“I let the fire go out. Didn’t want smoke in the chimney.”
Develyn pulled on her tennis shoes, then straightened the comforters on the bed. “Is it raining still?”
“No rain. In fact, the wind has been blowing since midnight. I think the ground is dried out.”
“Is it cold?”
“Down here it’s not too bad, but up on top of the rim it will be windy and feel cold.”
Develyn stared in the mirror and tried to comb her hair with her fingers. “Tell me again why we rode off in T-shirts and didn’t bring our jackets.”
“Because we were going to turn around and ride back to the truck. I didn’t have any idea Miss Develyn would act like a teacher-gone-wild and ride off a cliff.”
“So, this is all my fault?” Develyn jammed her straw cowboy hat down on her head.
“Of course it is. And it’s one of the most cherished memories of my life. You know the instant when this adventure became a lifetime moment?” Casey asked.
“When he said, ‘The Countess was a woman of color?’”
“Yes! That’s when all of this exploded with meaning.”
“Well, Countess Cree-Ryder, shall we go for a morning ride?”
“Quite.”
“Shall I have the servants come along with tea and biscuits?”
“Oh, sweetie, let’s just ride alone today,” Casey giggled. “I get so tired of servants waiting on me hand and foot.” She shoved a wool bundle toward Develyn.
“What’s this?”
“Our one souvenir. I found these two wool lap blankets under some bedding. They are still in usable condition.”
“We are going to ride with a blanket across our laps?”
“Nope. I did a few alterations. Pull off your hat and slip it over your shoulders like a poncho.”
“Just like Clint Eastwood?”
“Yeah, do I get to be the good, the bad, or the ugly?” Casey laughed.
Develyn slipped her head through the slit in the wool blanket, then jammed her hat back on. “Honey, we are both good!”
“Yes, we are cute too.”
“Let’s see …” Develyn stared at herself in the mirror. “Thirty hours since our last shower … twenty-four hours since fresh clothes … not even a comb for our hair. Dirt on our faces, dusty blankets for coats, and no idea in the world how to get out of this canyon. Oh, we are cuties, alright.”
“Remember, a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single steep step, so don’t trip. Take my hand,” Casey offered.
“What for?”
“We need to turn out this lantern, and leave it up here.”
“Do you think we can find our way downstairs in the dark?”
“I’ve got cat eyes,” Casey boasted.
Develyn clutched Casey’s strong warm hand as they eased down the stairway toward the second floor.
There was a simultaneous crash and explosive “Ouch!”
“What happened?”
“I ran into the door,” Casey said.
“What about your cat eyes?”
“They ran into the door too.”
Enough daylight broke in the east that when they reached the back porch, Develyn spied My Maria and Popcorn munching tall brown weeds in the backyard.
“They look content enough,” Develyn said.
“That’s because they don’t know what’s goin’ to happen later on.”
“What is going to happen later on?”
“I don’t have a clue,” Casey shrugged.
They saddled the horses as sunlight flooded the canyon.
“Where’s Uncle Henry?” Develyn asked.
“I figure he’ll show up when his mama calls him.”
Develyn yanked the cinch tight and led My Maria around in a circle. “Which direction are we headed?”
“North. That is the opposite route of the gas plant and locked gate.”
Develyn pulled the cinch even tighter. “Uncle Henry? It’s time to go, baby!”
“Well, look at that.” Casey pointed to the wild-rose, vine-covered rock canyon wall behind the house.
Develyn turned to see Uncle Henry’s head peek out of the roses. “Honey, what are you doing back there?”
“How did he get behind the roses? It’s like solid rock.”
“There’s an old vine-covered archway. Maybe it was a cave or a shrine or a fancy outhouse.”
Casey led Popcorn over to Uncle Henry and parted the bushes. “I don’t believe this,” she blurted out.
“If there are dead bodies, I don’t want to hear about it,” Develyn groaned.
“I can’t believe you were right, Ms. Worrell. There’s a narrow trail carved straight up this cliff.”
“Really? And Uncle Henry found it? I told you!” Develyn shouted. “The countess wasn’t going to get pinned in. It’s her escape route.”
“It looks very narrow.”
Develyn pushed her hat back and cleared her throat. “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. That’s in Matthew 7 someplace.”
“Verses 13 and 14,” Casey replied. “So, we are choosing the narrow gate?”
“What are our choices?” Develyn asked.
“This possible trail out or being arrested.”
“That’s what I thought, O sarape-clad bombshell. Lead on Clintina …”
“Don’t push me, blondie,” Casey growled. “If you would just tell me the name on the grave, I would leave you here with this beautiful mansion …” A smile broke across her face. “All we need is that annoying, repetitive theme song and we could be the Thelma and Louise version of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”
The trail up the canyon behind the roses proved to be steep and slow. It turned out to be a rock ravine no more than three feet wide, as they zigzagged up the slope of the canyon wall.
“Daylight never reaches down here,” Casey called out. “But neither does the wind.”
“Do you think the count had this trail made?”
“It could have been an old Indian trail, but he certainly used it for an escape.”
