Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago

by Stephen A. Bly

  Develyn clutched herself to keep from shaking.

  “Porter, we have to get out of here!” This time it was a high-pitched scream. “He’s crazy!”

  “I’m not leavin’ until I get what’s mine.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Hendrix, get back here!”

  One man sprinted for the truck.

  The wind picked up.

  The shouts and curses were inaudible.

  Tires spun loose dirt. The pickup spun around in the dirt yard.

  Then, a loud explosion.

  Oh, my God … that was a gunshot. Oh, no … what do I do … what do I do? Who shot whom? What do I do?

  On her hands and knees, Develyn crawled around to the porch and to the front door. She pushed her way into the cabin, closed the door behind her, then fumbled to lock the gate latch. She sprawled on the frigid, slick linoleum with her back against the door and shook.

  I don’t know what to do, Lord. I don’t know what to do. This isn’t fun. Something horrible has happened.

  She laid her cell phone on the floor between her legs, then pointed the flashlight at it.

  I have to call someone. I have to tell someone.

  She studied the lit key pad of the telephone. She picked it up, sighed a deep breath … then punched 9–1–1.

  Develyn waited for six long rings.

  “Sheriff’s office.”

  “I … eh I need to report…”

  “Speak up, lady.”

  She cleared her throat. “I need to report…”

  “Harry … turn off that dadgum microwave! I can’t even hear the lady on the phone!” he shouted. “How should I know if it’s your wife? Go ahead, lady.”

  Develyn sat straight up.

  “I need to report a fight and possible gunfire.”

  “Is anyone injured?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did anyone get shot?”

  “It’s too dark. They were arguing and cussing and then they ran to the truck and there was a gun shot.”

  “Relax, we’ll take care of it. Tell me your name.”

  “I’m Develyn Worrell from …”

  “OK, just relax, Evelyn … we’ll…”

  “Develyn—with a D. Dev.”

  “Don’t scream into the phone. Are you at home?”

  “No, I live in Crawfordsville, Indiana.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “In a cabin where the cedars used to be.”

  “In Indiana?”

  “I’m a quarter of a mile north of Argenta, Wyoming.”

  “That’s in Natrona County.”

  “I think so.”

  “Ma’am, this is the sheriff’s office in Johnson County. You’ll have to call the Natrona County sheriff.”

  “But I dialed 911.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You used a cell phone, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sometimes the relay tower that picks up the signal is in a different county so your 911 calls are routed through their emergency number. If you’d call 307-577-5577, you can talk to the Natrona County sheriff.”

  Develyn felt tears trickle down her cheeks. “You mean you can’t help me?”

  “Just call them. They will take care of it. Did you get that number?”

  “Yes, I…”

  “OK … now phone them.”

  “But…”

  Develyn leaned against the door and listened to the dial tone.

  With slow determination she punched in 307-575-5577.

  On the fourth ring, a man answered and mumbled, “Yeah?”

  “Is this the Natrona County sheriff’s office?”

  The man’s voice sounded sleepy and irritated. “Is this Natalie?”

  “I need the sheriff’s office.”

  “This is a lame joke, Natalie.”

  “All I want is…”

  “Every guy in Casper knows what you want,” the man snarled. “Sober up.”

  Develyn heard a woman in the background shout, “Is that her again, Matthew? I told you never to talk to that woman again!”

  “Shut up,” the man hissed.

  “I need the sheriff’s office,” Develyn whimpered.

  A deep female voice came on the line. “You need a psychologist.”

  Again, Develyn stared at the face of the cell phone. She brushed tears back with the back of her hand.

  She punched speed dial #2.

  After five rings there was a sleepy, but familiar, “Hello.”

  “Sorry, Lily, I need some help.”

  “Dev? What’s wrong, honey? What time is it there?”

  “I don’t know … maybe 3:30 a.m.”

  “Are you OK?”

  “I need your help…”

  “Oh, no … oh, honey … what is it?”

  “I need you to phone the sheriff for me.”

  “Oh, Lord Jesus, no! Dev, are you hurt?”

  “Lily, I’m OK. There’s been a fight and a gunshot next door, and I can’t seem to get the right county sheriff. Now I’m too rattled to get the right number.”

  “Just punch in 9-1-1, honey.”

  “I tried that,” Develyn whined. “Lily, call information for the Natrona County sheriff’s office in Casper, Wyoming.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the floor in my cabin.”

  “I’ll have them phone you, OK, honey?”

  “OK.”

  “Dev, tell me you’re all right one more time.”

  “I’m OK … I just got scared and frustrated.”

  “Call me back as soon as you get things taken care of. You promise?” Lily insisted.

  * * *

  Develyn wore jeans, boots, and a Purdue sweatshirt by the time the Natrona County deputy phoned her and listened to her account. She waited by the window until a deputy showed up next door. As daylight broke, she sat on the hard wooden chair and sipped hot coffee. When her phone rang, she plucked it up.

  “Hi, Lily. Everything’s under control. I was just getting ready to phone.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Mother’s in Austria. Who else would phone me at daybreak?”

