When we got home, I went into the house, and upstairs to put away the cash that I'd kept out of my cattle sale money. I tucked it into
my top drawer, where I always keep it.
I went back downstairs, and went to the kitchen, where Hannah and Adam were sitting at the table, talking. They were sitting at the end
of the table that Hannah sits at during meal times.
Hannah smiled at me, and Adam said, "Hey. How was town? Get the money into your savings account?"
"Yeah," I said, going to the cabinet and pulling down a glass.
"I'm surprised you all didn't make a stop at the café for some pie," Hannah said, smiling at me.
I turned on the water, and began to fill up my glass.
"I guess we didn't feel like it, really," I said, and as they both looked at me expectantly, I went to sit across
the table from Adam.
"Everybody's talking about it," I said. "The case. And Kenny."
Adam gave a nod, and Hannah said, "That's the way that it usually is. Something big happening, in a small town."
"This bunch of men were just standing around. Saying how Kenny's putting his parents thru all of this," I said.
"Well, that part of it's true enough," Adam said.
"I'd think they would all have better things to do," I said. "Then stand around and gossip, and pick on the Mustangs."
Adam gave me a knowing glance, as I went on. "And then, when somebody draws their attention to what's wrong
with what they're saying, they get all huffy about it."
I took a long drink of my water, as Adam and Hannah exchanged a glance.
"And, this somebody? The one that pointed out what they were saying that was wrong?" Adam said, raising an
eyebrow. "Was that you, Harlie?"
I met his eyes across the table. "Yes," I said. I'd gotten to thinking on the way home about that one man, the one
who was so put out with me. If he'd happened to recognize Ford, or Evan, and could place me as a McFadden member, then
he might see Adam around somewhere, like a Cattleman's Association meeting, or something. And, he might decide to fill Adam's
ear with reports of how I shouldn't talk out like I had. Best I tell Adam about it, first.
"What did you say?" Adam asked me.
"Well, he was saying that the Mustangs are nothing but a big nuisance, and how it doesn't matter a whit if they're all sold
to the dog food factories. That the only shame of this whole thing was Kenny disgracing his family, and all the damage that's
been done to fences and stuff."
"Uh huh?" Adam prompted me to continue, his eyebrow still up.
"So, I told him that the Mustangs aren't hurting anybody. That they're just trying to survive, is all."
"And he didn't appreciate hearing this, I take it?" Adam asked.
"No," I admitted. I was perusing his face, to see if I could gauge his thoughts and reaction to what I'd said.
"What'd he say?"
"He told me-" I hesitated. "That I should stay out of conversations that aren't my business," I finished quickly. "And he said
I was disrespectful."
Hannah sort of looked down, and then took a drink of her tea. It seemed to me that she was looking somewhat amused, and was
trying to hide that fact.
"Were you?" Adam asked me.
I looked at him, not understanding.
"Disrespectful," he specified.
I considered. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything," I admitted. "But, I don't think I was disrespectful." I thought then of
how I'd turned to give the man a dirty look, and muttered, 'oh, my gosh', at him in retaliation for saying I was disrespectful.
"I guess I was a little bit-" I hesitated. "Something."
"Sassy?" Adam offered.
"I guess so," I admitted.
Adam sighed a little. He was giving me a considering look. I couldn't tell exactly how annoyed he was with me. Or if it
was past annoyance.
"You can thank Evan," I said, trying to lighten the moment. "He hustled me out of there like greased lightning."
"I'll remember to thank him," Adam said, dryly.
When Adam didn't say anything else right away, but just sat back in his chair, giving me a stern-ish look, I said,
"It just made me mad, the way he was talking-" I began, and then let my voice sort of trail off.
"I'm sure it did make you mad," Adam acknowledged. "That doesn't mean you had to respond to it, though. Does it?"
"No."
The phone began ringing then, and Hannah got up, saying that she would go and answer it. She went out, headed to the
living room. When we were left alone, I pushed my glass into the center of the table, and looked at Adam a little bit
sheepishly.
"I thought I'd better tell you about it," I admitted. "Remember? You said that you wanted to hear things from me, and not
from somebody else?"
