The afternoon went by swiftly. Even though they were all exhausted from being on roundup for three days, none
of them just sat around, whiling away the time. They jumped back in to chores, seeing what needed to be done.
It was later in the day, closer to the supper hour, when I finished feeding the goats, and went to take a treat to
Petra and Charlie.
Perched atop the fence, leaning over, I didn't hear anyone coming up until he was nearly next to me.
"Hey there, sugar," Adam said, settling one of his boots on the first rung of the fence.
"Hi," I said.
He stood there looking at me, serious and worried, and I knew what was on his mind.
"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay," I told him.
"I think we should talk about it."
I finished with giving the horse treats, and wiped Charlie's horse slobber on my jeans. I hopped down from my perch
on the fence.
"I misjudged Steven. I thought he was nice. He turned out to be a jerk." I shrugged lightly.
"So that's all there is to it, huh?" Adam asked.
"Evan talked to me. So did Daniel. I know all about a guy being supposed to listen when he's told 'no'."
"Okay. " He studied me for another moment intently. "It hurts though, doesn't it? When somebody you thought was
a friend, turns out not to be so great of a person?"
The way he said it, it wasn't really a question. It was more a statement about it hurting.
"Yeah," I said, in agreement. Just thinking about it all, from not having Steven to hang around with anymore, to the fact
that he'd turned so quickly into someone unrecognizable, it all made me feel really badly inside. Not that I wanted to hang
around with him anymore, but it was the whole fact of not having him as a friend. It was hard to explain.
"Evan told him he had to apologize to me."
"I know."
"I'd just like to skip that part," I said, lightly.
Adam looked thoughtful. "Well, we'll see," he said.
He put a hand at the back of my neck. "I wish I had a way to make sure that things like this would never happen to
you," he said. I took a step closer and put my arms around his waist, looking up at him.
"It's okay," I said. I didn't really know what else to say. I knew he meant it, about wishing he could protect me
from everything that would hurt me, or bother me.
"Well, even if he were to apologize, I don't want you going anywhere with him again," Adam said.
"I'm pretty sure that I won't want to," I told him.
"I'm just warning you off, in case you change your mind about that." He sounded calm enough, but I could tell
he wasn't just saying the words. He meant them.
Looking at him as I was, I saw the dust of the trail thru his tanned face. He looked so tired. And so worried.
"You're tired," I said, in statement.
"I just need a good night's sleep. I'll be fine."
"I'm okay. About Steven, I mean. I'm upset about it, and all. But, I'm not-traumatized, or anything like that. Really," I said.
"Okay. Well, if you do want to talk about it, all you have to do is let me know. Alright?"
I nodded. "I will."
7
That night, as I was laying on my bed, reading, there was a tap at my door, which I'd left half-open.
I twisted to look towards the doorway.
Guthrie stood there, obviously just out of the shower, because his hair was still wet.
"Hi," I said.
"Hey."
He just stood there, not coming in any further, and not saying anything else. I switched from laying on my
stomach to a sitting position, my legs crossed Indian-style.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Nothin' much," he said.
Well. This conversation was going nowhere fast.
"How was the rest of the roundup?" I asked him then.
"Alright."
"That's good," I said, and waited to see what he would say then.
Nothing. He said nothing.
"What's wrong, Guth?" I finally asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Nothin's wrong."
I studied him, and thought about just demanding what he wanted, but that's not always the best way to
handle Guthrie. He seemed bothered by something. Or at least, as though he had something on his mind.
"Want to come in and hang out awhile?" I asked him.
Guthrie shrugged, noncommittal.
"We could play a game of checkers," I suggested.
"Sure. If you want to," he said.
"You go down and find the checkers, and I'll make us some popcorn," I said.
I put extra butter on the popcorn, and by the time I met back up with Guthrie in my room, he had moved
my small desk over closer to the bed, and had the Chinese checker game set up, instead of the regular checkers.
"We haven't played this in forever," I said.
Guthrie pulled the desk chair over and sat down on one side of the desk. I perched myself on the edge of my bed, handing
him his own separate bowl of popcorn.
We began to play the game, each munching on our popcorn, and arguing good-naturedly about the rules.
"You can't do that," I was telling Guthrie when he jumped several of my marbles at one time.
"Yeah, you can," Guthrie insisted.
Ford, who'd wandered in to lay across my bed and watch the game a while earlier, was now looking amused.
"He can't, can he, Ford?" I appealed to Ford.
"You can jump as many times in one play as you can," Ford said.
"Ha!" Guthrie said, in triumph.
"Oh, boo," I said, and took another handful of popcorn. When we'd finished the one game, Guthrie wanted to play another,
but I told him I didn't want to. So he packed the game back up, and then the three of us just sat around for a while, finishing
off the popcorn, until Ford and I started tossing it at Guthrie, as he sat with his mouth wide open.
That turned out to be really entertaining. Ford and I took turns tossing it into Guthrie's mouth, and we were counting,
on number 12, when Brian came to lean in the doorway, watching.
"Look, Bri," I said. "He hasn't missed once."
Ford tossed number thirteen, and Guthrie caught it neatly in his mouth, and chewed it, grinning at the three of us.
"Just plain, darn, amazing," Brian said dryly.
I tossed and Guthrie caught number fourteen. I giggled.
"It's just a shame that we can't find you some work doing this full time," Brian told Guthrie.
