Most nights the tap-tap-tap of a loose piece of tin roofing flapping in the wind drummed Develyn to sleep.
Not this night.
She reached under the feather mattress and extracted a small, steel flashlight and pointed it across the room. The brass alarm clock, with cracked glass, still read 12:20. Then she sat up and surveyed the floor with the light before she pressed her bare toes into the cold, worn linoleum. I don’t see any cockroaches or mice, so I’m not going to light the propane lantern. I need to go back to sleep.
She fumbled on the dresser for her watch.
Three a.m.? Why did I wake up now? I have been sleeping better for weeks. Go back to bed, Ms. Worrell.
I should fix some coffee, but I don’t want to turn on the gas stove. Where’s my Wal-Mart eighty-eight-dollar microwave when I need it?
She clutched the black plastic handle of the aluminum coffee pot and emptied its contents in a blue tin cup.
I hate cold coffee.
She grimaced and swallowed.
“But it’s not as bad as it used to be.” Her voice was barely audible.
She thought she heard voices float outside the cabin. She slid over to the front door, checked the gate latch that served as a lock, then leaned against the door. The raw wood scraped her ear.
No wonder pioneer women left alone would go insane in this wind. It haunts and torments like a classroom of first-graders after a chocolate party.
Develyn grabbed a small, tattered quilt from the bed and dragged it to the worn, overstuffed chair that smelled like the dust of 1969. She pulled her feet under her, covered her lap with the quilt, then turned off the flashlight. She sipped cold coffee and stared out the curtainless window. Stars flashed like galactic turn signals as the scattered clouds raced under them.
I don’t know why I can’t sleep, Lord. No, that’s not true. I do know. Monday will be three weeks since I’ve left home, and I still don’t have a clue why I’m here. I wanted to find my dirt-road town … and I did. I wanted to ride every day, and I’m doing that. I wanted to meet new friends, and I have. Casey has gone home to Tensleep for a few days, and I miss her even though she is so totally unlike me. I came out here to find out if I could relate to a man … any man … at my age. And I suppose I’ve succeeded. The cowboys make me feel special, but perhaps that’s because of their isolation. Renny makes me laugh and relax and forget about being the uptight Ms. Worrell. I like that a lot.
And, Quint … well … oh, my … maybe he’s the reason I can’t sleep.
He’s such a perfect gentleman … the hard-working rancher. When he flew me up to the ranch, I thought my heart would never stop racing. Casey was right. He owns half the county. He loves what he does. Even more important, he loves you, Lord. He loves his daughter and the memory of his son.
And, he still loves his Miss Emily.
But that’s OK. The man knows how to love.
Some men never learn.
She took another sip of cold coffee, then circled her head, trying to relax her stiff neck. I didn’t mean that, Lord. I truly hope Spencer is there with you in heaven. He never learned how to love me … or Delaney, really … but perhaps he learned how to love you. I never knew how to really love him, either.
That’s what scares me about Quint. He’s such a tender man.
I’m not sure I’d know how to take care of him. I didn’t do so good the first time around. But Quint … he and his Miss Emily were so wonderful together. As long as I can be Develyn Worrell, nothing more and nothing less, I’ll be OK.
Quint’s stern with naughty horses and lazy hired help, but so gentle with me. It’s as if he understands me and my struggles. He is strong in spirit and body … and not a bad body for a man that age.
Her hand went to her mouth. Dev Worrell, don’t you start thinking that way! She took another sip of cold coffee and swallowed it quickly.
I am forty-five years old, and I don’t know how to love a man. Yet I want a man to love me.
I really don’t know how to do a relationship with a man, especially a man like Quint. I wish Miss Emily had left instructions.
A shout or a dog bark echoed in the stiff wind. She glanced up at the window.
With this wind, a person could shout in Cody and it would blow across the state.
Develyn put the empty tin cup on the floor, then pulled the quilt up to her shoulders and hugged herself.
Lord, I like Wyoming. I do feel better about myself. I don’t have to be Ms. Worrell … they only want me to be Miss Dev … and certainly it’s been good for my ego … I hope it’s been good for my faith. I’ve prayed and talked to you more than I have in twenty-five years. I know now that you led me, but I’m not sure why.
