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

  “Now you are sounding like my mama.”

  A white Buick sedan with Ohio license plates pulled into the dirt parking area in front of the store. Develyn watched as an older, white-haired man wearing a blue golf shirt, khaki Bermudas, black socks, and shoes emerged from the car and hurried around and opened the door for a woman in crisp white tennies that contrasted with the deep purple slacks and matching short-sleeved blouse. Arm in arm, they sauntered up to the porch.

  Jackson stood and opened the door. “Good morning, and welcome to Argenta.”

  “Thank you. We pulled off looking for a store. This is a store, isn't it?” the lady asked.

  “Argenta's finest.”

  The man grinned and nodded at Develyn. “I told my Barbara that it had to be open because there were young people on the porch eating Popsicles.”

  “Thank you for the compliment.”

  The lady offered a soft smile. “When you're our age, everyone is a young person.”

  As they entered the store, Develyn listened to Jackson's voice. “What can I find for you?”

  “We need some of those cold/flu pills that fizz. I saw them on Oprah and felt like we need to take one before we get to Yellowstone.”

  The voices filtered through the screen door. Develyn leaned over to hear the conversation.

  “This is a little store, but we do have two different types of pills for that. You may certainly buy that one. The other we have is a couple of dollars cheaper, and the May issue of Consumer Today rates it more effective. Buy whatever you are confident in, but my mother says the cheaper ones really work.”

  “Is that your mother on the porch?”

  Develyn flopped back against the wagon seat and chewed on her Popsicle stick.

  “No, my mother teaches school up in Sheridan. Every winter she used to get the same colds that the students got, but this stuff has kept her healthy the past couple of years.”

  “I was superintendent of schools for thirty-one years,” the man proclaimed. “Let's take the young man's suggestion.”

  “Well, I hate to shun dear Oprah. Why don't we buy both, dear? That way we can compare.”

  Develyn rubbed her tennis shoe on the orange spot on the porch as if that would erase it. You are a salesman, Jackson Hill. They will be inviting you to visit them any time now.

  When they emerged from the store, the man carried a small plastic bag. The lady toted an orange Popsicle.

  She nodded at Develyn. “I haven't had one of these in years.”

  “They are very tasty.”

  The man led the way across the dirt yard. “Come along, Barb. We'll walk down to that corral and back for a little exercise.”

  The woman turned to Dev. “He won't let me eat it in the car. He's afraid I'll drip it on the leather seats. Says I eat them too slow.”

  “She just licks and licks and licks until she makes a mess,” the man reported.

  Develyn glanced at Jackson, who stood in the doorway. He shook his head.

  She marveled at the number of customers who found their way to Mrs. Tagley's. She had just restocked the soda case when a honk from a large truck brought her out to the porch.

  Cooper Tallon drove a dump truck with a trailered skip-loader towed behind. “I thought you might be here,” he called out. “Did you pull everything out of the rubble that you want? The rest will be hauled off.”

  She glanced back. “You are on your own, Jackson. I'll stop back on my way to Casper to see Mrs. Tagley. Be sure and get something to eat for lunch. Help yourself to what's in her fridge. It will all spoil before she comes home.”

  She trotted out to the truck and could barely hear Jackson's “Yes, Mother.”

  “Hey, truck driver, can you give a girl a ride?”

  “Sorry, lady, I never give rides to purdy women.”

  Develyn yanked her mouth wide open with her fingers and stuck her tongue out. “Is that ugly enough for a ride?”

  “That will work,” Cooper laughed. “Come on.”

  They pulled into the long driveway back to the cabin and noticed Leon running toward them. Cooper stopped the rig, and Develyn rolled down the window.

  “I'm going home, and you can't talk me out of it,” he cried.

  “What's the matter, Leon?” she asked.

  “I'm not going to play with him again.”

  “Play with whom?”

  “I went up to let your pony mule out of the pen, and he bit me in the butt.”

  “Uncle Henry bit you?”

  “It hurt.”

