"Come on down, and talk with your guests," Mr. Blaine called up to Kenny. The other boys in
the barn paused, giving the three of us their attention as well. I got the feeling that visitors were not all
that common here.
One boy, standing just to the left of me, gave me a slow smile. "Hi," he said.
"Hi."
"Are you from around here?" he asked me, then.
I started to tell him no, when Mr. Blaine turned and said sharply, "Ben, you've got work
to complete. Continue with it."
The boy looked hugely embarrassed, and ducked his head, going back to hoisting the square bales.
I felt sorry for him. He'd only been saying hello to me.
Kenny had scrambled down from his perch on the hay, leaving his hay hook above.
"Hi," he greeted us. "Hey, Harlie. Hey, Crane."
Crane and I both returned the greeting, and Kenny turned to face Guthrie, square on.
"Hey, Guth."
Guthrie bobbed his head a bit. "Hey, Kenny," he said, in sort of a stilted way.
I realized that they hadn't seen one another since the time that Kenny left our house in the wee hours
of the morning. After Guthrie had let him sleep it off in the basement. They'd had that fight, and harsh words,
and Guthrie had shoved Kenny. Twice. Of course, Kenny had tried to see Guthrie. When he'd come by our house with
his parents that morning. But, Guthrie had avoided him.
"It is," Mr. Blaine said, looking at his wrist watch, "Nearly eleven. You may visit with your
company until the lunch gong rings, Kenny, and then you will come to the cafeteria. You may
use the courtyard for your visit."
"Yes, sir," Kenny said.
Mr. Blaine shook Crane's hand again, and nodded to Guthrie and I. "Safe journeys home," he said,
and walked away.
Left there, with Kenny, there was a bit of an awkward silence.
Bless Crane. He said, "Where's this courtyard at, Kenny?"
"Oh. This way," Kenny said, gesturing. We walked the short distance to the courtyard, which was really just
an area with lots of flowers and a circular metal table with curved benches.
Crane looked to Guthrie. "You want me and Harlie to walk around a bit, while you and Kenny talk, Guthrie?"
"No," Guthrie said, quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, you can stay for awhile if you want."
Guthrie was clearly uneasy, and Crane made it smoother by simply saying, "Sure," and sitting down
on one of the benches.
I sat down beside Crane, while Kenny and Guthrie both stood there, as though they didn't know what
to do, or say.
"Sit down, boys," Crane told them, and they both took a seat across the table from Crane and I.
There was silence then, until Crane took charge of the conversation, leading it with questions for Kenny
about how was the food here? And had he had a chance to talk with his parents on the phone?
Kenny responded by saying that the food was alright, but nowhere near as good as his mother's cooking. And that he'd been
able to talk to his parents a couple of times, on the average of once a week.
"Why only once a week?" I asked curiously.
"They do things here on a points system," Kenny explained, unaware that we'd already heard about that. "So it takes about
ten points to get to have a ten minute phone call with somebody. Points are hard to come by around here. So I usually only
have one call a week."
"Besides," he continued, "It's pretty rough on Mom when we talk on the phone. So, I don't like to put her thru it, really."
"I'll bet she thinks it's worth it, to get to talk to you on the phone," Crane said.
"Yeah."
"A point per minute?" I asked. "That seems sort of-harsh."
"Yeah. It's rough," Kenny said, in agreement.
He turned to Guthrie, who hadn't uttered a word so far in the conversation. "Dad told me you've been goin' by to visit. He
said it's really meant a lot to Mom. I sure appreciate that, Guth."
Guthrie looked uncomfortable. "It's okay. I don't mind."
"What do you get points for?" I asked then, still curious.
"Harlie," Crane said quietly, in an attempt to head me off.
"It's okay," Kenny told him. "You get points for bein' on time for meals, and school, and everything. And keepin' your
living area tidy. Stuff like that. You have to have points to get calls or visits."
"You have school?" I asked. "It's summer."
Kenny gave a half-smile. "They don't recognize summer vacation around here. We have to study and stuff three hours a day. In
the afternoons. They have teachers that come in."
"Wow," I said.
