I probably would have brooded, and stewed about what Brian had said, and about the upcoming talk. I surely would have. What stopped me

from that, though, was the fact that he worked me so hard. I mean, we were working together-but he did not cut me any slack. At all. He worked

just as hard himself, but he kept me moving and going until there was no time for my thoughts to wander away from the physical work I was

doing.

When Brian finally called it a day, I was limp with relief. I tried not to show my fatigue. I surely was not going to complain or whine.

No Siree Bob, no way was I going to let on that I was more sore and more tired that I could remember being.

When we rode back to our campsite, I trekked to the nearby creek, the one that Guthrie and I had run off to years ago, and toted

back more water in the horse's water canteens. I watered both horses, and unsaddled them, putting on their feed bags, and brushing

them both down. While I was doing all of that, Brian was gathering more of the oak wood, and starting a campfire. By the time I'd tended to the

horses, and brought both of our saddles to the fireside, Brian had supper nearly ready. There were beans simmering in the pan, along with cut up

bacon.

I rinsed my hands and drank deep out of my canteen.

"Chows on," Brian said, and began scooping out a healthy serving of the beans and bacon onto a plate, adding a biscuit to the

top, and then handing it to me, along with a fork.

I took it from him, sitting down on my sleeping bag, cross-legged. "Thanks."

I ate my plate of food, setting it down on the ground in front of me when I was done.

Brian reached for the plate. "Hand it to me. I'll dish you up some more."

"No. I'm full. I don't need any more."

I leaned back against my saddle, hoping I didn't have to get back up to wash up the plates. I wanted to shut my eyes and sleep.

"Did you bring sweatpants?" Brian asked me, and I opened my eyes to see him rinsing the plates.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you go change out of those jeans. Get comfortable."

Just the very thought of going to all that effort...

"I'm okay," I said, wearily. "I can sleep in these again."

The next thing I felt was a nudge to one of my boots. More than one nudge. I opened my eyes.

"Do your shot before you fall asleep sittin' up," Brian said.

"Okay," I said, but I didn't move right away, and again I opened my eyes to a nudge from Brian's boot to mine.

"Harlie," he said, and I tried my best to focus on his face, wearied as I was.

"Get up now, and do your shot," he said.

I forced myself to move, and actually scooted on my knees, reaching for my bag. I took out my supplies. I didn't need a flashlight tonight,

it was still light.

"Need me to do it?" Brian asked me, watching me.

"I can," I said, and I did manage it, and then as soon as I was done putting supplies away, I scooted back to my spot. I struggled

to pull off my boots, and then curled up against my saddle.

"You alright?" he asked me.

I laid an arm under my head, and focused on him. He was sitting by his own saddle, poking up the fire.

"Tired," I said.

"Well, go on and get in your sleeping bag, so I don't have to pour you in there later."

I worked myself into my sleeping bag, and then, blissfully, I closed my eyes, and floated into easy sleep.

7

I didn't dream that night. I didn't wake, either. Not even once. When I woke up, it was because Brian was, again, rousing me

from sleep. This time it was by a rub of the top of my head sticking out of my sleeping bag.

"Rise and shine," he said.

"Morning already," I said, sitting up.

"We're burnin' daylight," he said, mimicking something that John Wayne used to say in movies.

"Burnin' daylight," I said, scooting out of my bag, and standing up. "Good grief."

"Eggs coming up," he said, and I headed off to pee, and then came back, rinsing my hands, and sitting down by

the fire. I took one of the camp cups and poured myself coffee, sipping at it, and breathing it in.

"Nothing smells better than coffee," I said.

"Gotta agree with that," he said.

He handed me a plate of eggs and a fork.

We ate in mostly silence. I broke it to ask, "What's on for today? The other half?"

"We'll get a start on it, anyway," he said.

"Okay."

"We won't be at it as long today. Not with you havin' school tomorrow."

"Mmmm."

"You have homework to get done? Need to get you home to do that."

"I have some," I said, and concentrated on my eggs.

Brian had finished eating, and set his plate aside. He refilled his coffee cup, and sat back again.

"What's going on with you? Really going on?" he asked, and I lifted my eyes to his.

His voice wasn't rough, but it was direct. He wasn't going to dig around waiting for me to answer.

I thought for a couple of moments, searching for words.

"I feel bad. About school. About not being in the work program," I said, simply.

"Uh-huh," he said, as if in encouragement to continue.

"I wish I could go back. To earlier, I mean. So all this didn't happen."

"Why? What would you do differently?"

I blinked at his pointed question. A little disconcerted by it, I hesitated, thinking.

"I wouldn't get kicked out," I said.

"How so?"

Still prodding. Forcing me to think harder.

"I'd keep up on my grades," I finally admitted. "Up to where they're supposed to be, to be in the program."

Brian gave a nod, as if in agreement. "Sounds simple," he said, then.

I blinked at him, again, not sure what was going on, exactly.

"It doesn't feel simple now," I said.

"No. I reckon it doesn't. Now."

I sat up straighter, holding my coffee cup in my hands, and staring at his face.

"I can't tell-" I began, and then paused.

"You can't tell what?"

"I can't tell whether you're agreeing with me-or getting ready to tell me off."

Brian gave another nod. "Fair enough. I think you're due for a good talking-to."

