Memories of a Dirt Road Town

by Stephen Bly

  “I thought I would die. I had to bite the washcloth to keep from screaming.”

  “You should try a cold shower in the winter.”

  “I’d rather not bathe than go through that in the winter.”

  “Now you’re sounding like a true Wyomin’ girl,” Casey said. “Are you going to wear this perfume on your big date?”

  “It is not a…”

  “I know, I know … it’s not a big date.”

  “You can come with us if you want to,” Develyn blurted out. Why did I say that? I don’t know if I meant that or not.

  “Hah! I’m not goin’ to crash your big night with a mustang breaker.” Cree-Ryder splashed some perfume on her fingers and rubbed it on her neck and under her ears, then shoved it at Worrell.

  “But you are going to stay here tonight?” Develyn put the perfume on the desk without using it.

  “Someone has to be here when you come home, so you don’t park out in the driveway half the night. Remember, I have a flashlight, and I’m sneaky.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “What’s your mother like?”

  “Everyone says she’s just like me.”

  “That’s scary. The only thing I remember about my mother is that she liked to fish,” Casey murmured.

  “Fish?”

  “Yes. Every free minute it seems like I was drug to the lake or river or reservoir. She liked to fish.”

  “I’ve never known a woman who really liked to fish,” Develyn said.

  “She’d catch them and cook them right by the river. I can’t stand to eat fish even to this day.”

  “What are you going to do about supper?”

  “Hey, I had a Dove Bar.”

  “Sorry there’s nothing here. I thought I’d get some food while I’m in Casper.”

  Casey slid her hands into the back pockets of her blue jeans. “You’re goin’ all the way to Casper?”

  “Renny said we were going to town.”

  “Which town?”

  “The town that has a vet.”

  “That could be Riverton, Thermopolis, or Casper, to name a few.”

  Develyn shrugged. “I guess I don’t know.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’ve known this buckaroo for about twenty-four hours and now you are getting in his red truck and you don’t even know where you’re going?”

  “It didn’t … I think …” Develyn stammered … “You said he was nice.”

  “He is. And you have nothing to worry about. Still…”

  “Still what?”

  “I want you to find out where you are going and let me know before you go.”

  “Now you sound like Lily…”

  “Is she your sister?” Casey asked.

  “She should be. She’s a good friend. We’ve taught next door to each other for twenty-three years. She wants me to call her every day and report in.”

  “That would be nice …” Cree-Ryder murmured. “It dawned on me a couple of years ago that I don’t have anyone who really cares where I am and what I do.”

  “Some would call that freedom.”

  “They are fools. Anyway, being melancholy doesn’t wear well on me. I’m not really complaining. I live my life the way I want to.” Casey peered out the front window of the cabin. “Only, I’d rather not live it alone.” She whipped around. “Dev, what do you think is wrong with me that guys never want to get very close?”

  Develyn surveyed the dark-skinned girl. “You mean besides the fact that you scare men spitless?”

  “Yeah, besides that?”

  “You are asking the wrong woman.” Develyn turned back to the little mirror and studied her face. “The only guy I ever attracted turned out to be rather worthless.”

  “You’re doin’ OK. Renny’s toolin’ up the drive.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know me yet. Give him time and I’ll bore him to death. I still feel funny about leaving you here.”

  “Would you feel funny if I had a date and was leaving you?” Cree-Ryder challenged.

  “Of course not.” Develyn put her hat on, glanced in the mirror, then pulled it off again.

  Casey continued to stare out the window. “Then quit worrying about me.”

  “I was serious about you coming with us.”

  “And I was serious about not doing that.”

  “Any food items you want me to bring back? I’m really glad you are going to stay a few days.”

  “I can’t believe you are going grocery shopping on a date.”

  “It’s not a date.” Develyn started to the door.

  Cree-Ryder grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to meet Renny.”

  “Make him wait … I’ll tell him you are just about ready.”

