I ended up falling asleep on my end of the couch, before the movie was anywhere near being over. Guthrie gave me a shake, as he

turned off the television.

"Har," he said, and I jerked awake.

"Movie's over," Guthrie said.

"Oh," I said, feeling groggy, and sitting up straight.

Guthrie was turning off the lights, except for the lamp that was left on for Ford to see by.

We went up the stairs together, and almost in a casual way, Guthrie said, "I'm goin' out with Kenny tomorrow."

I paused at the top of the stairs to look at him. "You are?"

"Yep." Guthrie regarded me with an expression that seemed almost challenging.

I wanted to ask what he had planned, but instead I said, trying to sound casual, "Be careful."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Guthrie demanded, not quietly.

I blinked, still feeling a bit groggy from dozing off. "What?"

"When you say 'be careful' like that, what do ya mean by it?"

"I don't mean anything. Good grief, Guthrie."

"I've been with Kenny a million other times, and you've never said that," he accused.

"So?" I asked, starting to get irritated at him. "This time I said it. What about it?"

"I just wanna know why you're sayin it. That's all," he said.

"Shhh," I shushed him. "You're going to wake everybody up."

Guthrie regarded me with an almost angry expression. "So, just tell me. You still thinkin' all that crazy stuff about

Kenny? That's why you're tellin' me to be careful like that?"

"Be quiet," I hissed.

"Should have known," he said, a little quieter.

"Should have known what?" I demanded, in a louder hiss.

Guthrie said nothing, only shaking his head at me, in a way that caused me vast irritation at that moment. It was as though he

looked, well, 'lofty', I guess is the word. Like a know-it-all.

I should have gone to my bedroom, and just put a stop to the conversation that way. Instead, I said, "I'm telling you to be

careful when you're with Kenny. There's nothing at all wrong with me saying that to you. You're just itching for a fight, that's all."

"Well, maybe I don't like your attitude," Guthrie said.

"My attitude?!" I demanded, and forgot to whisper. "You're the one who has the attitude!"

"If I do, it's because you're accusing one of the best friends I have of somethin' that he has no part of," Guthrie said.

"He does, Guthrie. He does have a part in it," I said stubbornly, and just then we heard a door opening down the hall,

and both turned, sort of guiltily, to see Crane, coming out of his bedroom. He was wearing sweatpants, and was bare-chested, and his

hair was all sleep-messed.

"What's going on?" he demanded, and when neither Guthrie or I spoke up right away, he came on down the hall towards us.

"What is going on?" he asked, for the second time, and his tone was more irritated.

"Sorry we woke you up," I said.

"I'm sorry, too," Crane said, sounding curt. He looked at me more closely. "Are you just now getting home, Harlie?"

"No," I said. "I came home with Evan awhile ago. I was watching television."

"Oh," Crane said, and looked from me to Guthrie, and then back again. "What's the argument about, and why are you

having it at this time of night?"

Guthrie looked stubborn, and was silent.

"It's nothing, Crane," I said. "We're sorry we were so loud."

I looked at him pleadingly, hopeful that he would drop it. I let out a big sigh of relief when he said, "Alright." He turned to go

back down the hall, pausing at his own door, to look back at Guthrie and I.

"You're both lucky that I'm too tired to pursue this," he said, darkly. "Go to bed. Both of you."

And with that, he went into the room, and closed the door.

I took a look at Guthrie. He shook his head at me again, as if to say that I was the one causing the problem, and went

towards his own bedroom.

I said, from the protection of my own doorway, in a loud whisper, to Guthrie's retreating back,

"You should listen, and be careful!"

And then I shut my door, really quickly, waiting for a couple of moments, my heart sort of pounding. I half expected Guthrie to charge

back down the hall, and bust into my room, to continue the argument. And that, I knew, would be very, very bad. Crane wasn't

kidding. He'd meant what he said.

But there was no sign, or sound of Guthrie thundering down the hall to tell me off. I had to admit, I was relieved by that.

