Burnt, tough, and drenched in Tabasco, they were the best eggs Develyn had ever eaten. While the makeshift poncho dragged the dirt, she squatted next to the small sage fire and scraped her tin plate clean. Her straw cowboy hat blocked the morning sun. The back of her hand served as a napkin. She reloaded the plate.
“You cook a good breakfast, Renny,” she mumbled between bites.
He stood, then shook his head. “Ms. Worrell, no one at that Riverbend Elementary School in Indiana would recognize you right now.”
“You think the hat would fool them?” She fanned away the smoke with her hand and motioned Casey to pass the tin coffee cup they shared.
“Plus the mud on your face, the matted hair, and that wild look in your cat-like eyes.”
She turned to Casey. “Countess, have you got any idea what this peasant cook is babbling about?”
“No idea in the world.” Casey pointed her hunting knife at the black iron skillet. “You want to wrestle for that last piece of ham?”
Develyn rubbed her upturned nose with her fingertips. “Sure. Guns or knives?”
“Bare knuckles.”
“Sounds fair. I suppose we slug it out until one of us is unconscious.”
“Wait!” Renny squatted down and cut the ham slice into two pieces. “There, you can each have one.”
Casey stabbed one with her hunting knife.
Develyn reached over and plucked the other one up with her fingers. “You know, I’ve always heard that men get a thrill out of watchin’ two women fight. I can’t understand why he panicked.”
“Are you questionin’ Renny’s manliness?” Casey jibed.
“Oh, no, never tick off the cook. That’s lesson number one, when you’re on a trail drive.” Develyn folded the ham and scooped up more of the eggs, then jammed a big bite in her mouth. “Hmmm hpmth, clemp nah whtmp isnna.”
Casey laughed. “You might want to try that again when you’ve chewed your food.”
“If Quint could see me now, he would be convinced that I am having a mental meltdown.”
“Is that what he said on the phone?” Casey asked.
“He said I should call Lily, because she’s the only one who could talk sense into me.”
“Is that your pal back home?” Renny asked.
“Yes, she’s been there for me for years.”
Casey stabbed a bite of ham with her hunting knife. “What else did ol’ Quint say?”
“Let’s see … he said maybe I need to get this idealized cowgirl thing out of my system. Make sure I don’t do anything I’ll regret later. And eat my vegetables.”
“He said that?” Casey motioned for the coffee cup.
“He said it was important to eat right when under stress. That and a few other things.”
“What other things?” Cree-Ryder asked.
Develyn continued to shove food in her mouth. “Renny, don’t some men look for a wife who is just like their mother?”
“I reckon so. My mama’s a fine lady, that’s for sure.”
“What other things did dear ol’ Quint tell you?” Casey interrupted again.
Develyn wiped her hands on her poncho. “But I have never heard of a woman looking for a man who was just like her mother.”
Casey waved her knife over the sage fire. “Are you ignoring me?”
“You saying Quint is like your mother?” Renny pressed.
“Sometimes he seems to want to control my life just like my mother.”
Renny sipped coffee from a blue tin cup. “I think people like that are well intentioned. I reckon they surmise they are making your life better.”
Casey stabbed the knife through Develyn’s poncho and pinned it to the dirt. “What else did Quint say?”
Develyn pulled out the knife, wiped the blade on her jeans, then tapped the tin cup. “Renny, darlin’, would you be a good cowboy and pour us another cup of coffee?”
Slater shook his head. “Maybe Quint is right about you.”
“Well?” Casey pressed.
“He said the usual. He loved me, missed me, and just knew that everything would settle down after we are married.” Develyn took the steaming tin cup from Renny. “Did you ever put Tabasco in coffee?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“Is it good?”
“No.”
She sipped the coffee and passed it to Cree-Ryder. “He’s still countin’ on you marryin’ him?” Renny asked.
“So it seems.”
Cree-Ryder took a sip and handed the cup back to her. “What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t think marriage was on my summer calendar.”
“Wait a minute,” Renny said. “You mean you are not goin’ to marry Burdett?”
Casey flipped her black bangs out of her eyes. “Of course she’s not. That leaves you an open barn door, mustang breaker.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Casey probed.
“I just meant, I thought Quint is quite a catch.”
“I’m not sure who was catching whom. Do goldfish like being goldfish?” Casey blurted out.
