“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.”
“I must admit, I’ve never worn anything this … eh,…”
“Ostentatious?”
Develyn nodded.
“Then come on, Miss Dev, there are a bunch of men waiting for your entrance.”
“I doubt that. You are the beautiful one, Linds. I was never as pretty as you, even in my wildest dreams.”
“I’m afraid I’m still a little girl to most … and a snotty college girl to the rest. But you, Miss Dev, you’re fresh, different, and have those big wide eyes of wonder.”
“I never heard them called that before.”
“That’s what Mama used to say about her eyes. She said she had horse eyes … eyes of wonder.”
* * *
The long, rectangular table could seat sixteen. Develyn counted only ten, but seldom were they all seated at once. Mom and Pop Gleason served the ranch as housekeepers, groundskeepers, cooks, and caretakers. Most of the evening they scurried between the kitchen and the dining room. Cuban, Tiny, Juan, and Kidd seldom ate in the big house. They spent most of the evening watching Quint Burdett to make sure they didn’t do anything ill-mannered.
Develyn sat between Quint and Casey Cree-Ryder. Lindsay Burdett parked for the evening on the other side of her father.
Develyn spent most the meal time retelling the story of stalking My Maria … and escaping the clutches of Porter and Hendrix. Mrs. Gleason had just brought out the peach cobbler when Mr. Gleason answered a knock at the back door.
Renny Slater, hat in hand, swaggered in. He plopped down in a chair next to Cree-Ryder. “I’m happy to see the Indiana schoolteacher ain’t still wanderin’ around out on the prairie trying to find her horse.”
“How did you know about that?”
“I called Renny and told him to come down and help us find you,” Cree-Ryder admitted.
“I see your pony’s out in the corral, so I reckon you caught her all right,” Renny said.
“You won’t believe what Miss Dev went through today,” Cuban blustered.
“I believe it,” Renny winked at her. “From the first moment I saw her on Mrs. Tagley’s porch with that orange Popsicle, I said, ‘Cowboy, there’s a young lady who plans on living life to the fullest.’”
“Young lady?” Cree-Ryder hooted.
“Well,” he grinned, “the sun was in my eyes, come to think of it.”
“I know what you mean,” Cuban said. “Cree-Ryder looks good at a distance too.”
“Yeah,” Tiny blustered. “Twenty miles or more.”
* * *
The boys meandered back to the bunkhouse after supper, and the Gleasons whizzed around the kitchen cleaning dishes. Casey, Lindsay, and Renny Slater joined Develyn and Quint in the den, which served as the ranch office. Huge, overstuffed brown leather chairs were scattered in front of a floor-to-ceiling river-rock fireplace.
Lindsay and Casey studied a glass case of horse show trophies. Quint had begun an explanation of a portrait of a black stallion on the south wall when the ringing phone tugged him to the massive oak desk.
Renny and Develyn stayed close to the fireplace.
“I almost wish it was cold enough for a fire,” she mused. “This is a beautiful hearth.”
“Yep, I heard they hauled these rocks all the way up here from west Texas.”
“Really? Aren’t there enough rocks in Wyoming?”
“Quint’s wife insisted on Texas rock. What Miss Emily wanted, Miss Emily got.”
“Did you know her, Renny?” Develyn asked.
“Miss Emily? Everyone in Wyomin’ knew Miss Emily.”
“What was she like?”
“A saint.”
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“That’s the impression I get.”
“A rich saint,” Renny added.
“Did she come from a wealthy family?”
“You might say that. Rumor has it that her family owned most ever’ oil well in the Texas panhandle. That’s exaggerated a tad, no doubt. But that Texas money made the Quarter-Circle Diamond what it is. Cattle business is a good deal, if you have a steady income from some other source.”
“So, Quint has some Texas oil money?”
“Miss Dev … that’s what I hear. But I don’t push. I can’t believe I’m standing here next to a purdy lady and talkin’ about some other man.”
Develyn grinned and laid her hand on Renny’s arm. “Now, Mr. Slater, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
Twin dimples blossomed from his suntanned cheeks. “Yes, ma’am, I do believe I am.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You are?”