"Exactly what I was thinkin'," Guthrie said, with a grin.
"You kids ought to be gettin' to bed soon," Brian said.
After Brian had said good night and gone, Ford left shortly thereafter. Guthrie pulled the desk back over to where it
was supposed to be, and set the chair next to it.
And then he just stood there again, looking at me. "It sucks," he said then. "About Steven."
Oh. So that was what had prompted Guthrie to appear at my door earlier this evening. He hadn't known exactly
how to approach the subject of Steven and what had happened.
I looked at Guthrie, from where I sat on the edge of my bed. "Yeah," I said, in agreement.
"I'm sorry, Har," he said. And then he shrugged lightly, and added, "I don't really know what to say. To make you feel better,
I mean."
I shrugged in return. And then I gave him a half-smile. "You know what? You just said it."
"I didn't say nothin'," he said, looking puzzled.
"I can tell you care," I told him. "That's all you have to do, Guth."
Guthrie looked at me, and then nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He went to the door. "'Night, hyena," he said.
"Goodnight, elephant ears," I said.
7
The next couple of days passed in a haze of high temperatures, the sort that make you feel as though you can't get
a breath.
Having so many cattle in the area that Evan had fenced off became problematic fairly quickly. It was just too many cattle
for a pasture of that size. Not enough grass. A short term solution was to buy some large round bales of hay, even though
it was too early in the year to be feeding hay.
We had a few bales left from winter, and the family began discussing the best place to buy more at.
One evening as I was gathering up a snack before going to sit on the front porch with everybody, the phone rang.
Brian, on his way out to join the family, paused at the screen door. "You gonna get that, peach?" he asked me.
"Yeah," I said, and picked up the telephone.
My 'Hello?' was answered with silence for the briefest moment, and then I heard Steven's voice say, "Harlie?" in a
tentative way.
I was silent, and he asked again, "Harlie?"
"What?" I asked then, shortly.
"It's Steven."
"I know," I said.
"I'm calling to tell you that I'm sorry, about how everything turned out, between us."
"Uh huh," I said drily.
"I shouldn't have gotten so rough," he said.
"No. You shouldn't have."
"I just wanted to have you understand-" he began.
"I understand," I said, in a clipped tone.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Then, he said, "You gave me a black eye, did you know that?"
I thought he was probably just making that up. "Did I? Imagine that," I said.
I heard him sigh heavily into the mouthpiece of the telephone. "Do you think you can tell your brothers to lay off of
me?" he asked.
Brothers? What was he talking about?
"Evan called your father because he wanted to. I couldn't have stopped him, even if I'd wanted to," I told him. "Which I
didn't."
"Evan, alright. I get that. But after Brian and Guthrie, I feel like that's enough-"
"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What about Brian?"
"He came over here. To our house. Talked to my father and then they made me stand there while Brian lambasted me."
"Oh, well," I said, sounding careless. Then, I said, "What about Guthrie?"
"He-" Steven began, and then paused. "Never mind what he did. Just tell them I've apologized, alright? I don't need
any more of them giving me grief."
"I'm not responsible for what they do," I said curtly. "Maybe you shouldn't be such a piece of-"
"Alright, alright," he interrupted. Silence for a moment again.
"Are you finished?" I said rudely.
"Yeah. I'll see you around, I guess."
"Not if I can avoid it," I said, and hung up.
After I hung up, I had to set my glass of milk down, because my hands were shaking. For some unknown reason, I felt almost
as stirred up as I had the night the altercation with Steven had happened. What had happened to the guy I'd thought was
my friend?
I wasn't all that surprised about Brian, really. It was like something that he would do. I was curious about Guthrie, though, wondering
what it was that had happened between them. And when.
After a few minutes, I felt calmer, and picked up my glass, going outside to join everybody on the front porch.
There was a spot left on the top step, where Brian sat with Clare, his arm around her shoulders.
"Who was on the phone?" he asked me.
"Steven," I said quietly, and watched his expression.
He only nodded briefly, and went on talking to everybody else.
We all sat outside, until it was dusk, and then gradually everybody began drifting into the house.
The kitchen was the busy room after that, with the refrigerator being raided and cabinets being opened and closed,
and everybody still talking.
Gradually, though, too, it thinned out, as everybody said their goodnights. I was finished with my shot, and putting everything
away, when Brian came back inside from the back door.
"Clarence is whining," he told me.
"He probably wants to come inside," I answered.
"Darn dog is spoiled," Brian said.
"He's old, Bri," I said.
Brian pushed the screen door open again, and Clarence ambled inside, pausing to look up at Brian, as if
in appreciation. I turned around just in time to see Brian giving Clarence's aged head an affectionate rub.
"I saw that," I teased.
"Saw what?" he said.
As he came back over to the table, taking another couple of cookies from the plate left there, I leaned against
the counter, and faced him. "Bri?"
"What?"
"Steven says you came over to his house."
Brian faced me, his expression unreadable. He didn't say anything.
"He says you really let him have it," I went on.
Still he was quiet.
I pushed myself off of the edge of the counter, and went to stand in front of him.
"You didn't have to, you know," I said quietly.
"Yeah, I did."
I looked up into his face, and then wrapped my arms around his middle. "Thanks," I said.
He patted my back with the hand that wasn't holding the cookies. "Time for bed," he said.
7