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

  “I hate to interrupt this mother-and-son talk.”

  Develyn spun around to see Cooper Tallon standing, hat in hand, ten feet behind her. She shaded the sun with her hand. The wind felt cool on her bare arms.

  “Oh, Cooper … I didn’t hear you.”

  “Am I intruding?”

  “No, I’m afraid I talk to this burro like he was one of my children.”

  “It’s OK, Miss Dev. I’ve spent my entire life alone. A man can go sour if he doesn’t have someone to talk to. I used to have a running dialog with my television set until she up and ran off with a burglar.”

  She grinned, then folded her hands across her chest. “I hear Quint called out the troops to look for me. Sorry about that.”

  “Quint Burdett is a good man, but he’s driven. Always pushing himself. I think he learned that from his wife, Emily. She pushed him a lot.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “When you come from one of the premier families in Texas, you expect quite a bit from a husband.”

  “Cooper, I know I’ve spent a lot of time with Quint. But that’s changing. I don’t intend on reporting to him, nor do I want him to come looking for me. So, don’t let him rope you into some snipe hunt for Miss Dev.”

  “Yes, ma’am. But all the same, if I figured you were in trouble, I’d surely want to help find you.”

  “I’ll tell you what. Anytime you are at the cabin, I’ll let you know where I’m headed so you can be the official locator of Miss Dev.”

  “No, I didn’t mean for you …”

  “Cooper, I need your help in this. I don’t want Quint to think he has to look after me. You are my neighbor, so you get the job.”

  “That’s fine, but I don’t intend to be nosy.”

  She studied his gray-blue eyes, then brushed her bangs back. “I must look a fright without my makeup.”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am, Miss Dev. You look as good as a potato all scrubbed up and ready for the pot.”

  “Eh, I don’t think I’ve ever been told that before.”

  “I meant it as a compliment.”

  “I believe you.”

  He gazed across the pasture. “You are out a little earlier than usual.”

  “Renny Slater is coming by. He promised to show me how he breaks a wild horse.”

  “I hear he’s one of the best. Will you be gone all day?”

  “Yes, we’re headed to Graybull. But I haven’t forgotten about our time to sit and visit. I really haven’t.”

  “I was just thinkin’. Maybe we could aim for Friday evenin’. I’ll barbecue some ribs, and we can sit out on the porch at my place and have some supper.”

  “That sounds very nice, Coop.”

  He turned to head back to the cabins. “I’m sorry about the potato comment. It’s a phrase my grandmother used. She came to this country in a covered wagon when she was three. They built a beautiful ranch house right out there near the road. Right where the cottonwoods are.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It burnt down, and Dad didn’t rebuild it. Some day, I’d like to settle down here and build a place. But I don’t think I’d want it this close to town. I’d rather have it back in the cedar hills. Anyway, we can visit about that on Friday evenin’.” He jammed his hat back on. “Eh, you got purdy eyes, Miss Dev. They look like they care about people.”

  “That’s a nice thing to say. Thank you.”

  “Does it make up for the dumb thing about scrubbed potatoes?”

  “I believe so.”

  “That looks like Slater toolin’ down the road. I’ll talk to you on Friday.”

  “Yes, you will. And I will want to know all about what it was like to pioneer this area.”

  * * *

  The ranch turned out to be a large brush corral just west of Graybull, at the base of the Big Horn Mountains. Next to the corral was a huge, unpainted barn. The wood siding looked like a sand-blasted sign with only the knots in the lumber that retained their original dimensions. The breeze whistled as it bounced its way through the twisted sticks of the brush corral.

  With the taste of bacon still lingering from the Graybull breakfast, Develyn entered the corral behind Renny. He carried a harness looped on his right arm and a blue nylon lead rope, coiled and tucked in the back of his Wranglers.

