“You talkin’ about dryin’ me out?”
“Rehab, it’s called. I know some boys it really helped. But you have to sign up for twelve weeks, and you don’t get to leave.”
“Three months is a long time.”
“You’ve got a pretty big problem, Walt. Besides, think about how pleased Mary will be when you are sober all the time and slicked up handsome.”
“I do scrub up good.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Does that New Mexico place cost a lot of money?”
“It ain’t cheap, but I can get you a scholarship. For some students, they will pay everything.”
“How do I get there?”
“Let’s let Johnson County worry about that.”
“How do I do that?”
“What if you contacted the sheriff’s office and asked them to come pick you up? Tell them you need some help and you’re willing to do rehab in New Mexico, if they get you there.”
“You think they’ll do that?”
“They don’t want to pay your room and board at the county jail.”
“You goin’ to tell them about the gun?”
“What gun?” Renny replied.
Walt dropped his head in his hands. “You’re the only friend I got left, Renny.”
“You get yourself cleaned up, you’ll be surprised how many friends you have. You want me to get that phone for you?”
“Will you or the rodeo gal call them for me?”
“Nope. We promised you we wouldn’t. You got to make the call. I’ll dial it for you.”
“You’ll wait with me ’til they come?”
“You know I will.”
“You’ll see that my truck gets home?”
“We’ll drive it for you.”
“How about my gun?”
“Why don’t I keep it until you get home from New Mexico? You ready for the phone?”
“I’m ready for things to be different, Renny. I truly am.”
* * *
The sun lowered over the horizon when Renny pulled into Argenta and drove past Mrs. Tagley’s. Uncle Henry met them at the road and trailed behind to the cabin.
“Well, Mr. Renny Slater, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Renny shook his head. “Dev, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for the danger I put you in.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Renny, you are the bravest man I have ever known. Being with you is like riding in the Old West with my cowboy hero. Whether you are diving after a panicked horse, or standing down a drunk with a gun, you are awesome. It’s a privilege to call you my friend.”
“What do you think about that college coaching job?”
“I don’t know. I’ll pray about it. I think it’s a great opportunity for some stability for you. But I’m not sure you’re called to have a stable life. Where would Ivan and Lovie and Little Buster and Naomi and Mary and Walt … and all those kids in Douglas be if they didn’t have their Renny? You are needed here by hundreds of different people in hundreds of different ways. You can do some things that no one else can. Wyoming needs you, Renny Slater.”
“How about Ms. Worrell?”
Develyn laughed. “I was told that I am too old. But I do have a cherished trophy. You will be my good friend forever. I’m going to need you too. A cowboy girl always needs a hero.”
“The schoolteacher and the mustang breaker. We make a pretty good team, Devy-girl.”
This time he kissed her on the cheek.
* * *
Develyn pressed the orange Popsicle against her forehead. She plopped down next to her brother on the wagon seat in front of Mrs. Tagley’s store and stared out at the bright Wyoming day.
“I didn’t know it could be so hot out here. Before we came, I thought Wyoming was all mountains covered with trees and always cold.”
Dewayne held half his Popsicle in one hand and the other half in the other. He rotated his licks from one to the other.
“It’s windy every day. Daddy says Wyoming is the air freeway that connects the west and the midwest, and there is always a lot of traffic going both ways.”
Develyn lapped at the bottom of her Popsicle. Three drops had already hit her pink T-shirt. “Did I tell you that I’m moving to Wyoming?”
Dewayne chomped off half of one Popsicle with a single bite. “When?”
“After I graduate from college.”
He traced his carved initials with a clean-licked Popsicle stick. “I thought you were going to be a schoolteacher.”
“I am,” she said.
“You going to teach school in Wyoming?”
“No, I’m going to teach school in Crawfordsville.”
“So, how are you going to live in Wyoming at the same time?”
“I will have two houses. I’ll spend summers and vacations here. And during the year, I’ll stay in Crawfordsville. Mrs. Ralston has a house in Wisconsin. So I’ll have a house in Wyoming.”
“What if your husband doesn’t want to do that?” Dewayne pressed.
“I cannot imagine a husband not wanting to do everything I ask.”
“Neither can I.” Dewayne stood up as he finished his second half of the Popsicle. “But I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”
“Where are you going?”
“Daddy said Mr. Homer traded a Ford transmission for a filly. I wanted to go look at it.”
Develyn slurped at her Popsicle and watched it drip on her bare knee. “The transmission or the filly?”
“The filly.”
“I want to go too.”
“You don’t have on any shoes.”
“My feet are tough.” She trotted down the wooden steps and into the dirt yard after him.
“Devy-girl, I’m going clear to the corral, and I’m not going to carry you on my back.”
“And I’m not going to carry you either, Dewayne Upton. I’ll race you.”
“You can’t outrun me even if you had on your shoes.”
“Hah!” she yelled, then took off and raced west down the dirt road.
