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 turned 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.”
“Does it hurt?” Develyn asked.
“No. I didn't even cry. Mama cried, but I didn't cry.”
Develyn glanced up at the mom. “And Daddy will cry when he gets the hospital bill. Come on, Captain Jack.”
When they made it through the automatic doors, Develyn turned to Cooper. “Captain Jack?”
“I believe that mama will be back here again.”
“We were talking of golden years.”
“Yes, when were your golden years, Dev?”
“Not counting this summer?”
He stared at her until she turned away. “You too?”
“It's been a good summer, Coop. I can't remember so many days in a row when I enjoyed being me. I don't want to sound too negative. I've had a lot of good times…good months…good years. I loved college. It was my first time on my own. I was out from under my mother's constant supervision. Taking courses I enjoyed. Trying out new things.”
“What new things?”
“Diet Coke and disco dancing,” Develyn giggled. “Mother was sure diet soda would cause cancer. And dancing, well, needless to say, it was not acceptable behavior for an Upton girl.”
He shook his head, then grinned.
“What's the matter, can't you imagine me doing disco? I was pretty good. Spencer was better. That's how I met him, at a dance at Purdue. He showed up without a date and wanted to enter the contest. My friend Beth and I hunkered in the corner, sort of dancing by ourselves and watching. He marched right over and said, ‘I guess you'll have to do.’ Then he tugged me out on the dance floor.”
“Not exactly enthusiastic?”
“I suppose that's how he always thought of me: ‘I guess you'll have to do.’”
“How did you two do in the contest?”
“We won first place. So he walked me out to the parking lot. When we got to my car, he said, ‘Looks like we'll have to go out next week and defend our title.’”
“Did you love him, Dev?”
“Of course I did.”
“Did it feel good to love him?”
She studied the tanned, deep lines on Tallon's face. “It felt good to know someone was thinking about me all day. That someone wanted to be just with me. That someone thought I was attractive.” She patted his hand. “Are you saying that you don't know what it feels like to be in love?”
He pulled off his black cowboy hat. His graying brown hair kept the hat curl. “Were your college years the only golden ones?”
“And my first trip to Wyoming, but that was only for two weeks. I enjoyed raising Delaney. I liked going back for my master's degree.”
She studied as a man rushed a very red-faced, pregnant woman across the waiting room. “Oh, dear.”
For a couple of moments, no one spoke.
Cooper broke the silence. “November 1995.”
“Are you talking about another magazine?”
“That's when the tears of my soul began.”
“Mr. Cooper, you aren't real good with transitions, are you?”
“You need to know one thing. I have already talked to you more than I've talked to any lady in my life. So, if I'm not very good at it, you'll have to school me.”
“OK, here's the first lesson. Don't leave me hanging. Tell me, right now, why the tears of your soul began in the fall of 1995.”
“I had a big contract to lay an oil line from Rock Springs south to the Utah border. It was quite a deal. About the middle of June, a guy walks up with a backpack. Says he wants a job. He'd hitchhiked down from Ethete, an Arapaho town over on the Wind River Reservation.”
“He was Native American?”
“Yeah. Miles was skin and bones. Looked like a poster image for a concentration camp. I didn't figure he could do a whole day's hard work. But he begged me for a job. Said he had a family to support and needed the work. I put him on temporary and let him bunk in the toolshed, since we didn't have any other place for him to stay.”
“Was Miles a good worker?”
“He would do anything I told him. He didn't talk much. Come payday, he asked for cashier's checks so he could send them home.”
“So you kept him on?”
“He didn't know how to operate anything more complicated than a shovel when he hiked up. But I'd teach him how the rigs worked, and he'd catch on fast. So I let him work until the job was done.”
“When was that?”
“November of ‘95. We got the job done and were packin' gear. He pulled out his sleepin' bag and duffle and said he would hitchhike back up to Ethete. I told him I was headed here to my cabin at Argenta, and I'd give him a lift.”
“Is this going to be a sad story? Are you trying to prepare me for something sad happening to him?”
“Just the opposite.”
“But you said this is where the tears of your soul began.”
“Yep, that happened when…”
“Is there a Devy here?”
Develyn glanced up to see a nurse in a pale green uniform standing in the doorway to the emergency rooms. She and Cooper both stood.
“I'm Develyn.”
The nurse motioned her toward the open door. “Your mother wants to see you.”
“Actually, I'm…”
Cooper squeezed her hand. “How is Mother Tagley?” he asked.
