The three of us ate our supper, sitting around in the living room, while watching an old episode of 'The Beverly Hillbillies'. I knew that

Evan called Steven's father, because I heard him talking on the telephone, even though Evan was around the corner of the stairs,

and talking in a low tone.

When I heard that, I gave Clare a look, and saw that she knew, too, who it was that he was talking to. She gave me a light shrug of

sympathy.

"It's necessary," she told me quietly.

I hadn't felt much like eating before, and after that phone call, I felt like it even less. I finished the vegetables on my plate, but

not the leftover meatloaf that Clare had reheated.

"I just can't believe he acted that way," I said, almost to myself.

"Listen-" Clare began to say something to me, but Evan was coming back, and I didn't want to hash it over any more in

front of him.

So I turned my attention back to Ellie Mae and Granny.

When that episode was over, Evan said he was tired and going to bed.

"Me, too," Clare said.

I sat there, still and quiet, curled up on the corner of the couch, covered with my favorite quilt.

Evan was going to the front door, checking to make sure it was locked. Since we very rarely lock our doors at night, this

in itself spoke volumes.

"I'm gonna check the back door," he said, and went towards the kitchen.

Clare stood up, stretching. "You want to stay up in our room tonight?" she asked me.

I was thinking about it, when she went on, "Isaac will be up there, too. We can talk, or not talk, whichever you want."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Okay. I'm going to get Isaac from his crib and take him up to the playpen to sleep. Do your shot, and then I'll meet you up there, alright?"

Her voice and her expression were so kind.

I nodded in agreement. I wrapped my quilt around my shoulders, and went to the kitchen, preparing to do my shot. Evan was standing outside of the

back door, on the little stoop there. I went on, doing my shot, and he came back inside, finishing a glass of milk. He set the glass in the sink,

and went back over to the door, twisting the lock into place.

I thought about saying something about did he really need to lock the doors against Steven? But then, I thought about how he'd been

right all along concerning Steven's motives. And the thought had occurred to me that if I had actually gone out with Steven, would I have been

able to fight him off if he'd behaved as he had in the living room?

So I didn't say a word about Evan locking the doors. Actually, at that moment, it made me feel more secure. Even though I didn't think

Steven would come back around our house at all, anytime soon, much less the same night, I didn't have much faith in my own

judgement at this particular time. What did I know? I'd thought Steven was a nice guy. A good person.

I sighed, just thinking about it. I hadn't realized just how deeply that I had sighed until Evan paused beside me, watching as

I put my diabetes supplies away.

"You goin' up to bed?" he asked me.

"Yeah. I guess I'll stay in the attic with Clare tonight."

"Okay," he said. "That'd probably be good."

"Do we have a lot of work around here tomorrow?" I asked, trying to sound upbeat.

"We won't lack for work."

"Okay," I said.

Evan reached out and caught at the quilt that I had wrapped around my shoulders. I looked at him, waiting.

"I feel like there's somethin' that I probably should say to you right now," he said.

I watched his face, and all the emotions crossing it. I wasn't sure just what he meant.

"You mean, like how dumb I am?" I asked. "To take a guy's word?"

"No, Harlie," he said, shaking his head. "I don't think you're dumb at all." He hesitated, looking as though he was thinking.

"You were up front and honest with him. It's not your fault that he didn't hold up his end of the agreement."

"But, Ev," I said, "I was sort of using him, I guess. It was so-well, handy, to have somebody fun to go places with, and not

have to worry about the whole boyfriend-angle of it."

He nodded, in understanding of what I'd said. "Yeah. But there was nothin' wrong in that, either. You weren't leadin' him on."

"I guess he thought maybe I was," I said quietly.

"Well, that's on him. Not you." Evan's tone was firm. "I don't want you feelin' any of the blame for what happened today."

I was silent, looking at him, and he gathered a handful of the quilt around me in both of his hands. He gave me a little tug.

"Are you hearin' me?" he asked,

"I hear."

"Well, I know it shook you up. I just don't want you to let it fester inside, or blame yourself," he added.

