Guthrie did end up having fun. A little fun, anyway. Trent and a couple of Guthrie's other friends showed up, and they began a game of
pool. Lori, who had accompanied Trent along to Butch's, sat with me, and we talked, and watched the boys shoot pool.
There was, of course, some buzz here as well, about Kenny. Not so much about the whole case, and what it involved, but more
just about Kenny's involvement. Since it was a bunch of teenagers, most of them seemed surprised by what Kenny had done.
At first I thought it might rile Guthrie all up again. But, since he was hanging out with Trent and the other two boys, and they were also
friends of Kenny's, they seemed to not take much notice of the talk and gossip.
We didn't stay too long, though. Lori always has to get home pretty early, because her dad's strict. So when she and Trent got
around to go, just before ten, then Guthrie and I decided to leave, too.
As we passed the Dari Kurl, though, Guthrie saw somebody that he wanted to talk to, so he made a quick turn there and pulled
in.
"I'm gonna go talk to Fred for a minute," he told me, as he got out. "You wanna come?"
"I'll stay here, unless I see somebody I want to talk to," I told him.
"Okay. Order me a shake if Bets comes around, will ya?"
I was sitting with my feet propped up on the dashboard. It was so hot that I'd taken off my shoes and socks, and was enjoying
having my feet bare. I was perusing the crowd that was left around the Dari Kurl, and didn't see anybody that I wanted to talk to.
At least not bad enough to rouse myself, or put my shoes back on to get out for.
When Bets, the car hop, came over with her pad and pencil, she stuck her head in Guthrie's open window.
"Hey, there, Harlie," she greeted me cheerily.
"Hi, Bets."
"You want something?"
"A large chocolate shake for Guthrie."
"Okay," she said, scribbling it down. "How about you?"
I considered, running over in my mind what I'd indulged in today, that might set my blood sugar rising.
"A strawberry shake for me," I told her. "Small."
"Great." She slipped her pencil back behind her ear. "How's Daniel?" she asked.
I feel sort of sorry for Bets. She's had a thing for Daniel for a long, long time.
"He's good," I said.
"He gonna be staying around here for a while longer?" she asked.
"I don't think too much longer. He has to get back."
"Oh." Her face sort of crumpled. I felt really sorry for her, then. Then she recovered her customary good
nature, and said, "Be right back with the shakes!"
As I sat there, watching Guthrie from a distance as he talked to a group of kids, I wondered if I could persuade Daniel to
take Bets out. Just once, before he went back to Nashville.
7
Once we left the Dari Kurl, and were on the road heading home, Guthrie seemed to be driving slow. The windows were down,
and it made a nice breeze come thru.
The cab of the truck was dark, but I could hear Guthrie taking a big slurp from his shake.
"You were right about Kenny," Guthrie said. His voice was sort of quiet, and he sounded regretful.
I wasn't sure what to say to that. I had been right. But, that didn't mean that I was glad about it.
So I didn't say anything right away.
"I didn't wanna believe it, when you were sayin' all that stuff about him. I still don't wanna believe it." He sighed. "But, anyway,
I'm sorry for being such a jerk to ya."
"It's okay," I said. I could hear all the emotion in Guthrie's voice. He was trying to tamp it down but I could hear it.
He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and I wondered if he was going to say more about Kenny.
When he didn't, I spoke up softly, "I wish I hadn't been right."
"Yeah," he said.
7
The next morning we'd only just finished eating breakfast, when there was a commotion outside. The dogs were barking,
and Brian said, "Sounds like somebody's here."
"I'll go," Ford said, scooting his chair back, and going to the living room. Everybody else started getting up, as well, talking
about what needed to be done.
We could hear Ford's voice, and another voice. A man's. And then a woman's, as well. Adam headed toward
the living room, and Brian did, too, stepping back to the kitchen doorway to say, "It's Kenny's folks."
I immediately shot Guthrie a glance, where he was putting his sink on the stack by the sink. His face looked all panicky, all of a
sudden.
"Oh," Hannah said, laying the dishtowel in her hand down on the table, and heading towards the living room.
Crane said something about making another pot of coffee, and Brian added, "Kenny's with them."
Panicky wasn't the word for Guthrie's expression then. Crane passed by Guthrie, giving him a pat on the shoulder as
he went towards the living room, as well.
Very quietly, Guthrie sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, after picking up his boots, and began to pull them on.
"You ought to go talk to him," Daniel said.
Guthrie was silent, not answering.
"You'll feel better about it all if you do," Daniel went on.
I was watching the scene play out between them, from where I stood by the sink, next to Clare. Evan, who was still sitting
in his spot at the table, was watching, too.