“We think she is past the worse part. She said her daughter brought her in, and she wanted to talk to her Devy.”
“Dear, you go on in and see your mom. I'll wait here.”
“Your husband can come too.”
“No, I'll wait here.”
“He's a little squeamish in emergency rooms. The last time he was in one, he fainted straightaway,” Develyn said.
The hallway reeked of disinfectant and medicine. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the highly polished linoleum floor. Each bed in the large room was circled in curtains. The nurse tugged some back and ushered Develyn in.
“I'll go find you a chair.”
Develyn scrutinized the gray-haired lady tucked under the covers with an IV in one arm and a breathing tube down her nose. She reached over and stroked Mrs. Tagley's age spot-covered hand.
“Hi, honey. How are you?”
One eye opened then the other. “Devy girl, do you have my purse?”
“Yes, it's out in the waiting room with Coop. Do you need something?”
“My makeup. If I'm going to meet Jesus, I want to look my best.”
“How about me getting your makeup and you postponing heaven a few more years?”
“Why?”
That's a very good question, Lord, and I'm not sure I have the answer. “Because Argenta needs you.”
“I've run a store in that town for over seventy years. I think it's time to quit.”
“You can quit the store, but you have some more good years.”
“My life is that store. I'm tired.”
“I know you are. Get some rest while you are in here, and we can talk about it when you come home. Do you want me to run the store for you?”
“I couldn't ask you to do that.”
“That's what daughters do. Didn't you tell the nurse I was your daughter?”
“She wouldn't let you bring me my makeup unless you were my daughter.”
“Well, for the next few weeks, let's just pretend I am. I can get Casey to help, and we'll keep the store open if you like.”
“I'd like that. There's a binder under the back counter. It tells you what to buy and when.”
Develyn rubbed her arms. “You always order the same amount of everything?”
“Most of the time. This summer I've had a rush on orange Popsicles.”
The emergency room nurse breezed back to the bed. “The doctor said that she's stabilized enough to move her up to CCU. If you'll stay in the waiting room, I'll come get you when we have her situated.”
“You're not moving my mother one inch until she gets some makeup on,” Develyn said.
Mrs. Tagley squeezed her hand.
Cooper Tallon stretched out his long legs in front of the chair. “So they think it was a mild heart attack?”
“They're still mulling its magnitude. She will be in the cardiac care unit for a few days.”
“And the store?”
“Casey and I will keep it open for her.”
“You are quite a lady, Ms. Worrell. You've only known Mrs. Tagley a few weeks.”
“I feel like I've known her since I was ten. Every daydream I ever had about Wyoming included Mrs. Tagley and her store. She was the one fixture in all of them. I can't remember any of the local kids we played with or anyone else. But I never forgot her. Who else does she have? Every mother should have a daughter.”
Cooper leaned back and rubbed his square jaw. “I think you are a bulldog, Ms. Worrell. I mean that as a compliment. What's the plan for the rest of the evening?”
“I want to make sure she's tucked in her new room and that the nurses have my cell phone number. Coop, if you need to get back, I can hitch a ride with Casey and Jackson when they bring Delaney to town.”
“What if your daughter doesn't come back right away?”
“She has to.” Develyn sighed. “You don't have to sit here, Coop. I'll be fine.”
“I drove you here; I'm driving you home. You take home the girl you brung to the dance. It's an old cowboy rule. And I'm an old cowboy.”
“Enough of that ‘old’ talk, Mr. Tallon. But I will accept your offer. All of this doesn't sound so confusing, having you here with me.”
A nurse scooted over to them. “Mrs. Worrell, the doctor is in with your mother. Just give them a few minutes and you can go up. She's in CCU Room 220. Mr. Worrell, it's a nice, cheery room. I believe you could go up too. Just remember if the voices grow distant or your vision starts to close in on you, put your head between your knees and breathe deep.”
He shoved his hat back on. “Yes, ma'am, I'll remember that.”
The nurse looked at Dev. “They have a few more papers for you to sign.”
She stood but motioned for Cooper to stay seated.
“What can I do to help you?”
“Wait here for Casey and Delaney. And promise you will finish your story about Miles, the Arapaho worker.”
“I'll wait here. You take care of Mama.”
