I got so hot, sitting there, that heat was radiating off of me, in more than one way. My temper was flashing heat, too. What was Evan trying to

do, make me pass out from heat exhaustion? I picked up the thermos that Guthrie had left on the floor, and took a tentative drink of the water that was in

it.

Ugh. The water was hot. Of course. I flipped the lid back on. I rolled the passenger window back down. I had to have air.

It seemed long, but it wasn't really, until I saw Guthrie and Evan walking back from around the back of the bar building.

I sat up straight, and opened the truck door. Surveying them as they walked closer, they seemed to be alright. There was no obvious

blood, or torn clothes that I could see. What struck me first and foremost, was how angry they both looked. Guthrie more so than Evan.

Guthrie stalked towards the truck, leaving Evan behind.

I stood just outside the truck. I had my mouth open to ask if they were alright. I was forming the question, though hesitant because of

their demeanors, but before I could, Guthrie got into the truck, behind the steering wheel, slamming the door closed. He stared straight ahead,

his face stony, and started the engine.

I looked from him to Evan, who by now was standing near me.

"What happened?" I asked Evan, bursting with curiousity. Instead of answering me, Evan waved a hand at me, in a motion to urge me to

climb into the truck.

"But, what-" I began.

Evan waved his hand at me again, gesturing towards the truck seat. "Let's go," he said, sounding impatient.

I turned and climbed into the truck, scooting over into the middle of the seat. Evan got in after me, and Guthrie put the truck into

gear and pulled out of the lot before Evan even got his door shut. He gave Guthrie a pointed look, but said nothing.

"Is everything okay?" I asked. It wasn't what I wanted to ask, really, but at this point, I was less curious about Chess and Leo and more

worried about the angry vibes that both Guthrie and Evan were putting off.

Neither one of them answered my question. The atmosphere seemed like it was crackling with tension.

We drove on, Guthrie still stony-faced and silent, and I got the distinct impression that it would be best if I kept still as well.

So, I did. After another few minutes, Guthrie was the one to break the silence.

"I'm fed up," he said, quietly, but filled with fury.

I looked at Guthrie's set face, to my left, and then to my right, at Evan. Waiting for Evan to reply. Only he didn't. He just stayed quiet.

"What happened?" I asked, yet again. It was high time for one of them to start talking.

When he didn't answer quick enough, I poked Guthrie in his side. "Why are you fed up?" I persisted.

"My business bein' minded elsewhere," Guthrie said, cryptically.

I was going to ask what he was talking about, but Evan chose that moment to respond.

"Maybe if your business didn't need to be minded by others, then it wouldn't be," Evan said, also cryptic.

It may have been cryptic, but it didn't sail over my head that time. Their anger was at one another.

I felt a pit in my stomach. I hated it when any of my brothers argued or were mad at each other.

"Evan was worried about you," I offered up to Guthrie, trying to defuse the situation.

"Yeah, and you just couldn't wait to send him my way," Guthrie said, and now his mood was at me.

I started to speak up and defend myself, and say that Evan hadn't given me any choice in the matter at all, but, instead, I felt my own

anger bubbling to the surface.

"Well, anything could have happened to you!" I said.

"Nothin' was gonna happen," Guthrie denied.

"Dumb asses always think that nothin's gonna happen to them," Evan said.

Guthrie took his eyes from the road to lean forward and glare over at Evan.

"Dumb ass, huh?" he demanded of Evan, a challenge in his tone.

Evan pressed his lips together tightly, studying Guthrie, sort of narrow-eyed, but said nothing in answer.

"I think I get by real fine without havin' you or Daniel or anybody else tellin' me what to do-" Guthrie began to bluster.

"Mm-hmm," Evan said, drily, his tone that of an older brother who is letting you dig your own hole.

"Why are you guys scrapping with each other?" I interrupted. "What happened in the bar? Did you see those goons?"

