Harlie? That you?"

We were all silent, and the steps came a few feet closer. "Harlie?" Seth asked again, softly.

And then, when he was there, at the end of the driveway, and picking up our lantern, shining it around, the boys did their thing.

The banging and popping was so loud that I stuck my fingers in my ears. Aimed no where near Seth, but flung up the road and

into the opposite ditch, so they wouldn't hit him by accident, the banging was intense.

I could hear Seth yelling from the beginning, but couldn't make out what he was saying. There was the sound of running in between bangs and

then, when the fireworks had been thrown, there was quiet for just a few seconds, and then Seth, at the safety of his own truck,

yelled out, "Watch your backs, McFaddens!"

And then the sound of his truck motor starting, and he backed up there in the middle of the road, spun out, and headed towards Murphys again,

and I could Guthrie whooping it up and hollering at the success of their prank.

7

I was in town the next day with Brian while he bought feed, and ran a couple of other errands. I don't usually mind

being at home because I can always escape outside somewhere. But with them not wanting me to ride away from the house now alone, I

was ready for some different scenery. Even if was just the streets of Murphys.

We chugged into town in the old truck. Even being mechanically challenged, I could hear the intermittent starts and stops in the

motor.

"Sounds like a spark plug," Brian offered, letting his arm trail out in the sticky breeze. "Gonna have to check that out."

"Gosh, it's hot," I said.

"Almost July," Brian said. "Bound to be."

As we pulled into the city limits, I said, "Can I go to the library while you're getting the feed?"

"I guess so," he said. "Just wait for me out front when you're done, though."

"Okay," I agreed, but as Brian pulled up in front of our small town library, there was a big white sign hung on the front door.

It stated that the library was closed for the rest of the day due to illness.

"Darn it," I said, disappointed.

"Aren't you still readin' that big book? Pride and Predudice?" Brian asked me, as he pulled back out onto the street.

"Well, yeah," I said. "But I need something else."

So it was to the feed store we went, and I waited while he talked to some of the other men in the store, and then while he

paid for the feed, and began to load it. I waited, leaning against the side of the truck, as he began talking again, to some of the

same men he'd been talking to inside.

I sighed. It was hot. And I was thirsty. And bored.

I sidled over to Brian, and waited for a lapse in the conversation before I got his attention, and he looked at me and said, "What?"

"Can I go to Lori's?" I asked. "Just while you're talking?"

"We're gonna be leaving here in just a minute," he said.

So I waited. And it was more than a minute, I'll tell you that.

I tried again, as Brian went to the pop machine to get a bottle of pop. I followed him over to the old banged-up machine, with COKE on it

in giant letters. I watched as he put in the change and pulled out a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

"Want a bottle of pop?" he asked me.

"Yes. Thanks," I said, and he reached into his pocket to pull out some change, handing it to me.

He uncapped his own bottle of pop, and I said, "It's been a long minute."

Brian looked at me, and then as realization dawned he said, "What are you, five? With the attention span of a knat?"

That might have hurt my feelings, or made me mad, but I just shrugged it off.

"Okay, fine," I said with a sigh.

"Just get your pop and stop bein' a pain in my tail-feathers," he said, and headed back over to where the other two men

were leaning against our truck, still talking.

I pulled out a bottle of Tab and went to sit in one of the old wooden chairs that sit out front of the feed store. At least it was in the shade

somewhat. I was just people-watching, when I saw a familiar truck pull up at the hardware store up the street.

Kenny got out, and looked down in my direction. I lifted my hand to wave at him, and for the briefest moment he hesitated, and then

waved back. He seemed to be considering, standing there. Just what he was considering I wasn't sure of, but that's what it seemed to me.

Finally, he moved, and began to walk in my direction.

He was up near the sidewalk, when he said, "Hey, Har."

"Hi!" I said. It had been weeks since I had talked to Kenny, and to be honest, I was thrilled to see somebody else, somebody near my own

age to talk to.

"How have you been?" he asked me then, standing in front of my chair.

"Alright. How about you?"

"I'm doin' okay," he said.

"Sit down for awhile," I told him, gesturing to the other wooden chair, next to mine.

"I can't really," Kenny said, and his eyes flickered away from mine.

I realized then that he hadn't met my eyes even once.