Develyn had a long wait at the elevator. She folded her arms and glared at the light that seemed to be stuck on 4. Lord, I know you bring the right people into our lives at the right time, but it doesn't always seem that way. Why is Mrs. Tagley now in my life? Why is it you needed me to wait this long to meet Casey and Quint and Renny and dear Coop? And why did I call him “dear Coop”? Sometimes he seems so sad. I don't think I know all of his story. He had a lonely life isolated from people, and I have had a lonely life surrounded by people. It doesn't matter, does it? It's not the people. It's our perception. We allow loneliness to cling to us like a virus that we can never shake. It's always there, sapping our energy. Is loneliness ingratitude toward you ? It must seem that way at times. Lord, I'll be so happy to be in heaven where I finally get it all right.
“Lady, are you going up?”
Develyn stared at the uniformed maintenance man. “I certainly hope so.”
It took more than an hour to get Mrs. Tagley's makeup on and settle her into her new room.
“Mildred, it's time for me to go. Here's the remote. Your soaps will be on channels 4 and 6, and channel 26 has classic soap reruns. Your water is right over here. I told the nurse that you wanted your makeup on first thing in the morning. My cell phone number is by the telephone. You have them phone me if you need anything. I'll be back tomorrow, but I don't know what time. We'll get the store open for you. Is there anything else?”
The elderly woman held out her hand.
Develyn held it tight.
“Now I know why the good Lord had me live so long. He wanted to allow me to know what it feels like to have a daughter looking after me.”
“How does it feel?” Develyn asked.
“Wonderful. So good, in fact, I think I should stick around a while longer and enjoy it.”
“Now, Mother, that's what I like to hear. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
Develyn recognized Casey's voice from the far end of the hall. When she got to the waiting room, Coop, Jackson, and Delaney sat in chairs while Casey stood in the middle of the room laughing at her arm that dangled down from her extended elbow.
“Did I miss something?” Develyn asked.
Delaney shook her head and grinned. “Casey was demonstrating what she looked like the last time she was in this emergency room.”
“I busted my arm steer wrestling.”
“You come here often?” Develyn chided.
A security guard stuck in his head. “Casey, you don't have any guns or knives this time, do you?”
“Nope. You wantin' to frisk me, Tony?”
He rested his hands on his duty belt. “No, ma'am.”
“How's Mama?” Cooper asked.
“She is resting comfortably, but she looks so tired.”
“Are we ready to go?” Casey asked.
Develyn studied the crew. “Let's see, we have my Cherokee and Cooper's truck.…”
“We came in my truck,” Jackson said.
“Why don't you and Delaney take my truck?” Cooper offered. “I can ride shotgun with these two.”
“Thanks,” Develyn replied.
“Mother, are you ticked at me for driving off?” Delaney blurted out.
“I was worried, honey. I know this is a tough time for you, and I haven't been much help. Don't you think we should talk some?”
“Yes. But I don't care if your Coop comes along too. Casey and Jackson were thinking of going to a movie.”
Develyn turned to Cree-Ryder. “I thought you went to a movie night before last.”
“Mother!” Casey faked a whine.
“You see, Mr. Tallon, if it isn't one daughter, it's the other. OK, you two go to the movie, but don't stay out too late. We have to run Mrs. Tagley's store in the morning.”
“We do?” Casey asked.
“I promised her I'd keep it open for a few days until we see how this is going.”
“I used to work at a store,” Jackson offered. “I worked at Albertson's in Sheridan in high school and junior college.”
“Jackson and I will run the store,” Casey blurted out.
“We will?”
“You're the stock boy, and I'm the cashier.”
“What? It's such a small store, we'll both be sitting around with nothing to do.”
Casey grinned. “And your point is?”
“You'll sit out on the front bench,” Develyn said.
Casey shook her head at Delaney. “Mama's on a roll tonight. See if you can soften her up. You want to tell her, or do you want me to?”
“Tell me what?”
“I'll tell her,” Delaney said.
“Tell me what?” Develyn repeated.
The five of them meandered out to the parking lot.
“Mr. Tallon, did you ever get a feeling that these ladies are saying a lot more to each other than our ears can ’cipher?” Jackson asked.
“Sometimes it's like being in a foreign country and not knowing the native language,” Coop said.
“Men,” Develyn sighed.
“Totally,” Casey concurred.
“Why do they assume communication has to be verbal?”
“Or logical?”
Cooper drove with Develyn in the middle and Delaney by the window. When they turned west off of I-25, he cleared his throat. “Ladies, if I'm in your way, I'll just pull over and hitch a ride.”
