After supper was finished, Crane and Daniel left shortly afterwards. From what I'd gathered of their conversation,
Crane had a date with Cindy, and she was bringing along a friend of hers who was visiting to be Daniel's date.
I wondered if Evan was going out, too, with Nancy, but when Brian asked him his plans for the evening, his response
was a fervent, "Shower and bed. In that order."
"Same for me," Ford said.
"You should get to bed early, too," Hannah told me. "After the adventurous day the three of you had."
"It sounds good to me," I agreed, hoping that Guthrie didn't want me to help any more with the big lump of stupid
in the basement named Kenny.
Brian reminded Guthrie that he had a few things for him to do after supper, and, as he prepared to go outside with
Brian and Adam, Guthrie turned to give me a look. A beseeching look. A look which I knew was a request to
go downstairs and check on Kenny.
I frowned at him fiercely, letting him know my thoughts on that.
He caught me at the back door, pulling me away from the sink to whisper to me. "Just go see if he's still asleep."
"You go when you come back in," I whispered back.
"Who knows how long I'm gonna be outside?" Guthrie pointed out. "Just check, will ya?"
"I still think-" I began.
"I know what you think," Guthrie hissed.
"What are you two whispering about?" Brian asked, appearing from around the corner, and pulling his ball cap down on
his head.
I felt guilty instantly, and looked to Guthrie to answer.
"Ready to go, Bri?" Guthrie said, and pushed the screen door open to go out.
I went quickly to the sink so as not to see if Brian was still looking at me.
When Clare and I had finished the dishes, and Guthrie still hadn't come back inside, I went reluctantly down the
basement stairs, and stopped midway, peering over and down. I didn't particularly want to go all the way down, just in
case Kenny was awake.
From where I stood, it appeared he was still sleeping. His mouth was open and he looked to me like a big fish out of water.
A stupid fish.
I stood there a moment or so longer, thinking. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, and the bandage on his arm was gone.
I knew what a dog bite looked like. If I could get close enough to look at his arm while he was still sleeping...well, that would
answer my questions, wouldn't it?
I think I might have done it right then, gone to look at his arm, but before I could make the final decision to do so, there was
somebody at the top of the stairs, closing the door, and then reopening it.
"Hey, toots," Clare said. "I didn't see you down there. Sorry for closing the door on you."
"That's okay," I said, and went up the stairs quickly.
I went to have my shower. The hot water tank had recovered enough from the dishes and Ford and Evan's showers to
provide somewhat of a warmish stream of water. Warm, but not hot.
Once in my pajamas, I went back down to the living room. Adam was alone, sitting on the couch. He was just
sitting there, his head leaning back, and his eyes closed. I went over closer, and paused to look at him a little closer.
There was a streak of dirt or grease on his forehead. It was hard to tell which it was.
I thought for a moment, and then went to the kitchen, which was all tidied up, and empty of McFaddens, with only
the light over the sink on. I went to the coffee pot. The red light was off, but I touched it with my finger, and it
was still warm. Nearly hot. I took down a clean cup and poured what remained in the pot into the cup, and went back
to the living room.
Adam was still in the same position. I didn't want to wake him, if he really was asleep. Still, to be sure,
I said quietly, "Adam?"
He stirred a little, and then opened his eyes. "Hey, sugar," he said, sitting up.
"Hey." I held out the cup of coffee. "Here."
"Thank you," he said, and reached out to take it.
I curled up in the chair directly next to the end of the couch he was sitting on. "I'm sorry for waking you."
"It's fine. I was just dozing."
He took a sip of the coffee, and then let the cup rest on his leg.
"Had your shower?" he asked, in conversation, taking notice of my pajamas.
"Yeah."
"Where is everybody?" he asked me.
"I think Evan and Ford went to bed, maybe. Brian and Guthrie are still outside, I guess."
Adam nodded, and took another drink of coffee.
"You should go get your shower," I told him. "While there's hot water."
"I should," he said, and smiled at me.
But he just sat there, drinking his coffee, and after a couple of moments, I said, "Could I talk to you
about something? Or are you too tired?"
Partly, I was in hopes that he would say he was too tired. Then I'd be off the hook for a bit longer.
"I think I can stay awake long enough to have a conversation with you," he said, and smiled again. "What's up?"
"When I went to town the other day, to get the groceries, with Evan and Daniel? I was in the store, and
Seth was there, too. He said hello to me, and then-well, he started talking."
Adam set the empty cup down on the coffee table, never taking his eyes from my face.