"Yeah. Then they can take points away, too. If you get caught doin' somethin' that's against the rules."
I wondered what sort of sins caused the points to be yanked, but I didn't ask. This place sounded just awful to me.
A moment or more of silence. And then Kenny said, quietly, "I guess Murphys is probably really buzzing, right? About this
whole thing?"
Crane was silent, until it seemed that Guthrie wasn't going to answer.
"It is," Crane said, in honesty, meeting Kenny's eye.
"Makes it rough for Mom and Pop," Kenny said, looking sad.
"Your folks will be alright," Crane said. "They'll make it thru. And be ready for you to get back home again."
Kenny brightened a bit. "Yeah. Thirteen days down out of ninety days. Seventy-seven more to go."
Silence. And then I asked, "The horses are beautiful here."
"Yeah. We don't get to ride 'em, though. Just take care of them."
I stared at Kenny, aghast. "Why can't you ride them?"
"I don't know. They just say they're not to ride."
I was still taking the stupidity of that in, when he continued.
"I guess I won't be playin' football this fall," Kenny said then, sounding regretful.
For the first time, Guthrie spoke on his own. "They'll miss ya. The team, I mean."
"Yeah. I always thought I'd play all four years of high school." Then Kenny seemed to catch himself, and
said, "I've got no right to bitch about it. It's my own fault I'm here."
He looked to Crane. "I didn't get a chance to tell ya, when I was over that one day, Crane, but I wanna thank you
for talkin' to me that night. And for-drivin' me home, and bein' there while I told my folks. It made it easier."
"I'm glad if I helped," Crane said. And then, he said, "I think Harlie and I will take a turn around, while you two
talk." He paused, looking to Guthrie. "Alright?"
"Yeah," Guthrie said, with a nod.
So, I got up when Crane did, and we left the two boys there, sitting at that black metal table, and walked away. We
walked towards the white fence, which surrounded about fifteen horses. We stood there, watching them, and
boys continued to come and go, shoveling manure, and raking the dirt.
"I've never seen anybody rake dirt before," I said, sort of low. "What's the point to it?"
"I'd say the point of it is to keep them busy, and out of trouble," Crane said.
I leaned my cheek onto Crane's shoulder, wrapping my arms around his left arm. "This place is horrible, Crane!" I said.
As a couple of the boys came closer, Crane made a shushing sound to me. "There's worse places, Harlie."
The two boys paused. One was the boy who'd tried talking to me earlier near the barn. The other was taller, with
a mass of curly hair, and a tattoo on his forearm.
"Hello, again," said the friendly boy, smiling at me.
"Hi," I said. I looked up at Crane, not sure what to say. I mean, how friendly should I be?
"You're here visiting Kenny Harris, huh?" the boy asked then.
"That's right," Crane said, answering for me.
"I wouldn't object if I had a visitor that looked like you," the flirty boy said, keeping his eyes on me.
If it had been Brian or Evan, they would have snarled at the kid, and told him to move along. Crane's nicer.
He said, in a calm enough way, "You fellows better be getting on with your chores."
The boy grinned at Crane. "Aw, man, have a heart," he said. "Just let me stand here and look at her for a minute or so,
alright?"
Nothing shy about this boy. I couldn't help smiling at him a little. Even if he was full of b.s.
"Move along, boys," Crane said, still nice enough.
"Okay, okay," the friendly boy said, still grinning. And, then, as the two of them began walking away, the friendly one
walking backwards, all sure of himself, and still smiling, there was a roar that made me jump.
It was two men, who I assumed were some of the counselors, or monitors or whatever, that kept an eye on the boys.
The roar came from one of them. "Ben! Lonnie!"
Both boys jumped as if scalded, and turned to face the men, no longer smiling.
There was an immensely uncomfortable couple of minutes then, where the boys were berated by both men
about why they were standing and talking to us when they had chores to complete.
They were told that they were losing twenty-five points each, and would have extra chores.
When the taller boy complained that he didn't even have twenty-five points to lose, the monitor said that the boy would be having
solitary meals and room restriction to compensate for that.
The boys shuffled off, under the supervision of both the men. I'd winced during the altercation.