  “I'm sorry, Leon. I'll scold him.”

  “Tell him I ain't comin' back.”

  “I'll mention that.”

  Leon spun around. “Did he rip my jeans?”

  Develyn noticed a half-eaten carrot sticking out of his pocket. “No, they are fine.”

  Leon pulled up his wrinkled red T-shirt and wiped his eyes. Develyn noticed foot-long, parallel scars sliced diagonally across his stomach. She reach into her pocket and pulled out three quarters. Develyn leaned out the window and handed them down. “Leon, why don't you stop by the store for a Little Debbie. Maybe that will make you feel better.”

  He grabbed the quarters. “Yes, ma'am,” he grinned, “I reckon it will.”

  Cooper eased the truck and trailer into the yard. “I guess Uncle Henry gained a little respect.”

  “Yes. Did you see…”

  “I saw.”

  “Do you think…”

  “Those weren't scars from surgery, Dev. No one has parallel incisions. But they looked old. Do you know anything about Leon before he came to visit his grandmother?”

  “No. I haven't heard a thing. It certainly changes my attitude.”

  Cooper drove on up the drive. “I reckon all of us have a few hidden scars.”

  The hum of the tires on the highway reminded Develyn of the band warm-up before a concert. Plenty of noise but no discernable melody. She turned on her Eagles CD and listened to half of Hotel California, then turned it off.

  Maybe it's the caffeine. I'm so edgy. Too many loose ends. In a few days I need to drive home. Home to what? Home to my two cats … and my classroom of fifth-graders? No Quint. No Renny. No Cooper. No Casey. No Uncle Henry. No My Maria. Delaney said that she wants to live in West Lafayette, whether she goes to Purdue or not.

  Will I just mope around at night and reminisce about summer? Will I go down to Greencastle on Sundays and have their potpie, then drive straight home? Will I vegetate in the living room with the lights out, watching a fake fire in the fireplace?

  This summer has made a difference. I just don't know what the difference is yet. So much I don't know.

  Lord, I'm not ready to go home. I wish the girls had returned from Riverton before I left. Why didn't Delaney call from the doctor's office? Maybe she just couldn't tell me. Casey could have called. Maybe there are complications. I should have gone with her. I should be there.

  But she didn't want me to be.

  I am determined to return to Indiana with a good relationship with my daughter.

  I'm not putting pressure on you, Lord, but you've got about a week for that one.

  Then there is poor Mrs. Tagley. She's outlived her family and friends. I want to encourage her, but I don't have the right words to say.

  And I can't go home without knowing what Hunter Burke is up to.

  And then there is Cooper. Dear Coop. The more I know about him, the closer I feel. What a joy to live close enough that we could be friends. He would be a great neighbor. He is a great neighbor.

  I'm not going there, Lord. It's not about me.

  I've got to get my mind off going home. I need to take care of some things today. Right now.

  The small, battered, black pickup's headlights blinked behind her. Develyn glanced at the speedometer, then ahead at the hill. I have no idea why you are blinking those lights
. When her eyes went back to the rearview mirror, the truck was nowhere in sight.

  The whine of a small engine turned her head.

  He's passing me? Uphill? Over a double yellow line?

  A semitruck crested the hill and barreled down on the little truck. Develyn stomped on her brakes and pulled off the road to the right in a cloud of dust.

  The small truck swerved south to the correct lane and shot on up the hill. The semitruck veered so quickly to the north that the right wheel lifted off the ground.

  “Oh no!” Develyn groaned.

  The tires slammed back down on the road. The truck and trailer skidded down the gradual embankment and came to a brake-squealing stop in the sage.

  Develyn jumped out and sprinted toward the truck. By the time she reached it, the driver slid to the ground, bent over, with his hands on his knees.

  “Are you alright?” she called out.

  He stood up and hurried to tuck his shirt in. “Yes, ma'am. Thanks for stoppin'. That's way too close. I thought I was going to lose my lunch.”

  “I thought you were going to lose a lot more than that.”