"Okay," I said, in agreement. He was being so nice. So 'adult'.

"Okay," he echoed. "Well, I just felt as though I should say somethin' to you. I know Adam would have. Or Crane."

I nodded. "I'm glad you were around," I said fervently. "And," I added, "I'm glad you told me to stay home."

"Yeah," he said. He turned loose of the quilt.

He turned off the lights in the kitchen, and we went thru the living room, as he snapped off the lamps in there, too.

Upstairs, he went on to his own room, while I climbed the attic steps. Clare had put Isaac back to bed in the playpen, and she

was wearing her robe, brushing her hair at the mirrored vanity.

It was so homey up there, that I think a lot of people would be surprised by how Clare has fixed it up.

We sat on the bed, and she brushed out my hair, which still had tangles from the morning of wind and riding.

It was clean, but tangled.

Clare, being Clare, didn't mention Steven or bring it up at all. I began to relax a little, as she worked the

hairbrush thru my curls.

"Evan talked to me," I said. I was talking in a low tone, so as not to wake Isaac up.

"He did?"

"Yeah. He said that what happened wasn't my fault. And that I shouldn't feel like it was."

"He's right," Clare said, quietly as well.

"And he said-well, he said other stuff, too. He was really nice about it."

"I'm glad he made you feel better."

"Did you know we used to not get along at all?" I asked.

"You and Evan?" she asked.

"Yeah. I was always really bratty to him, and I thought he was bossy, for no reason."

"People change," Clare said.

"He's still bossy," I said, and heard Clare laugh softly.

7

The next morning when I woke up, I was surprised to find that Clare had gone downstairs already, and taken Isaac with her.

I got out of bed, and then walked back over to make it, figuring that I should. I went down the attic stairs, and to my own room,

where I pulled on my jeans and a Travis Tritt t-shirt. Carrying my boots, I went down to the living room, and then thru to the kitchen.

Clare was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea, and reading some sort of medical magazine, all while

still entertaining Isaac, by shaking his toys and talking to him.

"Good morning," she greeted me.

"Morning."

"How did you sleep?"

"Good," I said, and I was actually surprised that I had.

"There's oatmeal, if you want some. That's what I had. Or there's some eggs left, that Evan made."

I went about getting myself a bowl of oatmeal, and sitting down at the table, dropping a kiss on the top of Isaac's downy head.

"Evan's already outside?" I asked.

"He was already out by the time I got up," Clare said.

"I better hurry," I said.

I finished my breakfast, and went to pull on my boots, and a ball cap over my ponytail. I went to feed the dogs and goats, as usual. Evan

was already out in the back pasture. I could see him at a distance. I walked to where he was at, using a post hole digger to make new

fence post holes.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hey."

"Do you want me to help here?" I asked.

He paused, straightening up. "I think I've got it. Do you think you can feed some range cubes?"

"I can," I told him, and turned around to walk away.

"Hey," he said, and I paused, looking back.

"You alright this morning? Not sore or anything?" he asked.

I knew what he really meant was, was I sore after Steven had roughed me around?

"I'm still saddle sore," I told him, in answer, and he grinned at me, and went back to his work.

7

I fed the range cubes, driving the old ranch truck out, and then climbing up into the back to tear open the sacks of range

cubes. Too heavy for me to lift all at once, I put down the tailgate, laid the sack flat, open side down, and got back in the truck.

As I drove slowly, the range cubes spilled out, sometimes a few at a time, sometimes a bunch in a clump. The cattle immediately

came forward, finding their 'candy'.

I stopped, and parked, and got back up in the bed of the truck, having to push aside the cows to do so. Most of our cattle are so

tame that they will come right up to you, and sniff at your pockets to see what you have. I was lifting the sack, much lighter now, and sprinkled some

on one side of the truck, and then the other side. I was congratulating myself on my ingenuity of lightening the sack, when I saw

the bull that we'd borrowed from the neighbor walking towards the truck.

I eyed him from my spot in the back of the truck. He wasn't hurrying, just ambling along, but he sure was a giant.