I like Quint Burdett. Sometimes I think he’s a dream. He has to have some hidden vices and flaws, but I can’t find them. But if I’m truthful, ranch life scares me. I love the horses … for a while … but thinking about the isolation … the long, frigid winters … I’d have to drive two and a half hours to go to a mall. On the other hand, Quint could fly me there.
And to be honest … I don’t know if I could give up teaching. Some days I want to scream … but those fifth-graders have kept me alive for decades because they need me and love me. I’m an Indiana schoolteacher. I suppose I could change.
I wonder if he is really rich … or just puts on a show. I know most cattlemen have all their funds tied up in the land and the cows. Would I be so fascinated with him if he lived in a singlewide in Casper and worked in a minimart? There’s a sobering thought. Surely, Lord, I’m not swayed by possessions.
Or am I?
How strange. Why am I thinking about him at all? I’ve gotten along fine for years without thinking of a man. OK, I’ve sorta survived for several years without thinking of a man. Why now? Why this guy?
The howling wind and the constant tap of the loose tin roof didn’t mask the honk of a horn. Develyn stood up. Wearing the quilt like a cape, she scooted across the cold bare floor toward the window.
If Mr. Tallon is back, he is certainly making a lot of noise. I wonder if he’s drunk. I can’t imagine any other reason to honk a horn in your own driveway. If he comes near this cabin, I’ll call the police.
Develyn stood in the dark room and peered across the prairie toward the other cabin. Headlights from a parked truck illuminated the porch. She thought she could see two or three men.
He has company? At this hour? No one has sober company at 3:30 a.m. Where’s my cell phone?
Develyn padded her way to the chair, retrieved her flashlight, then found her phone on the dresser. She turned the flashlight off as she stepped in front of the window.
Any of you take one step in this direction and I’ll phone the county sheriff … or the state troopers … or the National Guard … or someone.
She thought she heard shouts, and studied the silhouettes as two of the men waved their arms.
This isn’t good, but why do I expect the worst? Lord, I don’t like Cooper Tallon very much, but I have no real reason for that. He misjudged me once … and perhaps I’m misjudging him. I just wish I knew what they were arguing about.
Develyn unlatched the window and shoved it open a couple of inches. A gust caught the window and slammed it against the side of the cabin.
A blast of wind whipped in and she staggered back, then pushed her way to the counter in front of the window. Develyn tried to reach out and pull the multipane window closed, but was unable to grip it.
The whole cabin will be blown into a mess if I don’t get it closed.
Still wearing shorts and a T-shirt, she shoved her cell phone in her back pocket and plucked up the flashlight. She scurried barefoot to the front door and flipped the gate-latch lock. Clutching the door tight, she opened it and slipped out into the windy night.
Develyn closed the door, then paused on her porch. She staggered in the wind.
What am I doing? I have to close my window. Then I’m going to bed and pull the covers over my head and not come out for week. This is crazy. I’m freezing. They are one hundred feet away, and I’m running around in my pajamas. Well, what I’ve been using for pajamas. Lord, look after fools like me.
Her toes now numb, she turned off the flashlight and crept around the cabin to the east. The open window banged against the shutter, and she yanked on it to close it. It slammed closed.
The shouting next door stopped.
Develyn dropped to her bare knees on the rough dirt beside the cabin.
Did they see me? Oh, Lord, this is a bad dream. I want to wake up at home. Where is that rancher? Or Renny? Or even Casey Cree-Ryder when I need them?
The shouting continued and she turned and sat in the dirt, leaning against the cabin and watching the headlight-lit silhouettes at the other cabin.
“You owe me!” someone screamed.
“I owe you nothin’,” a deep voice replied.
“Don’t give me that crap.”
“Go home.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Get out of here.”
“We could take it, you know.”
“You could try.”
“You don’t scare me. You never scared me.”
“Get out of here.”
“You’re goin’ down, old man.”
“Not by myself, I’m not.”
“Is that a gun?”
Oh, my God … oh, no … I don’t want to be here … I don’t want to see this. I’m just an Indiana schoolteacher. I want to go home. I want to go home right now, Lord.
Develyn clutched herself to keep from shaking.
“Porter, we have to get out of here!” This time it was a high-pitched scream. “He’s crazy!”
“I’m not leavin’ until I get what’s mine.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Hendrix, get back here!”
