"Hey, Guth," I said to him quietly.
Guthrie pushed himself off the wall that he'd been leaning against.
"I wanna talk to you," he said, speaking just as quietly as I had.
"Okay," I said, looking at him, and waiting.
"Not here. Not where anybody's gonna hear us," he said.
"Well," I considered. "My room or yours?"
"Ford's in mine," he reminded me.
"And Kristin's in mine."
"Let's go outside."
"Now?" I asked, thinking about how firm Adam had sounded when he'd told me to go to bed.
"Yeah. Now." He turned around and started walking towards the stairs.
"Adam and Brian are down there," I said.
Guthrie stopped, and turned to look at me. "Back stairs, then," he said, and started walking down the
other end of the hallway.
I walked fast to catch up with him. Just walking beside him, I could feel how on edge he was. I was going to
say something, like slow down, or maybe we ought to wait to talk in the morning. But I didn't, because it took
all my air to keep up with him.
At the bottom of the back stairs, he paused, listening. Checking, I knew, to see if he heard anybody in the kitchen.
He must not have, because he went on, out the back door. I paused myself, giving a quick look around the
kitchen. But it was all dark, except for the low light over the sink.
Once outside, the dogs all came to greet us. Warrior, Jethro and Gus all kept following us. Only Clarence stayed where he
was, on the back steps.
Guthrie headed across the yard, towards the orchard. I stayed with him, as best I could, because he kept walking
fast. The grass felt so cool on my bare feet. Once at the bench that sits under the trees, Guthrie paused.
"Tell me what Kenny said," he ordered, without preamble.
"What do you mean? When he was upset, you mean?" I asked.
"All of it. Everything."
"Well, he asked for you, and then he asked me to come outside and talk to him-" I began.
"Why would he do that?" Guthrie interrupted. "He knows you think he's worthless."
"I don't think that, Guthrie-"
"Yeah. Okay. So you went outside. What'd he say then?"
"He asked if I thought that you would talk to him, and I told him that he would just have to try. And then he said he'd been
a jerk to me. And he said he was sorry about it."
"And?" Guthrie prodded.
"That's it. Then he started crying. And I didn't know what to say. So I went to get Crane-"
"When you say cryin', what do ya mean?" Guthrie demanded.
"What do you mean, what do I mean?" I repeated, irritated.
"Like it looked like he wanted to cry? Or he had tears in his eyes? Which?" he asked.
"No. Not like that." I hesitated. "Like full-blown crying. Sobbing."
Even from the light that shone from the back porch, I could see Guthrie sort of tilting his head to one side.
"You're exaggerating," he said, after a quiet couple of moments.
"I am not," I said.
He was quiet, and I stepped closer so as to see his face more clearly.
"I'm not. Why would I do that?" I asked him.
Still he was silent.
"It was awful," I went on. "It made me feel so bad for him. I wouldn't make something like that up."
I heard him sigh heavily. "Okay," he said.
"Maybe he's feeling bad about his dad," I offered up.
"Yeah."
"Except-" I began, and then paused.
"Except what?" Guthrie asked, immediately jumping on what I'd begun to say.
"When I asked Crane what it was all about, he said that Kenny needed to talk to his parents about it before anybody else found out."
Guthrie was silent again, and I took another step nearer to him.
"So, maybe it's not all about his dad," I added.
"Oh, man," Guthrie muttered, sounding frustrated, and upset.
"What?" I asked. At his silence, I shook his arm. "What, Guthrie?" It seemed as though Guthrie knew of something.
"Nothin'." He sighed again. "I'm goin' to bed."
We were near the back door, when I heard the braying. Only once, and not really close. But, I heard it.
"Did you hear that?" I asked Guthrie.
"Hear what?"
"Braying. Like a donkey."
We both cocked our heads to listen. Only the typical night noises. No sound of a braying burro.
"I don't hear anything," Guthrie said. He opened the back door, and held it open for me to pass in front of him.
"I'll be in in a minute," I told him. I turned to walk back across the yard.
"Where are you goin'?" Guthrie hissed, in a loud whisper.
"Go on to bed," I told him, and I kept walking. I heard him mutter again, sounding irritated, and then heard the screen door flap closed
behind him, as he went inside the house.
7
I picked my way across the cool grass, still listening to see if I heard it again. I was around the side of the
barn when I did hear it. Definitely, it was the sound of one of the burros. I changed directions, and went back to the
barn, opening the big doors, and switching on the lights. I went to grab a couple of the apples in the bins at the side. Then I
went to search thru the shelves, hoping to find a flashlight. I did find one, though I had to bang it against my leg to
make it come on, and even then the light was dismal. Still, it was better than no light at all.