"I remember," he said. "I understand how you feel about all of this, Harlie. In all the talking about the Mustangs and the case
that we're gonna be hearing for a long while, there's going to be opinions that you don't agree with. You're likely not going
to change anybody's mind, that's already been made up."
"I know," I said, realizing that he was right. "But, maybe, there might be a person sometime, whose mind can be changed."
"It's possible," he agreed. Then he reverted back to lecture mode. "Just watch your mouth. You don't need to be arguing like that,
with older people. Alright?"
I nodded in acknowledgement. And then, thankfully, Adam went on talking about something else.
7
That night, Guthrie and I went to town, to hang out at Butch's for awhile with some of the other kids. Guthrie had
called Kristin but hadn't been able to get anyone to answer the telephone at her house. That put Guthrie into a mood again.
Before we left the house, I'd been waiting, sitting on the couch, as he'd tried, for the third time, to call Kristin.
Adam was in the room, too, along with Brian, who was sitting on the opposite couch beside Clare. Everybody knew
that Guthrie had been trying to get ahold of Kristin for most of the afternoon and early evening, with no success.
When Guthrie hung up the phone, and walked back over to where we all were sitting, Adam said quietly, to him, "No luck, huh?"
"No."
Adam looked at Guthrie, standing there with his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, Guth."
And, I could tell that he was sorry, too. I knew he was feeling for Guthrie, and me, and also that he cared a lot for Kristin
himself.
"Yeah," Guthrie said, with a shrug.
"Maybe she went with her mom somewhere," Clare spoke up, encouragingly.
Guthrie looked doubtful.
"So what are you two up to tonight?" Brian asked, in a change of subject.
When Guthrie was slow to answer, I answered for the both of us. "Going to Butch's, to hang out."
Brian nodded, but was watching Guthrie.
As Guthrie and I got around to leave, Adam and Brian both walked out onto the porch with us.
"Got enough money?" Adam asked us. We both said that we did, and I saw Brian and Adam exchanging one of those
'talking without words' glances between them.
"No drinkin' tonight," Adam said. His voice was quiet. Not loud, as though he was 'laying down the law' or anything. But there was
no doubt in my mind that he meant it. I knew there would be no doubt for Guthrie, either.
I nodded, in acknowledgement, and Adam looked to Guthrie. "Hear me?" he prompted.
"Yeah. I hear," Guthrie answered.
"Don't be too late, either," Brian tossed in. "Home by eleven, or so. We've got an early morning of work tomorrow."
So, we went on to Guthrie's truck, with Adam's cautionary, "Be careful," said as we walked away.
We were at the end of the driveway, when Guthrie said, "They worry way too much."
"I don't think they can help it," I said, in defense of Adam and Brian. "You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," Guthrie said, and sighed. And then, to my somewhat surprise, he added, "A beer sounds good."
I turned to look at him. "You can't drink at Butch's," I said. I knew that he already knew that, full well. Butch is strict about
things like that. He tosses out any teenagers that he sees drinking, even if they're outside when they're doing it, and then try to
come inside.
"I know," he said. "I just said it sounds good. That's all."
There was something in Guthrie's tone. Something in his demeanor that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He seemed 'off'. And I knew that if
he really wanted to drink, it wouldn't be any problem to find beer.
"You promised Adam," I reminded him.
"When did you get so perfect all of a sudden?" Guthrie accused.
I felt a quick stab of hurt at that. I clamped my lips shut, and turned to look out the window, at the passing fields.
It was only a nanosecond, and Guthrie sighed heavily. "Sorry, Har."
I didn't answer right off, and he said, "I am sorry. I just-well, everything's hittin' me, I guess."
"I know," I said, in sympathy, and turned from the window to look at him again. "Why don't you stop at the trailer park and see if
Kristin's there?"
"Adam and Brian don't want you there. You know that."
"I'll stay out in the truck," I told him.
Guthrie looked thoughtful, and I knew he was remembering the conversation the two of us had had, with all of our brothers. They'd said
with certainty that they didn't want me going to Kristin's trailer, because of what Frank might say or even do, to me. And then, they'd added
that if Guthrie went to pick Kristin up or drop her off, he was always to wait outside the front door. Not go in, so as to prevent an
altercation with Frank. I could tell that Guthrie really, really wanted to do it. Go to the park, and knock on the door. See if Kristin was there.