I didn't even have any words. I took Crane's hand for comfort, and we began walking towards the courtyard again.
And, as we walked, a loud gong sound echoed across the yards.
"Lunch," Crane said, as boys began running past us, hurrying towards the white cafeteria building.
Guthrie and Kenny were walking towards us, and the four of us paused there, near Crane's truck.
"Don't be late for your lunch," Crane told Kenny.
"That's the first bell. In five minutes, they sound another one," Kenny said. "That's the one you can't miss."
"Thanks for comin', Crane," Kenny said. "And you, too, Harlie. Thanks a lot."
"It's okay," I said.
"Maybe you all can come back again," Kenny said, and I knew if he could beg, he would.
"We can," Crane told him, and Kenny looked relieved.
"Great. Thanks." He turned to Guthrie.
I could tell that they'd had a talk with some meaning while Crane and I had gone. There was more of an ease
between them. Guthrie looked somber, sad, but not uncomfortable.
"Will you keep goin' to see my Mom and Pop?" he asked Guthrie.
"I will," Guthrie promised.
"Thanks." Kenny put his hand out, and Guthrie and he shook hands. "I'll see ya, Guth."
"Yeah," Guthrie said. "I'll see ya, Kenny."
And, with a last grin, one that made me remember the old care-free Kenny of past days, he took off on a run, sprinting
towards the white building where lunch was being served.
7
Our ride home began silently. Once in the thick of the city, we began passing fast food restaurants.
"You two want burgers for lunch?" Crane asked us. "Or tacos?"
"Whatever you and Har want," Guthrie said.
I shrugged, looking at Crane. "I don't care, either."
"Alright, then," Crane said. "Since you're both leaving it up to me to choose, then I'd rather have a real meal." He
leaned forward a little, searching along the busy streets. "There we go," he said, and pulled into the parking lot of
a café.
The café was one of those older types, that's been there for years, and the city sort of grew up around it.
The waitress turned out to be the owner, as well, and chatted Crane up. She reminded me a little of Marie. She
took our orders, and brought us plates heaped with meatloaf, and mashed potatoes, and asparagus. Afterwards, she
tried to tempt us with peach pie, but we all turned it down. The lunch had been really filling.
We hadn't talked much during the meal. At least, not about Kenny, or that place.
Crane left a generous tip, saying as we walked to the truck, that it was probably hard for her to
stay in business.
Once, driving again, Crane introduced the subject that was on all of our minds.
"Kenny seems to be getting himself together," he said.
"Yeah," Guthrie said.
"Do you feel better, now that you've talked to him?" Crane asked quietly.
"I feel better," Guthrie said, and then swung his glance to Crane. "But, I feel worse, too."
Crane nodded in understanding. After that, Guthrie was quiet, looking out the window. I was quiet, too, full of
my own emotions. Crane adjusted the radio, and as Don Williams filled the truck cab, I leaned my cheek against
Crane's shoulder as he drove.
7
At home, there was only an hour or so before suppertime, and I went to change my clothes, and then to do
my chores. Guthrie had remained mostly silent during the ride home from Fresno. He'd bunched up an old jacket and laid
his head on it, against the window, and closed his eyes.
I don't think he was really sleeping, or anything, but once, I noticed Crane leaning forward a bit, and looking over
at him. I knew Crane was concerned about Guthrie keeping things bottled up inside. I looked at Crane and he met my eyes, reaching
over to pat my knee.
Guthrie, too, went to do his chores at home. He ate less at supper than usual, and excused himself, standing up, ready to head
back outside.
Hannah reached out and caught at his hand, holding him in place.
"Guthrie," she said, in a worried way. Then that was all.
Guthrie, standing beside her chair, her hand on his, looked at her, and said, "Ma'm?"
"Are you alright?" Hannah asked him.
"Don't worry 'bout me, Hannah."
"Well, I do. You hardly ate-" Hannah began.
"Hannah," Adam spoke quietly, and when Hannah looked down the table towards him, Adam added, "Let him go,"
in a quiet way.
Hannah turned Guthrie's hand loose, though her eyes were still on him. Guthrie gave her a half-hearted smile, and
went out the back door, closing the screen door quietly, and not letting it slam.