* * *
The eight-month-old gray filly pushed her nose through the rails of the corral fence when Dewayne staggered up, toting his twin sister on his back.
“I knew I’d have to do this,” he grumbled, then shoved her down.
“I stepped on a sticker.” She pointed to her toe, then bent over and peered between the rails. “Isn’t she cute?”
“She looks like a regular horse, only smaller,” Dewayne mumbled.
“Posh. She’s adorable.” Develyn stroked the horse with a sticky hand. “You are a very pretty girl. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?” Develyn held the dripping orange Popsicle in front of the filly’s lips.
The horse slapped it to the dirt with one swat of her long thin nose.
Develyn stared at the Popsicle lying in the powdery corral dirt.
Dewayne burst out laughing.
Her hands on the hips of her pink shorts, Develyn bit her lower lip and fought back the tears. “That was terribly, terribly rude!” she cried. “I hope your mother teaches you some manners.”
“Horses don’t need manners,” Dewayne insisted.
“Well, this one does.” Develyn stared at the big dark brown eyes. “But she’s still a baby. She has a lot to learn.”
“I think I’ll go fly my kite.”
“I’ve jammed a sticker in my toe. You’ll have to carry me back to the house.”
“I pulled the sticker out.”
“It still hurts. Good-bye, honey,” she said to the horse. “I’ll come back and see you when you learn some manners.” Develyn reached over to stroke the filly’s nose.
The horse turned her head sideways and bit Develyn’s finger.
“Ouch! Did you see that? She bit my finger! That hurt,” Develyn
wailed.
“Then you won’t notice the pain in your feet when you walk to the cabin,” Dewayne said.
“I try to be nice, I try to do things for her, and look what she does. That is terribly, terribly rude!”
“What is terribly, terribly rude?”
“Her mother needs to teach her more than manners.”
“Whose mother?”
There was an abrupt shaking of Develyn’s shoulder.
“The … eh … Casey?”
“Were you dreaming of horses again … or your Delaney?”
Develyn sat up in the yard chair, then toweled the sweat off her forehead. “I don’t know.” She gazed at the sun, halfway across the afternoon sky.
“You were mumbling about someone being rude.”
The shotgun blast followed by a shout, “Leon, you get back here!” brought Develyn to her feet.
“What time is it?”
“Time to go to the airport and get Delaney. Ms. Worrell … are you ready for your daughter?”
Develyn shoved her sunglasses high on her nose. “Casey, I’ve never been more ready in my life.”
DEDICATION
FOR SHEILA AND VALERIE
Copyright © 2006 by Stephen Bly
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
Published by B&H Publishing Group
Nashville, Tennessee
978-0-8054-3173-5
Dewey Decimal Classification: F
Subject Heading: ROMANCES WESTERN STORIES
Don't run away!”
The paint filly scampered behind the old weathered barn. Ten-year-old Develyn Upton sprinted after her.
“Come back. I don't want to play hide-and-seek.”
With several orange spots dribbled on her white shirt, Develyn paused beside the pine siding, crossed her arms, and peeked around the corner of the barn.
Where is she? Lord, this is a very, very naughty little girl horse. You could make all horses to be well mannered. I think you made a mistake with this one.
The month-old foal bolted into the barn where several missing boards created an undesigned doorway.
“You can't hide in there. I am your friend.”
Develyn ducked into the dim light of the barn and waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Sun rays filtered through cracks in the wood siding, making the stale dust sparkle like a golden-brown fog.
“This is a very smelly barn and not a good place for a young girl like you. I'm going to take you back to your mother.”
The noise from the corner sounded like a bucket being kicked over.
“I know you're in here.”
She spied a flash of color on the other side of the wood pile.
“I see you over there. I promised Mr. Homer I would keep you in the corrals, so you better come back with me right now.”
Develyn took slow, baby steps toward the mound of split firewood. “Yes, you are a very pretty black-and-white pony, but you have a lot to learn. I only have a short time to teach you.”
She spied another blur of black-and-white.
“OK, enough of this. You are coming with me right now, young lady. I have you cornered. You're pinned against this old barn.”
Develyn jogged around the firewood, waving her arms. “You can't run away from me. I am very stubborn, and I always get my way.”
The small black-and-white animal turned its rear toward Develyn and hiked its bushy tail.
“No!” Develyn screamed. “I'm not talking to you. Go away.”
The skunk hissed.
“Don't you do that!”
“Do what?”
“You know what I'm talking about, young lady.”
“Mother?”
Fingers brushed Develyn's blonde bangs off her forehead.
“Mother, are you dreaming?”
Develyn Worrell sat up and sniffed the air. “Delaney?”
“I think you were dreaming.”
Develyn stared around at the cabin's shadows.
“What is it you didn't want me to do?”
Silent lightning to the west lit the interior. For a second Develyn could see the sleepy face of her daughter on the thick inflatable mattress next to her bed.