Develyn studied her last bite of ham. “Where did that come from?”
“It seems to me that Quint wants you to be his pretty goldfish. So I wondered if goldfish enjoy swimming around and around in a confined area havin’ ever’one stare at them.”
“Quint is not that bad,” Develyn said. “It’s just that I got caught up in a fantasy that I need to back away from. You know, this is really good ham, in a honey-burnt sort of way.”
“I think she’s changing the subject,” Casey said.
Develyn opened her mouth wide and waited.
Casey fed her the last bite of ham, still speared on the tip of her hunting knife.
“I’m here for the summer,” Develyn explained. “I go back home in a few weeks. I didn’t mean for everything to take on such a serious note.”
“That is good news. I’m about as nonserious an hombre as rides the Wyomin’ range.” Renny stood up. “Let’s pack up and get you to the hot springs.”
Develyn smiled. “Countess, is he saying we need a bath?”
Casey sniffed the air. “Yep, Devy-girl, some men are picky that way.”
When her cell phone rang, Develyn had to undo the seat belt to tug it out of her jeans. The voice on the other end was insistent.
“This is your conscience calling.”
“Hi, Lil! I was going to call you today.”
“Where are you?”
Develyn glanced around the cab of the pickup. “Where are we?”
“Twenty-three miles south of Thermopolis,” Renny replied.
“We’re …”
“Yes, I heard Mr. Burdett. Of course, I don’t have any idea where Themopopolis is.”
“Thermopolis,” Develyn corrected. “And that wasn’t Mr. Burdett.”
“Who are you with?”
“Renny and Casey. We’re going into town to get a bath.”
“Wait a minute. I get a phone call from Quint Burdett about how concerned he is about you, and now I find you going to a bath house with a different cowboy?”
“We’re going to the largest mineral hot springs in the world and sharing it with Boy Scouts from Tacoma and senior citizens from Sun City. What is this about Quint phoning you?”
“I was out on yard duty when my cell phone rang. I only tote it around hoping my wayward pal, Ms. Worrell, might call me. But it was Quint Burdett. He was worried about you and asked if I’d talked to you lately.”
“Wait a minute. Quint phoned you on your cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“But that’s an unlisted number.”
“I assumed he got it from you.”
“He most certainly did not. How did he know your number?”
“Honey, are you accusing me of something?”
Develyn leaned forward in the truck seat, in an attempt to gain privacy. “No, I’m accusing Quint Burdett of something. What did he want to know?”
“If you had a habit of running away from important decisions.”
“He asked you that?”
“I think that was the jist of it.”
“What did you tell him?”
“About Ms. Worrell, who decided in ten minutes to take off for the whole summer to follow a wisp of a little girl’s dream about Wyoming and recklessly spend the summer of her forty-fifth year chasing cowboys? I told him you were a quite responsible and sensible schoolteacher … most of the time.”
Develyn lowered her voice. “I am not chasing cowboys.”
“Hah!”
“Who was that?” Lily asked.
“Casey.”
“She knows I’m right.”
“You can’t believe anything she says. She also thinks she’s a French countess.”
“A princess?”
“A countess. It’s a long story. What else did Quint say? I’m getting ticked about this.”
“He seemed like a nice enough man. I think he’s sincerely worried about you. He reminds me a lot of …”
“My mother?”
“Funny you should mention that. Delaney said she tried to phone you last night. Your mother phoned from Austria. There’s been a slight accident.”
“What kind of an accident?”
“David, bless his heart, was on a chair in a hotel room in Vienna, trying to pin a blanket over the window so that …”
“So that Mother can sleep in the dark. Yes, she always makes him do that. What happened?”
“He fell off and broke his arm.”
“Oh, no. Poor David.”
“And so he was at the hospital overnight, and the tour group went on without them. They’ll have to stay a few more days and link up with the next group.”
“Is David alright?”
“I think he’s resting up.”
“I bet he is. A trip with my mother could wear out a battalion of Marines. How’s Delaney?”
“I think she’s feeling better. I haven’t seen her much in the past few days. Just trying to finish up summer school.”
“Has it been six weeks?”
“Almost. It seems like six years since I’ve seen you last.”
“Lily, why don’t you come out and see me?”
“Delaney and I have discussed flying out to Wyoming.”
