The lightning was distant but still illuminated the room.
“It's filling with smoke,” Delaney cried out.
Casey pulled on boots over her bare feet. “Grab your shoes. We have to get out of here.”
“I can almost reach my jeans,” Delaney said.
“Jerk on your shoes. Get out of here without touching anything,” Casey yelled. “I saw a propane tank blow up once. One more little spark can do it. I don't want to see that happen again.”
Develyn plucked up her tennis shoes and slipped them over her cold toes.
“I just have flip-flops.” Delaney called out.
“That's OK, just don't touch the floor,” Casey hollered. “Grab a blanket for a shawl.”
“What if it drags the floor?”
“It won't conduct electricity unless it's wet.”
“Mother, I can hardly breathe.”
“Hurry.”
“Where are we going?”
“Run out to the Cherokee.”
“We'll be soaked.”
“That's better than being fried!” Casey screamed. “Just hurry.”
“I'm scared,” Delaney whimpered.
“Let me try it first,” Casey called out. At the next flash of lightning, she raced across the smoky cabin wearing short pajamas and cowboy boots. Her long, black hair flagged behind her as she draped a sheet like a superhero cape. “It's OK, come on.”
Before Develyn and Delaney made it to the door, the headlights from Casey's truck illuminated the front porch.
“I want my wallet,” Delaney called out.
“Dee, the roof is on fire.”
“That's my only picture of daddy. You tossed out all the rest.”
“I'll get your wallet. You go on out with Casey.”
“How can you see in the smoke?”
“Go on.”
Develyn shoved her daughter toward the headlights that reflected off the smoke in the cabin. Develyn could barely see. She squinted her eyes and held her breath.
Lord, this has to be a dream. My daughter hasn't been here six hours. This is crazy.
Smoke-generated tears ran from her burning eyes as Develyn spotted her own purse next to the busted lantern on the counter.
Will it electrocute me to pick it up? This is insane. It's a leather strap; it won't carry electricity...will it?
There was a sizzle when she grabbed it and a shock like brushing against an exposed wire on Christmas lights, but she held on and scooped Delaney's beaded purse in her other hand. She coughed her way to the front door and staggered out to the porch. Delaney caught one arm, Casey the other, and tugged her toward the pickup truck.
“The roof's on fire, Mother.”
Develyn glanced back at the flames. “Where is the rain when we need it?”
“It left with the lightning,” Casey said. “Get in the truck. The Cherokee was locked.”
Develyn shoved Delaney's purse toward her. “Casey, I couldn't find your wallet.”
Casey tugged the other two toward the waiting truck. “I have it. I always sleep with it.”
“Where do you keep it?” Delaney questioned.
Casey yanked open the door and shoved them inside. “With the knife and gun.”
“Do we need to call the fire department?” Delaney asked.
Casey piled in behind the wheel. Develyn scooted across to the middle, and Delaney crowded next to the window. The heater blew cold air against their bare legs. Develyn shivered.
“There isn't any fire department. Look at the roof burn.” Even from a distance the flames reflected off Casey's brown face.
Delaney hugged herself and rocked back and forth. “Every place has a fire department, right?”
“Welcome to the frontier, Miss Dee,” Casey murmured.
“But shouldn't we do something?” Develyn asked.
“Just watch and wait for the scary part.”
Delaney's voice cracked. “What scary part?”
“When the tank blows. If it shoots out sideways, it can burn down Tallon's cabin too.”
“Coop!” Develyn cried. “I've got to get him out of there.”
“How could anyone sleep through this?”
“I have to check. Let me out, honey.”
“Mother…”
“I've got to do it, Dee. He would do it for me.”
“She's right about that. Devy-girl, give me your keys so I can back up the Cherokee,” Casey shouted.
Develyn shoved her purse to Casey Cree-Ryder.
“Mother, look at your hand.”
A wide red blister crossed her palm. “It must have been the purse.”
The wind blasted through Develyn's wet T-shirt and running shorts as she jogged to Tallon's cabin. She circled his truck while watching the sparks fly off the cedar shingles of her cabin.
Those sparks could catch the entire prairie on fire. She slammed her clenched palms against the heavy wooden door.
“Cooper! Coop! It's me, Dev. Open up.”
The third time she banged, the door slowly swung open. “Coop?”
She eased her way inside the cabin. “Coop? Wake up! We have trouble.”
Flames from the roof of her cabin cast a shadowy hue to the room as Develyn inched her way to the back.
Lord, I don't want to wake a man in his own bed. But I will not allow him to lie here while the cabin burns down around him.
But the bed looked empty.
“Coop?”
