I went back upstairs, and closed the door going down to the basement. Hannah was sitting at the kitchen table, a big bowl of potatoes in

front of her, and a paring knife in her hands, and another lying on the table.

"I'll do that," I told her.

"I thought I'd help you. Daniel took Isaac for a walk for me."

"Okay," I said, and sat down in the chair next to her, picking up the other knife, and a potato. We sat and peeled potatoes for the

next twenty minutes or so, and the whole time I was thinking about Guthrie downstairs, with an inebriated Kenny.

"Your mind's miles away," Hannah said.

"Sorry," I said, looking at her. "Were you trying to talk to me?"

"It's alright," she said. "I can imagine how tired you must be. It's been a very long day for you."

"I'm alright. I've sort of got my second wind." After a couple of moments, I said, "What do you think is going on lately? With the gunshots we heard,

and all the tire tracks and all of that stuff? The whole mystery?"

"I don't know," Hannah said, looking pensive. "I sit sometimes and just think about it. Trying to figure it out."

"Me, too."

"I wish there would be some sort of a break in the case," Hannah went on.

"I don't think the sheriff and his deputies are very bright," I offered.

"I'm sure they're doing their best."

"Best for an office full of monkeys," I added, with an eye roll, and Hannah laughed.

"Not very respectful," she told me, but she was still smiling.

"I don't think Seth has anything to do with it, really," I said casually, reaching for another potato to peel.

"What?" Hannah asked, plainly surprised by my comment.

"I don't think he's in on it."

"After the phone calls? And coming here late at night like he did, trying to see you? Didn't he say he knew something about

what was going on?" she asked, stopping her peeling to look at me.

"Yeah. He said that," I admitted.

Hannah regarded me with a serious 'mom' type of look. "But now you don't think that he did know anything?"

"He might know a little, but I don't think he was one of the guys in the field the night Warrior got hurt."

"Why do you think that?" she asked.

I hesitated, studying her face. Telling Hannah something like this was sort of a 50/50 risk. She liked it when I talked to her,

and confided in her. She would usually give me a chance to tell Adam on my own if it was something she thought he needed to know.

Like, for instance, when that whole swim suit calendar thing had happened in my freshman year, I'd told her, and she gave me

time to tell Adam. This, however, was a little different. She would think that Adam would need to know that Seth had

talked to me. She'd consider it a safety issue.

The whole family by now thought of Seth as mostly a no-good. And a lot of that was Seth's own fault. Well, truthfully, most all of it. And, it wasn't as

though I was interested in dating him or anything like that at all. I just didn't want it to be seen as an issue of me not being truthful or

anything.

I met Hannah's eye. "Because he told me that he wasn't," I said.

Hannah's expression became alarmed instantly. "Harlie, tell me that you haven't been seeing that boy-"

Her voice sort of trailed off, and by 'seeing' I knew she meant sneaking around to see Seth, as in a dating sort of thing.

"No, Hannah," I said quickly. "I haven't."

"Thank goodness," she said, relief obvious on her face.

"Besides," I added, laying my last peeled potato in the bowl ready for cooking, "This summer I've hardly gone anywhere, unless

it was with Steven, or Ford and Evan and Guthrie. I'd be hard-pressed to have had any sort of secret rendezvous with Seth."

I'd meant it as a slight joke, to lighten the conversation, but Hannah didn't look amused.

She laid her paring knife completely to the side, and leaned forward on the table, crossing her arms.

"Would you want to?" she asked bluntly. "If you did have the opportunity?"

"No," I said again, just as quickly. "I wouldn't."

"Are you sure?" she asked me then. "You had a look about you when you said you don't think he's involved. As if you've

changed your mind about him somewhat."

"I guess I've sort of changed my mind. A little bit. He was being honest with me, I think. And he told me that he

just wants to straighten himself out, and not cause us anymore trouble. But, I wouldn't want to go out with him, or

be his friend, or anything like that." I decided that it would pure foolishness on my part to mention the kiss that I'd exchanged with

Seth.

Hannah hesitated a moment or two longer, and then nodded slowly. "How did it happen then?" she asked me.

So, I told her about the trip into town with Daniel and Evan, and how I'd seen and talked to Seth when I was at the

grocery store. And how Seth had said he'd only scouted fences, and didn't know anything else about what was happening

around our area.

"And then Evan started asking me all sorts of questions," I went on. "And it made me mad."

"So you didn't tell them?" she asked.

"I'd have been afraid to tell them," I said. "Evan would have hunted Seth down right there in town, and there would have

been a big fracas, all because he dared to speak to me."

"Well," Hannah said. "That's probably right."

"And then they both would have yelled at me, and started with the lectures, and probably Evan would have told Brian and Adam,

and it would have blown up and seemed as though it was something that I wanted to do."

"That's probably right, too," she agreed.

"So," I said, and reached for another potato. "That's why I didn't say anything."

"I understand," she said, slowly, but sounded uncertain.

"But?" I asked, knowing that there was more that she wanted to say.

"But, I think you should consider talking to-" she hesitated, "To one of your brothers. At least so they're aware of it. I'm concerned

that you might be being-misled. By Seth."

"You think he might have an ulterior motive," I said, in statement. "That he thinks he can fool me."

"I think it's possible." She reached over and squeezed my hand. "Don't be mad at me for saying that."