One man sprinted for the truck.
The wind picked up.
The shouts and curses were inaudible.
Tires spun loose dirt. The pickup spun around in the dirt yard.
Then, a loud explosion.
Oh, my God … that was a gunshot. Oh, no … what do I do … what do I do? Who shot whom? What do I do?
On her hands and knees, Develyn crawled around to the porch and to the front door. She pushed her way into the cabin, closed the door behind her, then fumbled to lock the gate latch. She sprawled on the frigid, slick linoleum with her back against the door and shook.
I don’t know what to do, Lord. I don’t know what to do. This isn’t fun. Something horrible has happened.
She laid her cell phone on the floor between her legs, then pointed the flashlight at it.
I have to call someone. I have to tell someone.
She studied the lit key pad of the telephone. She picked it up, sighed a deep breath … then punched 9–1–1.
Develyn waited for six long rings.
“Sheriff’s office.”
“I … eh I need to report…”
“Speak up, lady.”
She cleared her throat. “I need to report…”
“Harry … turn off that dadgum microwave! I can’t even hear the lady on the phone!” he shouted. “How should I know if it’s your wife? Go ahead, lady.”
Develyn sat straight up.
“I need to report a fight and possible gunfire.”
“Is anyone injured?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did anyone get shot?”
“It’s too dark. They were arguing and cussing and then they ran to the truck and there was a gun shot.”
“Relax, we’ll take care of it. Tell me your name.”
“I’m Develyn Worrell from …”
“OK, just relax, Evelyn … we’ll…”
“Develyn—with a D. Dev.”
“Don’t scream into the phone. Are you at home?”
“No, I live in Crawfordsville, Indiana.”
“Where are you now?”
“In a cabin where the cedars used to be.”
“In Indiana?”
“I’m a quarter of a mile north of Argenta, Wyoming.”
“That’s in Natrona County.”
“I think so.”
“Ma’am, this is the sheriff’s office in Johnson County. You’ll have to call the Natrona County sheriff.”
“But I dialed 911.”
“Yes, ma’am. You used a cell phone, right?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes the relay tower that picks up the signal is in a different county so your 911 calls are routed through their emergency number. If you’d call 307-577-5577, you can talk to the Natrona County sheriff.”
Develyn felt tears trickle down her cheeks. “You mean you can’t help me?”
“Just call them. They will take care of it. Did you get that number?”
“Yes, I…”
“OK … now phone them.”
“But…”
Develyn leaned against the door and listened to the dial tone.
With slow determination she punched in 307-575-5577.
On the fourth ring, a man answered and mumbled, “Yeah?”
“Is this the Natrona County sheriff’s office?”
The man’s voice sounded sleepy and irritated. “Is this Natalie?”
“I need the sheriff’s office.”
“This is a lame joke, Natalie.”
“All I want is…”
“Every guy in Casper knows what you want,” the man snarled. “Sober up.”
Develyn heard a woman in the background shout, “Is that her again, Matthew? I told you never to talk to that woman again!”
“Shut up,” the man hissed.
“I need the sheriff’s office,” Develyn whimpered.
A deep female voice came on the line. “You need a psychologist.”
Again, Develyn stared at the face of the cell phone. She brushed tears back with the back of her hand.
She punched speed dial #2.
After five rings there was a sleepy, but familiar, “Hello.”
“Sorry, Lily, I need some help.”
“Dev? What’s wrong, honey? What time is it there?”
“I don’t know … maybe 3:30 a.m.”
“Are you OK?”
“I need your help…”
“Oh, no … oh, honey … what is it?”
“I need you to phone the sheriff for me.”
“Oh, Lord Jesus, no! Dev, are you hurt?”
“Lily, I’m OK. There’s been a fight and a gunshot next door, and I can’t seem to get the right county sheriff. Now I’m too rattled to get the right number.”
“Just punch in 9-1-1, honey.”
“I tried that,” Develyn whined. “Lily, call information for the Natrona County sheriff’s office in Casper, Wyoming.”
“Where are you?”
“On the floor in my cabin.”
“I’ll have them phone you, OK, honey?”
“OK.”
“Dev, tell me you’re all right one more time.”
“I’m OK … I just got scared and frustrated.”
“Call me back as soon as you get things taken care of. You promise?” Lily insisted.