7

I was tired the next morning, when I was woken up by a tapping on my door. I groaned, and covered my head under my

quilt. Another knock.

"Harlie? You up?" said a voice.

"Ugh," I said, but not loud enough, because my door opened just a bit.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up. Time for breakfast."

I raised the quilt to peer out from under it. "I know girls that get to sleep till noon if they want to," I said.

"And then get their nails done?" Brian asked, with humor.

"Yeah. And then spend the day at the mall shopping," I continued.

"Since when do you want to shop all day at the mall, anyway?" he pointed out.

"Well, I wouldn't need that part of it," I admitted. "But the sleeping part would be nice sometimes."

"Maybe so. But not for you. Not today," Brian said, and jerked his thumb in an 'up-wards' way. "So rise and shine. Move it."

When I got down to breakfast, it was to find the rest of the family mostly already assembled at the table, with only Daniel

missing. I slid into my chair, fielding the morning greetings coming my way.

"How was your evening?" Hannah asked me, pushing the plate of cantaloupe over closer so that I could reach it. "Evan says you

went bowling."

"It was fun," I told her. "I got two strikes, and a spare."

"Good for you," Hannah said.

"Hope you can stay awake today," Brian said, looking across the table at Ford. "Stayin' out most of the night, huh?"

"Not the entire night," Ford said, with good nature, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork.

"How does Valerie's dad feel about her being out so late?" Adam asked, from his end of the table.

"I stayed over there for awhile when I took her home," Ford said. "He was still up. We sat and talked."

"Never hurts to get on the good side of the father," Evan said, with a sideways grin at Ford.

"Just what I thought," Ford said, pouring syrup over his waffles.

I chanced a glance at Guthrie, to my right. He was intent on eating his breakfast, and I gave him a tiny nudge in his ribs.

I didn't want to argue with Guthrie. At least in the light of day, I didn't.

Guthrie ignored my nudge, and so I did it again.

"Knock it off," Guthrie said.

"Good grief," I muttered. "Grouch."

After that, discussion began on what needed done that day, and who was going to do what.

"I thought we could work on finishing up with canning the pears," Hannah said, looking my way.

"Ugh," I couldn't help the groan that escaped.

I, at that particular moment, couldn't think of anything worse to do on a hot day than can pears.

"It won't be so bad," she said, looking amused.

I would much rather have been sent out to help with an outdoor job. At least on horseback, it would be outside, and there'd

be somewhat of a breeze. But I knew that Hannah needed my help. Clare was at breakfast, but she acted 'peckish' lately.

I had my own suspicions about her recent tiredness, and the pale color of her cheeks at times.

When it was time to clear the table and stack the dishes to be washed, I heard Guthrie talking to Brian, as he refilled his

cup of coffee.

"It'd be after I was done with my chores," Guthrie was saying.

He must be talking about his meet-up with Kenny, I thought. I edged closer to listen.

"Alright," Brian was saying. "But don't be late tonight. We've got to hit it hard in the morning."

Guthrie nodded, and went on outside, following Evan and Ford.

I worked alongside of Hannah for the next few hours, taking care of the baskets of pears that had been picked from

our fruit trees. Clare helped too, in between doing laundry, and then making a big pot of hamburger stew for lunch.

Isaac was our companion, sitting in his bouncer on the floor near us, doing his happy baby babble.

"I can't believe how much he's grown lately," Clare said, pausing at one point to bend over Isaac, and run her finger

down his cheek.

"He has a doctor's appointment tomorrow," Hannah said. "He needs some new clothes, too. I was hoping to find a couple of

garage sales around town that were selling baby clothes."

"Good idea," Clare said. "I got asked to work a shift tomorrow at the hospital."

"Are you going to?" Hannah asked.

"Brian told me he'd rather that I didn't. But it might turn into a couple more shifts this week. The money would come in

handy," Clare said.

