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

  Cooper took the camera and pressed the silver metal button. “Don't blame yourself. The battery's dead.”

  “Have you got another one?”

  “No, do you?”

  She stared at the ruins of the cabin. “Not anymore. I'll go down to Mrs. Tagley's and get one.”

  “It takes two,” he called out.

  She marched back to the porch where Jackson and Casey whispered.

  “I got to go down to Mrs. Tagley's and get some batteries for the camera.”

  “You want to drive my truck?” Jackson offered.

  “No, I'll walk. I need some time to…”

  “Think things through?” Casey asked.

  Develyn stuck out her tongue. “Countess, I just hate it when you are right.”

  “Countess?” Jackson questioned.

  “It's a long story. Listen, Mr. Hill, I need you to identify this guy. Don't go running off.”

  Casey threw her arms around Jackson's neck and clutched him tight. “Don't worry, Dev, I'll make sure he doesn't get away.”

  Uncle Henry meandered beside her as Develyn strolled down the dirt driveway. He brayed when she patted his mane. “I know you are missing your Aunt Jenny, honey, but this is different. Delaney is my daughter. She doesn't know her way around Wyoming. I know she needs time to think, but she's had weeks and weeks to consider it. Yes, I know I can be intimidating. I know she always thinks she can't live up to my image of her. I don't make unreasonable demands. I just want her to have the best life possible. I want her to be all that the Lord created her to be. For Pete's sake, Uncle Henry, doesn't she know that I'm on her side?”

  The burro paused, and she stopped beside him.

  “You know what's scary, Uncle Henry? I just realized that my mother could give that same speech about me. This is crazy. I spend weeks fuming over my mother and then treat my daughter the same way. I have to be different. I'm not really like my mother, am I?”

  Uncle Henry brayed, then spun around and trotted back to the cabin.

  Develyn watched him run away. I'll take that for a yes. What got into you? I thought you wanted to go for a walk. Did you smell Aunt Jenny?

  “Where did your Shetland pony go?”

  Develyn turned back to see Leon Morton jog up to her.

  That's why Uncle Henry ran away.

  “Hello, Leon.” Develyn continued toward the road. “My burro ran off because you were mean to him.”

  “No, I wasn't! I saved his life.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “There was lightning all around. He could have been fried like when you drop wingless flies on a bug zapper. I saved him by shutting him in the outhouse. Have you ever heard of an outhouse gettin' hit by lightning?”

  “No, I don't think I have.”

  “See? I saved his life.”

  “From the burro's point of view, you locked him in a smelly place where he didn't want to be. I'm sure you can understand his anxiety.”

  “Sort of like being locked in a file drawer in the principal's office, I reckon.”

  “Someone locked you in a file drawer?”

  “No, I did it myself. How was I to know it had a self-locking door?”

  “I'll bet you were scared.”

  “Not as much as Mrs. Plouver.”

  “Why was she scared?”

  “She came into the principal's office a couple of hours later and pulled open the drawer.”

  “Did you yell at her?”

  “No, I just asked her for a sandwich. She screamed and fainted dead away.”

  “Yes, well, having students hide in the file cabinet might do that.” Develyn turned east on the main dirt road.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To Mrs. Tagley's.”

  “You goin' to buy yourself an orange Popsicle?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Is that the only thing you buy at the store?”

  “No, but I do buy a lot of Popsicles, don't I?”

  “That's OK. I know the reason.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, you are great with child.”

  “What? Why did you say that?”

  “Grandma said that she ate lots of Popsicles right before my daddy was born. So she said you were great with child.”

  “Do you know what that means, Leon?”

  “You're pregnant. You know, you had…”

  “That's enough, Leon. I'm not pregnant. I'm way too old.”

  “You are? But you can still…”

  “Leon, I do not want to talk about this with you.

  “Then why do you always buy orange Popsicles?”

  “I liked them when I was a little girl and haven't had them since. I love how cold they are.”

  “You know what I liked when I was a kid?”

  “I'm almost afraid to ask.”

  “Bananas.”

  “Oh, that's nice.”

  “Black bananas.”

  “Black? I don't think I've ever seen those.”

  “Sure you have. They all turn black sooner or later. Yep, you can just stick a straw in them and suck their guts out.”

  Lord, I will never complain about Dougie Baxter again.

  She heard an out-of-tune blast from a brass instrument.

  “I've got to go. Grandma thinks I'm hidin' under the porch waiting to scare the dog.”

  “Oh, dear, poor dog.”

  “He's the one who taught me that trick. Good-bye, pony lady.”

  “Good-bye, Leon.”

  “Hey, you'll get a free Popsicle.”

  “Why's that?”

  “The old lady that runs the store is dead.”

  Develyn grabbed her arms and hugged herself to keep from shaking. “Mrs. Tagley is dead?”

  “I went into the store for a package of Lil’ Debbies and couldn't find the old lady. I looked in the back room, and she was sprawled out there on the floor as dead as a goldfish in an ice-cube tray.”

  “Oh, my word, did you call the sheriff?”

  “Nah, I just took a pack of Lil’ Debbies for free. I figured she won't need the money now.”