"I'm runnin' some errands for my dad," he went on. "You know how it is." He shuffled from foot to foot.

"Sure," I said. I hesitated, studying him. "You haven't been over to our house in awhile," I said.

"Yeah," he said, and I swear that his face reddened. "I've been pretty busy."

"Guthrie's been wondering about you. He tried to call you a couple of times."

"Yeah. Well, I'll give him a call back. You tell him, okay?" he said.

"Okay," I said, and when Kenny reached up to tip his hat back on his forehead, I saw the bit of bandage sticking out

from under the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt. Even then, I wondered why he was wearing a long sleeved shirt on such a hot day.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Huh?" he asked, looking startled.

"Your arm," I said, pointing. "What happened?"

Immediately Kenny lowered his arm with a jerk. "It's nothin'," he said. "Just a scrape."

"Oh," I said, still watching him. I've known Kenny since I was in first grade, and he was in second grade with Guthrie. There was

something peculiar about the way he was acting, something "off". Even though we'd only gone out on a couple of dates together,

I still felt like I knew him well.

I began to have a foreboding. A sense of unease.

I stood up, because it looked as though he was about to say his goodbyes and take off.

"How'd you cut your arm?" I asked.

His eyes flickered to mine and then away. "On some wire," he said. "Well, I'll see you, Harlie."

He stepped down off the sidewalk, and began to walk away. "Tell Guthrie hey for me."

I watched him walk away and he was nearly to his truck when I followed him.

"Kenny!" I called after him, and he turned to look back.

When I was standing near to him, I said, "We've had some trouble at our place the last couple of weeks."

Kenny didn't answer, he just looked at me, and I said, "Have you heard about it?"

"Yeah. I think I heard about it," he said, and I saw something pass over his face.

"It's pretty bad," I continued. "The sheriff's trying to figure it all out."

"Yeah? Well," he hesitated, "Like I said, I've gotta be going."

And then he was gone, getting into his truck so fast that he was hardly in the seat before he started the motor and pulled out.

I stood there watching him go, and then I heard Brian call to me. "Hey, peach! We're leaving."

I turned to walk back and climbed in the seat as Brian said his goodbyes to the other men.

We were headed out of town, and I was thinking my own thoughts, running my finger over the top of my pop bottle.

There was a nudge to my arm, and I turned to Brian.

"Huh?" I asked him.

"I asked you if Hannah said anything about us needing milk."

"Um, no. She didn't say anything to me about it," I told him.

After that I subsided into silence again, thinking.

"I guess that did turn into a pretty long minute, didn't it?" Brian asked me, and I knew he was sorry that he'd gotten

surly with me earlier.

"It's okay," I said.

"Saw you talkin' to Kenny," Brian went on.

"Yeah," I said, somberly.

"He after you to go to a movie with him or somethin'?" Brian asked.

"No."

"Well, what's wrong with the boy?" Brian said, as if astonished. "He's slipping."

"Would you let me go, anyway?" I asked him then. "You haven't been letting me go anywhere."

"Now, peach, I talked to you about that-" Brian began.

"I know. I wasn't complaining. I just-never mind," I said.

For a moment or two there was silence in the truck cab. "Besides," I said, "I don't want to go out with Kenny anyway."

"Yeah?" Brian asked, looking surprised at that. "How come?"

"I just don't." My stomach had begun to knot up after my conversation with Kenny and my thoughts were all over the place.

"He get out of line with you the last time you went out?" Brian demanded, in full big brother-mode.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Because if he did, you tell me and I'll straighten him out," Brian went on.

"He didn't do anything, Bri. He's always been nice."

"Okay."

After a few minutes had passed, I spoke up. We were near to home and I figured this was the best time.

"Can I tell you something? Without you thinking that I'm crazy?" I asked.

"I already know you're crazy anyway," Brian said.

"I'm serious," I told him.

"Alright," Brian said. "What is it?"

"It's about Kenny," I said.

He was looking at me expectantly. "What about Kenny?"

"He acted funny. Weird. Like he was nervous about something," I began.

"Talking to a pretty girl can do that to a fellow sometimes," Brian said.

"Thank you," I told him. "But that's not it. He's never acted like that before. And the thing is-" I hesitated. "He has a bandage on his

arm."

"So?" Brian asked.

"On his arm, Bri," I said pointedly, and waited.

7