I went inside and called Steven. He was outside, his mother told me, but she would have him call me back. I went on upstairs to

take a quick shower, and change my clothes. Evan, and Ford too, had already taken showers and had succeeded in using up all

the hot water. So my shower was quick and cold.

I was pulling on my boots when somebody hollered up the stairs to me that I had a telephone call.

I hustled down the stairs, one boot on and carrying the other, to pick up the receiver that had been laid on the table.

When I answered and it was Steven, I asked him if he wanted to go that evening and he was his usual enthusiastic self.

"Great!" he responded. "If I'm there in about forty minutes, will that work?"

"I think so," I said. "I won't let the boys leave until you get here."

After hanging up, I sat down in the nearest chair to pull on my other boot. Almost before I realized it, because he was so quiet coming

thru, Guthrie was walking past me, heading up the stairs.

He was in his sock feet, and one entire side of him was covered in mud, with bits of hay sticking to his clothes.

"Hi, Guth," I said, pausing in my boot yanking.

"Hey," he responded shortly.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Horse spooked. Tossed me off."

"Are you okay?" I asked then.

"I'm fine," he said, clipped.

He was half-way up the stairs, as I was taking in the fact that he was being about as friendly as a wounded bear, when I remembered

that there was no more hot water.

"Hey," I began, intent on telling him that it wasn't a good time to take a shower.

"What?" he asked, pausing to look down at me.

I stood up, wiping my hands on the legs of my jeans.

"Nothing," I said, deciding that he could find out about it on his own. He was already in a lousy mood.

Guthrie made a sort of huffing sound, a sound of irritation, and continued on up the stairs. I had planned to go back up to my room

to get my hair brushed, and rebraided, but I decided to wait for a few minutes. No point in being in Guthrie's line of fire after he

was greeted with the shock of all that cold water.

I went to the kitchen, where I found Hannah, engrossed in flipping thru cookbooks, and bouncing Isaac, at the same time.

"I'll take him," I offered, and reached down to pick the baby up.

"Thank you, sweetie," Hannah said, flipping more pages in the worn Betty Crocker cookbook.

I spun around a couple of times, and Isaac chortled with glee.

"What are you looking for?" I asked Hannah.

"There's a certain recipe that I wanted to make for Adam's birthday. I know it's in one of these cookbooks. I just don't remember

which one."

"Oh." I lifted the baby so I could blow a raspberry on his stomach. I thought for a moment. Adam's birthday was coming up

soon. A week away. "Are we gonna have a party for him?"

"I doubt he'd want that," she said. "You know he doesn't like a lot of fuss made over himself."

"Well, we should have a party, anyway," I said.

"You think so, huh?" she asked, sounding amused.

"Sure. What's he gonna do about it, after we plan it and everything?" I pointed out.

"What's who gonna do about what?" a voice behind us asked, and both Hannah and I turned, startled, to see Adam at the bottom

of the back stairs.

"Hi, cowboy," Hannah said, turning in her chair to look up at him. "When did you sneak in?"

"A few minutes ago," Adam said, crossing over to her, and leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "I had a call I needed to make."

He gave the baby an affectionate kiss on the top of his head, and Isaac reached out to him. Adam took him from me, and Isaac

began pulling at Adam's chin. "What are you two girls up to?" he asked.

"We're discussing your birthday," Hannah told him.

"Ah," he said. "Not much discussion needs to happen for that."

Hannah just smiled at him, but I said, "Uh huh," and he turned to look at me.

"How's that?" he asked me.

"We're thinking about your party," I told him.

"No party," he said, firmly.

"If your family wants to have a party for you, it would be rude not to accept it," I said, grinning at him, and feeling ornery.

"No party, Harlie Marie," he said.

He handed the baby back to Hannah. "I've got to get back out to work," he said.

"Alright. Supper in about an hour and a half," she told him.

"Balloons, lots of them," I went on. "In all colors. And a bunch of people over. We can make the cake in the shape of

a cartoon character, right, Hannah? Maybe," I said, pretending to be considering, "A Bugs Bunny cake? Or would Donald Duck be better? And I'll

take pictures of the cake, and have the newspaper put it on the front page."

