Memories of a Dirt Road Town

by Stephen Bly

  “What do we do now?”

  “Take her to the shack at the windmill and contact Burdett.”

  “I thought you said your cell phone don’t work.”

  “It don’t. You watch her while I ride west to get a signal.”

  “Why don’t I ride, and you watch her?”

  “Because it’s my cell phone.”

  This is where I draw the line. Develyn took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I have no intention of going to that shack with either of you.”

  Porter swaggered up to the horse, grabbed the curb strap, and shoved the pistol barrel into the horse’s mouth. “Get down, lady, or you’ll have this mare’s brains plastered all over your purdy face.”

  10

  No!” Develyn shouted. “No!”

  At the sound of Develyn’s scream, My Maria shook her head left and right.

  The gun jerked out of Porter’s hand. The force of the mare’s shake flung the semiautomatic pistol over the edge of the canyon.

  Develyn kicked the paint mare’s flanks.

  Porter cursed.

  Hendrix dove for the gun.

  And My Maria galloped forward like a barrel racing horse that’s just spied the first barrel.

  “Go, honey!” Develyn yelled. “Run for your life! Run for our lives!”

  The setting sun broke orange and red through the now-scattered clouds. The shadows of sage and boulders stretched east like dark beacons casting a black light.

  “Go, baby … run … run … run! I’ll promise not to fall off, if you promise not to slow down.”

  When her hat started to blow off, she didn’t bother reaching up and grabbing it. Under the half-wet sweatshirt, Develyn fought to keep from shaking. She ground her teeth to keep them from chattering. Her skin felt raw when her wet and muddy jeans ground into the saddle.

  “Run, girl … run!” she shouted.

  Develyn turned the paint toward the setting sun.

  If there’s a road to the west … I’ll find it. There must be other people left on the face of the earth, even in central Wyoming.

  Develyn felt her body warm from the heat of the galloping mare. When they hit the flat prairie, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted the four-wheelers a mile behind her.

  “Here they come, baby. I don’t know if they have a gun this time or not, but let’s just keep running until they shoot us or give up the chase.” When they reached a dry gully, My Maria plunged down the sandy embankment.

  “Oh!” Develyn cried out. She grabbed a handful of dark mane and the saddle horn, but managed to keep her seat. My Maria struggled up the other side, slipping back, finally making it to the top of the embankment.

  Develyn patted her neck. “Good girl, Maria … good girl.” She glanced across to the gully to see the four-wheelers approach. “They’ll make it across, but it will take them a lot longer. Come on, girl … giddy-up!”

  My Maria raced west.

  I may never be able to sit down the rest of my life … at least the rest of the summer. At what point does the escape kill me?

  Develyn sighed and felt the tension in her shoulders and legs relax.

  That’s the point of my summer, isn’t it, Lord? I came out here to escape. Escape school. Escape Spencer’s death. Escape Delaney. Escape Mother. Escape my failed life.

  But will I survive?

  At what point does the escape kill me?

  As the prairie sloped, Develyn saw a dirt road in the distance.

  I want resolution, Lord, not escape.

  I want something to be settled, so I won’t keep being chased across the prairies of my mind.

  What am I doing out here? It’s like all my fears chasing me at once. Is this really why I came? For this ride?

  “Let’s go north, girl. I think Quint’s headquarters is on this road. Unless we’ve passed it already, in which case we’ll race them all the way to Big Horns.”

  My Maria stumbled on the ruts in the dirt road, and Develyn yanked her off to the prairie and galloped parallel, still slinging mud. She heard the whine of the four-wheelers still in pursuit.

  “If we break away from the road, we might lose them. But we didn’t before. Sooner or later they will run out of gas, right? If we stay near the road, someone may come along.”

  Develyn continued to thunder along next to the one-lane dirt road.

  “Where are you, Terminator, when I need you?” she shouted. “I’d love to hear that Austrian accent say, ‘I’m back!’”

  Shadows began to fade into night as they raced north.

  “When we get to that rise, maybe we can see the headquarters … or something.”