"Daniel's right about that," Evan tossed in.
Still, Guthrie was silent.
"Go on, Guth," Daniel said.
I knew that Daniel, and Evan, too, were trying to be encouraging. I knew that they were only concerned for Guthrie, and how
much he was hurting. But, it was like I could now see where I'd fallen short before. I'd tried pushing Guthrie to believe it all, and
that hadn't worked. Now, when he knew for certain that it was, indeed true, Daniel was pushing him to talk to Kenny. See him and
talk before he was ready to.
"I don't want to right now," Guthrie said, really low.
"Ignoring it isn't gonna make it go away," Daniel persisted.
Guthrie gave his boot a yank and looked up. "I know that, Daniel. That's not what I'm doin'."
"You'd rather just go around bein' a jerk about it all," Daniel accused, and then gestured at me. "And then taking off her
head when she's tryin' to talk to you."
I felt my stomach plummet. Daniel had no way of knowing that Guthrie and I had worked thru the whole 'Kenny' thing, or knowing
that Guthrie had apologized to me for being a jerk.
"Daniel, stop," I broke in.
Guthrie stood up, and walked out of the kitchen without another word, letting the door flap shut. It hurt me, just watching him
go like that.
"You shouldn't have talked to him like that," I said.
"I'm tired of him actin' like a bear with a sore paw," Daniel said, sounding mad.
Brian was by now, back in the kitchen doorway. "Where's Guthrie?" he asked, looking around.
Evan gave a nod toward the back door. "Outside."
"Kenny wants to talk to him," Brian said, and then seemed to take in the tension in the room. "What's goin' on?"
When none of us answered, Clare did. "Guthrie doesn't want to talk to Kenny right now."
Brian looked as though he were going to say something more, but then he didn't. He just went back to the living room,
where the voices continued talking.
Evan got to his feet and went out, saying, "I'll try talking to Guthrie."
I was suddenly irritated with Daniel. "Guthrie apologized to me last night," I said, keeping my voice low enough so that it
wouldn't be overheard from the living room.
Daniel nodded, but didn't say anything.
Hannah came back into the kitchen, intent on getting down coffee cups and a tray. "Need some help?" Clare asked her.
"I think we'll just have coffee," Hannah said. "Or do you think we should have some cookies or something?"
"They probably ate breakfast just awhile ago," Clare said.
I could tell Hannah was a little flustered. "Mrs. Harris is so upset," she said, really low.
"Why are they here?" Clare asked.
"They came along with Kenny, since he was hoping to talk to Guthrie. Kenny has court tomorrow."
Daniel turned and started out the back door. I tagged after him just past the doorway. From where I stood, I could see Guthrie standing
near the corral, Evan standing beside him, talking.
"Daniel-" I began.
"I'm not gonna say anything more to him, squirt."
"Okay," I said.
When I'd stepped back into the kitchen, Hannah was pouring coffee into the cups on the tray. Isaac, just now waking up,
began to cry from upstairs.
"I'll go," Clare said.
"Thanks," Hannah said, and then to me, she said, "Will you help me, Harlie?"
I nodded, even though I would have rather not gone into the living room. She said, "Carry the coffee pot, will you, please?"
So she carried the tray and I took the coffee pot and a pot holder, and followed her to the living room.
Mr. and Mrs. Harris were sitting on one of the couches, with Adam and Crane sitting across from them. Brian was sitting in the recliner.
Ford was sitting on the arm of the couch, and Kenny was standing.
Hannah set the tray down on the coffee table, and began handing out the cups of coffee, while I set the coffee pot down on the
hot pad. I swung a glance at Kenny. He was holding his ball cap in his hands, twisting it back and forth. He looked shaken up.
He looked so distressed that I spoke first. "Hi, Kenny."
He nodded at me, without meeting my eyes. "Hey, Harlie."
Hannah sat down beside Adam, handing him a full cup.
Kenny's mother was sniffling, holding a handkerchief to her eyes.
Brian said something to Kenny's dad about cattle prices. Mr. Harris looked relieved, I thought, and immediately began making
conversation with Brian about that.
When I looked Ford's way, he mouthed, "Guth?" to me.
I gave a discreet, quick point to the outside. Ford nodded in understanding, and then stood up, and quietly left the room, heading
towards the kitchen. I figured he was on his way to hunt for Guthrie, and try talking to him.
