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

  She kicked the horse, and they continued at a walk. Develyn glanced down at the burro. “I know what you’re thinking: Does she know how to get back home again? Of course I do. Just turn around and follow this trail south. I don’t have to go all that far. I just wanted to explore a little on my own.”

  The narrow, one-horse trail wound down the coulee, then turned west and slalomed through scrubby cedars no more than five feet tall. By the time they came up on a small creek, the sun was straight above, barely visible through thick clouds. Develyn dismounted and tied off the mare to a short piñon pine tree. Uncle Henry parked all four hooves in the slow-moving water of the small creek.

  “Cooling your feet, are you? You’re probably ready to head back home. In case you two are wondering, I do have a plan. We are going to veer to the northwest … Casey said the Quarter-Circle Diamond headquarters was just twenty miles north of Argenta, but the gravel road was about forty winding miles. So … that means we could just ‘stumble’ into the Quarter-Circle Diamond in an hour or two … someone might just ask us to stay for supper … or…”

  She glanced down at the cheese stick she held in her hand. Or what? What is my real motive, Lord? Am I chasing Quint? Of course I am. Ride twenty miles through the wilderness to just “be in the neighborhood” for a visit. I don’t know if I’m anxious to be with Quint … or just anxious to find out if he is the one I should be anxious about. I will ride another hour or so. If I don’t see anything familiar or cross the road, I’ll just turn around. The sun goes down in the west, so south will be easy enough. Sooner or later we’ll hit Argenta or the railroad tracks.

  The wind stiffened as she continued to ride to the northwest. She pulled on her sweatshirt when the clouds stacked up above her, blocking the sun. Her trail wound down most of the coulees.

  She dismounted and walked the sweaty horse to the top of a ridge, then paused on top to appraise the rolling prairie to the north.

  “Look at that, Uncle Henry. There is nothing out here. No ranch, no house, not even a road. Where am I?” She glanced up to find the sun. “OK … nothing but clouds. That makes it a little tough to see the sun. I think it’s about time to head back. I think I ended up too far west. That must be a spring or creek down by that brush. We’re going to ride down there, grab a drink for everyone, then head home. Casey will be coming this evening. I’m glad she doesn’t care what we eat. It might be Cheerios and Popsicles.”

  The ribbon of brush she spotted at a distance turned out to be further away than she imagined. Each crest in the prairie presented a deep, sloping coulee. Like being sucked down into the trough on the rolling sea, the red-dirt prairie towered around her, isolating her from the world. She glanced back up the trail, and spied Uncle Henry at the top of the last rise.

  “Are you getting tired, honey?” she shouted. “Why don’t you wait there. We’ll get a drink in the creek and be back for you.”

  A wild burro can’t get lost, can he? A wild schoolteacher from Indiana can get lost, but not a burro. Did I just call him “honey”? Ms. Worrell, are you still in touch with reality? And if not, do you care?

  Develyn tugged back on the reins. “Take it easy, Maria-girl. It’s a long ride home, and we’ll just walk it. It was a crazy idea … I don’t know what I would have done, had I found the headquarters. I’m embarrassed to even think about it.”

  Lord, I’m a good teacher, but I failed at being a wife. And I’m not having much luck at mothering a twenty-year-old. I don’t know squat about horses, except that I love the breeze in my face … OK, maybe not quite this much breeze. But I do enjoy learning to be myself and not feeling like a failure in everyone’s eyes. Especially yours. Now, I need you to lead us home safely. And let me learn all I need to learn on this day.

  As they approached some thick brush at the side of the narrow creek, the paint mare stopped and jerked her head up. Her ears pointed forward as she pawed her hooves and snorted.

  “That’s just some thunder, girl. We’ll ride south out of these clouds.”

  The mare pranced and shook her head back and forth. “What’s the matter, girl? Is there something scary up there? It’s OK, baby … I just prayed and I’m sure…”

  Develyn’s words faded when a buckskin horse broke out of the brush and galloped past them up the draw. Behind him, eight more horses broke out and galloped straight at them.