  “She's still in the back room?”

  “I reckon so.”

  Develyn's side cramped as she sprinted to the general store. The screen door slammed behind her as she dashed to the back room.

  Mrs. Tagley was sprawled face down, next to her sofa.

  Lord, no...no...no...no!

  She dropped to her knees on the worn carpet. “Mrs. Tagley?” Develyn rubbed the bony shoulder. “Mrs. Tagley? Oh, please say something. You have to be OK. It's your Devy. Talk to me, Mrs. Tagley. Oh, please talk to me.”

  With great care she rolled the elderly woman over on her back and pressed her wrist. “Mildred, I need you, so don't you dare die on me.”

  There's no pulse. Lord, I can't find a pulse!

  Develyn's eyes searched the room as if expecting paramedics to be standing by.

  “Calm down, Ms. Worrell. You can do this. Get a hold of yourself.”

  That's it! There it is! A pulse. Thank you, Lord!

  “Mrs. Tagley, you just keep that heart pumping. I'm going to call for EMTs. They do have EMTs, don't they?”

  Develyn sat on the floor with Mrs. Tagley's head in her lap for forty-five minutes until the EMTs and an ambulance arrived.

  When they rolled her out through the front of the store, Develyn trailed along. “Can I ride in the ambulance with her?”

  “Are you her daughter?”

  “No, I'm just a friend and neighbor.”

  “Only family in the ambulance.”

  “Are you taking here to St. Joseph's in Casper?”

  “Yes, but we'll need to contact the family. Do you have some phone numbers?”

  “Mrs. Tagley has no family left.”

  “The
n we will need you to give a report to admissions. Can you bring IDs, Medicare cards, health insurance records?”

  “I'll look around and bring what I can.”

  On top of a cluttered oak desk, Develyn found Mrs. Tagley's purse. In the second drawer to the right, there was a metal box labeled “Personal Documents.” She grabbed both. On her way to the front door, she plucked the store key off a nail and turned off lights as she went. She jogged back toward the cabin.

  My Cherokee...Dee has my Jeep! I'll have to take Jackson's truck, or he can give me a ride. But I need to be here when Delaney gets back. Lord, this is out of control!

  With labored breath and aching legs, Develyn slowed to a walk back up the driveway.

  Cooper Tallon stood beside the porch talking to Casey and Jackson. He spied her and marched over.

  “What happened down there?”

  “Mrs. Tagley had a heart attack. They rushed her to the hospital in Casper. I've got her documents and have to go to town.”

  “I'll drive you,” he offered.

  “No, I'll just…”

  “I'm driving you to town, Dev. That's settled.”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “What can we do?” Casey called out.

  “Wait right here for Delaney. The moment she pulls in, hop in my Cherokee and drive her to the hospital. I have to talk to her.”

  She shoved Mrs. Tagley's purse and metal box into Cooper's hand. “Put these in your truck, honey. I have to run a comb through my hair and put on some lipstick. I'll grab my purse and be right back.”

  He stepped in front of her. “Dev, are you doing OK?”

  “I'm scared, Coop.”

  “About Mrs. Tagley or Delaney?”

  “About calling you ‘honey,’ and neither one of us flinched.”

  Develyn leafed through the yellowed papers in the small metal box as she sat in the corner of the emergency waiting room.

  “Oh, dear.” Develyn unfolded a stiff document. “She lost a son in the war, didn't she?”

  Cooper's voice was soft. “I heard she lost both boys.”

  “Oh, poor dear. No wonder she adopts everyone who comes through the door.”

  “I don't reckon Mrs. Tagley latches on to ever'one like she did you, Dev.”

  “I suppose there aren't a lot of choices in Argenta.” Develyn stared at the swinging double doors. “I don't know why they make me wait out here.”

  “You should have told them you were her daughter.”

  “I have a tough time lying. You can thank my mother for that.”

  “But you told Hunter that I was Mr. Worrell.”

  “I most certainly did not. He assumed it, and I didn't correct him. That's different. I'm trying to solve a mystery about him.”

  “I wonder what would have happened if ol' Hunter hadn't showed up about then?”

  Develyn studied Mrs. Tagley's purse. “I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone to the store?”

  “You're right. We ought to change subjects.”

  “And I wouldn't have gone to the store if your camera didn't need batteries.”

  “It must have been left on while it was down in the rocks.”

  “And we wouldn't have needed batteries right away except to show Jackson a picture of Hunter. So in a way, the Mr. and Mrs. Worrell thing led to finding Mrs. Tagley.”

  “Are you saying the end justifies the means?”

  “I'm saying the Lord can use anything to achieve his purpose.”

  “Yes, ma'am, I reckon he can.” Cooper stared down at his Wranglers. “Dev, where were you on March 24, 2002?”

  She studied his blue-gray eyes. “That's a very leading question, Mr. Tallon.” Am I finally going to learn something about his past? He's not really asking me. He wants to tell me something personal, and he's working up his nerve.

  “I suppose I was teaching fifth grade in Crawfordsville, Indiana. What is the significance of that date to the mysterious Cooper Tallon?” Lord, I hope it's something I can accept. Don't let him be a sex offender or a…

  “I don't think I've ever been called mysterious before.”