  Inside the one-hundred-by-fifty-foot corral she spied a welded-pipe round pen and a nervous black horse that shied to the far end of the arena. The dirt in the corral floor had crusted after the last rain. Develyn felt a slight crunch with each step. The breeze was sage-filled, but dust free.

  Renny squatted down in the middle of the corral and stared at the horse.

  Develyn crouched on her haunches beside him. “Is this squatting thing genetic in all cowboys, or is it something you have to learn?”

  Renny didn’t take his eyes off the horse. “It’s ’cause we spend too many years too dirty to sit in chairs. Mama was particular that way.” He fingered the brown nylon halter. “She favors turnin’ left.”

  “Your mother?”

  “The horse.”

  Develyn glanced down at the long-legged horse that stood in the northeast corner of the corral. Her rump pointed toward them, yet she craned her neck to the left to keep an eye on them. “What do you know about this horse?”

  “Before I got here, I was told she’s two and a half years old, nine hundred pounds. She was born at the headquarters about five miles east of here. Her mama is Mrs. Castleford’s riding horse. They thought their daughter would train this one, but she decided she liked rebuilding old cars better. So they just turned it out in the pasture for two years. When she was young she was haltered and led around the headquarters. But since then, this big pasture has been home.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “Molly.”

  “So what are you doing out here?”

  “Sizing her up.”

  “What is she doing?”

  “Sizing us up. Hunkerin’ down here and not moving closer for a while will help her relax.”

  “Are you one of those guys like in the movie The Horse Whisperer ?”

  “I don’t know. I never tried to categorize myself.” Renny’s voice was low, soft. “But I did see the movie. Other than the morals and profanity, it wasn’t too bad.”

  “How long does this squatting period last?”

  “Until she turns around, faces us, and relaxes.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “Between two minutes and two hours.”

  “You can squat for two hours?”

  “Squattin’ ain’t the problem.” Renny didn’t take his eyes off the horse. “Gettin’ up and walkin’ afterward is the problem.”

  “What does it mean when she turns around to look at us?”

  “That she’s not trying to run away any more. Everything you see Miss Molly do today is predicated on fear. She is afraid of the unknown. Her instincts are to run away. A horse is mean only if it has been treated mean. She hasn’t been treated at all, but she’s scared. It’s OK to be scared. It’s something we all learn to deal with.”

  “Is it alright if I just sit in the dirt? I don’t think I am quite as good at squatting as you. My mother let me sit in the chairs when I was young. Of course, there were some chairs I couldn’t sit in.”

  “Be my guest, Devy-girl. Sorry I don’t have a blanket for you to park on.”

  Develyn scooted down and tucked her knees up under her chin. “Renny, where’s home for you? I know you have a place in Buffalo. But where were you raised?”

  “Hey, is this time for the story of my life?”

  “Yep, cowboy.” She patted his knee. “You said we could be here a while.”

  “Daddy was a roustabout. He worked the oil fields when the war was over and came out to Gillette in 1951. Mama was a ranch girl. My grandparents
had a modest place just west of Deadman Creek, about thirty miles east of Sheridan. Some of the church folk from that area went to Gillette in 1951 to set up a tent revival meeting to reach the souls of that rough crew of oil field workers.

  “Mama and her sister sang in the choir ever’ night. Not too many workers came to the meetings, and some who did showed up only as a joke. Daddy said a pal of his persuaded a few of them to go, because they were all broke and waitin’ for payday.”

  “Did your daddy go forward?”

  “Not during the first meeting. But he did go up and visit with my Aunt Paula.”

  “Your aunt? Not your mother?”

  “He said Mama scared him to death, so he warmed up on Aunt Paula. By the second night, he was visitin’ with Mama. And the third night he was saved and baptized.”

  “They baptized right at the tent meeting?”

  “In a stock tank.”

  Develyn grinned. “Somehow that makes perfect sense out here.”

  “Three weeks later they got married.”

  “Three weeks? They only knew each other three weeks?”