"It's okay," I told him. "At least try. If she's there, we'll both feel better. At least we'll know she's okay."
Guthrie nodded, and so, when we pulled into the city limits of Murphys, he drove towards the end of town that the trailer park is on.
There was no car in the driveway, but that didn't mean anything. Her mom might be using it. It didn't mean that Kristin wasn't there.
Guthrie got out and went up the few steps on the porch, and I watched as he knocked on the door. I saw him take a step
or two back as the door was opened. From where he'd parked, I couldn't see who had answered the door, but I didn't think it was
Kristin, because she would have come on out, so as to say hello to me.
I saw Guthrie sort of straighten up, and I could tell from the way he was standing, and then the way that he was talking, that
whoever it was wasn't being very friendly, or welcoming. So it wouldn't be Kristin's mom either, then. She likes Guthrie.
That left Frank. I began to get a bad feeling in my stomach. Maybe this had been a bad idea. I opened my door, intent on
getting out. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, exactly. I just knew that I couldn't sit there and watch while Guthrie got
into an altercation with Frank. A drunk Frank, most likely.
And then, the other person came out onto the small porch. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was Buddy. Kristin's
brother. I hadn't seen him in such a long time. I know Kristin says that he's not very nice. Not any help to her mom. He sometimes works
and sometimes he doesn't. He even tends to get drunk right alongside of Frank. He's about Evan's age. Or maybe Daniel's age. I can never
remember that part. That's another reason that Kristin says that I'm so lucky. Because she says she'd give anything if Buddy were like
my brothers. She's especially fond of Crane. But, Buddy's not like my brothers. When Seth hit her while they were dating, Buddy didn't even
give a darn.
Buddy had put on some weight since I'd last seen him up close like this. It was probably mostly beer-gut, I thought, trying to
reassure myself. Because he was way, way bigger than Guthrie. I stepped out of the truck all the way, keeping my hand on the
door handle. Now, I would be able to hear them.
But, now that I was where I was able to hear, Buddy turned and went back inside, slamming the door. And Guthrie came
down the steps, and to the truck.
"What happened?" I asked, as he got closer.
"Nothin'. Get in."
"What did he say?" I persisted.
"Let's go."
I got in and so did he. We sat there in momentary silence. Anger was radiating off of Guthrie. I didn't want to press him. But, I
didn't want to wait, either.
"Is Kristin here?" I asked.
"No."
Guthrie started the motor, and began to back the truck up.
"Where is she?"
"Buddy says he doesn't know," Guthrie said.
"Oh."
We drove in silence down the side streets, until we got back to the main street. Guthrie pulled up in front of Butch's, and shut off the truck. There were
still a couple of parking spaces left.
But, instead of getting out, Guthrie just sat there, staring out the windshield.
"Was Frank there, too?" I asked.
"I didn't see him."
"Was Buddy being an ass?" I asked.
"Buddy's always an ass."
I sighed a little, and fell into silence. I didn't know what to say to help Guthrie feel better about everything. I was worried about
Kristin, too. But, add Kenny to the mix, and it just seemed as though I couldn't break thru Guthrie's veneer.
"Do you just wanna go home?" Guthrie asked me.
"Is that what you want to do?" I countered.
"I dunno," he said, and then sighed.
I studied his profile, trying to decide what to do, or what to say. Finally, I decided to just take charge. There was no guarantee that
Guthrie would respond to my bossing him around. But, it was worth a try.
I reached over and gave him a light slap on the shoulder. "Let's go in for awhile. Maybe some of your friends are here. It might
cheer you up."
"I don't know," Guthrie said again, still staring out the windshield.
I would, I saw, have to get more assertive. I got out and slammed the truck door, going around to Guthrie's side.
I pulled his door open. And then I took hold of his arm, tugging at him.
"Get out," I ordered.
"Huh?"
"Get out," I said again, as firmly as I was able to. "This is ridiculous. You need to talk to some people. Have a little fun. It will do
you good."
Guthrie was still not budging from his seat, even though I was pulling on his arm. But, he was also looking a little less grim.
"Bossy boots," he accused.
"That's right. Now, get out!"
Guthrie shook his head a little, but he got out, pocketing his keys, and slamming his door.
7