THERE IS A BIT OF SWEARING IN THIS CHAPTER.

Daniel and I went for a long horseback ride the next afternoon, and when we came back near to the barn, and house, there

was the sheriff's car parked in front. Yet again.

Immediately, I felt my heart go into my throat.

"They've come for Evan!" I said, panicked.

"Maybe not," Daniel said. He sounded all calm, and reassuring, but I could tell he was worried, too.

"Let's hurry," I said, and urged Old Charlie into a run.

I was already at the pasture gate, and off of Charley's back, by the time Daniel caught up with me.

I was tying Charlie's reins onto the fence post, and scrambling over when Daniel said, "Hey, now. Hold up a second."

I had dropped to the other side of the gate, and I stopped walking to look back at him, where he was now dismounting

his own horse.

"What?" I asked, impatiently.

"You can't go tearing in there, like your hair's on fire," he told me.

"I'm not," I protested. "But I'm worried! Aren't you?"

"Of course I am. Come unsaddle Charlie first."

"He'll be fine. I want to go in and see what's going on-"

"Squirt," Daniel said, his voice rising over mine. "Come on." He motioned me back towards the fence, to where Charlie was waiting

patiently, swishing at flies with his tail.

"Good grief," I said, in protest, and went to climb back over the fence, where I unsaddled Charlie, and hoisted the saddle to sit

over the gate. I slid the bridle over his ears, and then followed Daniel. He had opened the gate, and had his own saddle in one hand.

I tugged my saddle off of the gate, and followed Daniel to the tack shed. We put our saddles back onto their saddle horses, and hung

up the bridles.

Even then, walking toward the house, Daniel was telling me not to rush in.

When we did go inside, there were two sheriff deputies sitting on our couch. They had glasses of iced tea sitting in front of them on the coffee table.

Adam and Brian sat across from them, on the other couch, and Evan sat on the arm of the recliner.

I felt for a moment, relieved. With Evan sitting there like that, and not in handcuffs being taken away, well, surely that was

good, right?

But the look on all three of their faces was dark and brooding. I couldn't remember when I'd seen Adam last look like he did at

that moment.

Both of the officers looked up at Daniel and I as we came in, and then went on talking. One of them was saying something about a neighboring

rancher also losing two head of cattle. Also? I looked at Daniel, puzzled.

Daniel sat down on the arm of the couch, next to where Brian was sitting. Brian was leaning forward, his hands clasped together, and his face

like a thundercloud.

"This is bullshit," he said, and his voice was low, but so angry I could hear the tenseness in his voice.

For a moment, I was shocked that Brian was talking that way, I mean, swearing in front of the officers that way?

I knew he had to be very, very angry and upset to do something like that.

The one officer, the one who seemed to be in charge, looked at Brian. He didn't seem surprised, or even offended by Brian's

comment.

"I understand how you feel," he said.

"Are you a rancher?" Brian asked him, in a calmer tone.

"No, sir, I'm not," the deputy said.

"Well, then you can't understand," Brian said flatly.

"Brian," Adam said, but he sounded as though his heart wasn't in the protest.

"What are you gonna do about this?" Evan spoke up. "Are things going to be stepped up, on the investigation?"

"We're hoping to put some more men on it," the deputy answered.

"Good plan," Brian said, and I could hear the veiled sarcasm in his voice.

"What do we do with the carcasses?" Adam asked then.

"If we leave them much longer, we'll have every buzzard around these parts flying over," Brian added.

Carcasses? Now, I really was puzzled. And worried.

"Let us finish up with taking our pictures, and the rest of what we need to do," the deputy said. "In a couple of hours, you'll be

able to dispose of them."

They all stood up, and Adam said, "Evan and I'll come with you," to the officers.

So they all headed towards the front door, and as Adam and Evan headed to the truck as if to follow the sheriff car,

that left Daniel, Brian and I standing there on the front porch, watching them drive away.

"What's goin' on?" Daniel asked.

Brian kept looking after the departing car, and our old truck. "Somebody saw fit to shoot three of our cows dead."

"What the hell?" Daniel said.

Brian turned to look at Daniel then, and at me. He seemed calmer now, though his jaw was set, and there was a glint in

his eyes that looked fierce.

"Where?" Daniel was asking.

"Which cows?" I asked, right after Daniel spoke.

"Up by the line cabin," Brian answered, and then, to me, he said, "Younger ones. One of them was the one with the

spotted face."

I felt my stomach knot. "Beatrice?" I asked, so low it was nearly a whisper.

Neither Brian or Daniel responded to my comment of identifying my favorite cows with fancy names.

"When?" Daniel asked then. "I mean, do we know when?"