“Really?”
“Yes, we wanted to be there for the wedding.”
“Wedding? There isn’t going to be any wedding.”
“Hah!”
“Was that Casey again?” Lily asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you in Mr. Slater’s pickup truck?”
“Yes. We left Casey’s rig and the horses at her friend’s place in Shoshoni. We’re riding to town with Renny.”
“Are you sitting in the middle?”
“Of course.”
“Hah!” Lily mimicked.
* * *
Develyn held out her hands to Casey. “Look at this.”
“The pathetic white color, or the wrinkly skin?”
“The shriveled skin, O bronze bombshell countess.”
“That’s not shriveled. Those four ladies from Arizona are shriveled.”
“They are all in their eighties.”
“But you are clean, that’s the important thing.”
“Yes, but I have no makeup. No eye shadow. No foundation. No mascara. I am almost too embarrassed to go get my nails done.”
“Are you too embarrassed to get a latte?”
“No,” Develyn grinned. “We’ll find one that has a drive-thru.”
“So, you don’t want anyone to see the real you?” Casey challenged.
“Heavens no.”
Casey dried off her waist-length, thick black hair with a fluffy white towel. “Maybe that’s been my problem. I’ve always let the guys see my natural beauty. Perhaps I need to deceive them a little.”
“I am not deceiving anyone,” Develyn snapped. “I’m just trying to look my best, that’s all.”
“Whatever. I guess it’s sort of addictive.” Casey tossed her towel into the wire basket in front of the locker. “You’ve been doing it so long, you can’t imagine otherwise.”
“Of course I can go without my makeup. I just choose not …”
“Do it.”
“What?”
“Let’s see Develyn Worrell go one week without a tiny bit of makeup.”
“Not even get our nails done?”
“Nope.”
“You are not talking lipstick, too, are you?”
“Of course I am.”
“But my lips are so weak,” Develyn whined.
“What’s your point? You and me are still going to ride every day, right?”
“Yes, but …”
“And you insisted that you aren’t chasing cowboys.”
“That’s right.”
“So, who is it you are trying to impress? Uncle Henry? My Maria? Me? We love you just like you are.”
“Are you challenging me to a week without makeup?”
Casey folded her arms. “I’m daring you. And I’ll do the same.”
“You seldom use makeup anyway.”
“And your point is?”
“It should be an equal sacrifice. I know! I’ll go a week without makeup and you … have to wear your hair down.”
“A whole week?” Casey gasped.
“24/7. Of course, if you don’t want to, we can …”
“I’ll do it!”
“You will?”
“Yes. So, that’s settled.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.”
Casey stared at the locker room mirror and jammed on her cowboy hat. “I look like the queen of Mule Days with my hair down under my hat.” Casey tossed a sack over to Develyn.
“What’s this?”
“A couple of University of Wyoming T-shirts. I didn’t think we wanted to go out into beautiful downtown Thermopolis in our muddy T-shirts.”
“Thanks. Hey, we’ll look like twins.”
“In your dreams, Devy-girl.”
“You can’t fault a lowly maidservant for wanting to look like the countess.”
“How true. Come on, my dear.” Casey grabbed her arm. “I mustn’t keep the little people waiting.”
Renny Slater lounged against the front of his red Dodge pickup next to a tall, thin cowboy with short hair and brown skin.
“Oh, no!” Casey groaned, then spun around.
“What’s the matter?”
“See the guy talking to Renny?”
“Yes, who is it?”
“Jackson Hill.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s the guy I wrote secret love notes to for two years.”
“What? You never told me about that. Did you two go out?”
“No. I never let him know they came from me.”
“Wow … when was this?”
“I was nineteen and he was twenty-one. We were doing all the Wilderness Circuit rodeos that year. I’d sneak a note in his gear bag during his ride.”
“You wrote a cowboy love notes?”
“I was immature.”
“It sounds very romantic.”
Casey shrugged. “He never wrote one back.”
“How would he know who to write it to?”
“He could have left one in his bag, you know, just in case I looked.”
“And he never knew it was you?”
“Nope.”
“Then what’s the big deal?” Develyn grabbed Casey’s arm and spun her around. “Come on.”
“But my hair is combed down.”
“I don’t get the connection.”
“He might not recognize me.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know, Dev. What should I do?”
