I went to my bedroom, and shut the door, getting into fuzzy, soft pajamas, letting my hair free from its braid, and turning on my fan.

I crawled between the sheets, and instead of lying there, puzzling over what a weird, mixed up kind of day that it had been, I went

right to sleep. Exhaustion won out over anger and curiousity.

When I woke the next morning, it was early. Six-thirty according to the clock on my desk. I tried to think what day of the week

that it was. All the days seemed to be running together lately.

Wednesday. It was Wednesday.

As I got up and began stirring around, pulling out jeans and shirt, and socks for the day, there was a light tap on my door.

"Yeah, come in," I said.

When Ford was the one that came in, I can't say that I was all that happy. I wasn't mad at him, exactly, but I would have

preferred he leave me to myself awhile longer before he approached me. But, that's Ford for you. He doesn't like confrontation, or thinking that

somebody might be mad at him. He would be fretting about the previous evening.

"Hey," he greeted me.

"Morning," I said, and went back to rooting thru my drawer looking for matching socks.

"I'm leaving for work pretty soon. I wanted to talk to you before I left," he said.

I grabbed two socks, not caring at that point that they did not match.

I went over to the bed and sat down, pulling on the socks. "Okay."

"Warrior seems fine this morning," he said. "Hannah made him gravy."

"Good," I said shortly.

Ford stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at me sorrowfully. "Harlie," he said.

That was all. But it spoke much more.

"What?" I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

"Come on, Har," he said. He came over and sat down next to me on the bed. "What if I hadn't put the dog up? What if he'd really have hurt

somebody?"

"He wouldn't hurt anybody else," I said. "Just Kenny."

"Well, why?" he asked, looking curious.

"Because." I hesitated. "There's a reason, Ford."

"What is it?"

I looked into his face, wondering what he would say if I told him my suspicions. If he would dismiss them pretty much as Brian had, or

if he would see the validity of them.

Without any warning, Evan pushed the half-open door open further. "I thought I heard your voice in here," he said to Ford. "Can you help

me with somethin' before you leave?"

"Yeah. Okay," Ford said, and stood up. He paused to look at me again. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Yeah," I said, and stood up, too, gathering up my jeans.

As Ford went out, and Evan moved to follow him, I went to the door of my bedroom, to call after him, "Ev, have you seen Guthrie this

morning yet?"

"I think he's eatin' breakfast," Evan said, and went on down the stairs.

I closed my door, and got dressed, going downstairs, and carrying my boots. As I came into the living room, it was to find

Evan, Ford and Guthrie standing there together, in a discussion. A tense discussion, from the looks of it.

Daniel came from behind me, giving me a poke in the side.

"Mornin', squirt," he said, and went on around.

"Were you drinkin' too, Guthrie?" Evan was asking, in a low voice.

"No. I wasn't drinkin'," Guthrie returned, sounding irritated. "I wouldn't be tipping a flask right here at the house like that."

"Well, I think Kenny's lost his darn mind," Ford offered.

Personally, I agreed with that, but I kept still, pausing behind them to listen.

"What's up?" Daniel asked, stopping to listen as well, and looking concerned.

Guthrie looked at Ford, and then at Evan. He looked reluctant to share with another brother. Probably he thought that it was enough

to bring Evan into it.

"What?" Daniel demanded, a little more forcefully.

"Kenny was sloshed last night," Ford said.

"He get ahold of some beer?" Daniel asked.

"No. Has a flask of whiskey," Ford said.

"Spill your guts, Ford," Guthrie said, sounding mad. "Just tell everything, why don't ya?"

"Hey," Daniel said. "Don't be gettin' pissed at Ford. He's just worried."

"It's fine," Guthrie said, and then raised his voice a notch. "FINE. He drinks once in a while. So what? It's not like any of you guys were angels

at 17."

"Just don't wanna see you get into trouble, Guth," Evan said.

"I won't," Guthrie said, short and clipped. "Now can we just drop it?" And with that, he stalked off toward the kitchen.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, looking after Guthrie, and then turned back to Evan and Ford.

"Hmmm," he said.

"I'll talk to him again later," Evan said. "When he's settled down a little."

Ford gave a heavy sigh, and went towards the front door. "Aren't you gonna eat breakfast?" Evan called after him.

"Not hungry," Ford muttered, and went out.

