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

  “So what do you think I ought to do?”

  “Let me get back to horses. When you want a scared horse to do something, you have to wait until it sees your option as the best thing it can do for itself.”

  “You mean, forget the doctor's visit?”

  “For now. Just buy her the cutest little baby outfit you can find.”

  “What? But I can't…”

  “Get her a fancy maternity blouse.”

  “But we don't know if she's pregnant.”

  “Pick up a cute book of baby names.”

  “I'm not getting this, Coop.”

  “Sooner or later she'll say, ‘The only way I'm going to stop Mother from embarrassing me like this is to go to the doctor.’ Then let her go by herself.”

  “What if she invites me?”

  “Then you can go. Sit in the waiting room unless she wants you in the back room.”

  When they reached the cedars, they dismounted and walked the horses. Uncle Henry trotted up next to her.

  “You are amazing, Coop.”

  “I'm just an ol' cowboy who's been operatin' backhoes most of his life.”

  “I was married almost twenty years. Spencer, Delaney's father, and I raised her together for seventeen and a half years. Never once in those years did we ever have as meaningful a discussion about how to treat her as you and I just did.” She shook her head. “How come you weren't in Indiana in 1980?”

  “That's about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I don't think I ever met anyone I'd like to have known earlier in my life as much as you. I was in Alaska repairing a pipeline in 1980, making more money than I had ever imagined.”

  They mounted up and rode east through the scrub cedars.

  “I have a couple of questions for you, Mr. Tallon.”

  “Shoot.”

  “No reason for that. I don't carry guns and knives like Casey.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “It's a lame joke, but you're right, we needed a break. It's been kind of somber conversation. What do you do for fun, Ms. Worrell?”

  “What?”

  “Back home in Indiana, what do you do for fun?”

  “My friend Lily and I go to rodeos and concerts.”

  “No foolin'?”

  “It's our thing. Although, now that Lily found herself a nice lawyer, I might need a hobby I can do by myself. How about you, Coop? What do you do for fun?”

  “I make it to a rodeo or two. I always make it to the NFR.”

  “You've gone to the National Finals Rodeo?”

  “I've had season tickets ever since they moved to Las Vegas from Oklahoma City. Two seats in the Plaza section down by the ropin' boxes. How about you and your Lily pal usin' them this year?”

  “You have to be kidding me.”

  “Think about it. They're yours.”

  “They must be worth a fortune.”

  “Maybe, but you'd have to take them for free, or I won't give them to you. But my real fun has been collecting old Winchester rifles. If I get a chance, I'll buy some historic old gun. That's about it for fun.”

  “This summer has multiplied my fun.”

  “Mine too, Miss Dev.”

  “Are you trying to avoid my questions?”

  “No, ma'am. Ask away.”

  “How did your mother get along after your father died?”

  “Mama was always a frail lady, especially after the babies. She lived nine lonely months and died of a heart attack right before Christmas. I just don't think she wanted to face the holiday without Daddy.”

  “Oh, Coop, that must have been difficult.”

  “I don't mind tellin' you, Miss Dev, I shed a tear or two. Porter was still in jail when she died.”

  “You said your mom lost some babies. Do you mean miscarriage?”

  “I forget the medical term. It's too long and complicated to memorize. But Mama had a genetic defect. She could have boys but not girls.”

  “I've never heard of that.”

  “Neither had she. She lost two girls between me and my brother. After he was born, she got her courage up. She was determined to have a daughter. She carried six little girls to eight months, and then they died in the womb. Every one of them stillborn.”

  “What a heartbreak.”

  “Every loss took a little more out of her. The docs didn't figure it out until she lost the sixth one. By then I was sixteen. They gave me, Daddy, and Porter all the tests too, trying to figure it out. That's when they discovered that I carried the same problem as Mama.”

  “Is that why you never married?”

  “At first it was. I felt it wouldn't be fair to put any woman through what Mama suffered. What would I tell a lady: ‘We can have boys, but all the girls you will carry for eight months, and they will die in your womb’? I just couldn't do that.”

  “But I have several friends that have good, happy marriages without children. Wasn't that an option?”

  “In the sixties and seventies, all the women I met were wantin' families.”

  “So you threw yourself into your work?”

  “Yep. I was one of those who said, ‘If the Lord has someone for me, it will be his timing and his leading. But the years turned to decades, and no gal appeared.”

  “Some things I will never understand. There are child-abusing fathers all over the country who never should have had children. And you would have made a wonderful father. It doesn't make sense to me.”

  “Miss Dev, I have a suggestion. For the rest of this ride, we have to talk about pleasant things and leave the moping behind.”

  “That means I can't talk about your horse, Brownie, being sold?”

  “You can talk about good horses. That's a pleasant theme.”

  “Oh, goodie. Did your family live in Argenta when your horse was sold?”

  “No, Daddy was trying to make a go of things on some range property over by Riverton that was owned by my uncle's first wife's family.”

