The next morning, I was woken by two major factors. The urge to pee. And the clatter of Nancy as she was making breakfast.
I opened one eye to peer at her. Ford was beside me, pulling on his boots. Guthrie and Evan's spots were vacant, and Kristin was
still sleeping, her long hair spread out over her bedroll.
"How is a person supposed to sleep, with you making all that racket?" I told Nancy.
"They're not," she quipped. "They're supposed to be up already."
I scrambled out of my sleeping bag, and went to the nearest mass of bushes to pee, walking across the dew-wet grass
in my bare feet.
Ford passed me, on his way towards where the horses were tied. He gave me a good-natured shove.
"Morning."
"Good morning, Fordie," I said, and he gave a protesting, "Hey," at my endearment.
At the fire, I poured myself a cup of coffee, sitting down to watch Nancy in her efficient breakfast preparations. I gave
Kristin a poke with my foot. As Kristin began to stretch and stir around, I finished my coffee, and was already eating my
bacon and biscuits, when the boys came back.
The boys were suitably impressed, and appreciative of the biscuits, which Nancy said she'd made at home, and carried along.
Cold they were, but really good.
"How are they doing this morning?" I asked, speaking of the burros.
"They seem to be settling in," Evan reported.
"Is there a way to make sure they stay up here?" Kristin asked.
"Not really," Evan told her.
"Lots of hope," Nancy said.
7
We left the canyon around mid-morning. I was reluctant to leave, in a way. I was glad the burros were up here, but
also concerned that they wouldn't stay put. Although, I tried to reason with myself, why wouldn't they? The grass here was
lush again. And they would be safe here now, without anybody trying to chase them. Still, it was hard. I had gone to stand
where I could look out and see them all, back where they belonged.
I heard boot steps scraping behind me, and Evan stood beside me, looking out, as well.
"They look good," he said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "They do." I sighed a little.
"We've done all we can for 'em, Har," he said, and I heard a bit of cautionary in his tone.
I nodded, full of feelings as I looked out over them. "I know."
"Come on," he said, tapping my arm. "We need to be headin' back." He turned to walk away, and I
looked once more, and then walked over to where the Jack stood, at the edge of the herd.
I pulled an apple from my jacket pocket, (it was still cool up here at this time of day), and held it out to him. He took it
from my hand, bit into it, letting pieces dribble out of his mouth.
I scratched behind his ear. "You'll be safe up here," I told him. "And you'll have friends, and plenty to eat." He
gave me a look, and I said softly, "No more apples up here, though, huh, boy? I bet you'll miss your apples."
He continued chewing, watching me, and I reached out, close enough to give his head a short hug.
"Goodbye, fella," I said. "Maybe I'll come up and see you sometime, okay?"
When I walked away, I felt as though I had a lump in my throat. I pressed my face into Charley's neck, and
felt a hand on my shoulder, and then a gentle pat of encouragement.
"He'll be alright," Ford said softly.
"I know," I said, wiping at my eyes furiously. "It's dumb to cry over it."
"Not dumb," Ford denied. He gave my shoulder a squeeze with his hand, and then went to mount his horse.
There was some laughter on the way down, jokes being tossed back and forth, as we rode single file at certain
points.
As we unsaddled our horses at home, and put the tack away, Adam came walking from the house to greet us.
"How did it go?" he asked, and everybody started talking. Nancy and Kristin were both animated, with Kristin
talking so much that Adam grinned at her.
"I've never heard you string so many words together at one time, young lady," he told Kristin, and she
smiled back at him.
"I'll go in and see Hannah for a bit," Nancy said, giving Evan's arm a pat.
"Your mama wants you to head home," Adam told Kristin then, and she looked immediately subdued.
"Go on and run her home, Guth," he told Guthrie.
Guthrie looked less than happy, but he said, "Okay. You wanna come with, Har?"
"No," I said, and then added, "Thanks. Call me later, Kristin."
Kristin went inside to gather up her things, Ford took Charley's reins from me. "I'll take him for ya," he told me.
That left me, standing there with Evan and Adam.
Adam's gaze lit on me, his eyes taking me in. "How are you?" he asked, quietly.
"Good."
"Feeling alright? No blood sugar crashes?"
"No." I met his eye. "I'm fine, Adam."
"Physically, anyway," he said, and I knew he was referring to my emotions about the burros. "Right?"
There was no use to deny it. "Right," I said.
Adam reached out and gave Evan's shoulder a rub, and then ran his other hand over my hair. "You did a good thing, helping
the burros. I'm proud of both of you."
Evan, always uncomfortable with much praise, said, "It's like I told Har. It may work, and it may not."