  “That’s it. Grandpa said they could get married only if Daddy quit the oil field work and came and worked the ranch at Deadman Creek.”

  “And he did?”

  “Yep. He was saved, married Mama, and went into ranching. He always said it was the best month of his life.”

  “Said? Has he passed away?”

  “We lost him to lung cancer when I was twenty-one.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She’s still at the ranch. My brother and his family live there. He runs the place. He’s a welder by trade, so he works in town some and makes a go of the place.”

  Renny pushed his black Resistol hat back. “Now that’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

  “No, not at all. When you learn someone’s background, you feel like you know them so much better.” Develyn pointed to the far end of the arena. “Look, Molly has turned toward us.”

  Renny stood and helped Dev to her feet. “Walk slow and keep your voice low.”

  “Should I not talk at all?”

  “No, I want her to get used to our voices.”

  They walked forward about fifteen steps, and the nervous black horse turned away from them.

  “Oh, no, what do we do now?” Dev asked.

  Renny squatted. “The same thing all over again. Only this time, you got to tell me about where you were born.”

  * * *

  Develyn kept track on her watch. It was fifty minutes before they squatted ten feet away from the black horse. She had told Renny a short version of most of her forty-five years.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  Renny spoke in a low monotone. “Now we’ve shared life stories.”

  “We didn’t tell everything.”

  “The details of why you left your husband is none of my business. I reckon I know enough about Develyn Worrell to realize you had a very good reason.”

  “Sometimes I’m not sure there is a good reason. But try as I could, I just couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him anymore.” Dev stared at the horse. “There, she turned around again. What’s the next step?”

  “Study her eyes.”

  “They are big and dark chocolate brown. What else do we need to know?”

  “Figure out how scared she is, whether she intends to break and run, which direction she’ll bolt, whether we’re still a threat or just a curiosity, if she has any aches and pains, and who will win the World Series this year.”

  Develyn elbowed Renny’s side. “You think I’m just a hick from Indiana? You think I just fell off the corn wagon?”

  “A month ago you would have believed me. Stand up, but don’t take a step.”

  When they stood, Molly began to prance.

  Renny held out his hand. “It’s OK, Miss Molly … we’re not goin’ to hurt you. You just need to learn a little horse sense. Now, normally your mama would have taught some of this to you. But your mama is busy packin’ around the boss’s wife, so you have to learn a few things from me and Devy-girl.”

  Without taking his eyes off the ear-twitching horse, he nudged Develyn. “OK, darlin’, talk to her gentle and take two steps to the right. Set yourself there and no matter what, don’t budge. She will want to break that way, but don’t let her. Just keep mumbling something. It doesn’t matter what, just show her that’s your territory and she can’t have it.

  Develyn eased right. “Are you setting me up to get run over by a wild horse?”

  “She’s not wild. Just unbroken.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Take another step.”

  “You said two.”

  “I didn’t know you would be so timid.”

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Neither has Molly.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to step up there and let her pet my hand with her nose.”

  “Don’t you mean you’ll pet her?”

  “Nope, it’s got to be her idea, or it won’t work. You just keep talking.”

  “What about?”

  “Shoot, I don’t know … about schoolteaching. Tell me about some of your students last year.”

  Renny took one step toward the horse. She tried to back up, but rammed her rump into the brush corral.

  “Molly, come here, darlin’ … ol’ Renny ain’t all that scary … keep talkin’, Dev. Tell me about who sits up close to Ms. Worrell … and why.”

  “Hmmm … somehow, schoolteaching is not on my mind. I’m trying to decide if she breaks this way, whether to hold my ground or save my life.”

  “Don’t move at all,” Renny insisted. Then he turned to the horse. “Come on, sweet Molly. Come rub your mouth on my hand. Come on, babe, you can do it.”

  Develyn pushed her hat back, then folded her arms. “Let’s see … who sat up front?”

  “Come on, baby … that’s the way … that’s the way.”

