by Stephen Bly
“By these two?” Develyn asked.
Tallon nodded. “Both of their four-wheelers ran out of gas. They were hiking to the road.”
“Did you kill them?” Cree-Ryder asked.
“No, just had to lay them out with the barrel of my carbine. I didn’t want a hassle out of them.”
Cuban lifted up the head of one of the unconscious men. “We heard they were wanted for rustling and selling stolen property.”
“And harassing me,” Develyn murmured.
Cooper’s tone changed. “Did they hurt you?”
Even in the shadows, Develyn spotted the apprehension in his eyes. “I was scared, but they didn’t touch me. They talked about holding me for ransom.”
Cree-Ryder raised her dark eyebrows. “A schoolteacher?”
“I figured the Quarter-Circle Diamond was the closest ranch. Uncle Henry’s a tough little guy, but I reckon he’s plum worn out.”
“Boys, pull those two down,” Quint ordered. “Stick them in the pumphouse and leave them tied. Take turns standin’ guard.”
“I’ll put up the horse and burro,” Renny suggested. “You goin’ to turn Uncle Henry in with the horses?”
“Yep, I’m sure not goin’ to let him run around the yard like a dog,” Quint replied. “Linds, go warm up some supper for Mr. Tallon.”
Tallon climbed down, then slipped his Winchester 1894 half-mag carbine into the leather scabbard. “I’d appreciate it. Is there a place I can wash up? The two of them put up a little scuffle.” He rubbed his jaw.
“Did you get hurt?” Develyn asked.
“Nothin’ that won’t heal.”
“I’ll go phone the sheriff,” Quint announced. “I reckon he’ll be happy to hear we caught these two.”
Develyn glanced at Cree-Ryder, who mouthed the word: We?
“I’ll take care of Uncle Henry,” Cree-Ryder offered. “He will need some talkin’ to if he is to stay with the horses. He hates corrals.”
“Miss Dev, show Tallon where to wash up,” Quint ordered.
Develyn strolled with Cooper toward the back porch of the big house. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but …” she began.
“You’re wonderin’ if these are the same two men who were yellin’ and screamin’ at me last night?”
“Yes. Who are they?” she asked.
“A couple of no accounts from Nevada, Servan Hendrix and Porter Tallon.”
“Tallon?”
“He’s my brother, Dev.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t know that.”
“When Mama and Daddy died, Porter started making some bad choices. It just got worse and worse. I hadn’t seen him in almost ten years when he showed up on my doorstep, demanding his share of the inheritance.”
She caught herself licking her chapped lips and stopped. “You wouldn’t give it to him?”
“He got his share years ago. Most of it went to lawyers tryin’ to keep him out of prison. To give him more money wouldn’t help him at all.”
“But how could you…”
“Cold-cock him and turn him over to the sheriff?”
“Yes, that must have been difficult.”
“It was fairly easy. I told him last night I’d turn him in if he didn’t leave the state. Besides, at the time I whipped the barrel down on their heads, I wasn’t sure about your safety.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m amazed you’d head out on a hunch looking for me.”
“I reckon I have to do the things I’d regret not doin’. It wasn’t much of a hunch. Uncle Henry was missin’ his mama.”
She leaned against the cold pipe railing that framed the steps to the porch. “Now I’m even more sorry I called the sheriff last night.”
“It’s OK, Dev. I just didn’t want to be the one to turn him in. But it’s obvious that the Lord had something else in mind.”
She stared into his eyes.
“We don’t know each other very well,” he remarked.
“No, we don’t.”
“Maybe some evenin’ we can sit out on the porch of the cabins, just you and me and Uncle Henry, and visit. We could start all over again … and lick on orange Popsicles, of course.”
A smile broke across Develyn’s face. “That sounds nice.”
“Just promise me one thing.” His voice sounded soft.
Oh, dear … “What?”
“Don’t wear that blouse.”
“You don’t like this?”
“It looks as out-of-place on you as an alligator in Alaska. It’s horrible,” Tallon blurted out. “It’s not your style.”
She felt herself stiffen. “That’s being blunt.”
“Here’s my Wyomin’ advice for you, Ms. Worrell. It is all right for you to look like an Indiana schoolteacher. I don’t mean any disrespect.”
Develyn tried not to laugh. “That’s all right, Coop. I do enjoy someone telling me the truth. It is certainly not a blouse I’d pick for myself.”
“That’s just what I figured. You’re just tryin’ to please someone else.”
“What did you mean by that?”
“Dev, just point me toward the washroom before my simple brain gets me into worse trouble.”
“First door on the left.”
“I’m lookin’ forward to our visit.”
“Me too, Cooper, and I’m buyin’ the popsicles to thank you for coming after me.”
For the first time since she met him, there was a shy grin. He tipped his hat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
* * *
Alone on the screen porch, Develyn plopped down in an oversized swing built for two.
Lord, I don’t know all you are telling me. I think it will take me days, or weeks, to sort out all I’ve gone through in the past few hours. I was so tired of the simple, boring routine in Indiana. Now it’s beginning to sound peaceful. For a few minutes today, I think I missed home … I missed teaching … I missed my naughty cats. I don’t think I’m any closer to understanding this summer.