  The paint mare lunged forward, but Develyn yanked the reins hard to the right. My Maria spun in circles.

  “No, girl … No! Calm down … it’s OK … let them run.”

  My Maria stopped, then threw her head back and forth until she jerked the reins out of Develyn’s hands.

  “No you don’t!” Develyn screamed and clutched the saddle horn with both hands. “Stop it right this minute!”

  The paint mare bolted after the other horses.

  Develyn stuffed her boots into the stirrups and locked her knees against the skirts of the saddle. She leaned so far forward that the brim of her straw cowboy hat pressed against the horse’s mane.

  I’m not going to get bucked off … I’m going to ride this out … even if it kills me. That’s not quite what I meant, Lord … save me!

  My Maria caught the band of horses at the top of the draw and showed no sign of slowing down.

  Develyn tried to distinguish the thunder in the hooves from the thunder in the clouds. She leaned forward, slowly released her grip with her right hand, and retrieved the reins from near My Maria’s ears.

  If I try to turn her, she’ll stumble and go down for sure. If I yank back, she’ll buck me off under forty crashing hooves. I have to ride … I have to stay on … like running downhill, I have to stay upright until she gets tired.

  Like a school of frightened fish in a huge aquarium, the band of galloping horses swirled to the top of one ridge and then back to the bottom, a quarter of a mile east, then back to the west.

  They circled and slowed near the crest of a draw, then suddenly stopped as they neared an outcrop of granite boulders that stood out like Stonehenge against the prairie. Develyn leaned forward and patted the panting horse.

  “Good girl,” she whispered.

  At the sound of her voice the buckskin reared up on his hind legs and whinnied like a demon condemned to the abyss. He galloped south with the other panicked horses.

  Develyn yanked back on the reins. “No! Not this time, girl … no more running!”

  My Maria raised up and threw her head left and right. Develyn grabbed for the saddle but only clutched the black tail. When the horse bolted after the others, Develyn lost her grip and landed on her backside in the dirt.

  “No!” she screamed.

  When she staggered to her feet, she noticed her left boot missing.

  “Don’t you take my boot!” she shouted.

  The band of horses circled south, and she noticed a brown object fall out of the flapping stirrups.

  “Thank you!” Develyn hollered.

  She limped across the prairie toward the boot. Several drops of water sprayed her face as she staggered around trying to tug on her boot. Develyn stomped her foot down until the boot slipped on, then waved her hand at the sky.

  “Don’t you dare rain on me. Do you hear me, clouds? I’ve had enough of this. You stop it right now!”

  Develyn pulled her hat down as she waded straight into the strong east wind.

  I don’t have a clue what’s the smartest thing I ever did in my life, but this ride has to be one of the dumbest.

  The band of horses crested the rise to the west, then disappeared out of sight. “All right, Devy-girl, what is the plan now?” She continued to hike to the west. “If you have a field trip, and upon arrival find the museum is unexpectedly closed, what is the alternative? There is always another option.”

  I didn’t ride way up here for the love of horses or freedom or to find myself. I tried to manipulate a scene so I could burst in on Qu
int unexpected.

  Why did I think that was so important?

  She tilted her head into the wind. “What would Renny Slater tell me? If you get bucked off … get back on. Of course, dimpled-grinnin’ cowboy, that only works with a horse at hand.” Her boot heels pressed into the dry red dirt as she stomped west.

  Why do I have to control every scene and every relationship? Where is my trust in you, Lord? “At least it’s not raining … yet.” She glanced up at the sky. “Thank you, clouds … I’ll make sure you have extra time at recess tomorrow.”

  Lord, I don’t know if I’ve trusted you much for everyday leading. For twenty-five years I’ve been living in a tightly controlled box. Controlled by me.

  Not since the time Dewayne and I were lost right in these same hills did I really cry out for your direction. But we made it home that day. You and Brownie led us home. Well, here I am again in the same wilderness and just as lost. And just as needy. Some things never change.