“Dee, I'm sorry about the scene in the doctor's office this morning. I'm really ashamed about how I acted.”
The tires whined on the blacktop during the silence.
“I know you are, Mother. Why do we do that?”
“Bring out the worst in each other?”
“Yes, I don't understand.”
“Honey, I don't know. This morning I think I was as scared as you were.”
“You worried about what Grandmother Upton will say?”
“No. Mother will deal with it in her own ‘why me’ way.”
“You were worried about what people at your school will think?”
“To tell you the truth, Dee, none of that is important. I'm worried about you. Being pregnant changes your life forever. I want the changes to be for your good. I'm not the important one in this; you are.”
“No, Mom, the baby is the most important one.”
Develyn slipped her arm around her daughter. “You're right, honey. Is that what you needed to think about?”
“That's why I drove all the way to Riverton and back.”
“What did my daughter decide?”
“If I'm pregnant, it's not the baby's fault. She should get all the love she deserves.”
“Or he,” Cooper broke in.
“Isn't that just like a grandpa. They always want a grandson,” Develyn blurted out.
“Grandpa? Is there something going on here I don't know about?” Delaney pressed.
“Just a little game,” Cooper said. “The emergency room nurse called me Mr. Worrell. No offense. I'm sorry for intruding. Here, take the wheel.”
He raised his hands and grabbed the door handle. “I'll wait outside.”
Develyn clutched the black steering wheel. “No, you won't, Mr. Cooper Tallon. Not when the truck is going sixty.”
She turned back to her daughter. “You are right, honey. If you have a baby, we'll love her with everything we've got.”
“I decided that under no circumstance would I get an abortion.”
“I'm glad, Dee. You know that would break my heart.”
“It would break mine too. You know what is ironic, Mom?”
“What, Dee?”
“We just did it once. We had a picnic by the river, and it cooled off when it got dark, and the breeze was blowing. It was so peaceful and sweet, just like something out of a Jane Austen novel. It seemed so natural for…”
“Wait!” Cooper called out, then drove over to the side of the road. “This is where I get out.”
“What's the matter?” Delaney asked.
“I think we embarrassed Coop.”
“Ladies, mothers, and daughters should have the freedom to talk about anything they want. But fifty-five-year-old bachelors shouldn't listen in.”
“You're fifty-five?” Delaney gasped. “And never married?”
“Yes, but that's my story.” He turned off the engine. “You see that cabin up there? I'm thinking of buying it. You two wait here while I go up and inspect it.”
“It's leaning so much the next wind will knock it down,” Develyn insisted.
“Just a little work, and it will be good as new. You two go ahead and talk about anything you want. Honk when you want to go on.”
He sauntered up the hill.
“Mother, I like your Coop.”
“He's a good friend. And that's all for now. I feel relaxed when I talk to him, and he has good advice.”
“He looks very strong, you know, for an older gentleman.”
“Those arms are solid muscle.”
Delaney giggled. “And how does Ms. Worrell know he is solid muscle? Just friends?”
“I only have energy for one focus at a time, and right now you are it.”
“I know, Mom. I've never felt that more than the past two days.”
“Now I'm a schoolteacher, and I can't survive without a lesson plan. What's our lesson plan for you and the little one, you know, provided you are pregnant?”
“I'm going to the doctor tomorrow.”
“I'll call and get an appointment.”
“I already called. Casey knew a lady doctor in Lander. I'm going over there.”
“But, if you got an appointment in Casper, we could stop by afterward and see Mrs. Tagley.”
“Mother, I really do love you.”
“I love you too, honey.”
“But I don't want you to go to the doctor with me.”
“You don't? But…”
“I asked Casey to go with me.”
“You hardly know her.”
“She's like a sister, remember?”
“But…”
“I'll be twenty-one my next birthday. I'm responsible for my actions. I have to take care of this myself. It's important to me, Mom. I have confessed my sin before the Lord, and now I'm ready to accept the consequences. Please let me do it my way.”
“You are absolutely right, Dee.”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“You mean that, don't you?”
“Yes, I do, honey. Remember, I'm your mother. That means I am always on your side, and I am ready to help you any way I can.”
“Will you be ashamed of me if I show up at Target in Crawfordsville with a tummy bigger than a basketball?”