I went back out and walked thru the pasture. Walking amongst the cattle at night that way was sort of surreal. I could
see the shapes of their bodies in the darkness, and even hear them snipping off the grass and chewing. A cold nose came up
and touched my hand at my side. I looked down, a little startled, even though I knew that it was about ninety percent
positive to be Warrior. And it was.
"Just checking things out, boy," I told him.
I kept walking, picking my way across the field, trying to shine the flashlight on the ground. I didn't want to step in cow
manure in my bare feet, and I sure did not want to step on a snake. I went to where the barrels were set up, and to the spot
where I'd seen the two burros at the morning before. Shining the light across the fence, I didn't see them. I
couldn't help the disappointment that I felt. And I'd heard one of them. I knew I had. So they had to be nearby. It was
just hard to figure out exactly where, in the dark like this, and with the way that sound carries in different directions.
I walked a bit further out into the pasture, staying over near the fence line.
I could hear rustling in the grass, and I stopped walking, putting a hand on Warrior's head to keep him still.
Even if I held my breath, I could still hear it. I turned the flashlight's rays over the area, moving it back and forth.
And there, in the dim light, stood one of the burros. I felt a surge of excitement.
They must really like it around our place, if they were still here. I realized that the burro was standing on our side of
the fences, and wondered how that had happened. Must be that there was a hole in the fence somewhere.
Oh, boy. That wasn't good.
There was nothing I could do about that right at the moment, though. So, I concentrated on stepping closer to
the little burro. I told Warrior to stay, but wasn't surprised when he just galloped off the other direction.
I began to whistle softly, as I inched forward.
"Hey there," I said, softly.
In the light, I saw the burro raise his head even higher, looking at me.
"You remember me, don't you, boy?" I talked on.
I would have liked to try to get him to eat from my hand, but I didn't want to risk scaring him off, in the dark
like this, so I gave careful aim with one of the apples. A gentle toss.
The burro wasted no time in beginning to munch.
I moved the flashlight back and forth a few times, searching for the other burro. I couldn't see it, though, and I wondered
where it had gone to.
I'm not sure how long I stood there, listening to the sounds of the apple crunching as it was eaten, and talking softly
to the burro. It was long enough that I started to feel cold. The night air had turned chilly, and especially my bare feet
were feeling it.
"You stay around, alright, fella?" I told the burro, as though he could understand me. "I'll bring you more to eat tomorrow."
I tossed my second apple in front of him, and turned away, beginning my walk back towards the house.
I called out to Warrior, but he didn't come.
I was back up in the pasture where the cows were at, when Warrior came running back up to me.
"Where did you get off to?" I asked him. "You crazy dog."
I turned the flashlight back forward again, and there was something large standing there in front of me. About
ten or twelve feet away.
I caught my breath in a startled gasp, and came to an immediate stop. I reached out to touch Warrior's head. My mind
began to race all over the place. It was a person. A tall one. Had someone sneaked onto our property, and the dogs hadn't
alerted anybody? I realized then that Warrior hadn't barked in warning at all. If anything, he'd been accompanying whoever
it was.
It was one of my brothers. It had to be. I had sudden, impulsive thoughts of who I wished for it to be.
I waited, and then, a couple of seconds later, before I could tell by the light, I knew by the voice.
"Harlie Marie."
Uh. I groaned inwardly.
I didn't say anything cute, or funny, like say a casual 'hi' to him. I stayed still.
"What are you doin' out here?" he asked.
I hesitated, remembering several things all at once. One, he'd told me to go to bed. Two, he'd told me to
leave the burros alone. And three, it hadn't been all that long ago that those men had been near our pasture on their
four-wheelers, with guns. So, I was silent, not replying.
He was beside me, then. "Answer me," he ordered. An eight on a scale of ten.
I was going to tell him that I'd come this far from the house at night because I'd heard something. That would not impress him,
though. It would enrage him. So I was still hesitating to answer, when he took my arm in one hand, and turned me, smacking me
on the rear end so hard that it took my breath.
Dang, but it stung! I yelped, partly from the surprise of it, but mostly because it did hurt.
And then he did it again. And a third time. By that time, he'd bent me over his arm.
"Ow, Adam!" I managed.
He paused. "You've recovered your ability to speak, have you?" he asked.
I recognized that tone. Voice not raised at all. Tense. Curt. Terse. Quiet. Warning.
"Yes!" I said.
He turned me loose then, without saying anything more. And then he turned to start walking towards the house.
I followed. Not because I was anxious to, either. Tears were welling up in my eyes.
Once near the pasture gate, he opened it, instead of climbing over, and I went thru first, and then he closed
it again, refastening it. He paused, looking down at me. I could see his face fairly clearly in the yard pole light.
"Let's have it," he said shortly.
"I thought that I heard one of the burros," I said.
"From your bedroom?" he asked, sardonically.
"No."
"So you decide to go traipsing that far from the house near to midnight?"