  Molly pointed her ears forward.

  “Renny is your pal. Come on …”

  Develyn didn’t take her focus off of Molly’s big, dark brown eyes. “To begin with, there is one student who spent most of the year in the corner of my room with his face to the wall.”

  The horse was now only inches from Renny’s hand. “He’s a pill, I take it. I imagine ever’ class has one of them.”

  “Her. Shelly M–A–C–L–E–A–N. That’s the way she would say her name.”

  “Worried about someone misspellin’ it, I reckon. I got called Kenny most of my life.” When the horse leaned toward Renny, he pulled back. “I want her to want it.”

  “Are you still talking horses?”

  “Yep, and you are talkin’ rebellious students.” This time, when Molly leaned forward, Renny left his hand there for her to nuzzle.

  “No, she wasn’t a troublemaker. Just the opposite. In the classroom she would never say a word, and was so nervous she would not do one speck of work.”

  Renny eased his hand across the black horse’s nose and began to stroke her neck. He spoke low, barely audible. “That’s a girl. That’s the way, Molly. Yeah … let me pet you a bit. You see? It’s not going to hurt.”

  “I knew she had been homeschooled. Her mother had to go outside the home to work. This was Shelly’s first classroom experience.”

  “Now, she’s thinkin’ serious of boltin’,” Renny declared. “Hold your ground, Miss Dev.”

  Develyn wiped sweat off the back of her neck and could feel the dirt start to cake. “Shelly always brought in her homework on time. She’s an extremely smart girl. But she was petrified to be in front of other children. I mean she would sit motionless until class was over.”

  Renny rubbed his hand over Molly’s neck and flank and withers. “You see, darl
in’ … that feels good, don’t it? You see what you been missin’? Devy, take one step toward her as you talk.”

  Develyn inched closer. “I was determined to make it work, so after several weeks of trying various things, I went to talk to her mother.”

  Renny rubbed Molly’s back with the nylon headstall. “No, darlin’ … think of this as a fancy necklace that will turn all those stallions’ heads. Yes, ma’am … you are goin’ to look beautiful with this on.”

  Molly shuffled her hooves in the dry clay of the corral.

  “Shelly, her mom, two brothers, and three sisters lived in an older two-bedroom single-wide mobile home on a narrow downtown lot.”

  “We’re approaching the moment of truth. When she feels this on her nose, she will get scared. Don’t budge. She is not a mean horse. She will not harm you. But she will want to run.”

  Through clenched teeth, Develyn continued. “The four girls have bunk beds in one room, the two boys in the other room, and the mother sleeps on the couch in the living room.”

  “OK, baby … this is it … I want you to be a good girl and do everything I tell you.”

  “OK,” Develyn murmured.

  “I was talkin’ to the horse,” he grinned. “Go on, tell me about Shelly and her mama.”

  “Daddy got tired of paying alimony and moved to Alaska, they think.”

  “That’s a good place to get lost, I hear. OK. Let’s do it right now. Whatever you do, don’t stop talking and don’t move.”

  Dev clutched herself tight. “Shelly was quite talkative in her own home. She led me to their tiny room. In one corner there was a wooden TV tray and a metal folding chair.”

  With a motion so quick Dev couldn’t follow it, Renny slipped the halter up on the horse’s nose. Molly pulled back and lunged at Develyn.

  “Don’t move,” Renny called out. “Just talk.”

  “The TV tray was her desk where she did all her homework,” Develyn shouted. Lord, I don’t want to die like this. I don’t mind going to heaven; I just don’t want to be mutilated by horse hooves before I get there. “Shelly was so proud of her little space. Renny, people in prison have more room than that.”

  The black mare slumped her head and relaxed her neck. Renny slid the halter up over her ears and had it buckled before she could tuck her ears back. His right hand had a firm grip on the bottom of the halter. “Keep talkin’, Devy. I like this little girl.”