  He looked back up the now-empty road. “What a jerk.”

  “I have a cell phone. Can I call anyone for you?”

  “No, I'm covered. When I relax, I figure I'll be able to drive back up on the road. This old Peterbilt didn't tip over, so I should be able to get on down the road.” He stuck out his hand. “I'm Max.”

  She shook his calloused hand. “I'm Dev.”

  “Say that again.”

  “I know it's unusual, but my name is Dev, D-e-v. That's short for…”

  “For Develyn.”

  “How did you know? No one ever guessed my name before.”

  “We met once. I'll be. Can't believe I'd stumble across you out here.”

  She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Where did we meet?”

  “Your sister introduced us.”

  “My sister?”

  “Stef…she works at Thelma Lou's in Iowa. It was early summer, or was that last summer?”

  “Of course!” Develyn pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Max Knowlton from Tacoma.”

  “How did you remember that?”

  “I don't know. I can just hear Stef calling your name.”

  “Ain't that somethin'? Was that this summer?”

  “Yes, it was. But it does seem like a long time ago.”

  “Thanks for pullin' over when you did. If you'd held your lane, we'd all be in a pile.”

  “Have you seen Stef lately?” Develyn asked.

  “I had me a chicken-fried steak there two nights ago. How about you?”

  “I haven't talked to her since June, but I'll be stopping by in a week or so.”

  “If you were headin' west, I'd buy you supper in Lander.”

  “Thanks, Max. If I were heading west, I'd take you up on that. I'm going to Casper to visit a friend in the hospital. Mrs. Tagley is in her nineties and had a heart attack.”

  “Well, she's got my prayers, and you, too, Ms. Dev. You got a mighty fine sister. She treats every driver special.”

  “Thank you, Max. I'll tell her.”

  Develyn pulled into the first gas station in Casper and filled up the tank.

  Well, Lord, you got my eyes off the future, alright. I can't believe the trucker was someone I knew. I don't think I know more than three truck drivers on the North American continent. Why Max? Why did you do that?

  Stef? I haven't thought of her for weeks. I will definitely stop back and see her. Delaney will be with me.

  I think.

  Dev studied the tall gray-haired man who filled the tank of the silver Lincoln with Colorado plates ahead of her.

  I think this was the station where I first met Cooper. That seems so long ago too. He invited me to the wild horse auction, and all of this began.

  The lady on the passenger's side of the Lincoln fumbled with a cell phone.

  They are dressed too nice for Wyoming. They must be from Colorado Springs or maybe Aspen. Her hairstyle reminds me of someone. Maybe my mother, but that's definitely not David.

  The gas pump had just shut off when her cell phone rang. Develyn retrieved it out of the front seat. She stared at the back of the woman in the Lincoln.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Devy, we are in Casper now. We didn't even stop for lunch in Cheyenne but drove straight up. I just couldn't wait any longer. How can we find you? We won't need horses, will we?”

  Develyn reached into the Jeep Cherokee and retrieved her straw cowboy hat. “Get out of that white Lincoln, Ms. Martin.”

  “White Lincoln? Dev, where are you?”

  “Look in your side-view mirror, Lily girl!”

  “Oh, my word…oh…”

  Lily Martin slung the door open and flew out of the car. “Dev? What have you done to my Dev? You're as brown as Cindi Martinez. And the hat?”

  “What were you expecting, Ms. Martin, some prissy Indiana schoolteacher type?”

  Arms circled arms. The two women hugged and danced and giggled around the gas pump.

  “I can't believe this. Look at you!” Lily shouted. “Look at you! You've gone native.”

  “Me? Me? Look at you.” Develyn pointed at the tall man wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt and loosened charcoal gray silk tie.

  “You're the one with Mr. Tall-and-Handsome!”

  “Honey, how good it is to see you!” Lily tugged Develyn to the startled man.

  He rubbed his narrow chin as if trying to decide which entrée to order.

  “Stewart, this is my best friend in the whole world,” Lily announced. “This is my Devy-girl.”