Develyn surveyed the rock, no more than two feet from either side of her head. “I think I’m getting claustrophobic. It’s like a crowded elevator in a tall building. You can only take it so long, then you want out to get some fresh air, even if it’s not your floor.”
“Don’t get weird on me Devy-girl. We have quite a ways to go.”
“What if it doesn’t go all the way to the top?”
Casey glanced at Develyn. “There’s a cheery thought. I guess we put these horses in reverse and back down.”
“No, really, Casey. What if this is just a fissure in the rocks and it peters out and we are wedged in here?”
“Put your feet up on My Maria’s neck.”
Develyn stared ahead at Casey’s braid. “Why?”
“It’s gettin’ narrow up here, girl. You don’t want your legs pinned in.”
“Casey, this isn’t funny.”
“Honey, I’m not joking. Put your feet up. If we get stuck you can take your cell phone and call Harrison Ford to fly his helicopter over to rescue us.”
“My cell phone! Yes …” Develyn crammed her hand into her jeans pocket.
“Devy, there is no way possible a signal could drop down in here. And who would you call? Quint?”
“No, I can’t call him.”
“The sheriff? Do you want to tell him that you broke into the LaSage Mansion?”
“I’ll call … eh …”
“Cooper Tallon?”
“No, no. He came out after me before. I can’t admit I’m a complete ditz who gets lost every time she rides on the prairie.”
“Then who?”
“E
h … I could call … Renny!”
“The mustang breaker. What do you expect him to do?”
“He’ll figure out something.”
“In the meantime, keep prodding that paint horse. We might make it out yet.”
Develyn banged her cell phone against her knee. “It doesn’t matter,” she called out. “There’s no reception.”
“Well, what do you know, a dead spot. It’s a wonder someone isn’t down here building a cell tower and putting ads on TV.”
“How’s Uncle Henry doing?” Develyn called out.
“He’s on up the trail a ways, trying to lead us.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Popcorn’s stuck,” Casey admitted.
“Are you serious?
Develyn’s chin dropped as Casey stood up on the saddle. Cree-Ryder pulled a wide-bladed knife out of one boot, and a thin-bladed one out of the other.
“What are you doing?”
Casey stabbed the wide blade in a crack in the rock and pulled herself up about a foot off the saddle. “I’m going for a stroll.” She sliced the narrow knife into another crack on the other side of the crevice, then pulled herself up a little further. “I’ll just go up top and see what I can see.”
“And leave me here?”
“You can come along.”
“Casey, I’m scared.”
With one boot jammed in one side of the ledge and the other boot on the opposite ledge, Casey inched up. “Yeah, I’m scared too.”
“Don’t leave me down here, Casey.”
“Dev, relax. I’m right here. Let me get up to daylight and see what a fine squeeze we are in. Just keep talking to me.”
“Casey, I feel like my life’s in a rut!”
“Yes, it is honey. A granite rut. I wonder if this is how that phrase began? I think you should leave that comfy house in Indiana and go out and spend the summer in Wyoming where there are wide-open spaces. You’ll have room to breathe, nothing to do, and a chance to meet charming people.”
“Yeah. Right.” Develyn studied the brown rock walls just wider than her shoulders. “Is anything ever normal in Wyoming?”
“I thought Normal was a town in Illinois.”
“Spencer grew up in Normal.”
“Your ex? Was he normal?”
“Maybe, but I hope not.” Develyn patted the cold rock ledge. “Think about it. Every day in Wyoming is too windy or too still, too wet or too dry, too thrilling or too threatening. When is it ever normal here?”
“The last full week in September. It’s called Normal Days … and everyone stays home and promises to do nothing,” Cree-Ryder hollered. “But no tourists are allowed. None of them are normal.”
“Hey, are these the kinds of rocks that have snakes?”
Cree-Ryder paused on a ledge about eight feet above the horses. “This is the wrong time of the year for that.”
Develyn adjusted her blanket serape and pushed her hat back. “There are no snakes in the summer?”
“Oh, there are plenty of snakes.” Casey grunted as she climbed higher. “This is the wrong time of the year to ask that question.”
“If I see a snake, I’ll die.”
“That should save some needless venom. You aren’t going to get bit. I’m almost to the top.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Devy, I’m going to be out of sight just for a minute … provided I don’t fall on my head … just wait.”
“Like I have a choice?” Develyn screamed. Tears trickled down her dusty cheeks. Lord, why can’t I have a peaceful day? They are either the best of times or the … OK, no Dickens quotes…. Lord, I’m not sure what I want. I just know what I don’t want, and I don’t want to be stuck down here in this rock tomb. This is crazy. I shouldn’t be here. I should have listened to Casey, turned around at the rim, and returned to the truck. Then I’d be in my little cabin, just lifting an eyelid and smelling a hundred years of history hang in the air. But if we had turned around, I would have missed the mansion … the night … the dresses and the security guards…. I could have played it safe, but I would have missed the dance…. OK, I won’t quote Garth Brooks, either. This summer, I just want to relax and have fun. I just don’t know how.
I’m forty-five years old.
It’s time I learn.
“Casey?” Develyn called out.
She waited a moment.
“Casey?”