“I will not be ashamed of you. But I will not pretend you did nothing wrong. I want my daughter to have a husband and my grandchild to have a father. That's the way God intended it. But I accept your confession, and I know the Lord does as well. We all make mistakes. Some have broader consequences than others. There are no perfect people.”
“You know what, Mom? You have always been the most perfect person I've ever known.”
“How can you say that? I wasn't very perfect this morning at the doctor's office.”
“I didn't say you were perfect. You're the most perfect. I've compared you to my friends' mothers and to other women. I'd like to be like you, Mom.”
“I think I'm going to cry.”
“Me too.”
For several moments Develyn and Delaney hugged and wept. They sat straight up when a pickup with several cowboys honked at them.
“We are a sight, I suppose. Two grown women sitting in a pickup alongside Highway 20, in the middle of Wyoming, hugging and crying.”
“Mom, I'm sorry for all the pain Daddy put you through. When Brian got mad at me and wanted nothing more to do with me, I said to myself, ‘This must be the way Mom felt.’”
“I don't think it could ever have worked out for your father and me to get back together. But I could have learned to be gracious, kind, and generous to him again. I'm sorry for how my pain and bitterness made your life difficult. I don't understand why the Lord took him when he did. I had just decided to change my attitude, and he was gone.”
“I spent several years trying to deny that Daddy did those things. I knew you were right, but I didn't want it to be true. I think I had this fairy-tale view of how a family was supposed to be, and I couldn't accept that we weren't that way.”
“We're sinners saved by grace, baby. That's all that we are. But we can love each other.”
“Are we going to cry and hug some more?”
Develyn grabbed her daughter and hugged.
The driver's door swung open. “Did you two honk for me?” Cooper asked.
“No,” Delaney cried.
“Is everything OK?”
Develyn gulped air to try to catch a breath. She blurted out through the tears, “Everything is perfect.”
“Perfect? You two look like the dog died.”
Develyn wiped Delaney's eyes with her shirtsleeve. “Men. Why can't they tell when we're happy?”
“Do you want me to go back up and hide in the cabin?”
“No, drive us home, please,” Delaney said.
“Are you telling me everything is OK?”
“It's wonderful,” Develyn sobbed.
Cooper started the engine and eased back onto the road. “Now, you know that I've never had a wife. And I've never had a daughter. So I'm a little more confused than the average man. You'll cut me a little slack if I seem bewildered.”
Develyn dug through her purse for a tissue, then blew her nose. “Sorry, Coop, it's a mother-and-daughter thing. If you talk to us, we'll probably stop crying.”
“Do you want me to bore you to sleep or talk about something interesting?”
“You are going to finish the story about Miles the Arapaho.”
He glanced over at Delaney.
“Stop the truck. I'll go up on the hillside and wait for you to honk the horn,” Delaney said.
“Oh, no,” Cooper grinned. “Me and your mama don't talk secrets.”
“We do too. Cooper Tallon, I expect some of the things I told you never to be repeated.”
“You do?”
She jabbed her elbow into his ribs.
“Oh, like the time you rode buck naked across the meadow and jumped the three-rail fence?”
“What?” Develyn gasped. “I… I…”
Delaney burst out laughing. “That's the funniest thing I ever heard. My mother would never do that in a million years.”
“I know,” Cooper said. “But I reckon that's the kind of thing I was to keep quiet about.”
“I can't believe you said that about me.”
“I wanted to divert the attention away from your addiction.”
“What addiction?” Delaney pressed.
“Yes, Mr. Cooper, what addiction do I have?”
“Devy-girl, you are obviously still in denial. It's quite sad.”
“I said, what addiction?”
“I believe she snapped at me.” Cooper leaned forward and glanced over at Delaney. “Did your mama just snap at me?”
“I did not snap at you.”
“She snapped at you,” Delaney nodded. “On a scale of one to ten, I'd rate that snap as a seven.”
“Seven? I figured it was more like an 8.5.”
“Oh, no. An 8.5 will stand the hair on the back of your neck stiff. Trust me on this.”
“Are you two through dissing me?”
“We're teasing you, Mother.”
“Mr. Cooper Tallon, would you please tell me what is my addiction? There, was that the right tone?”
“Was that a whimper?” he asked.
“Not a very good one,” Delaney giggled. “No more than a five.”
“That's what I thought.”
“I'm so happy you two get along so well. You'd make a delightful team at the comedy club in Indy.”
Delaney bounced up and down on the pickup seat. “And now sarcasm? She's multitalented. I'd rate that about…”
“Don't,” Coop warned. “You've got to know when to hold‘em and know when to fold‘em. Now's the time to fold.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tallon.”