* * *
Develyn wore jeans, boots, and a Purdue sweatshirt by the time the Natrona County deputy phoned her and listened to her account. She waited by the window until a deputy showed up next door. As daylight broke, she sat on the hard wooden chair and sipped hot coffee. When her phone rang, she plucked it up.
“Hi, Lily. Everything’s under control. I was just getting ready to phone.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Mother’s in Austria. Who else would phone me at daybreak?”
“It’s not daybreak here. I’ve been worried for two hours. Did the sheriff’s office contact you?” Lily asked.
“Deputy Wayne Altamont who looks about eighteen just left. He looks like the Simkins boy.”
“Harold or Larry?”
“Harold.”
“Well … I want to know everything,” Lily demanded. “I even checked into emergency air flights to see if I could come help you.”
“Oh, Lily … you are my special angel. It’s OK, really.”
“Tell me more.”
“It’s sort of confusing. On the phone, they said that Tallon was a convicted felon and it was illegal for him to possess a firearm, and if I could prove he had one he would be thrown in jail.”
“A felon? You are renting a cabin from a felon? Honey, you have to move.”
“Move where? I love this place. Anyway, it gets more bizarre. The deputy talked to Cooper Tallon and then came and told me everything was all right. He said he was mistaken about the felon comment, and that the altercation was just a couple of drunks wanting some gas money. Tallon said he refused, and their pickup backfired going out of the driveway.”
“That’s it?”
Develyn paced the cabin, the phone pressed to her ear. “That’s not what they were arguing about, Lily. I heard them.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What can I do?”
“You could move, for one thing.”
“No … I told you, this is my place. I’ll just lock the door every night, take two Aleves, and pull the quilt over my head. They didn’t threaten me.”
“Dev, don’t you think it’s time to come home?”
“No, I don’t. Not until I understand what I’m doing here.”
“I pray to God you know what you are doing.”
“Thanks for the prayers. Everything looks better in daylight.”
“Is your landlord going to be mad at you for calling the sheriff on him?”
“I suppose …” Develyn paused by the window and peered across at the other cabin.
“What are you going to tell him?”
“I’m not sure, but I better come up with something quick.”
“Why?”
“He’s on his way over here. I’ll call you back.”
“No!” Lily hollered. “Dev, leave the phone on. Clip it to your jeans pocket or something, but leave it on.”
Develyn ran her fingers through her blonde bangs. “OK … here goes.”
She waited for the knock at the door.
She didn’t open it.
“Yes?”
“Ms. Worrell?”
“Yes, Mr. Tallon?”
“Aren’t you going to open the door?”
“I’d rather not.” She double-checked the interior latch on the door. “What can I do for you?”
“Look, Ms. Worrell, I’m sorry about the scare last night.”
She folded her arms. “That story you told the deputy was a lie.”
“Yes, it was, Ms. Worrell. I trust that one day soon I can tell you the truth.”
“Mr. Tallon, I need the truth right now. Am I in danger by staying here?”
“No, ma’am, you aren’t. Would you open the door now?”
“Why?”
“Are you decent?”
“Of course I am.”
“I like lookin’ a lady in the eyes when I apologize.”
Develyn ran her tongue over her thin lips.
She slowly opened the door. The stiff warm breeze swirled dust, and she squinted her eyes.
Peering out from under the brim of his black cowboy hat, Tallon’s deep-creased gray eyes locked onto hers. “Ma’am, I’d like you to forgive me for scarin’ you like that. I understand why you called the sheriff, and you do that anytime you feel you should. I’d rather you’d come talk to me first, but that’s OK. I don’t expect that scene to ever be repeated.”
“Mr. Tallon, I accept your apology, but I am puzzled at your reluctance to tell the whole story. And I await a further explanation.”
“That’s all I can expect, Ms. Worrell.”
How does such a gray-haired man have such young eyes? “Mr. Tallon, as long as we are neighbors for the summer, and you are my landlord, do you suppose you could call me Dev, and I could call you Cooper?”
“Coop would be fine, Miss Dev.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other cabin. “Now, I wonder if I could ask you a favor?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve me lying.”
He stared at her for a minute, then rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “I reckon I deserve that.”
“I’m sorry, Coop. That wasn’t very Christian of me.”