"Evan says he was up there a couple days ago, and didn't see anything wrong," Brian said. "So between then and this afternoon sometime."

The thought of the cows, especially Beatrice, just lying there, as fodder for anything that wanted to feed off of them, was

almost nauseating to me.

Brian turned to go back inside, and Daniel followed, which left me to bring up the rear.

"What's the thought?" Daniel was asking then. "Not rustling, obviously. But, just shooting them down? Where's

the sense in that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Brian said, picking up the two glasses that the deputies had been drinking out of, and heading

towards the kitchen. "But if I was to place a bet on it, I'd say straight up damn meanness. Pure and simple."

"Why?" I asked, still trailing along after.

"I don't know, peach," Brian said, and now he just sounded tired. He set the glasses in the kitchen sink, and then leaned

against the counter, facing us.

"You wanna help me?" he said to Daniel. "We'll get some stuff done, so we can bury the cows later."

"Yeah. Alright," Daniel said.

As they started to walk towards the back screen door, I said, "Why would somebody do that, though?"

Brian paused, his hand holding the door open, to look at me. "How about you throwing some supper together?" he

asked, not answering my question. "I don't know when Clare and Hannah are gonna get home. They went with Marie

shopping somewhere."

"What do you want me to make?" I asked, still feeling shell-shocked by what had happened to the cows.

"Whatever's easy and quick," Brian said.

I just stood there, silent for a long moment, not answering, and Brian prompted me, "Harlie?"

"Yes. Okay," I managed. Then I said, "Where's Crane?" I had the sudden wish to have Crane's calmness near.

"He and Ford are checking things out. Makin' sure there's no more dead cattle," Brian told me.

Brian went on out then, and Daniel gave me an understanding half-smile. "See you in a bit," he said, and I knew he was

trying to reassure me.

"Okay," I said.

When they'd gone, I washed my hands, and then set about trying to think of something for supper. I opened some crescent rolls,

and cut up some cheese, and began to assemble 'pigs in a blanket'. I put some onion rings on a cookie sheet, and then

made a fruit salad. It was while I was chopping up the fruit that Guthrie came in, thru the back door. He

looked hot and went to the sink, getting a glass down, and then getting a drink.

I watched him, not saying anything, until he turned around to face me.

"Hey," he said, speaking first.

"Hey."

"It's hot," he said.

"Yeah."

"Did you hear?" he asked. "About the cows?"

"Yeah. The deputies were here."

He nodded, and drank the entire glass of water down, and then set the glass down.

He came closer to the table, and reached down to take a grape from my fruit supply, popping it into his mouth.

"What's happening, Guth?" I asked. I knew it was a dumb question, because Guthrie didn't have any more idea than

I did what was going on. But I still asked. It's always been Guthrie and I's way, to bounce ideas off of each other.

"I don't know," he said. "I wish I did know."

"Brian's getting aggravated at the sheriff and his deputies," I said. "He was even swearing while they were here."

"Three cattle's a big loss."

"Who's the neighbor? They said there was another rancher around here that lost a couple of cows," I asked.

"Not sure. I just got to talk to Evan for a few minutes."

"I wonder if it was Steven's dad," I mused.

Guthrie shrugged. "Maybe."

As Guthrie reached for another grape, I said, "How's Kenny?"

Guthrie chewed the grape, and gave me a leveling glare. "Really, Har?" he asked, sounding disbelieving.

"What?" I asked, honestly perplexed.

"You just can't leave it alone, can you?" he said, and gave the chair nearest to him a shove to the table. That startled me enough

that I didn't answer right away, and by that time, Guthrie was already at the door, going back out.

"Guthrie-" I said, but I was saying it to his retreating back.

That got me so worked up that I got up, from my seat at the table, and went to the door, pushing open the screen.

Guthrie was crossing the yard by now, and I yelled after him, "I was just asking! You don't have to be such a jerk!"

I couldn't be sure, since he didn't turn around to answer, but it sounded as though he said, "Takes one to know one."

I was so upset after that, that I went to sit at the piano, pounding hard on the keys, playing a jazzy tune that I only remembered

bits and pieces of.

I was so intent on it that I didn't hear anybody come in, until a voice to my side said, "What did that piano ever do to you?"

I turned to look up at Ford, who looked amused.

"Just trying to pound Guthrie out of my head," I said, and closed the lid over the piano keys.

"What's Guthrie done now?" Ford asked, and sat down beside me, opening the lid right back up again.

"He just gets so mad-every time Kenny's name is even mentioned. He thinks I'm trying to fight with him about it, and

I'm really not!" I said.

Ford was sifting thru the sheet music in front of us. He set one paper down, and opened it. "Try this," he said, pointing

to the song.