  When she got to the top of the rise, Develyn gazed down a long, sage-dotted slope that opened up on a flat prairie of brown grass. She spied a windmill water pump silhouette about a mile away. The horses circled the water trough, then began to graze.

  “OK, I’ll catch up with them at the windmill. You are in big trouble, My Maria. You are supposed to take care of me while I take care of you.”

  I’ll make it back today. Of course, that other time, I didn’t lose my horse. Brownie would never run off on me. But I was scared and soaked to the bone.

  “How do I catch a horse that doesn’t want to be caught … without a fence for a hundred miles?” She glanced to the north. “Casey Cree-Ryder,” Develyn shouted, “why aren’t you here when I need you?”

  I don’t look good wet. My mascara runs, the makeup sags, the creases around my eyes become more prominent. Develyn began to laugh. Why in the world would I care about what I look like right now? If Ms. Worrell’s perfect hair and makeup got messed up in the wilderness of Wyoming and no one saw it … would it really be messed up? Why don’t they ever discuss that in an Intro to Philosophy class?

  A quarter of a mile from the windmill, Develyn paused and spied out the grazing horses. Thunder rolled like a second-grader trying to learn the bass drum from somewhere behind her to the east.

  The buckskin stallion is watching my every move. If I march up to them he’ll break out to the open prairie and lead his harem. Is that a cabin near the well? Or just a pumphouse? … or an outhouse? Knowing where a roof is might be an advantage, if it has a roof. I don’t think it has a front door.

  She smelled sulfur in the heavy air. Develyn kept herself a hundred yards from the windmill. “If you find yourself in a lightning storm, lie flat on the ground with your head tucked into your arms. Stay away from trees and tall structures.” Like windmills. I’ve repeated that every year for the past twenty-three years. She circled to the north, and as she did the stallion pushed the others to the south, always keeping himself between Develyn and the band of mares and foals.

  Vertical lightning speared the earth to the north where the cedar trees thickened, but she heard no corresponding noise.

  Develyn shoved her hands in her back pockets. “OK, Studly … I understand why you are doing what you are doing. And I understand the others in your harem, but I don’t understand My Maria. After all we’ve been through together … for about three weeks … hmm … maybe that’s not all that long.”

  Develyn ventured a couple of steps toward the shack next to the windmill. She heard its continuous squeak in the strong wind. “Girl, what do you see in that big muscle-bound stallion … I mean, besides the obvious?”

  Without taking her eyes off the buckskin, she took two more steps toward the little building. He jerked his head up and snorted, but didn’t give ground.

  Oh good, at this rate I’ll be to the windmill by morning.

  Her right hand shoved against something hard in her pocket.

  My cell phone! But … is there any reception out here, and who do I call? “Hello, sheriff’s office? I’m the paranoid ditsy blonde schoolteacher from Indiana who phoned you last night … listen, I got bucked off somewhere north of Argenta and south of, eh, Tensleep … could you send someone out to help me catch my horse?”

  She crept forward. The buckskin nonchalantly grazed in the distance. Or, I could try to call Casey. She said her cell phone only worked half the time at home. I wonder why she bothers with it?

  Develyn eased out her cell phone. She stared at the power rating. One? They told me it had to read two or higher to even send a signal. So, here goes nothing. The phone rang once, then stopped. “Casey?” There was no response. “Casey, can you hear me? That’s what I figured. That’s OK. I need to do this myself. Of course, I wouldn’t mind a little advice. You see, I’m lost out in the wilderness about twenty miles north of Argenta and just got bucked off. I’m not really lost; I just don’t know where I am. Anyway, I did get bucked off and My Maria has run off with a wild stallion who has a big harem already. He won’t give her back. So, what’s your advice?”

  The phone was dead.

  “Let’s see, Trigger always came whenever Roy whistled, but I don’t know how to whistle.”

  The phone was still silent.