"Let him have some time," Adam said.
"He needs to talk," Hannah said, stubbornly.
"He will," Adam said, sounding confident.
Without Guthrie there, Hannah turned her attentions to me.
"How did you think Kenny was?" she asked me.
I hesitated, looking across the table towards Crane. "He seemed alright," I said, vaguely. Then I shrugged. "It's
hard to explain-that place is so awful."
"Is it?" Hannah asked, looking concerned. She looked to Crane. "Did you think so, too?"
Crane set his tea glass down, and seemed to choose his words carefully. "It's intense," he said. "But, it's better
than juvenile detention."
"They're mean there," I said, feeling sort of downcast when I thought over the day's events. "They took away
points from two boys just because they were talking to Crane and I!"
"They did that?" Brian asked.
"They did," Crane said. He gave me a smile. "But it was you they were talking to, peanut. Definitely not me."
I knew he was trying to lighten the mood. I couldn't bring myself to smile back.
"It's like a prison camp," I said.
"Oh-" Hannah said, looking upset.
"Harlie," Crane said, and I knew he was warning me off of exaggeration.
"It seemed like it," I said stubbornly. "He has to have points just to be able to talk to his parents on the phone!"
"Kenny has to learn," Adam said. "He has to pay for what he did, Harlie."
"I know," I said. "But-" I let my voice sort of trail off, and stabbed at a piece of broccoli with my fork.
"I told Kenny we'd try to make it back up there again," Crane said.
After that the conversation drifted to other things. I managed to get Evan alone after the meal and ask him
if he'd seen the Jack that day while I'd been gone.
Evan, who was pouring M&M's from a packet into his hand, gave me a look that said more than words could have.
"Now, Har-" he began.
"Don't wind up for a lecture," I interrupted him. "I'm just asking if you've seen him."
He was still giving me that same, cautionary stare.
"That's all," I said.
"No. I haven't seen him."
"Okay," I said, and sighed.
I went outside then, too, in search of Guthrie. I found him, alongside the barn, sitting on the hay bale where we
sit sometimes together. He was putting a pinch of tobacco chew into his cheek.
"I didn't know you were chewing tobacco," I said quietly, and he jumped a little, looking around at me.
"Man, I didn't hear you comin' up," he protested.
He slipped the can of Copenhagen back into his shirt pocket, and stared back out across the pastures.
I went to sit down beside him on the hay bale.
"Don't let Hannah see that when she does the laundry," I told him.
"No intention for her to find it," Guthrie said.
We were quiet, both watching the horses and the cattle in the field in front of us.
"It's a horrible place," I said. No need to explain what 'place' that I was talking about.
"Yeah."
I didn't know what to say, really, and a few minutes later, Guthrie leaned over, clasping his hands together, and
putting his head down, so that he was basically staring at the ground.
I could sense Guthrie's pain. Just as if it were my eyes, or my ears, or my sense of touch. I could sense it. His pain was deep.
Intense. Seeing Kenny might have healed something in him, but it had also opened something else. Made it raw. And hurting.
I reached out to touch his arm, just for a moment, and then I moved it again.
"What can I do, Guthrie?" I asked him, feeling sort of helpless.
He shook his head, not answering.
"Will you talk to somebody?" I asked then. "I can get Crane, if you want. Or Ford-"
"Adam," he said, his voice really low, and without raising his head. "I'll talk to Adam."
"Alright," I said, and I stood up, giving him a look, all bent over that way, before I walked quickly to
the house. The living room was filling up for the evening. Adam was just coming thru from the kitchen, and
he saw me, pausing there by the front door.
"Adam," I said, and he looked to me.
"What, sugar?"
I went to stand near him, and said, softly, "Guthrie wants to talk to you."
Adam met my eye, and I could tell he was well aware of things. "Alright," he said calmly. "Where is he?"
"Beside the barn. Sitting on the hay bale."
"Okay." He looked to Hannah and said, "Be back in a few minutes, babe."
Hannah nodded, watching as Adam headed out the door.
I went to the screen door, looking out at Adam crossing the yard, heading towards where Guthrie sat.