Cooper stepped on the accelerator and passed a Fed Ex semi pulling three trailers. When he swung back in the right lane, he put the truck on cruise control. “Orange Popsicles,” he blurted out.
“What about them?” Delaney asked.
“Your mother is addicted to them.”
“I'd never seen her eat one in my life until I got to Wyoming.”
“She probably tried to hide it from you.”
“You mean she was a closet orange Popsicle addict?”
“Sounds sticky, doesn't it?”
“I can give them up any time I want,” Develyn insisted.
“That's what they all say.”
“But you don't understand,” Develyn sighed. “I need my orange Popsicles. They calm me down and help me get through the day.”
“Oh, sure. First it's one a day, then two. Where will it stop?” Delaney jibed.
“I tried to get her to go on Oprah,” Cooper said.
“I am not as bad off as those people. I'm just a recreational orange Popsicle eater.”
“Don't worry, Mother, I'll stick with you and help you lick this.”
All three burst into laughter at the same time.
Develyn finally caught her breath. “Dee, reach back there and grab Coop's carbine.”
“Why?”
“I'm going to have to shoot him if he doesn't finish the story about Miles, the hardworking Arapaho.”
“Leave the gun. I'll finish the story. Anyway, it took another day to get the yard cleaned up and the rented equipment shipped back, so Miles and I took off early the next morning. He'd been working for me for six months and only went home twice during all that time.
“Drivin' north I was calculatin' all my bills and trying to figure the profit I made on that job. I couldn't wait to sit down with my briefcase full of invoices and my calculator and tally it up. I was guessing around one hundred grand.”
“For your profit?” Delaney asked.
“Yep. Anyway, I was countin' dollar bills in my mind, and Miles was napping when we pulled into Ethete. He sat straight up like an alarm went off, then directed me down a dirt road. Kind of leanin' out in the sage at the end of this trail was a faded green single-wide, and a couple of busted cars. A big, tall one-eared goat was munchin' on an empty dog food sack. An old tricycle and a broken lawn chair lounged in the dirt yard in front of the house.
“I stopped the truck, and Miles hopped out. He hadn't taken six steps when a little girl, about five, wearing nothin' but underpants, skipped out on the porch and shouted, ‘Daddy's home!’
“A thin lady with a long, black pigtail flew out of the house and sprinted toward Miles. She leaped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. They danced like that, and she kissed him as if he'd been five years to war.
“The little girl is joined on the porch by a brother, slightly older. He's only wearing jeans, and the two of them run out and hug Miles's legs.
“I tipped my hat to Miles, and he waved back. Then I drove over to the cabin in Argenta. I thought about that scene all the way. Who was the rich man? Who was the pauper? When I drove back down the drive and trudged to the cabin, I knew the answer to that. I didn't bother countin’ profit that night. No matter what I made, it wouldn't balance what Miles had. And that, Ms. and Miss Worrell, was the night I first felt the tears of my soul.”
Develyn hugged his arm and leaned on his shoulder.
No one talked.
The sky turned from charcoal gray to black. The headlights glared as the tires hummed.
Cooper broke the silence. “Did you tell Dee we ran across Hunter Burke today?”
“You did? Where?”
“Near the springs where Coop wants to build his log home.”
“He said he was going hunting or something. He has a gun rack in his truck, you know.”
“I didn't know that,” Develyn said.
“Did Hunt mention that we have a date for tomorrow night?”
“But you hardly know him.”
“How will I get better acquainted unless I go out with him?”
“This is crazy, Delaney. You are going to the doctor with Casey tomorrow, remember?”
“That's in the morning.”
“Dee, there is something about this Hunt that…”
“His eyes. Aren't they dreamy?”
“His eyes? Until I figure out why he lied to me, you are not going out with him.”
“Mother, you just said I can make my own decisions.”
“You might be carrying some other man's baby. Doesn't that make you pause in the dating process?”
“Why should it? The Lord forgives me. Do you mean I can never have any fun again?”
“Using a hyperbole to make a point doesn't impress me much. There are times for fun. This isn't one of them. First things first.”
“Mother, if I want to go out with Hunter, I will do it.”
“Coop, do you believe this?”
“That you two are squalling at each other? Yep, I can believe it. I can handle this. It's that cryin’ and huggin’ that threw me for a loop.”