"I didn't get a chance to see anything," Guthrie said. "Evan comes storming in the back, acting like he's the chief of police or

somethin'. Tryin' to yank me out of there like that-"

"Just be glad I did yank you out of there when I did," Evan said. "There's enough goin' on at home right now as it is, without adding you

getting hurt or in trouble to the problems."

For a long few moments there was silence in the truck cab. Crackling silence. I thought Evan had a valid point, and was making good

sense. It's not all that often that I would side with Evan's bossiness against Mi Amigo, Guthrie. But, even though I was in agreement with Evan on this,

I didn't say that out loud. I wasn't going to go against Guthrie that way. I've been on the receiving end of that judgement of Evan's plenty of times myself.

So, I kept quiet, looking from one to the other, hoping they would come to an agreement, or at least a truce, before we got home. I didn't want

Guthrie to get into any trouble, even though there was always the chance that Evan would tell Adam and Brian anyway.

"There wasn't gonna be any trouble, and I wasn't gonna get hurt," Guthrie maintained, stubbornly, although he didn't sound as fired up

as he'd been before.

"You don't know that," Evan said.

"I was just gonna see if they were in there, and see what they were doin'," Guthrie protested. "I wasn't gonna say anything or do anything."

"Come on, Guth," I said, really softly, laying my hand on his knee, just for a moment. "Don't be mad."

Guthrie blew out his breath in a big whoosh.

Into the next moments of silence, Evan spoke up. "I'm just looking out for you, Guth."

"Yeah, I know," Guthrie said, and sighed. "I've always got somebody lookin' out for me."

"Right," Evan said, his tone a bit clipped. "You do. And so did I. And so did Daniel. And Ford. And Crane. We've all had big brothers poking

their heads into our business. It's part of the deal."

Guthrie response was to sigh again.

I spoke up, my voice meek. "And me."

Evan gave me a side look. "Yeah. Course. You, too." He wrapped his arm around my neck just for a moment, before he moved it back again.

"Wasn't trying to leave you out, shortcake," he said.

It was quiet again for a bit after that, but the quiet wasn't so prone to tension as before.

Finally, Guthrie said, sounding a lot less defensive, "I guess I shouldn't have tried to do anything back there."

"No, you shouldn't," I said, sounding severe with him. "The sheriff told all of us to stay away from Chess and Leo."

"I know. I wasn't gonna-" Guthrie started, and then stopped. He sighed again. "Sorry I was a jerk, Evan."

"Yeah. Well," Evan said, dryly. I turned to my right and gave Evan a fierce look, prodding him with my eyes to say something more to Guthrie.

"It's okay," Evan told him.

"It's been a long day," I said. "We can go home and have some ice cream-and there's banana bread." I looked at Evan again. "You'll stay and

eat some, won't you, Ev?"

"Yeah. Maybe so," he said.

I looked at Guthrie, and we met eyes. He lifted his shoulders just slightly in a shrug, as if to say, 'who knows?' But I could tell he was getting worried about

what Adam would say.

"Is this one of those things that can be between just us?" I asked Evan. "You said yourself how they've got enough problems going on at home-will you not

say anything to Brian and Adam?"

Evan was silent and I rushed onward. "You're good about that stuff," I said. "You kept what happened with me at that party between us all

this time, and that was way more dangerous and serious than this with Guthrie is-"

"Harlie. Just stop," Evan said, and now he sounded irritated. "This is between me and Guthrie. Not you."

Well, that crushed me. It did. At first it made me mad, and then it hurt my feelings.

"I'm just trying to help," I objected, miffed. Neither one of them answered me on that, though.

"You're complaining about older brothers," Evan said, leaning forward and looking over at Guthrie as he drove. "How about younger sisters? You need

Harlie cleaning up your messes for you, little brother?"

"No," Guthrie said.

"Alright, then." Evan sat back against the seat again, looking out the window. "You and me will talk when we get home."

Guthrie said, "Alright," and we drove on.

7