7

After that, I wasn't any too hungry myself. Conscious of Guthrie right beside me, rigid and silent, I managed only a

single pancake, and a glass of milk.

"So what have you decided for your party this weekend?" Hannah asked both of us. "Hot dogs and marshmallows?"

"Um, I guess so," I said.

Guthrie was stiff and silent.

"Guthrie?" Hannah prompted. "What do you think?"

"I don't care," Guthrie said shortly.

"Well, we could probably manage some hamburgers instead," Hannah went on. "If that's what you two want to do. Maybe potato

salad, too."

"Don't go to any trouble, Hannah," Guthrie said, and pushed his empty plate away, standing up. "I don't think this is the best time

for a party, anyway. We should just call it off."

Hannah looked stunned. Before she could form any words or question him, Guthrie was heading out the back door, saying only, "I'll

be waitin' for you outside, Brian. Do you want me to get the Jeep ready?"

"Yeah," Brian said. "Go ahead."

After Guthrie had gone, the group at the table was silent for a long, long moment.

"What's chewin' on Guthrie?" Brian asked.

"He's upset about something," Hannah said then, sounding worried.

"Just a mood, most likely," Adam said.

It seemed as if everybody was looking at me then. Well, at least Hannah, Adam, Brian, Clare, and Crane.

"Do you know what it is, Harlie?" Hannah asked me then. "That's bothering Guthrie?"

I felt like a bug being examined under a microscope. I gave a little, non-committal shrug. There was no way I wanted to

get into anything right at the breakfast table like that.

I looked across the table at Evan, and he intercepted the questioning.

"He's just riled up a little. Ford and I were givin' him some advice," he said.

"Oh," Hannah said, and looked down the table to Adam.

"Something we need to be worried about?" Adam asked Evan.

Evan glanced at Daniel, and then said, "No. I'll talk to him later, make sure he's alright."

Adam looked serious but said no more.

"What about you?" Hannah asked me. "Do you still want to have the party?"

I shrugged. "Maybe not right now."

"Oh," Hannah said, sounding concerned.

"I mean, we can do it later this summer sometime," I added.

"Are you sure?" Hannah asked.

"I'd rather wait until Guthrie wants to do it."

"Well, maybe he'll change his mind about this weekend," she said.

"Maybe," I said, but inside, I knew that wasn't likely.

7

After that, everybody got busy with chores. After I'd started a load of laundry downstairs, I went outside to

pick the garden. I was in the midst of that, sweaty and feeling irritated, when I heard my name being called.

"Take a break," Adam said, motioning me over.

I was pretty sure that his 'mid-morning break' coincided with his wanting to have that talk with me. The one he'd mentioned

last night in the kitchen before I went up to bed after the altercation between Warrior and Kenny.

"I'm okay!" I called back. "I don't need a break."

"Yeah, come on," he called. And with that, he walked on towards the house, not even looking to see if I would

follow. I sighed, and stepped around my bucket of peppers and tomatoes that I'd been picking. He knew that I'd follow along,

that's why he didn't look back.

I went inside the house, which felt cool after the heat of the garden. Something smelled like cinnamon, drifting from the

kitchen. Brian was sitting on the couch, drinking a tall glass of iced tea, and Adam came from the kitchen, also with a glass

of tea in his hand.

"Hey, sugar," he said to me. "Get yourself some ice water or something to drink and come on back in here."

I would have said that I didn't need anything to drink, but that would be dumb. I was thirsty, and besides, the extra few

minutes that it took me to fill a glass with ice and make some Koolaid or something, would give me a chance to prepare myself.

With both Adam AND Brian both in there, I would need to be fortified.

I mixed some lime Koolaid, putting in probably a bit too much sugar, and poured myself a glass, reaching into the freezer for

a couple of ice cubes.

I walked slowly to the living room, and caught the end of the conversation between them. Something about a sick cow, and the grass

for the cows getting scarce.

I sat down in one of the recliners across from the couch, tucking my feet up underneath of me.

"There's no way we can afford to start feedin' hay now already," Brian was saying.

"No," Adam said, in agreement.

They both looked to me then.

"What happened last night?" Adam asked. "With Kenny?"

I knew very well that Ford would have explained how Warrior got aggressive toward Kenny, and all of that. But, I also knew there

was no point to saying that. Adam was asking for my explanation. Not Ford's.