  “Now I wish I had let you bring those John Lyon horse training videos. Of course, I don’t have a VCR or electricity. Oh, well … don’t worry … I’ll just improvise like a rookie principal when the special assembly speaker doesn’t show up. Bye, Casey. Bring some salsa when you come down tonight; the stuff at Mrs. Tagley’s tastes like McDonald’s fry-sauce.”

  Develyn stared at the dead phone, then glanced over at My Maria and the other horses. “I believe I did that rather well, don’t you think? I didn’t sound terrified a bit, did I?”

  She took a step toward the shack. The stallion reared, then chased the others further to the south.

  Develyn shoved her hands into the tummy pocket of the hooded sweatshirt. “So that’s your limit?”

  Develyn backed up several steps. The buckskin moved forward toward the water trough. Several drops of rain pelted her face like spit wads on the last day of school. She glowered at the dark clouds. “I said … not now.”

  The rain stopped.

  She rubbed the back of her neck.

  I suppose I could call Renny … but I don’t remember his number. It was 644-mustang … or 466-mustang … or 464-mustang, but he said he was going to Sheridan after he broke the horses at Quint’s.

  I do have Quint’s number on my speed dial. But what do I tell him? Hmmm … I got lost and bucked off trying to sneak up on your ranch to surprise you?

  She folded the phone and shoved it in her back pocket.

  “Ms. Worrell, you are on your own here. This is like a test, isn’t it, Lord? Am I cut out for wilderness ranch life or not?”

  She studied the spinning windmill, the tiny one-room shack, and the grazing horses. “Studly, I presume you want to wait out the storm right here. I’ll tell you what, you let My Maria go home with me, and I’ll promise to leave you here undisturbed.”

  She took a step forward. The stallion backed up several steps and snorted.

  “OK, that doesn’t work.”

  Develyn circled west as thunder rolled behind her. The air was heavy. She noticed she was breathing hard when she reached a spot where the shack blocked her view of the buckskin stallion.

  OK … if I can’t see you, you can’t see me. Of course My Maria and a couple of others can see me. I wonder if they will squeal?

  She took one step toward the shack, paused, then another. The air felt damp on her face. She pulled the hood of the sweatshirt up around her neck like a scarf.

  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky when we left Argenta. But I didn’t catch Kathy, the bouncy blonde weather girl with perfect hair, on Channel 6. Perhaps because I don’t have any electricity. Do they have propane televisions?


  At thirty feet from the shack, she noticed the horses mill toward the south. Most were trying to graze the short brown grass while keeping an eye on her.

  Develyn flattened the palms of her hands together and held them to her lips. Now he’ll see me and they’ll all run off. This is about as fun as playing “Duck-Duck-Goose” for the first time with two-year-olds.

  She couldn’t see him, but she heard the snort, then a flash of lightning to the south.

  Develyn dove flat on her stomach in the dirt. Sticky reddish-yellow sticky dirt.

  Why did I do that? Wet and muddy. Ms. Worrell … you’ve come a long way since Riverbend Elementary School.

  The ground was cold, rough. Lying still, she spied the stallion.

  He sees me.

  Yet … he’s … he’s coming this way? What’s he going to do? Run over and stomp on me? This is incredible. Everything I do gets worse. I think I’ll go to sleep and wake up in a tanning booth at Shyrleen’s.

  The sky darkened. Drops of water splashed in the dirt around her face. She ground her teeth. Develyn shot a glance at the heavy, dark clouds. I am not going to say this again. This is not the time to rain.

  The stallion grazed closer to her.

  Oh, sure … pretend you don’t see me. Who are you fooling, Studly? I could jump up and start screaming. You would panic and race all the way to Idaho. I’d lose my horse, but it might be worth it to show you who’s boss. Of course, I’m the one in the dirt, so I guess I already know who’s boss.

  She watched My Maria meander behind the stallion, coming closer.

  Now you decide to come over here? When I’m down on my face. Just like a fickle daughter I know. Oh, Dee … how I wish we were close … close like … well, not me and Mother … we were never that close, or we were too close, I can never tell which … Lord, give my wayward daughter wisdom to do what is right and good wherever she is right now, whatever she is doing.