  “It’s not daybreak here. I’ve been worried for two hours. Did the sheriff’s office contact you?” Lily asked.

  “Deputy Wayne Altamont who looks about eighteen just left. He looks like the Simkins boy.”

  “Harold or Larry?”

  “Harold.”

  “Well … I want to know everything,” Lily demanded. “I even checked into emergency air flights to see if I could come help you.”

  “Oh, Lily … you are my special angel. It’s OK, really.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “It’s sort of confusing. On the phone, they said that Tallon was a convicted felon and it was illegal for him to possess a firearm, and if I could prove he had one he would be thrown in jail.”

  “A felon? You are renting a cabin from a felon? Honey, you have to move.”

  “Move where? I love this place. Anyway, it gets more bizarre. The deputy talked to Cooper Tallon and then came and told me everything was all right. He said he was mistaken about the felon comment, and that the altercation was just a couple of drunks wanting some gas money. Tallon said he refused, and their pickup backfired going out of the driveway.”

  “That’s it?”

  Develyn paced the cabin, the phone pressed to her ear. “That’s not what they were arguing about, Lily. I heard them.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do?”

  “You could move, for one thing.”

  “No … I told you, this is my place. I’ll just lock the door every night, take two Aleves, and pull the quilt over my head. They didn’t threaten me.”

  “Dev, don’t you think i
t’s time to come home?”

  “No, I don’t. Not until I understand what I’m doing here.”

  “I pray to God you know what you are doing.”

  “Thanks for the prayers. Everything looks better in daylight.”

  “Is your landlord going to be mad at you for calling the sheriff on him?”

  “I suppose …” Develyn paused by the window and peered across at the other cabin.

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  “I’m not sure, but I better come up with something quick.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s on his way over here. I’ll call you back.”

  “No!” Lily hollered. “Dev, leave the phone on. Clip it to your jeans pocket or something, but leave it on.”

  Develyn ran her fingers through her blonde bangs. “OK … here goes.”

  She waited for the knock at the door.

  She didn’t open it.

  “Yes?”

  “Ms. Worrell?”

  “Yes, Mr. Tallon?”

  “Aren’t you going to open the door?”

  “I’d rather not.” She double-checked the interior latch on the door. “What can I do for you?”

  “Look, Ms. Worrell, I’m sorry about the scare last night.”

  She folded her arms. “That story you told the deputy was a lie.”

  “Yes, it was, Ms. Worrell. I trust that one day soon I can tell you the truth.”

  “Mr. Tallon, I need the truth right now. Am I in danger by staying here?”

  “No, ma’am, you aren’t. Would you open the door now?”

  “Why?”

  “Are you decent?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “I like lookin’ a lady in the eyes when I apologize.”

  Develyn ran her tongue over her thin lips.

  She slowly opened the door. The stiff warm breeze swirled dust, and she squinted her eyes.

  Peering out from under the brim of his black cowboy hat, Tallon’s deep-creased gray eyes locked onto hers. “Ma’am, I’d like you to forgive me for scarin’ you like that. I understand why you called the sheriff, and you do that anytime you feel you should. I’d rather you’d come talk to me first, but that’s OK. I don’t expect that scene to ever be repeated.”

  “Mr. Tallon, I accept your apology, but I am puzzled at your reluctance to tell the whole story. And I await a further explanation.”

  “That’s all I can expect, Ms. Worrell.”

  How does such a gray-haired man have such young eyes? “Mr. Tallon, as long as we are neighbors for the summer, and you are my landlord, do you suppose you could call me Dev, and I could call you Cooper?”

  “Coop would be fine, Miss Dev.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other cabin. “Now, I wonder if I could ask you a favor?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve me lying.”

  He stared at her for a minute, then rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “I reckon I deserve that.”

  “I’m sorry, Coop. That wasn’t very Christian of me.”

  “The Lord has a lot of things to teach me, Dev. I’m just try ing to make sure I don’t miss a lesson.”

  “What is the favor?”

  “I was hopin’ you could keep your burro over here, or in the pasture. He has a habit of leavin’ a deposit next to my truck.”

  “A deposit?”

  “He craps in my yard.”

  Develyn’s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, dear …” She glanced off to see the burro reclined against the tailgate of Fallon’s black pickup. “Uncle Henry, you come home right now!”

  The burro’s ears shot straight up, but he didn’t move.

  “Dev, burros are stubborn cusses and they don’t…”

  “Well, this one does.” Develyn cupped her hands around her mouth. “Uncle Henry, you heard me. You get over here, and get over here right this minute!”

  Tallon leaned back.

  The burro spun around and trotted straight at them.

  Cooper Tallon grinned. “I’m impressed.”

  “After twenty-three years of yard duty with fifth-graders, one burro is a cinch.”

  When the burro reached the edge of the uncovered porch, Develyn marched straight at him and grabbed his right ear. “Uncle Henry, you listen to me real close. If you go over to Mr. Tallon’s yard once more, I’ll lock you in the pasture with My Maria. She’s a snotty prima donna who will boss you around until you wish you were a worm. Do you hear me? You stay in this yard.”

  Uncle Henry hung his head.