"I tried to brush him off," I said quickly, nervous of the look in Adam's eye. "But he started by apologizing, and
so I asked him what he was doing up at the line cabin. He admitted that he had been up there."
Adam was still regarding me with a somber expression, sort of stern looking.
"You had no reason to talk to him at all, Harlie," he said.
"Yes," I said in agreement. "But, I thought while I had the chance, and he was being nice, I thought maybe I
could get some sort of information out of him-"
"Which is not your job," Adam said, emphasizing the word 'not'.
"I know," I said. Then, trying to sound respectful, I added, "It's just that it was in the store-it's not like anything
could happen."
What Adam thought of that comment was obvious in the continuing look he gave me. Intense. He didn't buy it.
I felt that look to my toes.
"It wasn't the best idea," I said, in defeat.
"No. It wasn't."
"He did say that he wouldn't cause us any more trouble. The family, I mean."
"Well, that's good to hear," Adam said dryly. "If he can be believed, that is."
"Yes," I admitted, and waited.
"I don't want you to talk to him at all," Adam said. "Not on the phone. Not in a store. Not at the gas station. Nowhere."
"Okay," I said.
"So what are you going to do, the next time he strikes up a conversation with you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Walk away."
"Right."
We were both quiet for a couple of moments. Adam looked stern, irritated even, but not really angry.
"He did tell me something, though," I went on. "Something that the sheriff maybe should know."
"What is it?"
"He said that he and the other guy that were staying up at the cabin, they were paid by some men to scout out
fences in the area. See what areas were open and what were fenced. He said that the other guy was the one who
talked to the men, and got the money."
"Hmm," Adam said, looking pensive.
"Seth said he didn't know who the men were, or anything like that."
"And you believe that?" Adam asked me.
"I sort of do," I admitted. "He was convincing."
"Which is the reason I want you to stay as far from him as possible," Adam said firmly.
I wanted to say that even though I thought that Seth might have been telling the truth, that didn't mean that I would be
ready to believe anything or everything that he said to me. But I kept my mouth closed. Saying that would only irritate
Adam more, and I didn't want that.
"I'll call the sheriff and let them know what he said about the fences," Adam said. "It might be worth them talking to him and
his buddy," he said.
I nodded, and for a couple of moments we sat in stillness.
"Come over here," he said, holding out his left arm.
I went to sit beside him, and he let his arm rest across my shoulders.
"I'm glad you told me," he said.
I thought he didn't sound glad, really, but just tired.
I twisted to look up at him. "You need a vacation," I told him.
"I just need a good night's sleep, is all," he corrected.
We sat like that, in companionable silence, until we heard voices in the kitchen, coming thru to the living room.
"Go take your shower and get ready for bed," Brian was telling Guthrie.
"You can go ahead of me," Guthrie said, and I knew that he wanted to go down to the basement and check on
Kenny.
"Naw, you go on," Brian said, and Guthrie shot me a look. A look full of questions.
I gave a brief nod, suggesting that to the best of my knowledge, Kenny was still passed out in the chair downstairs.
Guthrie went on upstairs, and I sat there for a few more minutes, listening while Brian and Adam talked.
There was a crash from down in the basement. I heard it instantly, and I knew that there was no way that Adam and Brian didn't
hear it, too.
"What the hell is that?" Brian asked.
"Sounds like something fell in the basement," Adam said.
They both got up, and so did I.
They were both headed to the kitchen, and nearly to the basement doorway before I could catch up. I quickly slipped in
front of the door, just as Brian put his hand on the doorknob to open it.
"I'll go-" I said, breathlessly.
"What do ya mean, you'll go?" Brian said. "Move, peach."
I stood where I was. While I didn't care a whit about Kenny, I did care about Guthrie. We've always taken up for one
another. Tried to save the other from trouble. Those lifelong habits don't fall away.
When I stood still, not moving, trying to think of what to say, Brian said, again, in irritation, "Move." He put his hand on
my arm, moving me in no uncertain terms.
"Wait!" I said, and they both paused to look at me. "It's Kenny," I said, in a rush.
"What's Kenny?" Adam asked, looking totally perplexed. And irritated.
"Downstairs," I said. "In the basement."
"Why is Kenny in the basement?" Brian asked.
I looked from him to Adam and then back again. "He was sleeping earlier," I said, sort of lamely.
They both gave me a scalding look, and then exchanged their own glance as well. I knew that they knew that there
was plenty more to it than Kenny just sleeping. Then, Brian very purposefully moved me from the
doorway. He didn't so much push as he did simply pick me up, and move me, and then set me back down again.