  “It didn't work out?”

  “The cow business has always been tough.”

  “So you came home, and your dad sold your horse. Did you ever see him again?”

  “We were close to the Wind River Reservation. Several of the men off the Rez would ask to cut through our place to go huntin' up on the ridge. If they drove across our place, they could pack the meat out in pickups instead of on their backs. They were a polite bunch. They kept us in elk jerky, which at times was our main meal for the day.”

  “He sold your horse to them?”

  “Brownie wasn't much to look at. Dirt colored and real slow movements. At first I thought he was retarded. He wasn't working out at the feed lot, and ol' man Pinkham gave him to me. He was the most sure-footed, loyal horse anyone could ever own. He took care of me and taught me all about cows. All I had to do was hang on, and he went to work. I got him when he was seven and had him five years.”

  “When did your dad sell him?”

  “About the time you were two, I guess. Let me tell you how loyal he was. I took my dad's coyote gun out hunting one time. I didn't tell him, but I grabbed his Winchester 1894, 25-35 carbine. I was about ten years old, and I wanted to shoot a bear that had killed one of our calves. Of course, that gun wouldn't kill a bear very easy, but a ten-year-old didn't know that.

  “When we got to the chaparral, I had it cocked and lying across the saddle. I decided to get down and take a bathroom break. I carried the carbine with me on the dismount, missed the stirrup, and crashed to the ground. The gun went off, and I shot ol' Brownie in the ear. I mean, I punched a round hole in his ear. He flinched, shook his head at the dripping blood, but never took a step.”

  Develyn put her hand over her mouth. “I don't believe it.”

  “It was mighty dumb, but the Lord looks after fools and kids.”

  “No, that's not what I meant. It was the right ear, wasn
't it?”

  “You know, that's what I never could figure. I got off on the left side of the horse, and shot him in the right ear. He must have cocked his head sideways. Wait a minute, how did you know it was the right ear?”

  “I don't believe this, Coop.”

  “What's goin' on that I don't know about?”

  “Was the Indian you sold Brownie to named Mr. Homer?”

  “Mr. Rooster Homer. What's going on here? Do we know the same man?”

  “We rode the same horse!” Develyn shouted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember I told you I spent two weeks here when I was ten?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The horse I rode was named Brownie.”

  “And I said lots of horses had that name.”

  “But the man who allowed us to ride the horses was Mr. Homer, and Brownie had a scar in his right ear that the owner said was a bullet hole he got as a young pony. I imagined he was a veteran of some historic western battle.”

  “Wait, are you saying you rode my horse, Brownie, when you were ten?”

  “Brownie was in his early twenties then. I rode him for two weeks. I've dreamt about him for thirty-five years. Those dreams are the reason I came out here this summer.”

  “You rode Brownie? You really did?”

  “Yes, is this incredible or what?”

  “I can't quite believe this.”

  “If he shied away, I'd sit on the ground with my back toward him. He'd sneak up and droop the reins over my shoulder.”

  “I taught him that,” Cooper claimed. “That way, I didn't have to picket him around a campfire. As long as I had my back toward him, he would hover near me and not wander off.”

  “I don't know what to say. This is…this is so wild. I mean, it's almost like we are related. Brownie has been an important part of my dream life since I was ten.”

  “I haven't thought about Brownie in years and years.”

  “I haven't dreamt about him since the night before last.”

  “It does make us seem a little closer friends, doesn't it?”

  “Me and Mr. Tallon?” Dev drawled. “Why, we were ridin' the same horse thirty-five years ago.”

  “Kind of fun to think about,” he added. “I don't think I ever pondered much who were all the other people who rode this horse or that one. I think about it with my old Winchesters, wonderin' which cowboy carried them and what he pointed it at. But I never thought about a horse. We do have a mutual friend, Miss Dev. I like that. Maybe that's why the Lord allowed him to get sold out from under me, so that a ten-year-old girl from Indiana could learn to ride.”

  “Well, thank you for all the fine training, Mr. Tallon. Brownie was a very good horse, even as an old man. He was about the plainest looking horse I ever saw. But oh my, he was smart.”

  “Miss Dev, this has certainly turned out to be a great day. That's the springs up there.”

  “We're here already? Time flies when you're having fun.”

  “It wasn't all fun. Time flies when you're with a good friend.”

  Develyn trailed behind him as they crossed the creek and broke into the clearing. “We have become good friends, haven't we? Are these markers the corners of your house? I love the location.”

  “Actually, that's my shop. The house is marked by those rocks up there. Do you think I should move the house down here?”

  “It's a better view.”

  “That's why I put the shop here. I figure I'll spend more time in the shop than the house.”

  “That all depends, doesn't it?”

  “On what?”

  “Whether you are living alone or not.”

  He stared at her until she glanced down at the creek.

  “You can put the house anywhere you want,” she said.

  “I've decided to put the house down here. The driveway will come in up above, and the shop needs to be near the roadway.”