  “My word, that explains it.” His thin lips broke into an easy smile that made him look more handsome but not younger. “I was expecting…”

  Develyn pulled off her straw cowboy hat. “You were expecting an eastern schoolteacher?”

  He held out his hand. “I'm delighted to meet you at last, Develyn. I don't believe a day has gone by all summer that you were not mentioned in conversation.”

  “Oh, my, I trust it was most often positive.”

  “Oh, yes,” he murmured. “Most often, it was quite positive. I believe ‘Dev is the classiest lady in central Indiana’ came up often.”

  Develyn glanced down at the drips of orange on her jeans. “It's a good thing this is central Wyoming, not central Indiana.”

  Lily slipped her hand into Develyn's. “I can't believe we were at the same gas station.”

  “I wouldn't even have stopped here, but I had a near accident on the highway, and I decided to pull in.” She looked up at Stewart. “Isn't this something?”

  “I find the serendipitous sequence of events quite disarming,” he mumbled.

  “Don't you love the way lawyers talk?”

  “It's been a while since I heard a man speak without a western drawl. I am so hyped that you came to Wyoming,” Develyn said. “Have you guys checked into the motel yet?”

  “We just drove through town, and I was anxious to phone you. What are you doing in Casper?”

  “I'm on my way to the hospital to visit Mrs. Tagley.”

  “Who's Mrs. Tagley?” Stewart questioned.

  “She's the lady your mother's age who runs the store in Argenta,” Lily explained. “How is she doing?”

  “That's what I hope to find out. She was more depressed than hurting yesterday.”

  “Why don't you go to the hospital? We'll check in; then we can meet for dinner,” Lily suggested.

  Before Develyn could answer, an old Dodge truck with a silver, two-horse trailer pulled in beside them.

  A small face peeked out the jump-seat window behind the driver. The boy waved as the tall, thin driver scooted out.

  “Ivan, how are you?” Develyn called out.

  “Miss Dev, see
in' you makes me happier than a coyote with a full moon. Is Renny with you?”

  “Who's Renny?” Stewart mumbled.

  “He's the mustang breaker,” Lily whispered.

  “No, Renny's in Twin Falls.”

  “You reckon he'll take that teaching job?”

  “I don't know, Ivan. I think he's needed here.”

  “Right now, you're needed here.” Ivan lifted the boy from the backseat and set him on the concrete.

  Develyn squatted down. “Hi, Buster.”

  The little boy hopped from one foot to the other. “Hi, Devy. I've got to go to the bathroom.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Dev, Naomi's in the backseat. Would you watch her while I get Buster inside?”

  Develyn looked into the pickup. “Sure, go ahead. Where's Lovie?”

  “In Torrington, buyin' some horses.”

  “Well, hi, honey,” Develyn cooed. She grabbed the baby, dressed in a diaper and ruffled pink T-shirt. She waltzed over to Lily and Stewart. “This is Naomi.”

  “My word, Ms. Worrell, did you adopt the entire state of Wyoming?”

  “Now Stewart, Ivan, and Lovie had the mare that dropped the foal alongside the interstate that Renny and Dev had to help with. Remember when I told you that?” Lily said.

  “You mean it was true? Things like that don't happen.”

  “They don't happen in Indiana,” Lily corrected. She turned to Develyn. “Speaking of the baby, have you…”

  “Not yet…”

  “Did she go…”

  “Today.”

  “With…”

  “Yes.”

  “How will you…”

  “She's supposed to…”

  “When?”

  “Any time now.”

  “Good heavens,” Stewart said. “It's like the microphone cutting in and out at the Rotary meeting. Did you two have a complete conversation?”

  A horn honked from a mud-splattered black Dodge pickup. The truck made a hard U-turn and bounced up on the sidewalk in front of the mini-mart gas station.

  “Hey, Miss Dev, we came to town.”

  She glanced at the three cowboys in the front seat and one sitting in the back of the truck. “Hi, Cuban, Tiny, boys. How are you?”