  Develyn wrestled his ears, hugged his nose, then gave him a slap on the rear. “Now, go on and play. Be nice.”

  Cooper chuckled.

  Develyn leaned into the stiff wind. “And what do you find so funny?”

  “You really do treat him like a fifth-grader.”

  “And your point is?”

  “He seems to know exactly what you’re saying.”

  “He hates to be fenced in.”

  “Do you treat your mare the same way?”

  “Oh, no, I treat her like a junior high girl who’s pouting because her mother won’t let her get her belly button pierced and a tattoo on her butt.”

  “Whoa!” The word filtered up from Develyn’s belt.

  “Is that from your phone?” Tallon asked.

  “Oh …” Develyn’s fingers covered her mouth. “I forgot, Lily’s on the line.”

  “Hi, Lily,” Tallon called out. “I’ll take no more of your time. Again, my apologies, Miss Dev.”

  Develyn plucked up her cell phone and hiked into the wind toward the pasture and the grazing paint horse.

  “Sorry, Lily, I forgot you were down there.”

  “It’s a good thing someone was looking out for you,” Lily said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You and Mr. Felon certainly got chummy in a hurry.”

  “I was just trying to act civil. Besides, I told you, there is some confusion over whether he or someone else is the felon.”

  “Civil? ‘Oh, Coop …’ giggle giggle.”

  “I do not giggle.”

  “Honey, this is Lily … you know, the one who goes to the rodeo with you in Indy when we giggle over every cowboy who gets bucked off at the gate.”

  “Ms. Martin, I simply have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You were giggling.”

  “I was not. I was trying to act cordial, after a very tense night.”

  “Ms. Worrell talking about tattoos on the you-know-what- … is acting cordial? In the twenty-five years we’ve known each other, I’ve never heard you say something like that. Especially to a man.”

  “I can’t believe I said that, either. I think Cree-Ryder is wear ing off on me.”

  “Where is the bronze princess of the prairie?” Lily asked.

  “In Tensleep, trimming hooves and shoeing her horses.”

  “Are you OK now, Ms. Worrell? Can I go down to Turkey Run in peace?”

  “Why are you going to Turkey Run State Park? You’ve been there hundreds of times.”

  “For a picnic.”

  “You’re taking your summer school class for a picnic?”

  “It’s Saturday, Devy-girl.”

  “You and the lawyer?”

  “It’s just a picnic.”

  “Prove it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to sit on that bench at Sunset Point?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Take your cell phone. Call me and clip it to your belt while you and Mr. Legal-Eagle sit on that bench.”

  “Dream on, Devy-girl.”

  “Ah-hah!”

  “I’ve got to go, honey.”

  “Is he there?”

  “He will be soon.”

  “Be good.”

  “Loo
k who’s talking. But I will tell you one thing.”

  “Oh?”

  “He has nice lips.”

  “What?” Develyn gasped. Then she listened to the shrill of the cellular dial tone. She hung up on me? He has nice lips and she hung up?

  Develyn leaned against the top rail of the corral and stared out at the grazing mare. “We need to pray for Ms. Martin today, girl. She is getting way too serious about this smooth-talking lawyer guy.”

  The horse glanced at her, then continued to graze.

  “Don’t you look at me like that. I am not getting serious about any man. Are you ready to go? Well, that’s too bad … we’re going anyway. Casey won’t be back until tomorrow. It’s time for a solo ride.”

  * * *

  Develyn tucked two string cheese sticks and a bag of peanuts in her pocket, then rolled up a bottle of water in her sweatshirt and tied it to the rear of the saddle. She led the paint mare behind the cabin.

  “We’re goin’ north into those cedar hills, girl. I’ve been wanting to ride up there for weeks, but Casey always had a different direction she wanted to explore. When I was ten, Dewayne and I rode that direction one day and saw three antelope.”

  She walked the horse over to a cottonwood stump, stepped up on it, and threw her foot in the stirrup. She yanked on the reins. “Now, don’t you start running off on me.”

  Uncle Henry peeked around the corner of the cabin.

  “If you promise to be good and not run off, you can come,” Develyn called.

  The short burro trotted up beside them.

  The moment Develyn touched her heels to the horse’s flanks, the paint mare galloped north. She grabbed her hat and shoved it down tight on her head.

  Lord, I have to admit I do love riding this horse. Oh, my … how I do love riding.

  Develyn sang to the wind … “My Maria …” The tune rhymed with the rhythm of the stride.

  I like the slap of leather … the breeze in my face … the feel of flight. Oh, how I love the freedom.

  She licked her lips, then sang, “Don’t you know I’ve come a long, long way …” She tugged on the reins and slowed the horse to a fast trot.

  Develyn turned in the saddle after they crossed the first rise in the rolling prairie to appraise the southern horizon. The burro waited beside them.

  “Uncle Henry, we’ve been gone about twenty minutes and we can’t see Argenta. We can’t see the gravel road or a house or a barn or a telephone wire or even a single fence. This has got to be one of the most undeveloped areas of the entire country. I love it.” She leaned forward and stroked the mare’s neck and sang, “When she’s around, she takes my blues away.”