“Yes, I was married for twenty-two years, most of which were miserable. I’ve been divorced for over three years. During that time I have not gone out on a single date. So, I would guess it’s been twenty-six years since anyone’s been jealous over me. And even though you are joshing, it feels nice and I thank you for it.”
Renny’s voice lowered. “Would you thank me, even if I said I wasn’t teasin’?”
Her hand dropped from his arm. “Yes, I would.”
His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was just south of Buffalo when Cree-Ryder phoned me. That’s about 150 miles from here … half of it a dirt road. I made it in a little over two hours. Some of that time I figure all four tires were off the ground.”
“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound very safe.”
“I was worried about you.”
“I need to learn to chase down my own horse.”
“Yes, but my mind got to playin’ tricks on me.”
“Oh?”
“I said to myself … what if Devy really was in trouble? I’ve got a lot of regrets in my life already. I’ve been foolish, stubborn, and proud to the extent that it ruined my life and others. But, since I gave my heart to Jesus I’ve tried to overcome all of that. Somethin’ keeps pushin’ at me that I need to get to know you better. I know, I know … this is the wrong time and the wrong place to sound serious. I truly apologize for that. But when I’m with you, I like myself. And I don’t feel like such a failure.”
“Oh, my …” she murmured. “Renny, I’m a bit taken back by…”
“I know, I’m out of line. It’s just that…”
“No, no … it’s all right. I’m glad you can talk to me. But everything’s accelerated in my mind lately. I need to figure out where the Lord is leading me.”
“I believe he led you to Wyomin’.”
“I agree with that.”
“Did the Lord lead you to wear that sequined blouse?”
“I wondered when you’d mention it. It’s a little…”
“Texas proud,” Renny declared.
“I was going to say dramatic or ostentatious.”
“Nope. It’s pure ol’ Texas pride. They do like showin’ off that lone star.”
“You’ve seen blouses like this one before?”
“Not like this. But Texas pride is an amazin’ thing to watch. I reckon that was Miss Emily’s.”
“Yes, that’s what Lindsay told me. My sweatshirt got muddy, with all of today’s activity. So they loaned me an outfit.”
“Miss Emily was the embodiment of Texas pride. Every time she used that soft west-Texas drawl to say ‘Renny, darlin’ …’ you could hear that panhandle pride.”
“She called you darling?”
“No, she called me darlin’ … she called ever’one, includin’ the dog, darlin’. I reckon she had fancier shirts than that one.”
“Do you think it’s too loud for me?”
“Maybe a little loud in a small room, but in an arena, I’d vote for you to be roundup queen any day.”
“Renny Slater, you keep telling me I’m better to look at from a distance. I suppose close up I tend to look like a middle-aged Indiana schoolteacher.”
He shoved his hand in his back pockets. “Dadgum it, Dev, what I’d like to say is you look good close up. Real good.”
Develyn felt relief when Casey and Linds strolled over to them.
“Wow, you ought to see the trophies Lindsay’s mom won! She won grand champion at Houston four years in a row showing four different horses. Is that awesome, or what?”
Develyn glanced at Renny.
He shook his head. “That’s awesome, all right.”
“That’s before she married Daddy,” Linds added. “She didn’t show much after she moved up here. I think that disappointed Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma was forever pulling me aside and saying, ‘Child, I will never understand why your mama wanted to move to the end of the earth.’”
“Oh, dear,” Develyn murmured. “Are your grandparents still alive?”
“Grandfather passed away in ’99, but Grandmother still lives on the home place.”
“I thought this was the home place,” Cree-Ryder said.
“Not to Mama. Anyway, Grandma is eighty-three and still rides every day. She says the ranch would fall apart if she didn’t look over it. I tell her those oil wells keep pumping whether she watches them or not.”
Quint finished the phone conversation and strolled up behind Develyn.
“Are you talking about Grandma?” he said. “Now, there is a real horse woman,” Quint added. “But, listen … that was Bufe Telford … the sheriff of Johnson County. Quite a saga going on here.”