  “I am ready,” Develyn insisted. “I am always ready on time.”

  “Always?”

  “Yes. All my life.”

  “How boring,” Cree-Ryder murmured. “Wait here. Trust me.”

  Casey slipped out on the uncovered porch.

  Develyn stepped over to the mirror and fussed with her hair. Lord, I am not tiresome. Am I? Maybe she’s right. I like Casey. She is unlike anyone I know, and yet she reminds me of someone. I just can’t figure out who. She is so blunt … almost crude … yet so sincere. I just know we will be good friends for a long time.

  The door to the cabin banged open. Casey ran in and grabbed her hat. “Hey, guess what?”

  Develyn started toward the door. “What?”

  “Renny asked if I wanted to go to town with you guys and…”

  “And you told him?”

  “Hey, with both of you beggin’ me, I figure I’ll ride along.” Cree-Rider unzipped her jeans and tucked in her bright purple T-shirt, then licked the palm of her hand and mashed down her wild black bangs. “I don’t look too sexy, do I?”

  7

  The voice sounded like a seasoned sixth-grade teacher. “Where are you right now?”

  “On Mrs. Tagley’s front porch with an orange Popsicle, talk ing on the cell phone to Lily-gone-wild,” Develyn replied.

  “Me?” Lily shouted.

  Develyn moved the cell phone away from her ear.

  “I didn’t move to the edge of the earth to chase cowboys!”

  Two dusty cowboys in an old dirt-plastered International pickup sputtered by and waved at Develyn. “I am not chasing cowboys. I’m a forty-five-year-old Indiana schoolteacher on summer vacation.” She waved back at the two unknown men.

  “Hmmm. Yeah, right. Do you have any more dates lined up?”

  “I haven’t had a date yet.”

  “What about last week when you went to supper with the bowlegged and dimpled Renny what’s-his-name?”

  Develyn paced the worn wooden porch and listened to her heels tap out a tune. “Renny Slater. It was not a date. Casey went with us and did most of the talking.”

  “Who sat next to the cowboy in his pickup? You or this Casey?”

  “I did,” Develyn admitted.

  “You see?”

  “She called ‘shotgun’ first. What could I do, ride in the back of the pickup with Uncle Henry?”

  “You had a burro in the back of the pickup?”

  Develyn stopped at the wagon-seat bench and traced her fingers in her brother’s initials. “No, but he was invited. What about you? You and that lawyer seem very chummy.”

  “He’s smart and funny … you’d like him,” Lily admitted. “But you changed the subject.”

  “What is the subject?”

  “The many loves of Develyn Gail Upton Worrell.”

  “Hah, that would make a very short book.”

  “You are writing new chapters.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “No, I’m having a good time, Lily.”

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “No, I’m standing. I only sit in the saddle nowadays.”

  Lily lowered her voice to a
whisper. “Did you try some of that ‘Female Remedy’ you mentioned?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did it make you feel?”

  “Sleepy.”

  “How about your buns?”

  “They felt sleepy, too.”

  “Well, you might want to sit down anyway,” Lily insisted.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting married.”

  “Ms. Worrell, don’t get silly on me.”

  “Why do you want me to sit down? Did the new superintendent turn out to have purple hair and a tattoo?” Develyn perched herself on the edge of the hard wooden bench and felt a sharp pain in her thighs.

  “I know nothing about the new superintendent. But I saw Lisa D. at the Steak Haus in Waynetown. She’s waiting tables again this summer. Lisa said that Delaney called her.”

  “How is my wayward daughter? She hasn’t called me.”

  “You aren’t at home.”

  “She has my cell phone number.”

  Lily cleared her throat. “Delaney wanted to borrow some money from Lisa D.”

  “Why?”

  “Lisa said she thinks things aren’t going too well in South Carolina and Delaney wants to come home.”