I felt someone beside me, and Hannah was there, looking out as well.
"He wanted to talk to Adam," I said, in quiet explanation.
Hannah nodded, but only rubbed her hand over my back, and said, "Come on," to me. She went over to sit next to
Clare on the couch, smiling as Clare made Isaac laugh out loud.
7
Adam and Guthrie were outside a long time. I admit, every once in a while I would get up and go to the door and
look out. I'd only been able to see Adam from that angle, and not Guthrie. But once, when Ford and I went outside to the
front porch, sitting on the top step to eat slices of cold watermelon, I could see that Adam and Guthrie had moved. They
had walked down the driveway a bit, and had stopped, leaning against the corral fence, talking.
From where we sat, Ford and I could see Guthrie, his shoulders hunched, and his head down, and Adam, wrapping his
arm around Guthrie's shoulders. I wasn't sure, but I thought Guthrie might even be crying.
I've seen Guthrie mad, and upset, and even really sad, and serious, like when Doc G died, and he was trying to
be strong for me. But, I don't think that I've seen him cry, at least not openly, since he was about ten and Brian had
spanked him for helping spray paint an underpass going into Murphys with some other boys.
"Ford," I said, and Ford followed my sight, to where Adam and Guthrie stood together.
"I think he's crying," I said, nearly in a whisper.
"Adam will help," Ford said.
I didn't want my slice of watermelon any longer. "Here," I said, holding it out to Ford. "You eat it."
Ford took it from me, finished it off, and then stood up. "Let's go inside," he said. "I feel like we're invading
their privacy."
He paused, at the screen door, holding it open for me.
I gave another look, and then, I felt as if Ford was right. I was witnessing something personal. Private. Adam would
help Guthrie, I knew that. And, suddenly, I didn't want to see anymore. It was as if I was too afraid to see Guthrie in such
obvious need. So, I got up, and went inside with Ford.
7
And Guthrie was better after that. We went bowling one afternoon, with Kristin, Trent and Lori, and another friend of Guthrie's,
Les, who I've known for a couple of years. It was sort of one of those last minute, 'hey, he'd like to go out with you' type
of things. So, I did. And, it was a fun afternoon.
After we'd dropped Kristin off at her house, Guthrie and I drove home in the late afternoon, just taking it slow, and
cruising along with the windows down.
We talked about this and that, nothing too involved. School, and whether I would want to go out with Les again. That sort of
stuff. I'd never asked Guthrie what Adam had said to him that night. Or if he'd helped Guthrie feel any better.
I figured the first part was none of my business. And the second part was really fairly obvious. Guthrie did feel better. I
could tell. He even went to the Harris's one night when they were going to call Kenny, so that he could talk to him on the phone, too,
and not use up any more of Kenny's points.
When we got home, almost everybody was sitting around in the back yard, in lawn chairs, drinking iced tea and talking. Nancy
was there with Evan, Hannah and Adam, Ford, holding Isaac, Brian and Clare.
Guthrie and I walked up to the circle of chairs, and answered questions about how the bowling had gone, and had I had
fun with Les. And then, from what seemed far off, but really wasn't, there was the sound of a braying burro.
I turned so fast that my braid nearly slapped my cheek. And there he was. The Jack. Hurrying towards the corral fence,
as fast as his little brown legs could carry him, and braying the whole way.
"Hey, it's the Jack," Guthrie said.
I didn't realize that I was holding my breath, until Brian spoke. "Well, peach, what are you waitin' for? Better go give
your burro a kiss goodnight."
I turned my face to Brian's, and he grinned at me. Adam wasn't grinning so big, but he smiled and said, "Go."
I gave them all a huge smile, and then I ran across the yard towards the barn. I had to go there before I went
to see my burro. After all, he would be expecting an apple.
7
The end of this adventure of Harlie and the rest of the McFaddens! I'm proud of this chapter. With the feelings about
Kenny, and then the acceptance at the end of Brian and Adam of the burro, and his presence at the ranch. I will continue to write
about the McFaddens as long as you all want to read the stories. Another story coming soon!
Long live the McFaddens!