  * * *

  At the top of the low hill, Develyn could see nothing but more shadowy prairie. The road dropped out of sight to the east. She reined up on My Maria and glanced back at the approaching four-wheelers. Both had their headlights turned on.

  “I’m tired of running, baby. I know this sounds crazy, but I think I’ve been running my whole life, and I’m just tired. You’re tired. So, let’s make a stand right here. Let’s do the thing they least expect … let’s run them down.”

  She galloped the paint mare back to the south, down the long slope. Giant granite boulders guarded the bottom of the long draw. The road narrowed to one lane. As she drew closer to the four-wheelers, she watched them spin sideways at the narrowest spot in rocks.

  “A roadblock, Maria-girl, but we’re not stopping. You can jump them, girl!”

  I have no idea what I’m doing, Lord, but I know I’m not running.

  As My Maria charged the pair, Develyn stood in the stirrups and stretched out over the mare’s neck. “OK, baby … don’t falter … don’t slow down … don’t change your mind … right over the top.”

  She was no more than fifty feet away when both four-wheelers spun mud, and bolted south along the road, then swerved to the west back out on to the prairie.

  “Yes!” Develyn shouted as she reined up and slowed the mare to a walk. She rubbed the white, foamy sweat from My Maria’s neck.

  “Yes! Did you see that honey? We did it! We faced our demons and they fled. We didn’t even have to jump. I can’t believe they ran away. It was divine intervention. The Lord delivered us.”

  She climbed to the ground, her chest still heaving, when she heard a dull roar to the north and spotted a flash of headlights.

  “A truck?” she mumbled. “Someone’s coming? Is that why they ran off?”

  Develyn led the horse over to the side of the road and waited as two pickups and a horse trailer rumbled her way. The headlights from the rigs kept her from identifying the occupants.

  The rigs braked to a halt.

  Pickup doors slammed.

  Develyn squinted her eyes.

  “You are a mess, Devy-girl,” a woman shouted. Casey Cree-Ryder sprinted toward her in the headlights. “But you’re cute even when you are a mess.” She threw her arms around Develyn. The two spun round and round.

  “I got bucked off,” Develyn admitted.

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Dev, are you all right?” The voice was very deep and sincere.

  She glanced up to see Quint Burdett with Cuban and Tiny.

  “Oh, Quint!” Develyn fought back the tears. She threw her arms around his neck. His warm, narrow lips were pressed into hers.

  Did I run up and kiss him first thing? Is this why I left home this morning? I think it just might have been worth it.

  She released the startled rancher and stepped back.

  “Shoot, Tiny,” Cuban laughed. “Do you reckon Miss Dev will greet you and me like that?”

  “Eh, I’m happy to see you … all of you,” Develyn stammered.

  “I see you caught your horse,” Cree-Ryder said.

  “How do you know I lost her?”

  “You told me.”

  “I did?”

  “On the phone.”

  “You heard that call? I didn’t think I got through.”

&nbs
p; “Let’s see, you said you met up with a band of wild horses and My Maria chased her dream like Julie Andrews on the Austrian Alps, and you couldn’t whistle, so you’d improvise like a rookie principal … and I should bring some salsa.”

  Develyn shook her head. “You heard all of that?”

  “Yeah, I was on the road, driving south from Tensleep, so I pulled into the Quarter-Circle Diamond to see if they had heard from you.”

  Burdett slipped his arm in hers.

  “I didn’t bother calling Quint. I didn’t think I had a signal. Besides, I needed to catch my own horse.”

  “What are you doing this far from Argenta by yourself?” Quint challenged.

  “Shoot, Burdett,” Casey snorted, “she came to see you!”

  “But … but … that’s a twenty-five-mile ride.”

  “And you gave her a twenty-five-mile kiss,” Casey hooted.

  “Did you see any cattle rustlers out here, Miss Dev?” Cuban asked.

  Quint pushed his hat back and looked her in the eyes. “The Johnson County sheriff called to say someone phoned from around here on a cell phone to report cattle rustlers in the area. We were goin’ to wait until daylight, but when Cree-Ryder showed up…”

  “Didn’t you see them?” Develyn asked.

  “Who?” Casey asked.