They both went down the stairs, and like something that you don't want to watch, but the sheer horror of it makes you
watch, I followed.
Kenny had succeeded in knocking over one of the tall metal shelves that hold all sorts of things. Canned food, some tools,
even a couple of Ford's instruments. That stuff was strewn all over.
Kenny himself was back in the chair, though his eyes were open. Not wide open, but open.
He grinned like an idiot at Brian and Adam. "Hey, Brian. Hey, Adam," he said. Then he closed his eyes again.
Brian went over to Kenny and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He hoisted him half out of the chair.
He took a sniff of Kenny, and then shook him a little. "He's bombed," he said.
He turned Kenny loose, and he promptly fell back into his sleeping slouch.
Adam turned to me. "Is this Guthrie's doing?" he demanded of me.
I looked at him, feeling torn. I wanted to answer him. I did. I wasn't out to get myself into trouble. But to throw Guthrie
under the bus totally?
So I hesitated, while Brian came back over and they both glared at me.
"How longs he been here?" Brian asked.
"I'm not sure," I said, in truth, but when Brian's jaw set, I knew I had to answer.
"Part of the afternoon, I know," I admitted.
"Guthrie's not drunk," Brian said, to Adam. "We spent the better part of an hour outside just awhile ago. I know he's
not."
"Maybe not drunk, but drinking," Adam said darkly.
"He wasn't," I defended Guthrie, but neither one of them paid me any attention.
"Let's get our little brother down here," Adam said.
I cringed because I knew one or both of them was going to start yelling for Guthrie to make his appearance, pronto.
But, before they could go to the top of the stairs and call him, Guthrie was there. Standing midway on the basement steps,
his hair wet from the shower, wearing sweat pants and barefoot.
He stood there, just like that, quietly, for a long loaded moment, and then he came on down the remaining stairs, and
up to stand beside Adam and Brian.
"You'd best start explaining, boy," Adam said, and it was his 'horrible' voice. The one that makes me cringe.
"He was drunk," Guthrie said. "I didn't want him to drive. And I didn't want to take him home and upset his mom, with
everything that's goin' on with his dad bein' sick. So I brought him here."
"Why's he gettin' drunk like this for?" Brian asked.
"Feelin' bad about everything at home, I guess," Guthrie said.
"He should be at home, helping out wherever he can right now. Not out getting drunk," Adam said.
"I know," Guthrie said.
"Have you been drinking?" Adam asked him, and I felt the tension as thick as could be in the room.
"No, sir," Guthrie said, and I knew that Adam and Brian could tell he was being truthful. "I'm not sayin' I'm above
doing it. But I wanted to keep an eye on Kenny, so I didn't."
"Just what exactly were your plans here, Guthrie?" Brian asked.
"Let him sleep it off. Get him upstairs. Then, in the morning, feed him some breakfast, and take him to get his truck."
"Had it all figured out, huh?" Brian said, and Guthrie's face flushed.
"Do his folks know he's here?" Adam asked then.
"They'll think he's stayin' at Trent's house, or here. They won't worry," Guthrie said.
"I'd suspect they'll worry more than you think," Adam said dryly. "I'll give them a call and let them know he's here."
"Alright. Do you have to tell them? About him drinking?" Guthrie asked, his face hopeful.
"What do you think?" Adam said, in that way that suggests it was a dumb question to ask.
Guthrie gave a sigh.
"This a one-time thing?" Brian asked Guthrie. "Or is he making a habit of it?"
I held my breath, wondering if Guthrie was going to lie.
"Kenny drinks a little," Guthrie said, sounding defensive. "It doesn't make him a bad guy, Brian."
Brian leveled a steely gaze at Guthrie. "I didn't say it did, did I, Guthrie?"
Guthrie ducked his head a little. "No. Sorry."
"Alright. Well, let's get him upstairs, and get his butt to bed," Brian said. "Come on, Guthrie."
So as Brian and Guthrie went over to pull Kenny up out of the chair, Adam sighed heavily.
"Come on. Upstairs," he told me, ushering me ahead of him. To Guthrie, he said, "We're gonna talk again tomorrow. Got it?"
"Got it," Guthrie said.
I went ahead of him up the stairs, and he held the door, as Brian and Guthrie half-carried Kenny up, and thru the doorway, and then
started up the back stairs to the bedroom.
"Have you done your shot?" Adam asked me.
"No. Not yet."
"Do that, and then go to bed," he ordered. He sounded terse.
He headed to the living room, and while I did my shot, I could hear him talking on the telephone. Telling Kenny's parents
where he was.
7