ONE

Tension charged the kitchen. Leslie stood her ground, determined to set this thing straight. It wasn't easy. Her father, equally determined, wore an almost visible shield of resistance.
"Dad, I don't want to go away to school. "She swallowed as her father's sharp blue eyes narrowed. Raising her chin, she continued. "What have I done to deserve this?" She sprang from the kitchen chair.
John Cahill pointed to the chair. She slowly lowered herself back down. Her bottom felt as if it had sprouted springs.
The other two had cleared out as soon as this conversation started, even before finishing their ham and scrambled eggs. Wade, never one to skimp on a meal, had scooped up one giant bite, snatched another piece of toast, grabbed his hat off the rack and vanished. Maureen had splashed a little more coffee into her cup and disappeared into the office. The coffee maker hissed as a drip of coffee hit the warming plate.
"Leslie," her dad said evenly, "I've never said you've done something wrong. This isn't a punishment, it's a privilege."
"It isn't a privilege if I don't want to do it!" Why couldn't he understand? Dread crawled up her spine. She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her fingers. She took a deep breath. Tears wouldn't do any good--she'd tried that and all it did was anger her dad. How many times had they fought over this--five, six times? It's got to work this time. He simply won't stand for much more argument.
"Leslie," her father said, obviously fighting exasperation, "you act like I'm sending you to prison. Rosemount Academy is one of the finest schools in the state, if not the country. Give it a chance."
"Why can't I just go to Chewack? I like school, that school. I've almost finished my sophomore year! All I want is to go back there, Dad. My grades are good, I like the teachers, most of them. All my friends are there. Please, Dad." Her velvet brown eyes searched his, beseeching. She grasped the table so hard her hands ached; she could feel her face redden.
"As outgoing as you are, you'll have new friends the first day."
"My music. What about my music?" Leslie's music was almost as important to her dad as it was to her. Before she died, her mother had played the piano and, although her dad didn't have musical ability himself, Leslie knew he loved listening to her play. She had always thought it probably reminded him of her mother. "I've studied with Mr. Baxter for years. I'll never do as well with another piano teacher."
"You don't know that. Rosemount has a fine reputation for its music department. Mr. Baxter himself told me that. Besides, Les, you'll have so many other cultural advantages there, things that don't happen in Chewack."
"Dad...why?" Ever since her dad had dropped this bomb, she'd never really known why he wanted to send her away to a boarding school. A girls school.
"Leslie, we've gone over this a dozen times."
"No, we haven't. Nothing you've said has made any sense. None of the stu... reasons have anything to do with me." She caught herself just in time--saying her father's reasons were stupid wouldn't win her any points.
"They have everything to do with you. That's why you're going."
"Is it because of that rape? For Pete's sake, Dad, that can happen anywhere."
"That rape happened on school grounds, Leslie, after a school dance that you attended."
"So what? I didn't get raped. I don't go to those dances alone, I had a date."
She abruptly stood again, almost knocking the chair against the kitchen wall.
Her dad stood, too, deliberately clumping his riding boots to the floor as he walked to the counter. Leslie noticed his hands shake as he poured himself another cup of coffee.
"Is that why, because of that rape?"
"No, Leslie, and you know it." He returned to his chair at the head of the table.
"Then why else?"
His eyes blinked slowly, impatiently. "We've been through all this."
"Because I went to that party? Are you going to hold that against me for the rest of my life?"
Leslie stared at her father, biting her bottom lip. Going to a party without adults present had been a big mistake, but not the end of the world. Going to this stupid school would be the end of the world.
"Oh, Dad." She plopped back down onto the chair. "It was no big deal. Kip and I were there for about an hour, then left. Stuff didn't start happening until long after that."
"Still, you were there. When that girl's parents got home and found all the beds in the house messed up, their place almost destroyed --"
"It wasn't destroyed! The guys that stayed said there were a couple of cigarette burns on the coffee table and a broken window. The place wasn't that great to begin with!"
"That isn't the point. The point is, you're not to go to parties without adults present. I'd made that clear."
"I know. And I promised you it wouldn't happen again. Don't you believe me?"
Her father waved his hand in the air, erasing the conversation. "Leslie, this isn't getting us anywhere. It isn't any of these things. It's everything that's happening today. It's drugs, drinking, gangs, sex. I want you to go to a good school, get a good education and be safe. It's as simple as that."
Tears threatened again, "But I don't drink, do drugs, or have sex! The only gang I belong to are the kids I went to kindergarten with! I want to stay here at the ranch with you, with my family." She slumped disconsolately, lowering her head in her arms on the table. "Please don't send me away," she begged, her voice muffled.
"Honey," her father said softly, "you're making up your mind without even knowing what the school is like. When we visit Rosemount Academy next month you'll see what a great place it is. Don't judge it before you see it."
Leslie bolted upright and glared at her father. "I want to stay here. I don't have to see Rosemount to know that."
"You're going, Leslie." His voice, though quiet, was final.
"But Dad, none of the other girls are going. Why am I the only one?"
"Some are."
"Well sure, the dorky ones, but none of my friends."
"The other girls aren't any of my business, you are."
"Whyyy? Why are you sending me away? Don't you love me?"
John's large, open palm slapped the table. Breakfast dishes clattered. The butter knife leapt out of the butter dish and stuck to the table.
"Leslie! How can you even ask such a thing? It's because I love you! There's too much going on around here these days. I want you to be safe and to have a good education. That's it. That's the reason. Period."
"You didn't send Wade away."
"Stop saying I'm sending you away. I'm sending you to school--to one of the most expensive, finest schools in the state."
"So, why didn't you send Wade to an expensive school?"
Her father's eyebrows rose at her sing-songy, sarcastic voice. He leveled his index finger at her. "Like it or not, Leslie, life is different for a boy than it is for a girl. You have dangers that your brother never had. Besides, he's eleven years older. It's worse now than it was then."
"That isn't true. You can't tell me rape is a new thing--rape's been happening since the beginning of time. Some of the drugs are new, but how about drinking? And you can't tell me that kids never used to have sex! That's what shotgun marriages were all about!" Leslie's voice ascended from above normal to almost shouting. Her throat hurt, her head throbbed.
"You will not talk to me in that tone." His voice was strained, his face dark. "We've talked about this enough, Leslie."
"Oh, right. As soon as I start talking about how it really is, the conversation's over."
"That will do."
Leslie, defeated, watched her Dad rise. Through her hot tears there seemed to be two of him. He put his coffee mug by the sink and turned to the door. He reached for his Stetson where it perched on the hat rack by the door and, in slow motion, put it on. Two hats, two heads. Slowly, he turned back to Leslie.
"Leslie."
A tear slid down her blotchy, red cheek, unchecked. She slowly shook her head. She'd never agree to this. Never.
He expelled a long, jagged sigh. He turned and stomped down the back porch stairs. Seeing Wade on horseback, he blew a shrill cattleman's whistle and, raising his arm, signaled his son to wait.