  “The rustlers.” Develyn waved her hands toward the granite rocks. “They were right here on four-wheelers until you drove up.”

  “They were?” Tiny said.

  Quint scratched the back of his neck. “Where did they head?”

  “West … no, I mean east. That way,” Develyn pointed.

  Cuban surveyed the dark prairie. “We won’t catch them out there at night.”

  “Did you talk to them?” Quint asked.

  “Oh, yes. I talked to them, ran from them, ran at them … it’s been quite a day.”

  “How about we go back to the house?” Quint suggested. “I’ll phone the sheriff … supper is being fixed … you and Casey can bunk at the ranch tonight … and you can tell all of us the adventures of Ms. Develyn Worrell.”

  “You mean, you’re just going to let the rustlers go?” Develyn said.

  “That prairie plays tricks on you after dark, Miss Dev,” Cuban replied.

  “But they threatened to kill me,” she added.

  “That’s why we need to get back and get a hold of the sheriff,” Quint explained.

  Develyn looked at her sweating horse. “What about My Maria?”

  “Me, Cuban, and Tiny will rub her down, then load her in my trailer,” Cree-Ryder said. “The boys can ride with me.”

  “We was ridin’ with Mr. Burdett,” Cuban insisted.

  Cree-Ryder waved her long black braid like a lecture stick. “Well, you aren’t now. Miss Dev is ridin’ with the Old Man.”

  “I’m ridin’ shotgun,” Tiny called out.

  “Casey, you ain’t got no guns or knives, do you?” Cuban asked.

  * * *

  Wrapped in a terry-cloth bathrobe, Develyn strolled out of the white-tiled bathroom. She tugged a big purple comb through her wet, tangled, frosted blonde hair.

  Casey shoved a steaming mug at her. “Latte breve, decaffeinated.”

  “Where did you get that?” Develyn smelled the milky-coffee aroma before taking a sip.

  “Lindsay has her own espresso machine in the kitchen. This is a fully equipped house.”

  “This is a fully equipped bedroom.” Develyn surveyed the four-poster bed, white leather couch, and huge oak desk.

  “Devy-girl,” Casey said as she took a swig of Pepsi, “this is the honest truth. I have never in my life lived in a house as big as this one room. She lives like royalty.”

  “Quint apologized for the size of the room. He said when their son, Ted, died, the sight of his room drove them all to tears, so they took out the wall and made one big room for Lindsay. She bought all of these things with money she won from barrel racing and rodeo queen prizes and all of that. He said she gets room and board and gasoline for her truck, but everything else she has to earn.”

  “No wonder she doesn’t want to leave home.” Casey strolled around the room. “Dev, when did you go out on your own?”

  “Totally on my own? About a month ago.”

  “No, I mean…”

  “Casey, I lived at home on weekends during college days so I could work in Mother’s dress shop. Then I got married a few days after graduation. When I left my husband, it was me and a sixteen-year-old daughter trying to survive. So, in a lot of ways, these last few weeks have been the first time I’ve been ‘on my own.’”

  Cree-Ryder laughed. “You are doin’ quite good, sweetie. Look at this blouse.”

  “Whoa … red and blue sequins…”

  Casey turned it over. “And a white-sequin star on the back.”

  “Is that yours?”

  “Are you kidding?” Cree-Ryder examined the tag inside the blouse. “This store is one of those in Dallas where you have to buzz them at the door and show them your credit rating before they let you in.”

  Develyn plucked up the blouse, then paused in front of the mirror, holding it in front of her. “Lindsay wants me to wear it? I can’t wear something like…”

  “Quint picked it out. He wants you to wear it.”

  “Quint?”

  “He came to the door when you were in the shower, shoved these things in my hand, and said, ‘I reckon Miss Dev will need a change of clothes.’”

  Develyn stared at the blouse. “I’ve never worn anything like this. It’s way too … I mean … eh…”

  “Dramatic?”

  “Yes, that’s a good word. Way too dramatic for a central Indiana schoolteacher.”

  “I reckon good ol’ Burdett doesn’t see it that way. He picked out the whole outfit.”