"I'm not," I said, with a sigh.

"And, besides," she went on, "If he is involved in any way at all, even if he says it was a small involvement, well, that's

something that might help the case. It's something the sheriff might need to know."

"Yeah," I said, quietly, thinking about what she was saying.

"So?" she prompted, looking at me with a degree of sympathy.

"So, I'll talk to-" I hesitated, "To somebody."

Hannah smiled a little. "Good. And it's not as though you don't have a choice of many."

"Yeah. But calm would be good. Listening and not hollering," I said dryly.

As we both started peeling potatoes again, I let my mind run over brotherly options in my head.

7

It was after we were finishing up the supper preparations, that Hannah wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and announced

that she would go down and switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.

"I know they're all going to be wanting clean, dry jeans for tomorrow," she said.

"I'll go," I said, in a rush, and hastened over to the door leading to the basement.

"Why don't you go sit and read for awhile?" Hannah suggested. "You've had a crazy busy day."

"I don't mind," I said, edging my way around her to open the door.

"Well, okay," she said, and turned back to another kitchen task.

I closed the door behind me, and went down the stairs. Midway down, I gave a loud whisper, "Guth? It's me."

Guthrie appeared at the foot of the steps, and I went on down to meet him.

"Hannah was gonna come down to put the clothes in the dryer," I told him, in another whisper, going over to the

washing machine.

"Oh," Guthrie said.

I put up the lid and began taking out the wet jeans, shuffling them into the dryer. I cast a glance over towards Kenny. He

was still in the same spot, his head hanging over the arm of the chair.

"Anybody else around?" Guthrie asked.

"I don't know. I've been in the kitchen all this time with Hannah." I pushed the start button on the dryer.

"Can you get her out of the kitchen?" Guthrie asked me. "I'll get Kenny upstairs."

"I don't know. I'll try," I said, although I wasn't all that keen on doing what he wanted. Just as I was headed back upstairs, I

heard footsteps above us, and then voices. Several of them. We both tilted our heads, listening.

Male voices intermixed with Hannah's. Guthrie and I exchanged a look.

"Damn," he muttered.

"Everybody's coming in to eat supper," I said.

"Yeah."

He looked thoughtful, and I said, "What are you gonna do?"

Guthrie cast a glance towards Kenny. "Leave him down here, I guess, and hope he sleeps a lot longer. Then try to get him upstairs later

tonight."

We went up the stairs together, and I opened the door at the top.

There's not that much room at the very top before you step into the main part of the kitchen, so the door

nearly caught Crane as he was passing from the mudroom.

"Whoa," he said.

"Sorry," I told him.

His gaze landed on Guthrie. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Brian turned from where he was stirring a glass of iced tea. "Yeah. Good question. We saw your truck behind the shed. Where

have you been all afternoon?"

"Did you need me for somethin'?" Guthrie asked, effectively turning their questions into another question.

"We could have used your help," Brian told him dryly.

"Sorry," Guthrie said. "I can help you now, if you want."

Brian's gaze seemed questioning, but all he said right then was, "After supper."

"Okay," Guthrie said, and went to the sink to wash his hands.

Brian's gaze turned to me then. "How are you feelin'? Still alright?"

I nodded.

We all sat down to supper, including Clare, who was sitting in her spot at the table. She looked fine to me. Rested. Bright. She

and Brian held hands as the food was passed around.

From the conversation that ensued, I gathered that the Jeep had been retrieved, via our trailer pulled behind Ford's truck. After that

there was some talk about the day's work, and what to do with all the firewood that Ford and Evan had cut up.

Then, when Crane brought up the subject of Kenny's dad, and his diagnosis of cancer, most everyone started talking about that.

What a terrible thing it was. How he was going to manage his large ranch with just one ranch hand and Kenny, when he himself wouldn't be

able to help.

I felt Guthrie tense up from his spot next to me. He kept eating, but he contributed nothing to the conversation.

"We could take some meals over there," Hannah suggested.

"I hate to say it, but Mrs. Harris isn't going to be strong enough to do a lot to help," Crane said.

"No," Adam agreed.

"Is she driving him to his treatments?" Hannah asked.

"Not from what I understand," Crane said. "I think they said Harve Peterson was driving him back and forth."

"Oh. She doesn't drive," Hannah said. "I remember now."

"Why doesn't she drive?" Clare asked, sounding shocked.

"She never learned to," Hannah said, and looked towards Adam. "Isn't that right?"

"I think so."

"I can't imagine," Clare said. "I mean, how in the world does she manage everything, not being able to drive?"

"He's always done everything, pretty much," Brian told her. "Driven her wherever she wanted to go, and all that."

"Wow," Clare said, still sounding disbelieving.

"Why the heck isn't Kenny helping drive him back and forth to the hospital?" Brian demanded.

Everybody sort of turned their attention to Guthrie at that point, and he chewed the bite in his mouth, and said,

sounding vague, "I don't know. Busy doin' other stuff, I guess."

"He's probably helping out a lot around the ranch," Hannah said, smiling at Guthrie. "Having to take more

responsibility. Right?"

"Yeah. I guess," Guthrie said, and took a long drink of milk.

At the mention of what Kenny might be doing to occupy his time, I looked across the table towards Ford and Evan,

and they were both quiet, concentrating on their meal, but I knew they were thinking about Kenny and his flask.

7