"You girls tell your boyfriend to be nice, alright?" I said, addressing myself to the cows milling around the truck.

The bull came up, and pushed aside some of the cows to get to a few of the range cubes. I stood back a little further, against

the window of the truck, watching him.

"You go on now," I told him.

He was in no hurry to move along. He butted his head against the side of the truck a couple of times.

Warrior, who had tagged along with me, stuck his head out of the open driver's side window, barking at the bull.

Since the bull seemed to dislike that, I said, "Hush up, Warrior!"

I knew better than to jump down from the truck to the ground, with him standing there. Always, always, respect a bull. Even if they are

supposedly 'friendly', you never ever take a chance.

So, I thought I would have to stay there until he decided to go. I tried a few "Go"s and "Shoo!" but he wasn't bothered.

I was safe, I knew, as long as I stayed put.

After several minutes had gone by, I estimated about fifteen or so, and the cows, including the bull, were still milling around the

truck, waiting for more cubes. I went to the opposite side of the truck, the passenger side, and stuck one leg in the open window, then

grasped the part where the door meets the roof of the truck, getting a grip. I scooted my behind over until I could swing my other leg in, too.

I had to push Warrior out of the way, but I managed. I was behind the wheel of the truck, when I gave the bull a triumphant, "What do you

think of that, huh, Ferdinand?"

I put the truck into gear, and chugged out of the pasture in second gear, with Warrior sitting on my lap.

7

Evan came in long enough to eat a quick sandwich at lunchtime. He kept talking about how much he had to do.

"You're working yourself to death," Clare said.

"I'm alright."

"What would you two like for supper tonight?" Clare asked then. "I feel bad I can't be outside helping much. After Isaac takes a nap

this afternoon, I'm going to take him out and let him sit in his walker while I pick the garden."

"Anything is fine for supper," Evan said.

"How about you, Harlie?" she asked. "Anything special you want? Well, anything that's in my cooking ability, I mean."

"You're a good cook now," I said loyally. Everybody remembered when Clare and Brian got married, and she hadn't been very good

at cooking at all.

"Thanks."

"Maybe hamburgers?" I suggested. "And fries?"

"I think I can manage that. I'll pick some tomatoes and cucumbers, too."

As Evan finished eating, and stood up, pushing his chair up to the table, he said, "I might ask Nancy to come over to eat with us."

"That'd be great," Clare said, with enthusiasm.

I was glad about it, too, and helped Evan with the work he was doing in the back pasture the rest of the afternoon.

It was so hot that I was thinking longingly of some lemonade. A Coke would be even better, I thought. Instead, I chugged down some

water from the thermos he'd brought with him.

We took a break for a few minutes, sitting on the grass. I was curious, and not totally sure that I wanted to know the answer, but

I asked anyway. "What did Steven's father say when you called?"

"He didn't say a lot," Evan said.

"Was he mean about it? Like he thinks it wasn't true? That I provoked it somehow?" I asked.

Evan looked at me, and I could tell he'd rather just drop the whole subject.

"It didn't seem as though he thought that, no," he said.

"So he believed it?" I persisted.

"He said he was gonna talk to Steven. And I told him that we'd be expecting Steve to make an apology to you."

"You said that?" I asked, dismayed somewhat.

"Yeah."

"I don't want him to apologize, though. He wouldn't mean it."

"Well, I don't care if he means it. He needs to say it," Evan said stubbornly.

I thought that was sort of unnecessary. Or whatever. As we got to our feet to go back to work again, a sudden thought

occurred to me. I wasn't sure whether it was amusing or not.

"Ev?" I began, as we walked back over to the fence row.

"What?"

"How is he supposed to apologize to me?"

"What are you talkin' about?" Evan asked, sounding irritated.

"You told him he couldn't talk to me. Or look at me. So, how is he supposed to apologize?" I asked. When Evan stopped walking to

look at me, it was plain by the expression on his face that he'd forgotten the words he'd hurled at Steven.

"I forgot about that part," he said.

7