“What’s the worst thing that can happen?”
“I could scare him off by my looks.”
“Now you know exactly how I feel without makeup.” Develyn tugged Casey toward the red pickup.
“I hope he doesn’t remember me,” Casey murmured.
“He’s cute.”
“Yes, and you ought to see him with his … eh, never mind. He’s probably married by now.”
“How long since you’ve seen him?”
“Eight, maybe ten years.”
“Good grief, girl, what are you worried about? Come on, shoulders back, head up … strut a little.”
Both men glanced up.
Jackson Hill’s brown eyes widened. “Wow, Casey Cree-Ryder. You look great, darlin’. I haven’t seen you in forever.” He slapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.
She rolled her eyes at Develyn and gave a sheepish hug in return. “Hi, Jackson, are you still ridin’ broncs?”
“No, I’ve been runnin’ a pack string up in Glacier Park. Just got a few days off. How about you? You chasin’ barrels on the circuit?”
“Not much. Training a few horses for rich girls, that’s all.”
Hill glanced over at Develyn. He tipped his black Resistol. “I don’t believe we’ve met, ma’am.”
“This is …” Casey blurted out.
“I’m her mother,” Develyn announced.
He blushed and stuck out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Mrs. Cree-Ryder. Sorry for the stare, you two don’t look anything alike.”
“I need my makeup,” Develyn said.
Renny Slater laughed. “She was teasin’ you, Jackson. This is Develyn Worrell. She’s a schoolteacher from Indiana and a friend of ours.”
“I’m glad you cleared that up. I don’t feel so bad about staring.”
“Sorry to tease you, Jackson,” Develyn smiled. “I get ribbed so much out here, I’m starting to do it myself. Of course, I am old enough to be Casey’s mother.”
Jackson Hill pulled off his cowboy hat and held it in his hand. “But you age well, ma’am.”
“Thank you, cowboy.” Develyn glanced at Casey and mouthed the words, I need my makeup.
“Casey, I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen you with your hair down like that. It’s always been in a braid. How long have you been wearin’ it down?” Jackson asked.
“About ten minutes.”
“Well, I like it, that’s for sure.”
“Jackson, the three of us were heading out for an early supper. You are certainly invited,” Develyn offered.
“I already invited him,” Renny said, “but he turned me down. Of course, now that he knows I got me a pair of purdy ladies, he might change his mind.”
Jackson stared straight at Casey. “I surely wish I could. I promised my boss I’d evaluate a string of horses he wants to buy from an ol’ boy north of Riverton. I just stopped here to use the phone and line up the appointment. When I ran across Renny and he said Casey was around, naturally I wanted to stay and say howdy. But I need to head out, because I’m not sure how long it will take me to find this ranch.”
“Whose ranch?” Renny asked.
Hill pulled a scrap of paper from his shirt pocket. “Henry Starfoot. He’s on the Rez.”
“I don’t think I know his place,” Renny pondered.
“Casey knows where it’s at,” Develyn boomed.
“I do?” Casey gulped.
Develyn shoved her elbow in Casey’s ribs. “Starfoot … remember? The other night you were talkin’ about some girls that used to do well in the All-Indian rodeos and you mentioned a Starfoot girl.”
“But … but …”
“You said there were a thousand antelopes on that road back to their place. I’m sure it will come to you once you get down there,” Develyn insisted.
“It will?” Casey shot her a quick glare.
“So, why don’t you ride with Jackson down to see the horses, then he can give you a lift to Shoshoni to pick up the horses and Uncle Henry.”
“Your Uncle?” Jackson asked.
“No, her burro,” Casey murmured. “I still don’t …”
“Grab a burger on the way out of town. You two can get caught up on things,” Develyn insisted. “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?” She looked straight at Jackson.
“About ten years, I reckon. I’d enjoy having you come along, Cree-Ryder. You can even bring your guns and knives if you want to.”
“Whoa …” Develyn replied, “there’s one confident cowboy.”
Casey had a panicked look in her eyes. “But I sort of promised you two that I would …”
Develyn slipped her arm into Slater’s. She rolled her eyes at the mustang breaker. “Renny, honey, I am trying my best to get us a little private time.”
Slater patted her hand. “I know, mama, it’s hard to push them out of the nest when they don’t want to go.”
“You trying to get rid of me?” Casey protested.