I hesitated in answering yet again, and I saw, even in that light, one of his eyebrows raise in warning.
"Yes," I admitted, quickly.
He surveyed me with an intentness. I rubbed at my cheek.
"It sounds like we have a misunderstanding between us," Adam said.
"We don't, Adam," I said.
"We must have. If we didn't, then I don't think we'd be standin' here, having this conversation at this
time of night," he said.
"I'll go to bed," I said, but before I could take one step, he spoke.
"Nope. Stand right there."
I stood where I was, and swallowed hard. I felt as though I was ten years old again.
"So, burro hunting, huh?" he asked.
"I just wanted to see-" I began, and then let my voice trail off. He wouldn't consider that anywhere near
a valid excuse.
"And did you?" he asked. "See?"
I nearly said no. I nearly lied to him. But, at the last second, I said, "Yes." Then for good measure, I added, "Sir."
"With the cattle?" he asked then.
"No. Further on," I said.
When he was silent for a couple of moments, I knew he was thinking. Considering the burros.
"It was only one of them," I offered.
"Fence must be down somewhere," he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud to himself.
"I'll help check it tomorrow," I said, trying to make amends.
I wished I hadn't offered, because that seemed to make his whole attention return to me again.
"What did I tell you?" he asked, still in that same 'terrible' voice.
I wasn't certain just which 'thing' he was referring to, that he'd told me.
I seized upon the most logical. "To go to bed," I said.
"Besides that," he said, sounding impatient.
"To leave the burros alone," I admitted.
"That's right. Not to mention the fact that you went that far from the house, this late, alone," he said, sounding
as though he wanted to throttle me.
"I'm sorely tempted to take you in the barn, and blister your behind," he went on.
I felt my stomach clench. "You already-" I began, and then fell silent.
"It has been awhile, if you think those swats you got are equal to a paddling," he said. "Besides, those were for not
answering me."
"I'm sorry," I said. And I was. I didn't want to be in trouble. But I knew how much Adam had on his plate right now, and
on his mind. He didn't need me causing him any worry.
He sighed. "It's late and I'm tired. I've got to be up at five, and I want to go to sleep. So you get yourself to your
room, and get to bed. We'll talk about the burros again tomorrow."
"Yes, sir," I said.
"I'm gonna turn off the lights you left on in the barn," he said. "You hustle on inside."
"Okay," I said, turning to make a hasty escape.
"Did you do your shot?" he called after me, and I halted, feeling my stomach plummet yet again. Oops.
Again, for about a split second, I considered lying to him. But, even if I did dare to, he would know. He was going to
be coming into the kitchen right on my heels. He only had to turn off the barn lights. So, he'd see me in the kitchen as I
was getting stuff out to do the injection. And, there was no question of not doing it, just to prevent him from becoming more
angry at me. I couldn't take that chance with my diabetes.
"I'll do it as soon as I get in," I said, avoiding an open, out and out admission to not doing it.
"Harlie," I heard him mutter.
"It was just such a crazy evening," I said, in explanation. "With Kenny coming by and all-and I just forgot-"
"Come here," Adam said.
I wanted, a nano-second. And then I walked over to where he stood, near to the barn doors.
He reached out and took my chin in one hand, tilting it so that I was looking directly at him.
"Should we go back to before, when one of us had to keep track, and watch you every single day?" he asked sternly.
"No," I said, feeling as though I was going to burst into full-blown tears at that point.
"Then do I want to hear excuses? Any excuse?"
"No, sir," I managed.
He sighed again. Heavily. And he let go of my chin. "Go," he said.
I ran all the way to the back door, and went in, and began pulling out all the supplies. My hands were shaking, a little,
because I was upset, I guess. I must have done it wrong, or something, because it hurt.
I was sniffling, and putting things away, when the screen door opened, and Fat Clarence came in, followed by Adam. Any
other time, I would have been amused at the fact that he let Clarence sneak in at night sometimes.
Now, though, I kept my face averted, hoping he wouldn't hear me sniffling like I was. He went to the cabinet and pulled
down a glass, and then went to the refrigerator, and I could hear the sound of him pouring something.
I still had my back to him, when he said, very quietly, "Crying always gives you a headache."
So, he'd heard me.
At first, I wasn't going to answer. Then, I thought better of it, and said, "Yes, sir."
He was beside me then, leaning against the counter. And then, he set down his glass, and said, "How about a hug
goodnight? Or are you too mad at me?"
I shook my head, and then looked at him. "You're mad at me, though," I said.
"Yeah. I am. A little," Adam said. "But, I'll still take a hug goodnight, if you want to give me one."
His voice was softer now. More like usual.
I stepped over, and he wrapped both arms around me. We stood that way for a couple of minutes, neither one of us
saying a word. Then he kissed the top of my head.
"Tomorrow's another day, sugar," he said.
7