"Harlie," Adam said, warningly, but with a glint of amusement in his eye.

"Maybe they could even blow the picture up so it's giant sized," I suggested, enjoying teasing him.

Adam aimed a half-playful swat at my behind, but I saw it coming, and dodged, backing up against the wall. He came closer, towering over

me, teasing me as much as I was him.

He took my arm, attempting to turn me from the wall.

"What?!" I said, with a giggle.

"Turn around," he ordered.

"Why?! No..." I said, laughing.

"I'm gonna tan your backside, that's why," he told me.

Adam and I began to tussle, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, bending me over his arm, and by now Hannah was laughing

too. As he raised a hand as if to deliver the promised threat, Guthrie came storming into the kitchen. His hair was dripping wet,

and he was still in the process of yanking a t-shirt over his head.

"Real nice, Har," he thundered, "Using up all the hot water! Sometimes you only worry about yourself and nobody else around

here!"

Startled by his outburst, Adam and I stopped our horsing around, and all three of us turned our eyes toward Guthrie.

I could have protested, and pointed out that the hot water had already been depleted when I got to the shower earlier, but I wasn't going

to throw Ford and Evan under the bus like that. Evan had been nice enough to say I could come along tonight with him and Ford, and besides, if I blamed them it would

just sound as though I was making excuses.

Adam and Hannah were both quiet for a few moments, and I think they were thinking that I was going to holler back at Guthrie. When I was

quiet, though, Adam said, "Settle down, Guthrie," in a firm voice.

"You need to stop bein' so darn selfish!" Guthrie accused, glaring at me, and ignoring Adam's decree to settle down.

Selfish? Well, now I thought that was taking it a bit far. I didn't really think that I was selfish, as least where Guthrie was concerned.

Hannah, by now standing as well, said in a quiet tone, "The boys beat Harlie to the shower earlier. Not that you should be yelling at anyone

that way, but in this case, she's not the guilty party."

Guthrie shook his head, in dismissal of Hannah's comment, I guess. "She only thinks about herself," Guthrie went on.

I felt a quick piercing of hurt at his comment.

"That's not true, Guthrie, and you know it," Adam said, sounding as though he was a nine on a scale of one to ten on irritation.

"Did you hear what I said a minute ago, Guthrie?" Hannah asked him.

Guthrie gave a deep sigh, and said, "Yeah."

"Try again," Adam said.

Guthrie and Adam's eyes met and then Guthrie said, "Yes, ma'm, I heard you."

For several long, long moments there was a horrible tense silence in the kitchen.

"You can apologize to your sister," Adam said, in what I call his "terrible" voice.

"It's alright, Adam-" I began.

"Be still," Adam told me, and now I was the recipient of his "terrible" voice, too.

I subsided, feeling miserable. Hannah looked upset, Adam looked furious, and Guthrie looked, well, to me he looked as though

all the fight had gone out of him.

"Sorry I yelled at ya, Har," he said.

"It's okay," I said, really quietly.

And then Guthrie turned, and went back out of the kitchen towards the living room.

"Poor Guthrie," Hannah said, almost as if to herself.

"Not poor Guthrie," Adam denied. "He'd best watch his step."

"He's upset because of what I said," I ventured. "About Kenny."

Adam swung his glance to me. "I agree that it wasn't the best idea to share your suspicions about Kenny with Guthrie right now. But that's

no excuse for him behaving as though he has his paw caught in a trap."

After that, Adam went outside, and I went up to my bedroom, brushing out my hair, which was even more mussed up after my

horsing around session with Adam.

I left it down, putting a wide blue headband on to hold it out of my face.

I heard Evan hollering from the foot of the stairs. "Hustle up, shortcake! Steve's here!"

I ran down the stairs, and Steven turned from where he was standing in the living room to greet me.

As we went outside, it was decided that Steven and I would ride with Evan while he went to pick Nancy up, and that we would meet up

with Ford in Angels Camp after he picked up Valerie.

We set out for our evening, and at first I was still feeling sort of low, thinking about Guthrie, and wondering what he was going to

do that night for fun. After awhile, though, I decided I would try to talk to him again the next day, and I pushed back my gnawing worry,

determined not to waste my night out.

7