“I think they were hoping to be alone,” Jackson said.
“Have fun,” Develyn urged.
Casey marched right up to Develyn. “Boys, I need to talk to my mother alone for a minute.” She tugged Develyn across the parking lot, then lowered her voice. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Getting you a date with the cutest cowboy under forty that I have seen since I got here.”
“A date? Going to look at pack horses is a date?”
“In some parts of Wyoming, it’s tantamount to being engaged.”
“Do you want to be alone with Renny? Is that what this is about?”
“I want you to be alone with Jackson Hill. Renny and I will be fine. He’s a good friend.”
“I don’t know where that Starfoot ranch is, and you know it.”
“Fake it, Casey, and have fun.”
“But … but … what are we going to talk about? I mean, how should I be?”
“Talk about anything you like. Be yourself, Casey. Be that wonderful, beautiful countess that you are.”
“I can’t believe you are doing this to me.”
Develyn led her back to where the men stood next to the truck. “Sweetie, you are goin’ to thank me in the morning.”
“Is it all settled?” Renny asked.
“Almost,” Develyn said. “Jackson, are you married?”
“What?” He stared at Renny, then at Casey. “Is she teasing me again?”
Casey shook her head.
“Eh, no, ma’am. I’m not married.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Develyn!” Renny cautioned.
Jackson shook his head. “No, ma’am, I ain’t never been married. However, I was engaged to Barbara Belton for two days one time.”
Renny howled. “Who wasn’t?”
“OK,” Develyn said. “One more thing, will you promise to see that she gets back to our cabin by midnight?”
“Do you mean midnight tonight or tomorrow night?” he grinned.
“I like this boy,” Develyn laughed. “Tonight.”
“I’m almost thirty-two, and I feel like a sixteen-year-old on prom night,” Jackson said. “Your mama is tough, Casey, darlin’.”
“Don’t get her riled … never underestimate the wrath of a fifth-grade teacher,” Casey said.
“No foolin’? My mama has taught fourth grade in Sheridan for thirty-five years.”
“A schoolteacher’s boy? Hmmm … in that case you can stay out until 12:30,” Develyn announced.
The four strolled to Jackson’s white Dodge pickup. After Casey slid into the truck, she rolled down the window. “You know, I should be the one telling Renny to get you home early.”
“Now, don’t get to meddlin’,” Renny said.
“Well, if you don’t get her home in time, Quint Burdett will have the entire Wyoming National Guard activated to look for her.”
“Do you have your cell phone?” Develyn asked.
“Yes, and I have a quarter, just in case I need to use a pay phone to have you come pick me up.”
Develyn folded her arms across her chest. “I’m being overprotective, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you shove me out and then want strings attached.”
“I have heard that line before.”
Casey raised her thick, black eyebrows. “From Delaney?”
“Yes, so it must be true.” Develyn glanced at a grinning Jackson Hill. “Take care of her. And I wasn’t really joking about 12:30.”
He tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am. Shoot, it will take that long for us just to catch up since June of 1996.”
“It was May of ’96,” Casey corrected.
“Nope, you’re wrong.” Jackson reached down to his boot and pulled out his wallet. “It was June 26, 1996.”
“What was June 26?” Casey asked.
He pulled out a faded, folded page from a steno notebook. “See here … June 26, 1996.”
“Oh, my word, no …” Casey sobbed. “You saved them?”
He nodded. “Thirty-eight of ’em.”
“Those are the notes you put in his gear bag?” Develyn choked.
“I kept ever’ one, then reread them on lonely nights. I didn’t know who had written them, but I knew if I held on to them long enough, I’d find out.”
“When did you learn that it was Casey?” Develyn asked.
“Two minutes ago, when she started to cry.”
“You didn’t know until then?”
“I hoped it was her, but I didn’t know.” Jackson Hill put his hand on Cree-Ryder’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go with me, if you don’t want to.”
“Are you trying to get me to leave?” Casey sobbed.
“That would break my heart. I really want to visit with you.”
Casey wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Then let’s leave before I shoot you or kiss you. I don’t want witnesses either way.”
The truck roared out of the parking lot.
Renny put his arm around Develyn’s shoulder. “That’s quite a story, Ms. Worrell. You’ll have to fill me in on what I don’t know.”
