Charlie felt as though time had stopped. It seemed as though she'd been sitting on that hard chair for half of her life. Her legs ached from

hanging off the chair, and her backside felt numb. She wiggled a bit, but stayed put in the chair. She'd never seen Scott look like he had-as though

he could see right thru her, as though he wished to shake her teeth loose.

She didn't think he would- shake her hard like that. Charlie had seen one of the street urchins she'd used to run around with in

Stockton get caught by a storekeeper once. The storekeeper had been a giant of a man, too, and he'd shaken that boy until the kid had looked

like a rag doll in those big hands.

The memory of that made Charlie shudder. Scott wouldn't. He was always so in control-so contained in his feelings. He hardly ever lost his

temper. At least it was infrequent. Still-the way that he'd looked at Charlie just a bit ago-well, it made her worry.

Charlie scooted forward on the chair-still staying seated, but trying to find a new position.

She heard boot steps coming down the floors of the hallway, and set herself back again, correctly, immediately. She didn't want Scott to

think that she'd been about to get up...

Scott came into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Then, when he turned to face her, Charlie looked down at her hands.

Coming over to stand beside the chair, Scott didn't say anything at first. He took her arm in his hand, prompting Charlie to stand up. She did,

and then Scott sat in the chair that she'd just vacated, and pulled her to stand in front of him.

"Did you think about it?" he asked Charlie. His tone was quiet, but somehow it didn't calm her nerves.

Charlie bobbed her head in answer.

"I'm listening," he said.

"I know it was dangerous."

"It was."

"I guess it was wrong to go onto that man's property," Charlie admitted.

Scott kept his gaze on her face, not speaking for a long few moments.

Into that bit of silence, Charlie said, "The first time-I just wanted to see the baby foxes, Scott, that's all!"

"And that was wrong, too. You were trespassing, and you knew that. The second and third times are worse. By then you knew. You knew

there were traps. You knew it was dangerous and something you absolutely should not do," Scott said.

Charlie wondered if he knew about Johnny, and how he'd warned her off after the first visit to see the baby foxes. She was thinking how she

could tell Scott, or if she even should at all, unless Johnny already had-

Scott's next words took those thoughts of confession from her mind. She could only concentrate on the dread and fear.

"I'm disappointed, Charlie. And, I'm angry. Do you understand why?"

"I understand," Charlie admitted.

"You've done something very wrong. Whatever your reasons for doing it were, it was still wrong. And now you're going to be

spanked."

Charlie clutched at his arm. "I won't do anything like this again, Scott, I promise!"

"Alright. You're still going to get spanked," Scott said, his tone calm.

Charlie clutched at him still, but it didn't help. She found herself upended over his knee, and then Scott began to

pepper the seat of her overalls with an intensity that shocked Charlie. The other two times he'd spanked her had hurt. Awfully. And,

she'd hollered during the second one for certain. But this-this was different somehow. It felt as though Scott was putting everything he

had into this spanking. It felt as though none of his earlier anger had lessened. It felt as though-well, it felt as though she wouldn't

recover.

Charlie grasped his lower leg, crying. "Scott, please-I'm sorry! Sorry!"

Her pleas didn't give him pause. He continued on.

Charlie dissolved into sobs, and when Scott finally did stop, he let her up, and Charlie covered her face with her hands.

She felt Scott put a hand on her arm, pulling her towards him again.

Charlie panicked. "No more-please," she begged, thinking he meant to spank her more.

"The spankings over, Charlie," Scott said, quietly.

Relieved, Charlie sobbed harder. Scott pulled her into the crook of his arm, and rubbed her back for several minutes, not

talking.

"This is important. You need to understand," Scott said, when he finally did speak.

Charlie only cried. She was put out with herself because she just kept on crying. She made a massive effort to get control, turning away from

Scott slightly, and rubbing at her face.

Scott stood up, and Charlie kept herself from looking at him to see what he was doing, though she could hear him pouring water from the pitcher on the

washstand.

When he stepped back next to her a couple of moments later, he had a damp cloth in his hand.

He pushed back Charlie's curls from her wet cheeks and forehead, dabbing with the cloth. The cool water felt good to Charlie's face,

but she was so upset that she pulled back from his ministration. Scott hesitated, and then offered Charlie the rag to hold for herself.