  Don't lose your nerve, Mr. Tallon. Tell me, straight out. I can take it. “Mysterious or not, what happened on March 28, 2002?”

  “March 24.”

  It must be something big. He's really nervous about it. “Yes, what happened, Coop?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Develyn felt her shoulders tense. “What?”

  He pointed to the Field & Stream magazine lying on the oak end table. “That issue is over four years old. March 24, 2002. Why don't they have current issues? For all the money it costs to come to the hospital, you'd think they'd have better magazines.”

  “Do you mean to tell me this is all about a magazine?”

  He tapped his finger on the date. “See?”

  “You set me up. I thought this was important.”

  “No need to snap at me like that.”

  “I didn't snap at you.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “Mr. Tallon, I did not snap at you.”

  He stared at his feet. “Let's ask that elderly gentleman with a cane over there if you snapped at me.”

  She tugged him back down, then whispered. “I was startled, that's all. I do not snap at anyone.”

  He patted her hand. “Not even at the fifth graders?”

  “Not even them. Well, perhaps I may have half snapped at Dougie Baxter once or twice.”

  “That's probably it. I overreacted. You merely half-snapped at me.”

  “Mr. Tallon, we were involved in a spiritual conversation about how the Lord uses our failures to accomplish his purposes, and then you lay an arbitrary date on me. I thought there was some connection.”

  “I can see that. Maybe there is.”

  “In what way?”

  “I was ponderin' the results if I'd met you in the spring of 2002.”

  “It would have been awful. Coop, my divorce was just about final. Delaney was running wild. I cried myself to sleep every night, if I slept at all. The only time I liked myself was in the classroom and going to rodeos.”

  “Rodeos helped you?”

  A large, redheaded lady rushed through the room with a crying baby in her arms. “Get Dr. Draymn right now!” she hollered.

  They watched her bang through the double doors.

  “You were talking rodeo?” he said.

  “It was an escape. I could get lost pretending to be something I wasn't. It gave me some relief. You did not want to know me that spring. I was a pathetic mess.”

  “That's tough to believe.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Tallon, the Lord was gracious to spare you from knowing me then. How about you, Coop? What did you do in the spring of 2002?”

  “You want to hear something really pathetic?”

  “I think so,” she murmured.

  “I can't remember 2002.”

  “Can't remember?”

  “That year, 2002, was just like 2003 and 2001. They all run together, Dev. One day is like the rest; one week like the other. The years blend together. Work hard all week. Go to church, nap, and do the laundry on Sunday. Then repeat it over and over and over. I don't have any other memories. Just a blur where I am tired and busy.”

  “That sounds sad.”

  “It gets worse. I can't remember any distinction in 1992 or 1982 either. It's like I grew up, went to work, and suddenly realized most of my life is past. I think I was wondering what it would have been like to know you back a few years.”

  “Well, 2002 was not my best.”

  A short, bald man crossed the waiting room to the counter, a towel draped over his left arm. When he pulled the towel back, there was a toaster stuck on his hand.

  “Oh, Mr. James, not again,” the registrar said.

  Develyn turne
d to Cooper. “Again?”

  “I reckon we've all done dumb things. But I've never seen that before.” He patted her knee. “Dev, when were your best years? When were those times you can point to and say, ‘Those were the best years of my life.’”

  “Sometime when Daddy was still alive, when Dewayne was still around.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yes, I miss him. There's a special bond that twins share.”

  “Would you go back, if you could?”

  “Sometimes I think about it. Sometimes I try to remember what it was like before the tears began.”

  “When was that?”

  “It was on a Saturday, about 4:00 p.m., four months after Delaney was born.”

  “That's getting exact.”

  “I was sitting on the brown tweed sofa, wearing a soft orange blouse that I had made myself. I was nursing Delaney. Spencer burst in after playing golf and stared at me. I think his words were, ‘Good grief, Develyn, when are you going to wean that child? I don't intend to stay married to an overweight milking machine.’”

  “He said that?”

  “Oh, yes. Then he went out and didn't come home until daylight the next morning. I cried myself to sleep that night. I had a tough time getting my weight back down after Dee was born.”

  “But you are so slim.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Tallon. Your flattery is gratefully accepted.”

  “You didn't cry every night for twenty years, did you?”

  “No, but that's where the tears began. How about you, Coop? When did your tears begin?”

  “I don't reckon I've cried much in my life, but there were plenty of ‘tears of the soul.’”

  “I like that phrase, ‘tears of the soul.’”

  Cooper stared across the emergency waiting room. “I think my golden years were my late twenties.”

  “That's not what I asked, Mr. Tallon.”

  “Let me ponder the other.”

  “OK, why were those your golden years?”

  “I was startin' my own business. All my dreams were up ahead. There was nothin' I couldn't do, and everything I was missin' I knew would come around in its time.”

  A woman with a wrinkled white blouse, carrying a baby in her arms, led a toddler of two out of the emergency room. The little boy trotted over to Dev and Coop. “Look,” he said as he held up his cast-covered arm, “I broke my arm.”