I peered at the sheet music, and wrinkled my forehead. "I can't read all the notes, Ford. You know that."

"Well, try," he insisted. He began playing, a slow sad-sounding ballad. "Join in."

"I'll just listen to you," I said, and moved as if to stand up.

"Okay," Ford said, over the sound of the music he was playing. "Chicken-" he taunted.

I sat back down beside him on the piano bench. "You and Crane and Daniel are the musical ones around here," I told him.

Ford kept on playing, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Uh huh," he said, in challenge.

"Oh, good grief," I huffed, but I leaned in to study the notes in front of me.

"Right here," Ford said, stopping to point quickly at a spot on the paper, before he started playing again.

Finally, I gave up on reading the notes, and just listened for a few minutes, as he played, and then on the opposite end of the

piano keyboard, I began to try to play along.

"There you go," Ford said, in encouragement, and we played on. We were still at it, when we heard noise in the kitchen, as

the others were coming in.

Evan appeared at the door leading from the kitchen to the living room. "Hey, how about supper?" he demanded.

"Rude," I accused him, still playing.

"Is it that fruit thing on the table?" Evan persisted. "We're starving."

"Good grief, Ev," I said, and got up, going to walk past him into the kitchen, which was now filled with brothers. Ford

followed along behind, taking a piece of banana from the fruit salad off the table.

I went to turn on the oven, where the 'pigs in a blanket' and the onion rings were already on cookie sheets.

"They'll be ready in a few minutes," I said.

The guys all started washing up at the kitchen sink, and I went to get plates down from the kitchen cabinets.

"Here," Ford said, taking the stack of plates from me, and going to start setting them around the table.

"Thanks, Ford," I said, pointedly, giving Evan a jab, and a raised eyebrow look, to signify his lack of help.

It went right over Evan's head, though. Either that, or he didn't care. They all began to take their

places at the table, except for Ford, who kept helping to set the table, and Adam, who began to make a pot of

coffee. Well, and Crane, who gathered up silverware from the drawer, and began to follow Ford around the table,

laying down forks and spoons. I set a pile of napkins in the center of the table, and then, when Crane was done with the

silverware, I caught at his sleeve. The talk at the table had immediately gone to the cows, and the deputies, and all of that.

It was an obviously subdued group.

Crane looked down at me, when I touched his arm, and paused. "What, peanut?" he asked me.

Since I'd just been reacting to all the stress, and wishing for a little Crane-calmness, I said off-handedly, "Are you going

out tonight?"

Crane put a hand on my shoulder. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

"I just wondered," I said vaguely.

"Hmm," he said, looking down at me, his expression kind. "You want to read awhile later?" he asked.

"Together?" I asked.

"Yes. Together."

I nodded, and he patted me on the back.

When the food was done, and taken out of the oven, and had been eaten, it was being discussed about the burying of the

cattle. The tractor would be driven up, so that the front end loader could be used to dig a hole, followed by others in the truck or Jeep.

"We'd best go, before we lose our daylight," Adam said. And so, with a few heavy sighs, they all got up, pushing their chairs

up to the table.

Evan was pitching in, helping to clear the table and stack the dishes beside the sink. He gave me a half-smile.

"Can I go?" I asked, to the group at large really, not to any one certain brother.

"You shouldn't," Evan said. "It'll just upset you."

Adam paused beside me, laying a hand at the back of my neck. "That's right, sugar. It's not a pleasant sight."

I could tell he would say the actual word of 'No', if I persisted, so I just said, "Okay," and went to start

running hot water in the sink for the dishes.

Adam, Brian, Daniel and Evan were the ones that went, while Crane, Ford and Guthrie stayed back at the house.

I'd started washing the dishes, when Ford told me to go on, that he and Guthrie would do the dishes.

"It's not your turn," I felt bound to point out.

"Yeah. But you cooked," Ford said. "Go on."

I thought Guthrie would put up a protest at having to help do the dishes, when he wasn't on the dishwashing roster, but

he was silent, only going to get a dishtowel from the drawer.

So, I went to the living room, where Crane had gone to sit at his desk, figuring things on a piece of paper, his

glasses on. I paused behind him, and then wrapped my arms around his neck from behind.

I was silent, and he took his glasses off, laying them down, and then turned around in his chair, capturing my

hands in his.

"What is it?" he asked me quietly.

"Everything feels all off-balance," I said, trying to explain.

"I know," he said, his expression kind.

I sighed a little, and he said, "I'll tell you what. Go on up and get into your pajamas. I'll make us some popcorn, and hot

chocolate, and then we'll read awhile, or look at the photo albums. Alright?"

Instantly, I felt better.

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