Charlie shook her head in refusal, avoiding his eyes.

"Supper will be ready soon," he said, quietly.

Charlie wanted to tell him that she didn't care to eat. There was no way that she wanted to sit at the table with the family now.

Instead of saying that, she said, only, "Can I go now?" Her only thought was of escape.

"You can go," Scott said, still quietly. "We'll call you in to supper."

Charlie moved to go, to leave the room, to make her get-away, when he put a hand, gentle now, on the back of her neck.

"Charlie," he said, softly.

Charlie fastened her eyes on the wall, on the painting that Murdoch had done, instead of on Scott.

"Will you look at me? Please?" Scott asked.

There was something in his voice that drew Charlie in. She raised her face to his, her eyes huge in her face.

"It's one thing to have adventures, by yourself, or with your friends. But I don't want you to take risks like you did. Things that you know are

dangerous and could get you hurt," Scott said. When Charlie was silent, only looking at him with those dark brown eyes, Scott said,

"Do you understand?"

Charlie nodded her head, intent on making her get-away still.

Scott gave a slight sigh, and said, "Alright. You can go until we call you."

Charlie was at the door of his bedroom when he said, "Charlie," again, and she turned to look at him.

"I know you're upset, but when we call you in, you need to listen, and come," he said.

Charlie heard the warning in his tone, and said, only, "Okay," before she ran out of the room and down the stairs, and out the front door, across the

yard, and towards the barn, and past Jelly, who called after her, "Here, now, where's the fire, missy?"

Charlie paused long enough to scoop up her favorite of the newest-born barn kittens, and climbed the ladder to the barn loft. There was

still enough of the late afternoon sun left that the loft was warm. As always, the smell of hay was comforting to Charlie. She found that sitting down

on the hard barn floor was not something that she wanted to do at that point. She laid on her stomach instead, the kitten tucked up close to her face.

The kitten, who Charlie had tentatively named Gabby, just because she liked the sound of it, was purring her contentment.

"He doesn't really love me,' she whispered to the kitten. "He doesn't. If he did-he wouldn't have done that to me. He would have listened-and

understood about the animals being hurt, and all of that. He wouldn't have spanked me so hard like that."

The thought of what had happened, and the way that it had happened, made Charlie feel like crying again. She stretched her arm out, laying her

head on it, and closing her eyes against the sun slanting thru the loft opening. All of that love she'd thought of-that she'd held so close to her

heart-it was all a lie. A horrible lie.

She remembered suddenly, Johnny. When he found out that she'd gone back to cross fences after he'd warned her off-and when he

heard that there had been animal traps in the area, well those thoughts did set off the tears again. Johnny wouldn't like her anymore. He wouldn't want

to take her places, or let her tag along after him. He'd think she was a brat who didn't know how to listen-

There was a soft voice at the bottom of the ladder. Calling up. Charlie had been crying. She hadn't heard anybody coming into the

barn.

"Charlie?"

Charlie rubbed at her cheeks furiously, pushing herself up onto her knees.

"It's a few minutes until supper," Teresa said. "Will you come down? We can talk."

Charlie scooted the couple feet to the loft opening, and looked over enough so that she could see Teresa.

"I don't really wanna talk," she told Teresa.

"That's alright. Can I come up?"

Charlie had never seen Teresa climb the loft ladder before. She was surprised that before she could say yes or no to Teresa about it, Teresa

was already on her way up the ladder.

Charlie scooted back, still on her knees, and Teresa climbed up and into the loft. She did so with apparent ease.

"It still looks the same up here," Teresa said, looking around the loft. "Smells the same, too."

She came and sat down beside the loft opening that overlooked the courtyard and the house, tucking her legs up beneath her skirt.

"I used to come up here all the time," she shared. "It was my special place."

Charlie watched her, silent, and Teresa reached out to run her hand over the kitten's fur.

"We're having fried chicken for supper," Teresa said. At this, she looked directly at Charlie. "You probably don't care much what we're

having, though, do you?"

Charlie shook her head in answer, and Teresa said, "I understand that."

In response of Teresa's kindness, Charlie confided, "I feel like I'll choke if I eat one bite."

"Well, there's mashed potatoes, too. You can manage those, maybe."