“I’m still stunned that a man would carry those anonymous notes for ten years.”
“Dev, darlin’, you have no idea how lonely life can be on the road. It’s memories like that which sustain a man.”
“But for ten years?”
“If you are pinin’ over a girl you know, you can find a cure within six months to a year. But an unknown gal only gets better with every passing memory. I guarantee you Jackson would have carried that note until his dyin’ day, if he hadn’t found out it was Casey.”
“I can’t believe how quick a situation can change.”
Renny took her arm and led her back to his truck. “Nor can I … Devy-girl.”
* * *
“So, I said to Etbauer … ‘Billy, you’re holding that rein too short’ … and he said … ‘Renny, I am short’!”
Develyn glanced around at the crowded steak house. Every conversation in the building suspended, waiting for Slater to finish the story. He sat up and glanced around. “Am I talkin’ too loud again, darlin’?”
She shook her head and grinned. “You are just being Renny Slater. Everyone loves your stories.” She cut a small bite of rib-eye steak and stabbed it with her fork. “You ought to write down some of these tales.”
“Me? Write? Devy-girl, I haven’t written much more than my name in twenty years. You’re the schoolteacher. Maybe I could get you to write them down. Anyway, nothing spectacular ever happened to me.”
“Is that so?” she pressed. “You mean to tell me that riding a horse over a cliff in Wind River Canyon and surviving isn’t spectacular?”
“Just ’cause not many folks have done somethin’, doesn’t mean it should be written about. Shoot, Miss Dev, I was just lucky.”
“Lucky? You punctured your lungs, broke your ribs, dislocated your collarbone, and broke your wrist.” Develyn glanced at her reflection in the blade of the knife. If only I had some makeup.
Renny took a swig of iced tea. “I just sprung my wrist.”
“And laid in that stream until daylight. I’d say that was worth writing about.”
“Devy-girl, to be honest, I reckon we all have different adventures in life. But I think I enjoy mine more than the next guy. Ever’ day is worth living. You just don’t know what that day will bring.”
“You goin’ to quote Forrest Gump and tell me life is like a box of chocolates?” The steak tasted sweet, juicy, and hot.
“No, ma’am, for me, every day is like a bronc I’ve never ridden before. You screw your hat down tight. Grab that rope rein with a vise grip, jam your boots in the stirrups, then you lean back and nod, ‘outside’.”
“The gate swings open, and the day begins. Some days you get bucked off on the second jump. Other days you ride that mean sucker until the crowd stands to cheer. And lots of days, you make your ride, but don’t get much of a score. Then you fall in your bunk ever’ night with the thought: wait until tomorrow. So you get up and start the adventure all over again.”
She scraped a fork full of baked potato. “You sayin’ that life’s a rodeo, cowboy?”
“Yes, ma’am …” He tipped his black beaver-felt cowboy hat. “You can either get sick worrying about it, or just stay in shape and enjoy one day at a time. How about you, Miss Dev? How would you describe your life?”
“I live a schoolteacher’s life.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I have all my lessons planned out for the entire year, and a good day is when I complete the lesson plan on the day assigned.”
“But what about the surprises?”
“They are constant grief and annoyance.”
“I notice in Arizona, Florida, and other states, some towns make a big deal out of how many days of sunshine they expect to have each year. So, following your lesson plan philosophy of life, how many good days do you expect to have in a year?”
Develyn stared out the window toward the parking lot. Lord, why are you doing this to me? Why do you challenge me to think my life through? I don’t want to answer him.
She cleared her throat and laid her fork on her plate. “I’d say I have about fifty-two good days a year, three spectacular days, fifty-two bad days, three horrible days … and about 255 mediocre days.”
“Whoa, I wasn’t expectin’ such a detailed account.”
“Renny, in my lesson plan book, I use a red felt-tip pen and draw a star for every good day … a blue X for bad days … and nothing for a mediocre day. I know what the record is.”
“How about these summer days, since you came to Wyoming?”
“I don’t judge them at all. They all seem to be good in their way.”
“There’s your secret. Don’t judge them at all. No more marks in your lesson plan book for life.”
“Renny, I’m a very organized person.”
“I didn’t say no more plans. I said no more predetermined judgment. When do you make your mark in the lesson plan book at school?”
“At the end of the day, before I go home.”