  “Home,” Develyn choked. “Back home to Purdue at West Lafayette … or to Crawfordsville?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Lily, I don’t even know how to contact her.”

  “Stewart’s taking me to the Steak Haus after church on Sunday. Do you want me to ask Lisa D. to tell Delaney to call her mama?”

  “Yes, I would. So, he’s taking you to church now?”

  There was a pause. “He’s a Christian man. It’s just church, Dev. That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Hah! I happen to know that’s a big date in Indiana for the over-fifty crowd, and in Montgomery County it’s considered being engaged.”

  Lily exploded. “You’re sounding weird. You’ve been gone too long, Dev.”

  “Yeah … about thirty-five years too long.”

  “You like it out there, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. But I’ve only been here a couple of weeks.”

  “When’s the big barbecue?” Lily asked.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “So, are all your admirers going to be there?”

  Develyn stood and strolled across the porch. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “It’s at Mr. Burdett’s ranch, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “And he said you have a smile like his late wife?”

  “Well, yes…”

  “And dimpled Renny, didn’t he say you were a Wyoming version of Meg Ryan?”

  “He’s a talker, Lily. He said Casey looked a lot like Catherine Zeta-Jones.”

  “Does she?”

  “Not in any conceivable way. The only similarity is their hyphenated last names.”

  “And then there’s your landlord. How are you and Mr. Tallon getting along?”

  “Lily, I told you he rather despises me. Anyway, he went back to Colorado, or somewhere, I suppose.”

  “He won’t be at the barbecue?”

  “I don’t think so. How are my cats doing?”

  “Are you changing the subject again?”

  “I hope so.”

  “One of them did something naughty on your sofa.”

  “On my white couch? She’s better trained than that.”

  “I think she’s pouting ’cause Mama deserted her. You know how children try to get attention. Anyway, don’t worry. I took the cushion to Busy Bee’s, and Betty Harington said it would clean right up.”

  “Maybe you should put some towels over the cushions.”

  “I’m way ahead of you, honey,” Lily reported. “I have old sheets draped over every piece of furniture, including your bed.”

  “Oh, my…”

  “It looks like an abandoned dwelling or something. I just about cry when I look at it.”

  “Lily, this summer will fly. We’ll be decorating our bulletin boards at school before you know it.”

  “I suppose, Ms. Worrell, yet … oh … I have to go … the man who’s going to fix my sliding glass door is here.”

  “Is it Stewart?”

  There was no reply.

  “Lily, talk to me.”

  “He’s very handy, Ms. Worrell.”

  “Yes, I can imagine … have fun, honey.”

  “I am, Dev. I really am. Bye, sweetie.”

  * * *

  “If you drove faster, you wouldn’t have to stay in this cloud of dust,” Casey insisted.

  Develyn Worrell steered her silver Jeep Cherokee along the gravel road. “You aren’t anxious to get to the barbecue are you?”

  Casey peeked in the mirror on the sun visor, then flopped her black bangs to the side. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting my whole life to get an invitation.”

  “I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

  “I feel weird with my hair down. I’m so used to that braid.”

  Develyn kept both hands on the steering wheel and glanced over at Casey. “Your hair looks beautiful.”

  “Some say it looks like that Zorro chick who’s married to that old actor. What do you think?”

  “I think you have beautiful hair.”

  “Yeah, you said that.” Casey waved her hands. “Turn here.”

  “Where?”

  “Along that dry crick bed.”

  “That’s a road?”

  “You didn’t expect blacktop, did you?”

  “No, but I assumed gravel, at least.” Develyn felt the rear tires slide as she turned the corner. “How in the world can a whole crowd travel on a road like this?”

  “Some of them come in from the west.”

  “Why didn’t we take that road?”

  “It’s worse than this. Besides, I think the important ones fly in.”

  Develyn gazed at the treeless prairie in front of them. “There’s an airport?”

  “An airstrip. Burdett flies his own plane. So does his daughter.”