Mrs. Harris said to Hannah, "This whole thing is just-well, it's not something that I thought we'd ever have to come face
to face with-" She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes again, and began to cry. For some reason, I thought of the word 'weep' just
then. Kenny's mother is such a delicate appearing sort of person. She's a real Southern belle, as I've said before. So 'weep' seems
to fit better with what she was doing right then.
Mr. Harris stopped talking to Brian, and began to pat her back. "Now, Millie," he said.
I looked at Kenny, who was by the moment looking more distressed and uncomfortable. I couldn't imagine what he must
be thinking or feeling right then. Having his mom fall apart like that, in front of other people, because of something that he'd done.
Hannah moved from her spot beside Adam, over to the other couch, sitting down beside Mrs. Harris. She wrapped her arm around
Kenny's mom's shoulders, and began to talk really softly to her.
I shot Crane a look of wide-eyed wonder. Any moment, now, I thought, and Kenny might be sobbing, too, like he'd done that
night with Crane and I.
"Hey, Harlie," Crane said quietly, "Why don't you and Kenny go out on the front porch for a few minutes?"
There was no time to decide if that was something that I wanted to do or not. Crane gave me a nod, and I knew he wasn't giving
me a choice, really.
So I said, "Okay", and headed out the front door. Kenny was following me, and I let him go past me, and closed the door
behind us.
I wondered what he would think of being more or less ordered to go out onto the porch by Crane like that.
I sat down in the porch swing, as he stood there, stiffly, across from me.
"My mom's real upset," he said.
My thoughts were sarcastic. As in, 'Um, really?!' or 'I never would have guessed it'. But, of course, I didn't say those things.
"Yeah."
"She just keeps cryin', all the time. She never really stops," he said.
How was I supposed to respond to that?
"Maybe talking to Hannah will help her," I finally said.
After that, I sat, and he stood, and there was silence for a long few minutes.
When Kenny finally spoke again, his tone was resigned. "Guess Guthrie made a quick escape, huh?"
I looked at Kenny, but again, had no words.
"I figured," Kenny said, with a sigh. "He don't wanna see me, does he?"
"I guess not." Then, I added, "Maybe he will, later."
"I don't know if I'll be around for awhile after this," Kenny said. "I've got court tomorrow, and my lawyer says that I'll
probably have to go to a detention center for awhile."
I could hardly swallow past the lump in my throat. It wasn't that I thought Kenny should get no punishment. But, I'd
never known of any kid in our area to have to go to a detention center, or even get into serious trouble enough to cause
it to be a possibility.
"Oh," I said, sort of thunderstruck.
"That's why I wanted to come over today. I was hopin' that it would be early enough that he might be around."
"Ford's talking to him. Ford's good at that kind of thing-" I let my voice trail off.
"Yeah," Kenny said, in agreement. "Ford's a good guy, alright."
A hesitance on his part, and then he said, "You probably aren't thrilled to be sent out here with me, are ya?"
I swept my gaze to him, and for the first time, his eyes met mine.
He seemed to be wanting an answer, and so I said, in honesty, "I don't know how I feel, Kenny."
Kenny nodded, as if he weren't surprised by my answer. Then he sort of straightened up a little, and said,
"Well, I've got something to tell you, and then, after that, you can go back inside if you want to. I'll stay out here so
I don't make everybody uncomfortable in there."
At first when he said that, about making everybody uncomfortable, I thought he might be trying to get pity, or something. But, when
I looked at him, he didn't seem as though he was. He simply looked sad. Somber. Intent.
"What do you want to tell me?" I asked, not sure at all that I wanted to know.
"That night-" he began, "The night when you heard the four-wheelers on the edge of your place?"
When I nodded in response, he went on, "I was there, just like you thought I was. And-it was a dog bite on my arm. Warrior got
real nervous, I guess, from all the noise and stuff we were makin'. He was barking and jumpin', and it was makin' the other guys
mad."
I stared at him. I'd known all that already, well, except for the part about the other men there being angry. But, to hear him say
it outright, to admit it like that, well, it stunned me.
Kenny went on, not paying any mind to my stunned expression.
"What I really wanna tell you is this. I kicked him, when he kept jumping on me and barking. The other guys were gettin' mad
at me over it, 'cause he wouldn't leave me be. And they were starting to threaten Warrior, so I thought maybe if I kicked him that he'd
run for the house." He was gazing at me, full-on, though he was still twisting his hat nervously into folds between
his fingers. "I kicked him, but I'm not the one that shot him." I thought for a moment he was going to break down again, but
he seemed to steady himself with resolve, and said earnestly, "I've got no reason to lie to you now. This is the God's honest truth, Harlie. I
didn't shoot your dog. And I feel real bad about it happenin' to him."
7