I straightened my back even more. "Okay," I said, thinking that I would face up, and be brave. Even if he became fierce, I

would be brave...

Leaning back against his saddle a bit, and holding his own coffee cup, Brian said, "Our problem with it is the way you've been

handling it. We get that you're gonna feel bad. But you seem to be putting blame where it doesn't belong."

"I'm not, though," I said, in my own defense, but barely audible.

"You are," Brian countered. "I've heard you. Pete Best. Your teachers. Anybody who tries to talk to you about it and set you straight."

I stared at him, feeling wary. And nervous. I moved a little, thinking about standing up. I wouldn't feel so vulnerable then...

"Stay put," Brian ordered, and I gaped at him.

"What?" I asked.

"You're tensing up. Gettin' ready to make a break."

I settled back again, determined to prove he was wrong. "I'm staying put," I told him.

"Good," Brian said. "Because this is just a talk right now. Let's not make it become somethin' else, Harlie. Alright?"

I forced myself to meet his eyes. And I nodded in response. I did not want this to become anything else, for sure.

"The rules to stay in the program were pretty straight forward, weren't they?" he said.

I nodded again.

"And you knew them. Right?" he went on.

"I did."

"So how in the holy heck is there anybody to blame but yourself?" Brian said. He said it matter-of-factly.

I sighed in resignation. "There isn't."

"Isn't what?" he prompted.

"Isn't anybody to blame but me," I said, quietly, studying my hands. Even at that moment I realized how dirty my nails were.

"Then act like that, Harlie," Brian said. "Take responsibility. We didn't raise you to try to blame others for your own actions."

"I know you didn't," I admitted.

For a couple of long moments, we were still.

"You're fighting with the situation. And there's no point to that. It's a done deal," he said.

I was watching him now, lacing my hands together.

"Accountability. And then, acceptance of the new way of things. I really think you'll feel a whole lot better when you do that."

He said when not if. He had no doubt that I was going to get myself together, and do what he was saying.

"I feel bad, though, Bri!" I protested barely above a whisper. I met his stern face with trepidation. "I'm not trying to make you

mad. But-I feel so bad about myself! Like a failure! And I feel even worse when I think how I could have avoided it-if I'd just

kept myself straight!" I caught my breath on a sob coming out.

Brian paused, and then motioned to me with his hand. "Comere."

I felt a little wary, and in my momentary hesitation, Brian said, more gently, "Come on."

I left my own spot and scooted over to him. He pulled me back, so I was against his side, and wrapped an arm around my

shoulders.

"Peach, Peach," he said, as though figuring me out.

"I'm a mess," I said, glumly. "A hopeless mess."

"No, ma'm," Brian said, immediately. "Never hopeless."

He rubbed a strand of my hair with his fingers. "Today can be a new beginning. You accept things the way they are now. Get your grades

up high and keep them there. That'll improve your life greatly. Will it not?"

"Yes," I said.

"Right. You'll feel better about yourself. Crane will stop worryin' himself sick. You can get off your grounding. Be able to go to Lori's house.

Go out to the Dari Kurl with Kenny. All of that," he said.

"It sounds good," I said.

"Sure, it does. And all you have to do to get there is-work your butt off to get to B's and A's in all your classes. Then work your butt off

to keep the grades there. Blame nobody else for what's happened. Forgive yourself for droppin' the ball. All of that," he said.

I took his left arm with my hands, and hugged it.

"I'm going to," I said. "I'm going to do all of that-I promise! I mean, I'll do all of the rest of it, and I'll try to forgive myself."

"Good. How about another promise?"

"What?" I asked, looking up into his tanned face.

"Don't be so impatient with all of us guys. We may come across as though we're preachin' at ya, nagging you, and I know we're

kind of strict with you, but we're just-" Brian paused. "Well, we're just lovin' you. And you do have the ability to hurt feelings

sometimes."

I stared up at his face, feeling my own face flush hot.

"Have I hurt your feelings, Bri? I'm sorry-"

"No. You haven't hurt mine."

I met his eyes. "Adam? No, it's Crane, isn't it?"

"I don't think I need to point out anybody in particular," Brian said. "If you think about it, you can probably figure it out. Nobody has said anything,

either, just to be clear. Just my own observations. I want a little less with the drama, and more respect when people are talkin' to you. Even if they're saying somethin'

you don't want to hear."

Brian paused after saying that, and gave me an intent look. "Can you do that?"

I nodded, feeling ashamed but knowing I'd have to get my thoughts straight about why.

"Okay," Brian said. He moved his arm from my shoulders, and patted my leg. "We've gotta get to work."

But neither of us moved immediately. We sat, watching the horses as they grazed the small distance away, and Brian finished his

cup of coffee.

"Bri?"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you bring me up here?" I asked him, quietly. I'd been looking at the horses, but I turned to look at him now.

"Cheap labor," Brian said, and nudged my ribs with his elbow. He was joking, and I could have left it there. But, I didn't. I kept

looking at him, serious, waiting.

"I thought it would do you good to get away from everything and ride. Work. Help you to remember that you're good at things," Brian

said. "And-" he added, "It was the general agreement at home that you needed to be straightened out a little bit."

I felt my face get hot.

"And you got stuck, huh? You drew the short straw?" I asked him.

"Oh, heck no," Brian said, and there was a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. "I volunteered for the job."

7

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