"Warrior was sitting on my lap, and Kenny came over closer, and Warrior growled and then tried to bite him," I said.

"Was Kenny teasin' him, or something like that?" Adam asked.

"No."

I turned my eyes toward Brian. He was watching, and listening, and I knew he was thinking about my conviction that

Kenny's arm injury was caused by being bitten while he was in the midst of something that he shouldn't have been.

"So Ford collared him and put him up in the truck," Adam said, in statement.

I nodded.

"Did you give Ford some mouth for puttin' the dog up?" Adam asked.

I hesitated, and then said, "Yeah. I did."

"I know you don't want to have to get rid of your dog," Adam said quietly. "Do you?"

I looked at Adam in horror. "No! I don't!."

"Well, if Ford kept Kenny from being bitten, then you ought to be thanking him. Not giving him any grief," he said.

I was silent, looking at him, and biting at my lip.

"Because if your dog was to start in being aggressive towards people, without any cause, then we might not be able to

keep him around here," Adam added.

I swallowed, and looked from Adam to Brian, and then back to Adam again.

"Not without cause," I said, quietly.

"What?" Adam asked

"If he'd bitten Kenny last night, it wouldn't have been without cause."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Adam demanded.

"I think Kenny's a part of everything that's going on around here lately," I began bravely. "I think that his arm has that

bandage on it because he's the guy that Warrior bit in the field that night."

Adam stared at me for a long moment, and then, before he could say anything, I looked at Brian.

"I know you said that there was no clear evidence, but now there is," I said.

"Brian said you had some notion about Kenny being involved," Adam said.

"Yeah. I do," I said, sitting up straighter and looking at them both without flinching. "And it's not just a notion. Now, we have that

clear evidence that you were talking about, Bri."

"What clear evidence is that?" Brian asked, and I could tell he was just trying to pacify me.

"The fact that Warrior went after Kenny the way he did last night!" I said.

They were both giving me 'that look'. The look that says that they think I'm off on some wild tangent that has no actual bearing

at all.

"That's not exactly evidence, peach," Brian said.

"No. Not at all," Adam agreed.

"When has Warrior ever gotten aggressive before?" I asked them. "Exactly two times. Once, when he bit one of those guys

that were in our field. And that was because they were kicking him. And the second time was last night. With Kenny." I paused,

a little dramatically, to let the obvious implication of Kenny's involvement sink in.

I thought I was being perfectly reasonable, pointing things out, but a look at both their faces showed that they believed

otherwise.

"I told you what I thought about this the other night," Brian said.

"Yes, I know, but-" I began.

"No buts, Harlie," Brian said, cutting me off.

I stopped talking, and gave him a frustrated look, crossing my arms.

"This is a serious accusation that you're making, sugar," Adam said.

"I know that. It doesn't make me happy to say it, or believe it," I objected.

"You can't go around accusing somebody, based on the fact that a dog doesn't like them," Brian pointed out.

"Kenny's been around here about a million times since we got Warrior," I said. "And there was never a problem before

between them. Warrior liked him just fine."

Adam looked at me, and then sighed. "Come here a minute," he told me, and patted the footstool in front of the couch.

I sighed right back. "What's the point? You both think I'm a sandwich short of a picnic. Crazy."

"The point is, I told you to come over here," Adam said, sounding irritated.

I got up and went over, sitting on the footstool. Adam leaned forward a little, resting a hand on my knee.

"Ford says that Kenny was pretty loud last night, wound up and all. Maybe Warrior didn't like that," Adam suggested.

"He was loud alright," I said, wondering if Adam and Brian knew about the flask that Kenny had been carrying. Most likely, not.

"Well, maybe that was it," Adam said. "Causing the dog to get worked up."

"I don't think so," I said stubbornly.

"Lord, girl, you're stubborn," Brian said, getting to his feet.

He shook his head a little, and went back out thru the front door, letting the screen door bang shut behind him.

"Great. Now Brian's mad at me," I said, in frustration.

"He's not mad," Adam said, leaning back against the couch. "He's just worried that you've got yourself all worked up, and convinced

of something that-" he stopped talking and hesitated.

"Something that has no merit? No clear evidence?" I suggested mockingly, sarcasm evident in my tone.

"That's enough," he said, sternly. "You don't need to be a smart mouth about it."