Quint Burdett strolled out the front door.
Well, perhaps a little closer. He turns my head every time I see him.
“You look beautiful out here, Dev. You look right at home. It’s a perfect fit.” Quint slid in next to her.
“The swing?”
“No, the blouse. From the first day I saw you at the auction, I knew you and Miss Emily were the same size.” His arm slid around her shoulders. “Sheriff’s on the way. He said Porter and Hendrix were wanted in Nevada, Idaho, and Wyoming. They are bad hombres.”
She bit her lip when she considered telling Quint that one of them was Cooper’s brother.
For several moments they listened to the squeak of the swing.
“You look relaxed. You must be tired after such a day,” he said.
“I’m raw from way too much riding … my elbow hurts from being bucked off … my lips are almost chapped raw … but just trying to remember all that’s happened in the past few hours is tiring enough. I feel like a kindergartener on the first day of class. There’s so much I want to remember.”
“I reckon I can’t solve every problem, but we can work on them one at a time.” She could see his wink even in the porch shadows.
“Oh?”
“Let’s see what we can do about those sore lips.”
The first kiss was tentative, but warm.
The second was soft, yet enthusiastic. His right arm held her shoulders tight. His left hand rested on her knee.
When he pulled his lips back, she sighed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Oh yes, it’s been so long since I was treated this tenderly.”
He leaned over, kissed her ear, and whispered, “From now on, Miss Dev, I’ll take tender care of you.”
At the sound of a buzzer, they both sat straight up.
“Is that your cell phone?” he mumbled.
Develyn fumbled for her jeans pocket. “I’m sorry, Quint. I thought Cooper said the batt
ery was dead.”
“I put a relay station in for Miss Emily,” he replied. “It doesn’t take much power to receive it here at the ranch.”
Develyn walked across the porch as she opened her phone. She gazed across a shadowy prairie covered by a star-filled sky.
“Hello?”
“Mom?”
“Dee? Hi, honey, it’s good to hear your voice. Where are you? What time is it?”
“It’s 3:00 a.m. here. I’m at the airport in Atlanta. I’m catching a red-eye to Indiana. Can I come home?”
“Of course, baby. Do you need some money?”
“I borrowed some from Lisa D.”
“You did get my message about me being in Wyoming? I called the Crab House several times. I thought maybe you’d call me sooner.”
“I had to think some things through, Mom. Sometimes a person needs to run away in order to find out what they are running from. You are coming home sometime, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll have to figure the timing. I was going to stay all summer. I thought you would be in South Carolina until August.”
“Oh, I know, Mom. You don’t have to come home now. Lily said you were busy chasing cowboys.”
Develyn lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder at the square-jawed man in the porch swing. “Dee, I am not chasing cowboys. When are you due into Crawfordsville?”
“Lisa D. is going to meet me at the Indy airport, and we’ll have some breakfast. I’ll be home by 10:00 a.m. or so.”
“I should be back to my place by then, too. I’ll phone you tomorrow, and we’ll figure it out.”
“Where are you now, Mom?”
“At the headquarters of the Quarter-Circle Diamond ranch.”
“Where’s that?”
“In central Wyoming, eh … Natrona and Johnson counties.”
“Like the Johnson County War?”
“Well, there’s no war here now.” Only in my heart and mind.
“Are you with a cowboy?”
“Delaney, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“He’s right there, isn’t he? That’s so cool. Have fun, Mom. Did Lisa D. tell you about my tattoo?”
“What tattoo?”
“Mom, I’m sorry I have been so snotty. I have a lot I need to talk to you about.”
Develyn tried to press the tension out of her temples with her fingertips. “I know, Dee. Listen, call Lily and tell her what you are doing. She’s been coming out to the house and feeding the cats.”
“Eh, Mom?”
“Yes, Dee?”
“I love you.”
Develyn could feel the tears stream down her cheeks. “I love you too baby. Delaney, tell me the truth. Are you really OK?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not pregnant.” Delaney’s voice softened. “At least, I don’t think so.”
* * *
Wearing a hunter-green velvet bathrobe she’d borrowed from Lindsay Burdett, Develyn lay across the top of the covers and listened to the deep snores of Casey Cree-Ryder in the twin bed on the other side of the large guest room. She felt the tears trickle down her cheeks.
I’m a pathetic mess, Lord. I suppose you’ve known that for years. It’s just hard to admit. I like it when I can blame others for all my troubles. I came here to clear my head, think things through, find some peace and joy.
But it all got so serious so quick.
Too quick.
Fast horses.
Attentive cowboys.
Menacing rustlers.
Soft kisses.
Very soft kisses.
And then there’s Miss Emily.
If I go home now, I’ll take more complications than when I came. Maybe when I wake up, things will seem clear. I’m tired … too tired. I feel like I could sleep for days.
* * *
“Hey, Devy-girl.” A pointed finger jabbed her thin ribs. “Are you goin’ to sleep all day?”
Develyn sat up in the lower bunk. “Stop it, Dewayne!” she whined.