  Develyn surveyed the clothes on top of the blue-and-white quilted bedspread. “White jeans, white boots, sequined blouse … and jewelry.” Develyn held the jewelry up to her ears. “Heart-shaped stars and stripes?”

  Cree-Ryder stood behind her. “I think he likes dressing you up, Dev. Kinda makes you feel like a full-sized Barbie doll, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, I certainly couldn’t wear that muddy sweatshirt to supper.”

  “Nope. Did you two have a nice ride back to the ranch? You looked real chummy when you got out of the truck.”

  “Yes, it was nice and warm.”

  “The conversation or the truck?”

  “The truck,” Develyn scowled. “In all the excitement, I didn’t realize how cold I had become.”

  “You are not cold, Miss Dev. The boys think you are hot.”

  “Casey!”

  “It’s true. Do you need any help? If not, I’ll just mosey on down to the billiard room and shoot some pool. I’ve never been in a house with a separate room for a pool table.”

  Develyn stared at the clothes on the bed.

  Lord, I think I’m getting over my head in a hurry. These aren’t my kind of clothes. I’m conservative. I never like to stand out in a crowd. If I dressed like this, I’d stand out at the Superbowl. What I’d really like is my old shorts and a T-shirt and to be back at my cabin with a bowl of Cheerios and twenty-year-old copies of Western Horseman.

  The blouse and boots fit fine, but the white jeans were tight in the back. She fussed with the zipper, then laced the blue and black horsehair belt through the loops. She glanced at the big silver buckle.

  This must be one of Lindsay’s rodeo buckles. “QUEEN—Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo … 1974.” ’74? I was only fourteen. Lindsay wasn’t born until … Miss Emily? This was Emily’s.

  Develyn opened a polished wooden case on Lindsay’s dresser that cascaded open like a tackle box. The entire contents were color-coded tubes of lipstick.

  Oh my, when Lindsay said she had some lipstick I would like, she wasn’t kidding. Must be one of every shade and hue ever made.

  She strolled by the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

  I can’t
believe I’m wearing this … I haven’t drawn this much attention to myself since I wore the gorilla costume five years ago during dress-up day.

  There was a light knock on the bedroom door.

  “Can I peek?”

  “Come in, Linds … this is your room.”

  Lindsay Burdett bounced into the room. “Supper’s ready and everyone’s waiting for Miss Dev, the …” She stopped. “Where did you get that blouse?”

  “Your father picked it out for me … is it OK?”

  “Well, I’ll be, you are amazing, Ms. Develyn Worrell.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Those belonged to my mother.”

  “I was guessing that. If you’d rather me not wear them, I’d…”

  “Oh no, he picked them out for you. You need to wear them. Daddy doesn’t do well when people don’t mind him.”

  “Are you sure it’s OK with you?” Develyn pressed.

  Lindsay’s shoulders sagged. “Oh … yes. I just … it takes some getting used to.”

  “Seeing someone else in your mother’s clothes?”

  “Especially those clothes.”

  Develyn put her hand on top of Lindsay’s. “Honey, if I’m doing something wrong, please tell me.”

  “The Christmas before Mama died, she knew she only had a couple of months left. She battled cancer for ten years, and she knew she wasn’t going to whip it. Daddy believed she would get well. Right up to the day she died in his arms, he just knew the Lord would heal her. Anyway, that Christmas Mama wanted to have a picture taken with me and Daddy. She made us promise that we would not allow another picture to be taken after that. She didn’t want us to have any photos of her with a weak, emaciated body and no hair.”

  “I can understand the feeling. Is this the outfit she wore?”

  “Yes, she knew it was Daddy’s favorite. About six months after Mama died, I asked him about her clothing. He said to go through it and take anything I wanted, except that outfit. He said some day he would be able to release it. I never brought up the subject again. I suppose today is the day he released it.”

  Develyn stared at herself in the mirror. “Now, I do feel awkward.”

  Lindsay sashshayed over and hugged Develyn’s shoulders. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it that way. Actually, I’m happy for you. If you help Daddy get over his grief, that is good. He has been suffering for a long time.”