Adam tightened his hold on Evan's shoulder. "Still a good thing, Ev."
Evan nodded, and gave a half-grin, and led his horse towards the pasture gate.
"Did you see the Jack, the one that's been hanging around here?" Adam asked me.
"Yes. He went up with us."
"He stayed?" Adam asked, sounding surprised.
I nodded.
"Well," Adam said. "That's good, then. He'll be safer up there."
I nodded again, unhappily, in agreement.
Adam surveyed me for a long few moments, reading my emotions, I knew. He can do that.
He pulled me into his side, and wrapped his arms around me. "It's tough bein' a crusader, isn't it, sugar?"
7
The news began to trickle in, in the next couple of days. Frank had pleaded guilty to being the driver of
one of the trucks that had chased and rounded up the Mustangs. He'd been a part of destroying the fences, driving them down.
It was the general consensus that he'd been 'cheap hire', working mostly for drinking money. He would serve time, probably
not very long.
A few of the younger men of the group, including the one that had been friends with Daniel in high school, had also been
'underlings', taking orders from higher up. They were likely to be charged with malicious trespassing, and other things about
being on state park land. I didn't understand all of it. They'd done their share of talking, though, and given the names of the
men who'd been responsible for shooting our cattle and that of one of our other neighbors. Shooting the cattle had been
an act of threatening us, trying to instill more fear. As had the men who'd sat on Ford's truck hood in town that day. And as
the two men who'd come over to our house, supposedly looking for work. All had been an intent to intimidate us.
The main people, the leaders, weren't local men. They'd had quite a set up going. Good money being brought in, by
selling the Mustangs to the factories.
The sheriff's office, working with the Parks and Recreation group, estimated that there had been over two hundred or more
Mustangs rounded up and sold, made into glue, or dog food. There weren't many left in our area.
Seth, of course, had been a part of it, as well. He'd staked out our line cabin, early on in the summer, and
let the others know where fences were at there and other spots. He'd helped destroy the fences. He'd been part of
the group in our field, the night that Warrior bit Kenny.
Ah, and Kenny. He'd been the only one under the age of 18 in the group. He'd hung around the older guys, and gotten
to know them that way, and then increased his drinking. He'd helped destroy the fences. He'd stolen some tools from
neighbor's barns. He'd shown the others the easiest ways to get in and out of the area. He'd helped chase the Mustangs down
and round them up.
For his part in it, the trespassing, the theft, the destruction of private property, Kenny had been sentenced to
three months in a juvenile facility. After the three months were up, he would be on probation, and do some community service.
If he completed everything, he would not have a record, to plague his start to adulthood.
The judge had found someplace better than an impersonal facility. It was a sort of a boy's ranch type of place.
Near Fresno. Run by a couple who had a license in foster care. The man was a retired police officer, and had worked with teens in
trouble for years. They operated the place on their own property, a sprawling acreage with lots of animals. The boys
were kept on tight schedules, and had lots of chores to do, with few privileges, and close supervision.
We learned all this about Kenny from his parents. Guthrie had taken to going over to their house every few days, to
talk, and help with anything that needed doing. He told me that when he went there, that Kenny's mother doted on him,
feeding him up, and that he thought it helped her to have him visit.
"It makes me feel sort of weird, though," Guthrie confided in me, as we were sitting outside one evening, at the picnic
table, sharing a watermelon with Ford.
"How come?" Ford asked, spitting out a seed.
"I dunno," Guthrie said, looking thoughtful. "Like she talks as if Kenny's gonna be right home, and that everything
will be fine again. It feels sometimes, almost, as if she's wishing that I was Kenny."
At Ford and I's shocked expressions, Guthrie shrugged. "I told you it was weird."
Guthrie reached for another slice of watermelon. "I'd stop goin' over there, but she seems to be so happy when I come. I figure
it's the least I can do for them. And for Kenny."
When we went inside later that night, Guthrie and I sat at the kitchen table with Adam and Brian for a long time, talking.
Guthrie told them what he'd already told Ford and I.
"I'm glad you're going over there, Guth," Brian said quietly.
"I am, too," Adam agreed. "It shows real character on your part."
Guthrie shrugged. "Kenny's folks have always been nice to me. This has really got them beat down. With his dad's cancer
and everything-" Guthrie let his voice trail off.
After a few minutes of companionable silence at the table, Guthrie spoke again. "I thought I'd go see Kenny."
"When were you thinking to go?" Adam asked him.
"I was thinkin', maybe tomorrow morning, since it's a three hour drive. If you can spare me around here."
Adam and Brian exchanged one of their infamous 'talk without words' looks.