“Whoa, talk about a bad hair day,” the ten-year-old laughed.
Develyn licked her sticky fingers and tried to press down her long brown hair. She scowled at her brother. “Where’s Mama and Daddy?”
“Mama walked down to the store to get some eggs, and Daddy rode to Casper with Mr. Tagley to take the radiator to the repair shop.”
The slick linoleum felt ice cold. Her “Barbie” flannel nightgown hung past her knees. “You have to go outside,” she commanded.
“Why?”
“Because there is only one room in the cabin, and I need to get dressed. Boys can’t be in the same room as girls when they get dressed. It’s a rule.”
“Yeah, well, I got dressed in here an hour ago, and both you and Mama were here.”
“That’s different. I was asleep and mamas don’t count as girls. Now, go on.”
“Can’t you dress in the bathroom?” he demanded.
“There are spiders! I’m not going in there.”
“You’ll have to go sometime.”
“No, I won’t,” she snapped.
Dewayne sauntered to the door. “Well, hurry it up. Mr. Homer has got his horses in a pen, and we get to pick out which ones to ride.”
Her wide eyes sparkled. “Really? We get to choose? Oh, I want a pretty paint. Will you let me pick first? Please, Dewayne!”
“Yeah, OK, but I don’t know if he has a paint horse.”
“He just has to. I prayed last night for a paint horse to ride, and I know he will have one.”
“Well, hurry up.”
Develyn reached down and grabbed the hem of her flannel nightgown.
“Wait!” Dewayne shouted as he flung open the front door. “Don’t you know boys aren’t supposed to be in the room when girls change their clothes?”
She stuck out her tongue … and waited for the door to slam.
* * *
Mr. Homer was the most wrinkled man Develyn Upton had ever seen. She and Dewayne bantered that he could hide a pencil in the creases of his face and not find it for days. Mrs. Tagley said he was a Shoshone Indian, but other than his permanent tan he looked just like any old man.
A very old man.
Two dozen horses milled in the corrals near the arena on the west side of town. Develyn had been in such a hurry that she left the cabin barefoot. That was fine in the soft loose dirt on the road, but when they reached the scattered gravel on the parking lot next to the corrals, she made her brother carry her on his back. He plopped her down next to the old man, who wore a long-sleeve white shirt buttoned at the neck and a crisp, narrow-brimmed Stetson.
“Do we really get to choose our own horses?” she squealed.
Mr. Homer leaned against the weathered fence railing and appraised the horses. “I will leave two in the corrals and take the others up north to pasture.”
“Do we get to pick any one we want?” Develyn asked.
“Just about any one. Who goes first?”
“I do!” Develyn’s hand shot up. “I’m the girl, and I always get to be first.”
“I take it you are the youngest, also,” the old man mused.
“I’m just six minutes younger than Dewayne. We’re twins. Not identical twins, of course.”
“Yes, that much I could see. Well, which horse will it be?”
Develyn’s smile made her cheeks hurt. “I want that brown and white paint horse. He is the most beautiful horse in the world.”
“The paint, huh?”
She bounced up and down on her bare toes. “Oh, yes, please.”
The old man shrugged. “Sorry, you can’t have him.”
“But why?” Develyn cried. “You said I could have any one I wanted.”
“Almost any one. Pick another. The paint has some bad habits from his previous owner.”
“But I’ll treat him nice.”
“I’m sure you will, little darlin’, but you could also get hurt by what you don’t know. I will not let you ride that horse.”
De
velyn felt her lower lip quiver. “This isn’t fair,” she whimpered.
“Can I pick first?” Dewayne asked.
“No, it’s still my turn. I want that black horse. He looks very fast,” she announced.
“You can’t have him, either,” Mr. Homer reported.
“But … but … but you promised that…”
“Pick another horse. The black horse has a wild streak. He goes along fine for several days, then he’s liable to take off running across the prairie. When he does, no one can turn him. Not even the good Lord up above knows where that horse will run.”
“This isn’t very fun,” Develyn pouted. “I don’t get to pick a horse at all.”
“Pick the brown one,” Mr. Homer suggested.
She climbed up on the splintery rail and stared in at the horses. “The one with the black tail?”
“No, that’s a bay mare.” He waved a gnarly hand at the band of horses. “Pick the one with brown all over.”
“But … but …” Develyn whimpered. “He’s so boring. He looks old. I don’t want an old horse.”
“Brownie will be a good horse for you.”
“Brownie? Even his name is boring!” she wailed.
The old man leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Pick Brownie. He’ll take care of you. He’ll get you to where you want to go. And no matter where you are, he will always bring you back home. You can’t find a better horse than that.”
“But I don’t want a boring horse.”
“He is the smartest horse here. He knows more than the rest of the horses put together. I was afraid your brother would pick him. It’s only for a couple of days, right?”
She wiped the tears on her dusty cheeks. “He really is the smartest?”
“If horses went to school, Brownie would be the teacher.”
“I want to be a teacher, too.”
“Well … which one do you choose?” Mr. Homer prodded.
Develyn glanced over at her brother who stood on the rail studying the circling horses. She bit her lip. “I pick Brownie,” she murmured.