A second voice filtered in from the right. “She always dreams of horses.”
Develyn sat up, the sheet dropped to her waist. When thunder rolled, she jerked it back to her neck, even though the cabin was jet black. “Go back to sleep. Sorry to wake you up.”
“I don't remember you talking in your sleep at home in Indiana,” Delaney said.
Develyn rubbed her neck, then lay down. “I don't remember going to sleep at home. At least, not for years.”
“Do you sleep better in Wyoming?”
“I do everything better in Wyoming.”
Delaney's voice softened to a whisper. “Mom, I'm glad I came out to see you.”
“So am I, Dee.”
Develyn could hear Casey's rhythmic breathing. She rolled on her side in the direction of her daughter's mattress.
Lord, I know I've made mistakes. And you and I know Spencer made mistakes. But it doesn't seem fair that our daughter has to pay for them. None of it was her fault. Keep her safe. Tonight...tomorrow…
The flannel sheets felt good against her legs. She turned the pillow over and nested her head on the cool side.
This time there were no horse dreams.
Or skunk dreams.
“Was that thunder or an explosion?” Delaney asked.
“Did it sound like a shotgun?” Casey inquired. “That could be Mrs. Morton.”
“It was like a big balloon popped,” Delaney added.
Develyn propped up on her elbow and yawned. “I'm sure it was thunder. Every sight and sound and smell seems to magnify out here. It will blow over quick.” She plopped down on the pillow. “We need some sleep. We must have talked until 2:00 a.m.”
“Mother, I'm worried,” Delaney whispered.
“I know, honey. We'll take you to the doctor on Friday. Let's just trust the Lord. Whatever we have to face, we will face it together.”
“No, Mom, I'm worried about that noise. I think it was a bomb.”
“In Argenta, Wyoming? Dee, this is a dirt-road town. It's the last place on earth anyone would bomb.”
“It shook the windows in the cabin.”
“A strong wind will rattle this cabin,” Casey said.
“What is that smell?” Delaney asked.
Develyn closed her eyes. “A skunk.”
“No, it isn't. I know what a skunk smells like.”
Develyn sucked air through her upturned nose. “Sulphur.”
“What?” Casey called out.
“It's that sulphur smell like the smoke from a stick match.”
“Oh, no,” Casey moaned. “Pull your covers over your head!”
The flash of white light and the explosion hit at exactly the same moment. The blast shattered windowpanes and ripped the front door from its hinges. The heavy door slammed down on the front porch. The wind roared like a convoy of semi-trucks, and rain pelted the covers like a barrage of BBs.
“Mother!”
“Delaney, are you alright?”
“Don't get out of bed!” Casey yelled.
The second blast sounded to the north a few feet and the third somewhere in the corrals to the southwest.
“What is it?”
“We got hit by lightning!” Casey shouted. “Don't get out of bed. The residual jolt can kill you.”
“What are you talking about?” Develyn asked.
“This cabin is electrified.”
“But we are OK.”
“The mattresses insulated us.”
“Mother, I'm scared.”
“What do we do, Casey?”
“Just give
it a little time. It will die down quick.”
“There's busted glass all over my bed,” Develyn announced.
“Everything's getting wet,” Delaney whined.
Develyn strained to see in the darkened cabin. “Can I get my flashlight?”
“No, don't touch it,” Casey warned.
“Mom, I don't know what to do,” Delaney cried. “What is going on?”
“Casey, are you sure?”
“Do you have on your watch?” Casey asked.
‘Yes.”
“Is it working?”
Develyn pressed the light on her watch. “The light doesn't come on.”
“It shorted out,” Casey said. “Take your watch off and toss it on the floor.”
“Why?”
“Do it.”
Develyn tossed the watch toward the open front doorway. When it hit the floor, it snapped and sparked like jumper cables hooked to the wrong post.
“Mother, do something,” Dee whimpered.
“Don't get up!” Casey yelled again.
“Do your lips feel funny?” Delaney called out. “I think my lips are burned.”
“I'm going to jump over to your mattress,” Develyn announced.
“Be careful,” Casey cautioned.
“There's some broken glass over here, Mom.”
“At the next flash of lightening, I'm hopping over there.”
From somewhere near the arena, thunder boomed and lightning flashed.
Develyn jumped to the inflated mattress stretched between the two beds and into Delaney's arms.
“Are you alright, honey?”
“Mother, I'm scared.”
“So am I, Dee. Casey, are you alright?”
Cree-Ryder's long black hair tumbled to her shoulders. “Do you smell smoke?”
Develyn sniffed. “Nothing can burn in this downpour.”
“Do you smell smoke?” Casey repeated.
“I smell it,” Delaney said.
“This cabin cannot be on fire,” Develyn insisted. “I will not allow it.”
Casey barked the orders. “When the lightning flashes, look for your tennies. If you can reach your shoes without touching the floor, do it.”
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 47