“The Lord has a lot of things to teach me, Dev. I’m just try ing to make sure I don’t miss a lesson.”
“What is the favor?”
“I was hopin’ you could keep your burro over here, or in the pasture. He has a habit of leavin’ a deposit next to my truck.”
“A deposit?”
“He craps in my yard.”
Develyn’s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, dear …” She glanced off to see the burro reclined against the tailgate of Fallon’s black pickup. “Uncle Henry, you come home right now!”
The burro’s ears shot straight up, but he didn’t move.
“Dev, burros are stubborn cusses and they don’t…”
“Well, this one does.” Develyn cupped her hands around her mouth. “Uncle Henry, you heard me. You get over here, and get over here right this minute!”
Tallon leaned back.
The burro spun around and trotted straight at them.
Cooper Tallon grinned. “I’m impressed.”
“After twenty-three years of yard duty with fifth-graders, one burro is a cinch.”
When the burro reached the edge of the uncovered porch, Develyn marched straight at him and grabbed his right ear. “Uncle Henry, you listen to me real close. If you go over to Mr. Tallon’s yard once more, I’ll lock you in the pasture with My Maria. She’s a snotty prima donna who will boss you around until you wish you were a worm. Do you hear me? You stay in this yard.”
Uncle Henry hung his head.
Develyn wrestled his ears, hugged his nose, then gave him a slap on the rear. “Now, go on and play. Be nice.”
Cooper chuckled.
Develyn leaned into the stiff wind. “And what do you find so funny?”
“You really do treat him like a fifth-grader.”
“And your point is?”
“He seems to know exactly what you’re saying.”
“He hates to be fenced in.”
“Do you treat your mare the same way?”
“Oh, no, I treat her like a junior high girl who’s pouting because her mother won’t let her get her belly button pierced and a tattoo on her butt.”
“Whoa!” The word filtered up from Develyn’s belt.
“Is that from your phone?” Tallon asked.
“Oh …” Develyn’s fingers covered her mouth. “I forgot, Lily’s on the line.”
“Hi, Lily,” Tallon called out. “I’ll take no more of your time. Again, my apologies, Miss Dev.”
Develyn plucked up her cell phone and hiked into the wind toward the pasture and the grazing paint horse.
“Sorry, Lily, I forgot you were down there.”
“It’s a good thing someone was looking out for you,” Lily said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You and Mr. Felon certainly got chummy in a hurry.”
“I was just trying to act civil. Besides, I told you, there is some confusion over whether he or someone else is the felon.”
“Civil? ‘Oh, Coop …’ giggle giggle.”
“I do not giggle.”
“Honey, this is Lily … you know, the one who goes to the rodeo with you in Indy when we giggle over every cowboy who gets bucked off at the gate.”
“Ms. Martin, I simply have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You were giggling.”
“I was not. I was trying to act cordial, after a very tense night.”
“Ms. Worrell talking about tattoos on the you-know-what- … is acting cordial? In the twenty-five years we’ve known each other, I’ve never heard you say something like that. Especially to a man.”
“I can’t believe I said that, either. I think Cree-Ryder is wear ing off on me.”
“Where is the bronze princess of the prairie?” Lily asked.
“In Tensleep, trimming hooves and shoeing her horses.”
“Are you OK now, Ms. Worrell? Can I go down to Turkey Run in peace?”
“Why are you going to Turkey Run State Park? You’ve been there hundreds of times.”
“For a picnic.”
“You’re taking your summer school class for a picnic?”
“It’s Saturday, Devy-girl.”
“You and the lawyer?”
“It’s just a picnic.”
“Prove it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to sit on that bench at Sunset Point?”
“Perhaps.”
“Take your cell phone. Call me and clip it to your belt while you and Mr. Legal-Eagle sit on that bench.”
“Dream on, Devy-girl.”
“Ah-hah!”
“I’ve got to go, honey.”
“Is he there?”
“He will be soon.”
“Be good.”
“Look who’s talking. But I will tell you one thing.”
“Oh?”
“He has nice lips.”
“What?” Develyn gasped. Then she listened to the shrill of the cellular dial tone. She hung up on me? He has nice lips and she hung up?