I sighed, looking at him. "I don't want to believe bad of Kenny, Adam. Really, I don't."

"I know," and now his voice was kind again.

"His dad's sick," I said. "He has cancer. Kenny told me last night."

"Oh, man," Adam said, and I could tell that he was really bothered by hearing that.

"Yeah."

After a long moment of silence, he said, "I'm not saying that I don't understand. There's things about this with Kenny that

are strange. But let's just let it ride for right now. Keep your eyes and ears open. See if anything else comes up."

"Okay," I agreed.

Because, really, at that point, what more could I say?

Adam leaned forward again. "One more thing, though. You were wrong to argue with Ford about it. If you'd let the dog out, and

he ripped Kenny up, then there would have been hell to pay. And we don't need any more worries right now."

I knew that, in this part at least, Adam was right.

"I'll talk to Ford," I promised.

"Alright," he said. He patted my knee and stood up.

7

I went back to my garden picking after that, and I was out there until nearly lunchtime. I knew when it was time for lunch, because

the old truck and Jeep roared thru the pastures and parked, and brothers began spilling out.

When I saw Guthrie climbing from the Jeep, I hollered to him.

"Guthrie! Comere!"

He ambled over to me. "What?" he asked.

"Will you carry one of the buckets for me?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said, and took the heaviest bucket of vegetables, while I took the half-full one.

"How was your morning?" I asked him.

"Same old, same old," he said, and at that response I knew that he still hadn't recovered his customary sunny mood.

"Brian and Adam are worried about the grass being almost gone," I said, as we started across the yard.

"Yeah. We need some rain."

"How about going fishing this afternoon?" I asked him then.

"I can't. I've got some things to do," he said vaguely.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Just stuff," he said.

I studied him. "Are you mad at me? Because Warrior tried to bite Kenny?"

Guthrie stopped walking and turned to look at me. "Why would I be mad at you for somethin' like that?" he asked. "It wasn't your fault."

"No. It wasn't my fault," I agreed, stressing the word 'my'. Guthrie frowned at me.

"What do ya mean by that?" he demanded. "Whose fault do you think it was?"

I gathered my nerve. Guthrie wouldn't want to hear what I was about to say. But if were going to keep our 'eyes and ears open'

around Kenny like Adam had suggested, then he needed to be in the loop.

"I think it was Kenny's fault," I said, quietly but clearly, and meeting Guthrie's eye.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because." I hesitated. "Because I think Warrior recognized him."

"Well, sure, he recognized him," Guthrie said, clearly baffled.

"I don't mean from them being around each other here at the house," I said carefully.

"What, then?"

"I mean that Warrior recognized Kenny as being the guy, or one of the guys, that was kicking him that night."

When I'd said that, Guthrie stared at me, as though time stood still.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" he finally said.

I kept my eyes on Guthrie's, and kept still, just waiting for what I was saying to really sink in to him.

And it wasn't easy for me, either. Guthrie's face grew more set, and angrier by the second.

"That's a stupid thing to say," he said. "I've been buddies with Kenny for ten years. He wouldn't have a part in anything like that."

"Guthrie, think about it," I said. "Kenny's been acting weird, not coming around here. And he acted strange when I saw him in town

the other day. He's all uncomfortable, and stuff. And whenever the subject of the trouble around here comes up, he acts like he

doesn't hear, or even care!"

"You're crazy," Guthrie said, and it wasn't the sort of 'crazy' that is tossed around in joking between us. It was an angry

sort of word.

"I know it sounds that way. But why would Warrior go after him the way that he did?"

"I don't know. Maybe your dog's as crazy as you are," Guthrie said, sounding disgusted.

"Guth-" I began.

Suddenly Guthrie erupted. "Shut up, Har!" he told me, raising his voice until he was close to yelling.

I stared at him in horror.

"Don't say that kind of crap to me again," he said. "And if you do, don't bother talkin' to me at all."

"Hey," I heard Daniel's voice. "What's goin' on?"

Neither Guthrie or I said a word. He just glared at me and I stared at him. Then, Daniel was at my elbow.

"What's the matter?" Daniel asked again.

Guthrie turned and stormed off, leaving the full bucket that he'd been carrying for me, setting right where he left it.

"You okay?" Daniel asked me.

"Yeah," I said, and promptly burst into tears.

7