I’m alone. Did she abandon me?“ OK, Ms. Worrell … you’re a fifth-grade teacher … nothing panics you.” She reached forward and stroked My Maria’s neck. “Honey, we can’t move forward until Popcorn does, and he seems to be a little chubby around the girth, so let’s encourage him to move. Perhaps if you bit him on the rear end.”
Then he would kick you and you’d buck and I’d hit the rocks and I’d be trampled by two panicked horses with nothing left of me but bloodstained rocks and a grease spot. And if I crawl up there and slap his backside, he’ll pound my head like an aluminum can run over by a semi … so … from a distance …
“Casey!”
Develyn’s feet were still up on My Maria’s neck.
I wonder if I threw rocks at Popcorn, would he kick his way free, or would he just get more stuck? There are some rocks up there. If I stood in the saddle like Casey, I could reach them.
Of course, I’m not like Casey.
Moving one foot under her and then the next, Develyn crouched on the saddle. Then she squatted. She stood, hunched over, holding each side of the cold rock crevice.
She shuffled her feet to the widest part of the saddle seat.
My Maria shifted her weight.
“No! No, honey. Stand still for mama!”
I’m mama to the horse and mama to the burro. Where’s my Dee? My Delaney. That’s what I miss about my summer. I miss my girl. It is the first summer in twenty years that I haven’t been with her.
Lord, I trust you listen to crazy women, because this whole scene is nuts. I’m trapped in a granite ravine, somewhere in Wyoming, praying for my daughter. Lord, I pray Dee can come out and spend the rest of the summer with me. I want her here. I can’t believe it took me six weeks to figure that out.
On a ledge to the left she scooped up several jagged, egg-sized rocks. Still standing straight up on the saddle, she lobbed a rock at the backside of the Appaloosa gelding. The stone tumbled off his rear. Popcorn snorted and flinched, but didn’t move.
“Perhaps this is not the best idea,” she mumbled. “Perhaps we should …”
The sound coming from behind her rattled like a muted castanet.
My Maria pranced.
“Whoa, baby, whoa. It’s just a … ah … oh, no, Lord … no, no, no … Casey!”
Develyn scanned the rocks, but couldn’t see the snake.
The rattling continued.
“Popcorn, get your fat behind on down the trail right now!” I am not going to be snake-bit. Not today. With strength she hadn’t used in years, Develyn sailed the rock straight into the horse’s rump and screamed, “Giddy-up!”
Popcorn gave a wild kick, lurched forward, and stomped up the trail.
My Maria gave pursuit with Develyn still standing in the saddle. “Wait …” She walked her hands along the jagged rock walls to keep her balance. “Wait, honey … whoa … stop … no!”
Develyn leaned forward and flexed her knees with each jolt of the horse’s hooves on the rock. The skin on her hands and knuckles scraped and tore as she scrambled to keep from falling. My Maria was at a near trot.
“Slow down! I can’t keep this up.”
The rock wall rubbed the fenders of the saddle as the paint mare slipped between the parallel ledges.
I’m going to fall on my head and die with snakes slithering over my broken, painful, terrorized body.
No, I’m not. Lord, I want to see Delaney. I need to be with my daughter. I am n
ot going to munch it today! It doesn’t fit my schedule.
Develyn found the rhythm of My Maria’s gait and let each step impact the bend in her knees. She pulled her raw hands back from the rocks and continued to ride standing in the saddle.
“There has to be a rim up here somewhere, girl. Just keep this pace until the top.”
Sunlight broke down into the ravine as the trail zigzagged, then they broke out into a prairie of rolling hills and sagebrush.
“Yes!” she shouted.
Cree-Ryder led Popcorn over to her. Develyn’s hat was ripped, and the blanket serape was covered with dirt.
Develyn slid down in the saddle. “I made it out!”
“You rode standing in the saddle?”
Develyn held out her hands. “I didn’t have a choice. I kind of got ripped up. There was a snake, and I was in a hurry.”
“I can’t believe I witnessed an Indiana schoolteacher ride out of that canyon standing in the saddle.”
“Did you get a good photo of it?” Develyn grinned. “I might use it on the cover of my memoirs.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to sketch it from memory.”
“You are a mess, Ms. Cree-Ryder, what happened?”
Casey waved her arms as she talked. “I hiked down the trail toward you. Uncle Henry was already on top. About halfway to you, this crazy Appy tried to run me down. It was all I could do to hold on to the headstall, and he drug me up the trail.”
“That was my fault. I frightened him, and he took off.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him if he didn’t get his big rear out of there soon, I would trailer him with a llama all the way to Indiana and put him in a petting zoo for fifth-grade boys who wanted to learn how to wear spurs.”
“Dev, what did you really do?”
“Blasted his behind with rocks and screamed. It feels good to be out of there, Casey.”
“Yes, well, you might be the only one in history to ride a horse all the way up that fissure.”
“Since the countess?”
“Ever. You see that little shack and corral over there?”
“Is that a house?”
“At one time it was a carriage house.”
The wind whipped Develyn’s face. She tugged her hat down. “For whom?”
“I think the count and countess kept horses and a carriage up here in case they needed to sneak away. They must have walked up here.”
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 29