Develyn leaned against the top rail of the corral and stared out at the grazing mare. “We need to pray for Ms. Martin today, girl. She is getting way too serious about this smooth-talking lawyer guy.”
The horse glanced at her, then continued to graze.
“Don’t you look at me like that. I am not getting serious about any man. Are you ready to go? Well, that’s too bad … we’re going anyway. Casey won’t be back until tomorrow. It’s time for a solo ride.”
* * *
Develyn tucked two string cheese sticks and a bag of peanuts in her pocket, then rolled up a bottle of water in her sweatshirt and tied it to the rear of the saddle. She led the paint mare behind the cabin.
“We’re goin’ north into those cedar hills, girl. I’ve been wanting to ride up there for weeks, but Casey always had a different direction she wanted to explore. When I was ten, Dewayne and I rode that direction one day and saw three antelope.”
She walked the horse over to a cottonwood stump, stepped up on it, and threw her foot in the stirrup. She yanked on the reins. “Now, don’t you start running off on me.”
Uncle Henry peeked around the corner of the cabin.
“If you promise to be good and not run off, you can come,” Develyn called.
The short burro trotted up beside them.
The moment Develyn touched her heels to the horse’s flanks, the paint mare galloped north. She grabbed her hat and shoved it down tight on her head.
Lord, I have to admit I do love riding this horse. Oh, my … how I do love riding.
Develyn sang to the wind … “My Maria …” The tune rhymed with the rhythm of the stride.
I like the slap of leather … the breeze in my face … the feel of flight. Oh, how I love the freedom.
She licked her lips, then sang, “Don’t you know I’ve come a long, long way …” She tugged on the reins and slowed the horse to a fast trot.
Develyn turned in the saddle after they crossed the first rise in the rolling prairie to appraise the southern horizon. The burro waited beside them.
“Uncle Henry, we’ve been gone about twenty minutes and we can’t see Argenta. We can’t see the gravel road or a house or a barn or a telephone wire or even a single fence. This has got to be one of the most undeveloped areas of the entire country. I love it.” She leaned forward and stroked the mare’s neck and sang, “When she’s around, she takes my blues away.”
She kicked the horse, and they continued at a walk. Develyn glanced down at the burro. “I know what you’re thinking: Does she know how to get back home again? Of course I do. Just turn around and follow this trail south. I don’t have to go all that far. I just wanted to explore a little on my own.”
The narrow, one-horse trail wound down the coulee, then turned west and slalomed through scrubby cedars no more than five feet tall. By the time they came up on a small creek, the sun was straight above, barely visible through thick clouds. Develyn dismounted and tied off the mare to a short piñon pine tree. Uncle Henry parked all four hooves in the slow-moving water of the small creek.
“Cooling your feet, are you? You’re probably ready to head back home. In case you two are wondering, I do have a plan. We are going to veer to the northwest … Casey said the Quarter-Circle Diamond headquarters was just twenty miles north of Argenta, but the gravel road was about forty winding miles. So … that means we could just ‘stumble’ into the Quarter-Circle Diamond in an hour or two … someone might just ask us to stay for supper … or…”
She glanced down at the cheese stick she held in her hand. Or what? What is my real motive, Lord? Am I chasing Quint? Of course I am. Ride twenty miles through the wilderness to just “be in the neighborhood” for a visit. I don’t know if I’m anxious to be with Quint … or just anxious to find out if he is the one I should be anxious about. I will ride another hour or so. If I don’t see anything familiar or cross the road, I’ll just turn around. The sun goes down in the west, so south will be easy enough. Sooner or later we’ll hit Argenta or the railroad tracks.
The wind stiffened as she continued to ride to the northwest. She pulled on her sweatshirt when the clouds stacked up above her, blocking the sun. Her trail wound down most of the coulees.
She dismounted and walked the sweaty horse to the top of a ridge, then paused on top to appraise the rolling prairie to the north.
“Look at that, Uncle Henry. There is nothing out here. No ranch, no house, not even a road. Where am I?” She glanced up to find the sun. “OK … nothing but clouds. That makes it a little tough to see the sun. I think it’s about time to head back. I think I ended up too far west. That must be a spring or creek down by that brush. We’re going to ride down there, grab a drink for everyone, then head home. Casey will be coming this evening. I’m glad she doesn’t care what we eat. It might be Cheerios and Popsicles.”