  They dismounted and tied the horses to a cedar.

  “Let me show you what it looks like up here. I'm thinking a two-story house would be nice. You know, have a better view.”

  “Yes, definitely, a log house facing the southwest. You'll need a forest green metal roof, white lace curtains on the dormer windows, and green shades that match the color of the roof.”

  “You are something, Miss Dev. I don't reckon I've ever gotten to know anyone so quick as I have you.”

  “That's easy to explain. We rode the same horse.”

  “That must be it.”

  “Coop, I have one more question for you.”

  “Is it a sober one, or a fun one?”

  “I'm not sure. The other night after that wonderful supper and visit, you walked me back to the cabin.”

  “And shook your hand?”

  “Yes. Did you do that because of this deal with the babies and just not wanting to get too close to women?”

  He began to laugh. “No, it was because I was just scared of you.”

  “Scared?”

  “You are a pretty lady, Miss Dev, and I'm an old man.”

  “Age doesn't have anything to do with this.”

  “Well, if that's the case, if given the chance, I do not intend to repeat that same mistake. If that's alright with you?”

  “It's alright with me,” she murmured.

  Do you plan to have much company?”

  Cooper pulled off his cowboy hat and scratched his head. “What do you mean?”

  Develyn shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head. “When you get your big, beautiful home built back here, do you plan to entertain much?”

  He dragged the point of his boot across the soft dirt. “I don't think so.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What's that ‘hmmm’ about?”

  “You need people in your life. You can't retire and crawl into a cave.”

  He shoved his hat back on. “Perhaps I should enroll in a charm school.”

  “Yes, and an Arthur Murray dance course. Some cooking classes at a local college.” Develyn plucked up a three-foot stick from behind a small sagebrush.

  Cooper Tallon's gray eyes widened. His jaw dropped.

  Develyn grabbed his hand and towed him across the clearing. “You are the only person in Wyoming who is easier to tease than me.”

  He laughed and patted her hand. “Good, for a minute there, I felt on the edge of a cliff about to tumble to my death. You have no idea how terrifying such things sound.”

  With both hands on the stick, she began to draw a line in the dirt that connected the corner markers of the proposed house. “You don't have to do any of those things. You are quite charming in your own, ol' -cowboy-hard-working-construction-boss gruff way.”

  “Thank you, ma'am, for that wonderful compliment. It was a compliment, wasn't it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you drawing out my house?”

  She stood and wiped the back of her hand across her cheek. “Yes. I need perspective. I insist that you build your house to entertain guests. You'll need a quality road back here that's accessible year-round by people who might not be used to Wyoming winters.”

  “Perhaps Indiana schoolteachers?”

  “I am certainly going to check on you from time to time. Someone has to make sure you're eating your vegetables.”

  “What?”

  “I love it, I love it, I love it. I have someone to tease. I've been the object of so many jokes for these months. Now I have someone to tease.”

  He erased part of her dirt line with his boot and drew two slashes. “This is the front door, don't you reckon. Building a good road back here will be the easy part. I've been doing that kind of construction for years.”

  Develyn put the line back in the dirt with her stick and pointed eight feet to the left. “The door must be there. It's important for those who drive up to
the house to see the front door. Now let me tell you why you need to build a home fit for entertaining. First of all, be optimistic. The Lord might lead you to a wonderful person to share this home with.”

  Develyn glanced up to see if Coop was grinning, but his gaze looked distant. “You will want a place that is large and comfortable and doesn't give her cabin fever. Right, Coop? Are you listening to me?”

  He nodded.

  “Now, here's a second reason for a big place. The charming Mr. Tallon, even if he chooses to remain single, will have company from time to time. This part of the state is so isolated and remote, they will need a place to stay. So plan for overnight guests with plenty of space for everyone. That means nice guest rooms and extra baths. You are planning on having indoor plumbing, right?”

  Tallon nodded as if answering a lengthy survey.

  She etched out one-foot-by-one-foot squares in the dirt. “It's your terra-cotta tile entry.” She shuffled her feet. “Don't you just love tap dancing on tile? OK, now here's a third reason for the big, spacious home. This home will outlive you. Someday it will belong to someone else. Part of your legacy to them is to provide a home that will be comfortable and useful for others as well. I'm talking more than resale value, although that is a factor. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured.

  “So putting those ideas together, I vote–that is, if I had a vote–for you to build a large, spacious home. I know that is a lot of house to clean, but perhaps you could hire someone to come out from Casper once a week and do housework. What do you think?”

  He drew his boot toe across the dirt.

  “Coop? Did you hear anything I said?”

  He took the stick from her hand. “You know, Dev, it's funny. I learned how to keep so busy 24/7 that I never had to think about myself. And I didn't have to ponder about the future. Those words pierced me to the soul.”

  “Which words?”

  He outlined the living room in the dirt. “Share the rest of my life with someone.”

  “I didn't mean for them to disturb you.”