As if in reply to Teresa's comment, Charlie's stomach rumbled. Teresa gave Charlie a soft smile.

"Your stomach still wants something, even if your heart doesn't."

"I guess," Charlie said. Then, in sullenness, Charlie added, "I'll have to eat chicken, too, and everything else. Scott will probably

heap my plate full just because he knows I don't want to eat."

Teresa looked surprised at the vehemence that Charlie spoke with, and also at her words.

"He won't do that, Charlie," the older girl said, sounding confident.

"Sure, he will," Charlie said, getting to her feet. "He doesn't have to pretend anymore."

"Pretend?" Teresa asked, puzzled.

Instead of answering, Charlie stared out the loft opening, watching Jelly lead his pig to the pig pen.

Teresa got up, too, and stood close to Charlie. "What are you talking about?" she asked Charlie.

Charlie swept her eyes to Teresa's face, and then swallowed down the words that she almost muttered.

"Nothing," she said, looking out again.

Teresa was quiet for a few moments then, and then they could see, and hear, Murdoch calling from the back door. Calling

both their names. Calling them in for the evening meal.

Charlie sighed. There was nothing to do but go inside. Murdoch would come hunting for her if she didn't appear

immediately. And, then, Murdoch would likely show his gruff and grouchy side. The side of him that Charlie did not often see.

Not to Teresa, Charlie thought blackly to herself. No, not to Teresa. He thought Teresa was near to perfect. After talking to Scott, and

founding out everything that Charlie had done, Murdoch would, no doubt, not-

Charlie realized that Teresa was talking to her.

"Just a minute, before we go inside," she told Charlie. "We're coming, Murdoch!" Teresa called out in answer.

The dark-haired girl turned to Charlie, then.

"I know you're feeling badly," she said, softly. "I understand. But, Scott's not going to force you to eat too much, or stay angry, or anything like

that. He'll act just like he always has, as long as he thinks you're going to behave, and that you understand why he was so upset-"

"Can we go in?" Charlie said, interrupting Teresa's flow of words.

Teresa looked surprised at Charlie's abruptness, but said, only, "Sure. Let's go."

The girls climbed down the ladder and made their way towards the house. Charlie had hoped that Murdoch would have gone back inside

after calling them, but he had not. The older man still stood, there by the back door, holding it open for them both.

Charlie could feel Murdoch's piercing eyes on her, though she avoided looking directly at him.

"I hope the fried chicken tastes alright," Teresa was saying to him.

"It will probably all get eaten tonight," Murdoch said. "Good thing there's quite a lot of it, right, Charlie?" he added, in a jovial tone.

Still avoiding his gaze, Charlie said, only, "Yes," very quietly.

Charlie went to the sink in the kitchen, pumping water and washing her hands.

"Will you help me carry things to the table?" Teresa asked her, and Charlie nodded in answer, taking the bowl of potatoes that Teresa had

been keeping warmed. Murdoch took the basket of bread and container of butter, and they all made their way to the dining room.

Scott was there, already, pouring water into glasses from a silver pitcher. Charlie wondered briefly where Johnny was, but couldn't bring herself to ask,

or to be overly curious.

"Well, here we are," Murdoch said, in his booming voice. "This looks like a fine meal, darling."

Teresa said thank you, and everyone began taking their seats at the table. Charlie found that sitting down wasn't pleasant, or even particularly

easy. Just the process of it made her eyes well with tears. Teresa handed the bowl of mashed potates to Charlie and she took some, and some of the string beans

as well. When the chicken was passed to her, she hesitated, and then put her fork in the smallest piece that she could see.

She had to hold the platter of chicken out to Scott, but avoided his eye. She avoided everyone's eyes as best as she could. Conversation was

carried mostly by Murdoch and Teresa. Scott made a few comments, but was also mostly quiet.

After a few minutes, Johnny came into the dining room. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized.

"Problems with the new bull?" Murdoch asked.

"No. He's all settled in and filling his belly," Johnny said, scooting back his chair and sitting down. "Fried chicken, huh? Looks darn good."

There was a bit more talk about the bull and other ranch work, and Charlie kept her eyes down, not talking, and eating the small amount of

food that she had on her plate.

"Hey," Johnny said, giving Charlie a nudge. "What's with you, pequeno? Cat got your tongue?"

L

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