The ribbon of brush she spotted at a distance turned out to be further away than she imagined. Each crest in the prairie presented a deep, sloping coulee. Like being sucked down into the trough on the rolling sea, the red-dirt prairie towered around her, isolating her from the world. She glanced back up the trail, and spied Uncle Henry at the top of the last rise.
“Are you getting tired, honey?” she shouted. “Why don’t you wait there. We’ll get a drink in the creek and be back for you.”
A wild burro can’t get lost, can he? A wild schoolteacher from Indiana can get lost, but not a burro. Did I just call him “honey”? Ms. Worrell, are you still in touch with reality? And if not, do you care?
Develyn tugged back on the reins. “Take it easy, Maria-girl. It’s a long ride home, and we’ll just walk it. It was a crazy idea … I don’t know what I would have done, had I found the headquarters. I’m embarrassed to even think about it.”
Lord, I’m a good teacher, but I failed at being a wife. And I’m not having much luck at mothering a twenty-year-old. I don’t know squat about horses, except that I love the breeze in my face … OK, maybe not quite this much breeze. But I do enjoy learning to be myself and not feeling like a failure in everyone’s eyes. Especially yours. Now, I need you to lead us home safely. And let me learn all I need to learn on this day.
As they approached some thick brush at the side of the narrow creek, the paint mare stopped and jerked her head up. Her ears pointed forward as she pawed her hooves and snorted.
“That’s just some thunder, girl. We’ll ride south out of these clouds.”
The mare pranced and shook her head back and forth. “What’s the matter, girl? Is there something scary up there? It’s OK, baby … I just prayed and I’m sure…”
Develyn’s words faded when a buckskin horse broke out of the brush and galloped past them up the draw. Behind him, eight more horses broke out and galloped straight at them.
The paint mare lunged forward, but Develyn yanked the reins hard to the right. My Maria spun in circles.
“No, girl … No! Calm down … it’s OK … let them run.”
My Maria stopped, then threw her head back and forth until she jerked the reins out of Develyn’s hands.
“No you don’t!” Develyn screamed and clutched the saddle horn with both hands. “Stop it right this minute!”
The paint mare bolted after the other horses.
Develyn stuffed her boots into the stirrups and locked her knees against the skirts of the saddle. She leaned so far forward that the brim of her straw cowboy hat pressed against the horse’s mane.
I’m not going to get bucked off … I’m going to ride this out … even if it kills me. That’s not quite what I meant, Lord … save me!
My Maria caught the band of horses at the top of the draw and showed no sign of slowing down.
Develyn tried to distinguish the thunder in the hooves from the thunder in the clouds. She leaned forward, slowly released her grip with her right hand, and retrieved the reins from near My Maria’s ears.
If I try to turn her, she’ll stumble and go down for sure. If I yank back, she’ll buck me off under forty crashing hooves. I have to ride … I have to stay on … like running downhill, I have to stay upright until she gets tired.
Like a school of frightened fish in a huge aquarium, the band of galloping horses swirled to the top of one ridge and then back to the bottom, a quarter of a mile east, then back to the west.
They circled and slowed near the crest of a draw, then suddenly stopped as they neared an outcrop of granite boulders that stood out like Stonehenge against the prairie. Develyn leaned forward and patted the panting horse.
“Good girl,” she whispered.
At the sound of her voice the buckskin reared up on his hind legs and whinnied like a demon condemned to the abyss. He galloped south with the other panicked horses.
Develyn yanked back on the reins. “No! Not this time, girl … no more running!”
My Maria raised up and threw her head left and right. Develyn grabbed for the saddle but only clutched the black tail. When the horse bolted after the others, Develyn lost her grip and landed on her backside in the dirt.
“No!” she screamed.
When she staggered to her feet, she noticed her left boot missing.
“Don’t you take my boot!” she shouted.
The band of horses circled south, and she noticed a brown object fall out of the flapping stirrups.
“Thank you!” Develyn hollered.
She limped across the prairie toward the boot. Several drops of water sprayed her face as she staggered around trying to tug on her boot. Develyn stomped her foot down until the boot slipped on, then waved her hand at the sky.
“Don’t you dare rain on me. Do you hear me, clouds? I’ve had enough of this. You stop it right now!”