"We can spare you," Adam said. He hesitated, looking at Guthrie intently. "Are you sure, Guth?" he asked.
Guthrie nodded. "I'm sure."
"Well, then, take somebody with you," Adam continued.
"I thought I'd ask Crane," Guthrie said then.
Adam nodded in approval, and Brian said, "That's good."
"Are you sure Kenny's allowed visitors?" Brian asked.
"They do like a point system thing," Guthrie said, in explanation. "If they don't mess up, they get their points, and
can have visitors and phone calls and stuff. Kenny's mom called up yesterday and they said he could
have visitors. Not long. Just a an hour or so in the morning."
"Okay," Brian said.
"It's a long drive," Adam commented.
"I know," Guthrie agreed. "But-I feel like I need to go, Adam."
Adam nodded briefly. "I get it."
Guthrie turned to me, and surprised me by asking, "Do you want to come along, Har?"
I was so surprised that I didn't answer immediately. Surprised that Guthrie had invited me
for one thing, after all my snide comments about Kenny, and then about him, and how he was
dealing with Kenny.
"Well," I hesitated, "I can. Do you really want me to?"
"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But, Kenny's always liked you. He'd probably
like to see somebody besides just me. I could ask Trent, instead," he said, and then finished by
saying, "But, yeah, if you wanna go, I'd like it if you did."
I looked towards Adam and Brian, who were both looking as if they didn't think it was the
best of ideas.
"Can I?" I asked, including them both.
"Are you sure you want to?" Brian asked. "I mean-with what went down between you and Kenny, it
might not be like an old-home week reunion."
"Right," Adam said, in agreement.
"Kenny and I talked that day-the day he came over with his parents," I reminded them. "He
apologized to me, about Warrior. I believe him."
"Uh huh," Adam said, looking thoughtful.
"I won't shoot my mouth off at Kenny," I said quietly. "I'll just go along for moral support."
They exchanged another look, and Brian shrugged lightly.
"Alright," Adam said. "If Guthrie wants you to go, then it's okay by me."
7
That night, after supper, I went out to the pasture, hanging out by the fence. I wished I would look
up and see the Jack there. With the Jenny, or just by himself. I missed seeing his furry face. I wished
that he hadn't followed along with us to the canyon with the other burros. I knew he was safer there,
and all that, but the common sense part of my brain was overcome by my heart's wishes.
7
When I headed inside, I was startled by Brian's voice. I turned quickly to see him sitting in one of
the metal chairs, just to the other side of the picnic table, with Clare sitting beside him.
"Oh, hi," I said, in reply to him, walking over to where they sat.
"No sign of him, huh?" Brian asked then, and I looked at him in surprise. Had it been that obvious
to him that I'd been hoping for the sight of the burro?
"No," I said.
Brian hesitated, just for the slightest of moments, and then he said, "I know it's hard for you,
peach. But it's probably for the best."
I nodded in acknowledgement of his comment.
Clare gave me a smile, meant to encourage, I knew. "Sit down with us," she coaxed. So, I did, for awhile.
We didn't discuss the burros then, or the Mustangs, or any of that. Clare regaled Brian and I with tales
from the class she was taking, and how one of the students had knocked a skeleton used for demonstration
completely over, and the different bones went everywhere.
7
The next morning, right after breakfast, Crane and Guthrie and I set out for Fresno. Guthrie had offered to
drive, but Crane said since it was such a long one, that he would take the small pickup that he'd bought
the month before. It gets better gas mileage than Guthrie's gas guzzler, and Crane said he would take
care of paying for the gas and springing for lunch later on.
I had my usual supply of snacks that I carry, granola bars, stuffed in a sack, and I put them in the
glove compartment.
At first, we didn't talk too much. It was still early. The sun was only just coming up.
Once we were on the freeway, there seemed to be an awfully lot of traffic. I commented on it,
and Crane said it was all the people heading into the city to work.
"I'd hate to have to be in this every morning," I said, watching as cars zig zagged in and out of
one another.
"Exactly why I don't drive it every day," Crane said, in agreement, moving out ahead of a couple
other cars.
After that, we talked about the start of school. Nothing major, just casual stuff. Guthrie had most
of his credits already for graduation, so he was planning to take another shop class, and Crane was
encouraging him to take an ag class, as well.
Guthrie was fairly quiet, though, the further along that we drove, and I knew he was thinking
about Kenny. And what he was going to say to him, probably.
Crane sensed Guthrie's preoccupation, too, because he got quiet, and turned the radio to
country music.
We made it to Fresno, and Guthrie handed the address that was written on a slip of paper to Crane.