  Develyn gripped the steering wheel. “What’s Lindsay like?”

  “Linds was Miss Rodeo Wyoming a few years ago. You know what that tells you,” Casey said.

  Develyn slowed as the dirt road washboarded. “Eh, no. I don’t.”

  “Oh, you know … plastic smile, unflappable wavy hair, and that mechanical wave of hers as she races around the arena.”

  As the roadway smoothed out, Develyn sped up to forty-five miles per hour. “You’ve known Linds for quite a while?”

  “I don’t know her at all. I’ve just seen her around. We don’t hang with the same kind of people, if you know what I mean. Actually, I heard she was nice, in a snooty sort of way.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Carli Myers. She was runner-up the year Linds was queen. They traveled a lot together. Carli’s been to the barbecue. The year she went, Harrison Ford flew his helicopter to the ranch.”

  Develyn stared over at Casey, one eyebrow cocked.

  “It’s true. I told you this is a big deal.”

  “But how can something so remote be…”

  “Stop the rig,” Casey shouted. “Pull over.”

  Develyn slammed on the brakes. “Are you sick?”

  Cree-Ryder hurled out of the car and pointed at the blue, clear Wyoming sky. “I told you,” she hollered.

  Even before Develyn sprang out of the rig, she heard the roar in the sky above. She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Are you telling me that’s Harrison Ford in that helicopter?”

  “Nope.” Casey waved at the helicopter. “That’s a State of Wyoming chopper. Probably the governor or someone like that.”

  “But I thought the barbecue was for cowboys.”

  “Mostly cowboys … and politicians … and celebrities … and Indiana schoolteachers.”

  “And bronzed lady horse trainers?”

  “Are you alluding to my dark skin?”

  “I am totally jea
lous of your dark skin.”

  Cree-Ryder nodded. “I’ve always thought white is a pathetic color for skin. I mean, people turn white when they die.”

  “Yes, well.” Develyn glanced in the rearview mirror at the creases around her eyes. “We are forced to make up for our deficiencies with wit and charm.”

  Cree-Ryder stared at her for a minute, then chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

  A roar slung itself over the rise behind them and they jumped in the car and rolled up the windows, waiting for the vehicle to pass.

  “It’s a Hummer,” Casey declared.

  Develyn studied the vehicle in the mirror. “I think they are slowing down.”

  “How do I roll down the window?”

  “The button to your right.”

  Develyn leaned over toward Casey and peered out as the electronic tinted window on the big black vehicle rolled lower. A broad-shouldered, square-jawed man with sunglasses leaned out.

  “Do you ladies need some help?” he said with an accent.

  Casey’s chin dropped. Her eyes widened. “Ugh … ugh … ugh … ugh…”

  “No, we just stopped to look at something,” Develyn called out. “Thank you, anyway.”

  “I suppose you are going to the barbecue,” he replied.

  “You … you … you … you …” Cree-Ryder stammered.

  Develyn nodded. I think I’ve seen him somewhere. “Yes, thank you. Perhaps we’ll see you there.”

  “That would be nice. Does your friend have a speech impediment?”

  Casey waved her finger as she choked. “I … I … I … I…”

  “No, she’s usually quite loquacious.”

  He peered over the frames of his dark glasses. “I know where there are some great speech coaches. They are all in southern California, but they can do wonders. I’ll give you a phone number at the barbecue.”

  “Thank you very much,” Develyn replied.

  As he rolled up his window, Develyn heard him say, “Maria, write that down, so I don’t forget.”

  The Hummer and a stampede of accompanying dust roared north.

  “That was … that was …” Cree-Ryder stammered. “That was…”

  Develyn pulled back to the middle of the dirt road. “You are acting so strange.”

  “That was … you know … you know … you know …” Casey gasped.

  Develyn felt her eyes widen, and she slapped the steering wheel. “Isn’t he the governor of California?”

  “Turn around,” Casey commanded.