“But how do you know for sure it’s been a bad day? Maybe all the returns are not in yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jesus was crucified on a Friday, and some of the women who had traveled with him, including his mama, were there. If you surveyed them on Friday night, how many of them would say that was a lousy day?”
“All of them, I suppose.”
“Now here we sit at the Tapadera Inn, eatin’ steaks and butter-drenched baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and apple pie waitin’ for us. Lookin’ back from where we are right now, would you say that the Friday Jesus was crucified and died for our sins was a good or a bad day?”
“It was a glorious day for us. That’s why we call it Good Friday.”
“There’s my point. Even the worst of days might turn out in the long run to be the best of days.”
“OK, Mr. Slater, I am overwhelmed with cowboy logic. Where is all of this leading?”
He pushed his hat back. “How about you driving with me up to Graybull tomorrow and helping me break a two-year-old filly?”
She wiped the white cloth napkin across her narrow lips. “What has that got to do with your great philosophy?”
“It means you’ll take a risk on havin’ a good day.”
“How long will it take?”
“Eight hours.”
“You ride a bucking horse for eight hours?”
“I hope I don’t ride a bucking horse at all. I’ve got a method of calmin’ ’em down, so that by the time I climb on board there is no buck in them. I think you’d learn somethin’ about horses … some about Renny Slater … and even some things about Ms. Develyn Worrell.”
Develyn sipped on her iced tea, studied his dimpled grin and his large brown eyes. “I’d like that.”
“So would I.”
“Renny, you are easy to be with. Some day, I plan to forgive you for sticking that thistle under My Maria’s saddle at the auction.”
“I was hopin’ you had forgotten about that, darlin’.”
“Oh, no, there are some things a girl never forgets.”
“Like a boy remembers his first horse, and a girl her first kiss?” he offered.
“Or her last kiss.”
“Are you pinin’ for Quint?”
“No, no … not really. Can I be brutally honest with you, Mr. Slater?”
“You goin’ to embarrass me?”
“I just might. But it won’t be on purpose. You asked me about my first kiss … well … I have never been kissed much. My ex-husband was not the kissing kind. It didn’t accomplish his goal. I believe his comment was, ‘Why waste time with the appetizer, when it’s the entrée that I’m after?’”
Renny glanced around the room, then rubbed his chin. “Eh, well … I reckon that is one man’s philosophy.”
“Are you embarrassed, Renny?”
He flashed a dimpled grin. “No, Miss Dev, not me. But them two ladies over in the side booth under the fake flowers is blushing like they laid in the sun too long.”
“They were listening to me?”
“Everyone’s listenin’ to you.”
“We’re quite a pair of talkers, Mr. Mustang Breaker.”
“I reckon we are.” He leaned across the table. “Now, let me tell you somethin’.”
She lowered her voice. “You aren’t goin’ to embarrass me, are you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Rats.”
“I like you, Devy-girl.”
“I like you, too, Renny. I never have to pretend to be perfect when I’m with you. That’s a nice freedom you give me.”
She leaned over and whispered. “Are you going to tell me you haven’t kissed very much either?”
He patted the top of her hand. “No, ma’am. In fact, I just might be the best kisser in Wyomin’.”
“Oh, then, well good.”
“What I wanted to tell you is that I don’t believe I’ve ever been around a lady who was as good a listener as you.”
“How’s that?”
“Most gals have their own agenda. They want me to talk about their subject or just sit still. My ex-wife is a very sweet lady whom I haven’t seen in ten years. She’s happy with a new husband and kids, so I hear. But I don’t think she ever listened to anything that was really on my heart since the night I proposed to her. She planned out my life and had me jump through the hoops. Some days I was tired of jumpin’ and just wanted to have her sit still and listen. But that never worked out. Thanks for listenin’ to me.”
“Renny, I’m glad we had some time alone to visit. When are we leaving to go to Graybull in the morning?”
“I’ll pick you up about 5 a.m. or so.”
“Oh, dear. Make it ‘or so’ please. I’ll hardly have time to put my face on.”
“You know you don’t have to paint it up for me. I like it today.”
Develyn’s hands went to her face. “I forgot! Oh, dear, what a dumb promise I made to Casey. I must look old and pathetic.”
“To tell you the truth, Devy-girl, you look good.” His eyes seemed to lock on to hers. “You look real good.”