Crane pulled over in a store parking lot to read it, and then handed it back to Guthrie, and began
driving again. He seemed to have a relatively good idea of where he was going. It took about twenty
minutes after that to locate the road that led to the boy's ranch.
There was a wooden sign proclaiming that we'd reached the correct place. There were
horses in a field to the right, and even llamas.
"Look," I said, pointing them out. "Llamas!"
Further ahead, we could see chicken coops, with chickens and ducks pecking at the grass for bugs.
"There must be two hundred chickens," I guessed.
There were boys everywhere. In the fields. Near the chickens. On the porches of various buildings. Just
everywhere. They seemed to be walking around freely, though it was obvious they were doing chores. And,
too, there were quite a few adults walking about, as well.
"What if they just wanted to run off?" I supposed, aloud. "It seems as though it would be easy."
"They wouldn't get far," Crane said.
We pulled up in front of a house, at least it resembled a house, though it had been built onto many
times, and was sort of odd-shaped.
"Is this where we go in, do you think?" Guthrie asked Crane. I could tell that Guthrie was really nervous. He
kept popping his knuckles. And even when they wouldn't pop any more, he kept pushing them as if they would.
"I'm not sure," Crane said. "We can try." He got out and I slid out after him, while Guthrie got out more
slowly, closing the truck door.
Before we'd made it halfway up the front steps, a man came from the house. A big man. He was even
taller than Crane, and probably outweighed him by 75 pounds or more.
"Howdy," he greeted us. "I'm Ian Blaine."
Crane and the man shook hands. "Crane McFadden," Crane said, introducing himself. He gestured to
Guthrie and I. "Harlie, and Guthrie. My sister and brother."
"Well, now," the man said, shaking both Guthrie and I's hands, too, "What can I do for you all?"
Crane looked to Guthrie, plainly giving him the opportunity to speak for himself.
"I came to see Kenny," Guthrie said. "Kenny Harris. His mother said she was going to call-and set up
the visit-"
"Yes, yes," the man said. "Kenny. Well, he's around here somewhere. We'll find him. Walk along with me."
He stepped off the porch, and began walking, Crane beside him, and Guthrie and I behind a bit.
As he walked, Mr. Blaine talked. He pointed out things. The pond for fishing. The barn that had just
been built the year before. The off-white building which was the place where all the boys had their
meals.
"It's just about time for lunch, isn't it?" he said, and then went on talking without waiting for any reply.
"We have set schedules here. We find that it helps the boys, knowing what to expect and when. We're strict
about our schedules." He went on, explaining to Crane how the ranch operated, and how all the boys there
had chores they were required to do. He briefly touched on the subject of the points system, saying that
the boys could accumulate points for privileges, such as fishing, phone calls to home, and visitors. There
was, he said, no television at the ranch.
Guthrie and I exchanged a look. Not that we watched that much television ourselves. But, to have NO
television. Wow.
And having to earn points before you could go fishing? Or talk to any of your family at home? Harsh.
"What are the majority of the boys here for?" Crane was asking.
"Many reasons," Mr. Blaine said. "None of them good. If they end up here, it's because they had a judge
that thought they deserved a placement before jail. These boys are the lucky ones. Though they don't always
see it that way."
He went on, "We have boys who are here for burglary, or stealing a car for a joy ride. Many are truant,
or drug users."
Mr. Blaine slowed his steps, looking back at Guthrie. "You've been friends with young Kenny for a
good long while, I understand."
"Yes, sir," Guthrie said.
"Since elementary school, Kenny says," Mr. Blaine continued.
"Yes, sir," Guthrie said, again.
"We like young Kenny here. " He turned back to Crane. "We're hoping that his time here benefits him,
and aids in his future choices."
"We hope so, too," Crane said quietly.
As another boy walked by, carrying a pail of animal feed, Mr. Blaine asked him where Kenny might be.
"Kenny's helping unload the hay," the other boy said.
"Thanks, Tommy. Come this way," Mr. Blaine said, walking on.
"How many boys do you have here?" Crane asked.
"At any given time, we can have thirty to fifty boys here. They're housed in the dormitories there," he said,
pointing. "We have 'house' parents, who monitor the boys in their buildings, and sleep there, as well."
"Here we are," he said jovially, as we reached the barn. Bales of hay were being tossed by boys on
a hay wagon to boys standing high, on stacks of other hay bales.
Kenny was one of the boys up in the eaves of the barn. When Mr. Blaine called out his name,
he looked down. And, when he saw us standing there, his face lit up like a ray of sunshine.
7
ONE more chapter to go with this saga of the McFadden family!