"Mmm," Hannah said, and I wondered what she was thinking. If Clare was pregnant, as I suspected that she might be,

that would explain Brian's reluctance to let her go work a 12 hour shift. Sometimes her 12-hour shifts had, in the past, turned

into 15 hour ones, when another nurse called in.

After we were nearly done, and were tightening the lids on the jars, and wiping the sticky mess from the table, Hannah

asked me what I thought of Valerie.

I hesitated. I already had one brother angry with me for stating my beliefs about his friend. I didn't want Ford to get upset

because I said anything uncomplimentary about Valerie. Not that I, in any way, would say anything about Valerie compared to

what I'd said about Kenny. But, still. I decided to be cautious, and keep my reservations about Valerie to myself.

"She seems alright," I said vaguely.

"Is she outgoing, or quiet?" Clare asked, picking Isaac up from his bouncer seat.

"Sort of quiet," I said.

"Do you think Ford's serious about her?" Hannah asked, with her concerned "mom-face" on.

"I don't know. I can't really tell," I said, in honesty. "Probably he's talked to Evan about it."

"Probably so," Hannah agreed.

"She seems to like Ford," I added. "At least it seems that way."

"I hope she's a nice girl," Hannah said, almost to herself. "I don't want to see Ford get hurt."

As everybody started trooping into the house, ready for lunch, we set out some bowls, and put the bread basket in the

center of the table.

I ate quietly, trying to gauge Guthrie's mood. He didn't seem as irritable as he had been at breakfast time. Probably, I thought dourly,

it was because he was thinking about his afternoon of hanging out with Kenny.

When Hannah questioned him, I was glad, and made sure that I listened.

"What are you going to do?" Hannah asked him.

"Ride four-wheelers at Trent's for awhile," Guthrie said. "Maybe do some fishin'."

When lunch was over, and everybody started back to their respective chores, Hannah told me to go, that I

could have a free afternoon.

I went to pull on my boots, which would look funny to a girl from the city, paired as they were with the shorts I was

wearing. But another ranch female would understand totally. It was too hot for jeans, and boots are essential for riding.

As I stepped out the back door, I was bundling my hair up under a ball cap. I paused beside the group standing there,

talking.

"We could take care of it today," Evan was saying.

"That would help," Brian said.

"We could get it done, don't you think so, Ford?" Evan asked, looking at Ford.

"Don't see why not," Ford said, biting into an apple.

"Where's Daniel?" Evan asked. "He lit out of here this mornin' early. He could help."

"He had somethin' he needed to do," Crane said. "He'll be back late."

"Well, Guthrie's got his mind on other things," Evan said. "He won't be any help. He wants to leave pretty soon, anyway."

"I can help," I volunteered.

Brian looked down at me, amused. "You don't even know what we're talkin' about, peach."

I shrugged. "I bet I can help, though."

"I don't think Harlie ought to be up there," Evan said. "I won't be able to watch her."

"Up where?" I demanded. "And what do you mean, watch me? I'm not five years old, for Pete's sake."

"That's right. You're six years old now, right?" Evan said.

"So funny," I said, rolling my eyes at him. Then again, I said, "I can help with whatever it is. I can pull my own weight."

Brian ran his hand over my head. "Take peach with you," he told Evan. "Put her to work."

"Ha!" I said, to Evan, triumphantly.

"Ha, yourself," Evan replied. "You can come, but you have to listen to me. Alright?"

"I always listen to you, Ev," I said. "To every single word that comes out of your mouth."

Brian chuckled a little. "Go change your clothes," he told me. "Put on some jeans."

"In this heat?" I asked.

"If you want to go with the boys, then yeah," he said.

I went up to put on my jeans, and then went back downstairs, taking an apple from the bowl in the center of the table.

I'd figured that we were riding somewhere on horseback, and that I would tuck the apple in my saddlebags for a snack later.

But no horses were being saddled. Evan and Ford were loading the Jeep with tools, and a water thermos. And as always, the ever-present

rifle.

7