“Is it about the men who were chasing Dev?” Lindsay asked.
“That’s what the sheriff thinks. There’s been some sign of rustling down near Lander for a few months. Then last week a couple of tough-looking guys from Reno showed up looking for two cowboys who stole some money from a casino. They stayed in town a week, then went home, but the rustling stopped.”
“You think they settled up with the cowboys?” Renny asked.
“Sheriff thinks the cowboys just took off. The big boys from Reno didn’t go home happy.”
“Are you talking, like, mafia?” Cree-Ryder asked.
“Sheriff just said he was glad when they left town. Anyway … the sheriff over in Converse County was tracking down some illegal beef, and found some Circle-Diamond branded partial hides in a dumpster. So he was putting it all together, and thinks maybe that the Lander duo moved over here. Their method seems to be to slaughter and quarter the animals and find a butcher who’s not particular what he sells.”
“You told him they called themselves Porter and Hendrix?” Develyn said.
“Oh, yeah, I told him,” Quint said. “They got the report back from Nevada. Seems both of them are convicted felons. They were in the Nevada State Prison until last December.”
Develyn started to quiver. “Now I’m really getting scared.”
Quint slipped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s all right Miss Dev. You proved that you can handle the situation. You passed the test.”
“The Lord takes care of the foolish …” she muttered. Exactly what was the test a qualification for?
“And the righteous,” Quint added as he released her. “Anyway, they found the truck and trailer and are going to wait and see if those two show up. If they don’t, he’s going to mount a posse and look for them at daybreak. They are watching the highway between Casper and Thermopolis.”
“Mount a posse? Do they still do that?” Develyn said.
“Figure of speech, Miss Dev. They’ll use four-wheel-drive vehicles, four-wheelers and helicopters.”
“Hey, Harrison Ford can help,” Cree-Ryder remarked.
“Harry’s in London doing some studio work,” Quint replied.
Develyn stared at Quint Burdett. He actually knows Harrison Ford?
“An
yway, the sheriff says we should keep an eye out. Could be they’ll come north to look for gas, or even try to steal a rig. I’m going to go out and warn the boys. Would you like to go for a walk under the Wyoming moonlight, Miss Dev?”
She glanced at Casey Cree-Ryder, who grabbed onto Renny Slater’s arm and tugged him across the room. “Come on, mustang breaker, let me show you somethin’ you’ve never seen before.”
“That’s a scary thought,” Renny mumbled.
* * *
Though it was dark, some clouds hung in the sky, and the millions of stars that swarmed behind them seemed like Indiana fireflies. Quint Burdett took long strides, and Develyn scurried to keep up. He reached down toward her hand, and she was surprised how quickly her fingers laced into his calloused ones.
It feels like we’ve held hands for years. I haven’t held hands with anyone since …
With her free hand she brushed back a tear.
Lord, this is part of what I’ve been missing. Not just hand holding, but feeling like a woman. I’ve felt like a teacher … and a mother … and a friend … but it has been so long since I felt like a woman. I’m truly glad I’m a woman tonight, and he’s a man … and I’m strolling under a Wyoming night sky.
Develyn and Quint strolled to the bunkhouse.
Visited with the hired hands.
And strolled some more.
They paused in the shadows of the screened porch. He tugged her close. Develyn felt his hand slip to the back of her neck and tug her forward. She felt her thin chapped lips melt with the warmth of his when he pressed them tight. His other hand slipped to the small of her back as he pressed the Lone Star sequins against her.
Later, in the bright light of the study, among company, Develyn decided it had been a dozen kisses, but at the time she thought of it as one long, heart-stopping kiss.
* * *
Lindsay played the piano while Renny Slater accompanied with a guitar. Casey Cree-Ryder held an unlit, skinny candle like a microphone while she sang everything from Faith Hill to the Dixie Chicks to Patsy Cline.
Develyn and Quint sat in side-by-side brown leather chairs and held hands while serving as the audience.
“Casey, you sing really well,” Develyn said.
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 19