In the shadows she spotted the man's body stretched out on the floor beside the bed. “Oh, no...no...no...Cooper!”
She grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “Cooper, you have to get up.”
He didn't move.
“No, Lord...no...I can't handle this. This isn't right. This can't be. I want to go home...I want…I want…”
Calm down, Devy-girl.…What's the plan? I can't carry him out. I need help. I'll get Casey.
Develyn scrambled out the door toward the truck.
“We're in the Cherokee,” Delaney called out.
When Develyn turned toward the Jeep, an explosion like a thousand Roman candles shoved her forward. She stumbled and fell in the shallow mud.
Casey and Delaney pulled her up. She could see their mouths moving but couldn't hear the words.
Casey spun her around, facing the cabin.
There were no flames.
No fire.
Little smoke left.
“What happened?” Develyn called out.
“You don't have to shout, Mother.”
“What?”
Casey pointed to the cabin, then spoke slow and loud. “The...propane...tank...exploded...straight...up...and...put...out...the...fire.”
“It's out?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes!”
“You don't have to yell,” Develyn insisted.
“We thought your hearing was damaged in the explosion,” Delaney said.
“I think my everything was damaged.”
“It's all over,” Delaney added.
“Where's Cooper?” Casey pressed. “Did you wake him up?”
“Oh, my goodness, no.…I think he's dead.”
“What?”
Develyn began to cry. “He was lying on the floor, and I couldn't wake him up. I think he's dead. He must have been electrocuted. Oh, no.…”
Delaney hugged her muddy mother.
Casey stared across the headlight-lit yard. “But his cabin wasn't hit.”
“He's dead. I don't know why this is happening to me,” Dev sobbed. “Of all men, not my Coop.”
Delaney grabbed her shoulders. “Mother...mother...get ahold of yourself.”
“You don't understand. Cooper is...is...is …”
“He's standing in his doorway,” Casey cried out
.
Wearing black boxers and a black T-shirt, Cooper Tallon leaned against the doorjamb and rubbed the back of his neck.
Develyn led the trio to his cabin.
“What do you mean scaring me like that?” Develyn yelled.
He ran his fingers through his gray hair. “What? Miss Dev? What are you...Cree-Ryder. You girls will freeze out here in your...what's going on?”
“You scared me to death,” Develyn sobbed.
“What are you talking about?”
“She thought you were dead,” Casey reported.
“Why?”
“You were passed out on the floor, and I couldn't wake you up.”
“I sleep on that rug when my back is hurting.”
“But I couldn't wake you up.”
“I had to take a pain pill to get to sleep. Why did you want to wake me up?”
Develyn sucked in the tears and wiped her face. “Because there was this noise like a bomb, the lightning hit the cabin, the roof caught fire, the propane tank exploded, and we barely got out with our lives.”
Cooper stared at her. He rubbed his chin and stared over at the walls of the other cabin. “Am I standing on my porch in my shorts, talking to three attractive women clad in wet pajamas about a cabin blowing up?” He rubbed his forehead. “Or is this a dream?”
Develyn grabbed his hand. “Come and see.”
He stared down at her hand. “Not until I pull on some jeans and boots and splash water on my face.”
“Where are you now?”
Develyn shifted the cell phone from one ear to the other. “Lily, I'm standing in front of what used to be my cabin.”
“And there is nothing left?”
“The walls are still standing, but no roof. Most of the contents were blown to bits and scattered around the yard.”
“You're coming home now, right?”
Develyn stared at the paint horse in the pasture. “Why would I do that?”
“You just lost everything and barely escaped with your life. That's a sign to come back to Indiana.”
“All I lost was a suitcase full of jeans and T-shirts.”
“Dev, I think you are still in shock.”
“Everything's OK. Coop borrowed Hank's travel trailer for himself and insisted that Delaney, Casey, and I stay in his cabin.”
“If you lost all your clothes, what are you wearing?”
“Oh, you'd like this...I have on a hundred-year-old prairie gingham dress that hangs like a sack to the top of my tennies.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Coop had a trunk of old stuff that belonged to his grandmother.”
“Just how chummy are you with the gray-haired cowboy?”
“He's a good friend, Lil.”
“Who gave you his home?”
“It's his cabin, not his home, and he'd do the same thing for anyone in town. That's just the way he is.”
“I still can't believe you aren't coming home.”
“Lil, the Lord prompted me to insist that Delaney come to Wyoming. I haven't found out why yet. I'm not leaving here until I know. So what's happening in Crawfordsville?”
“Compared to you, life is totally boring here.”
Dev surveyed the yard for Uncle Henry. “And the lawyer?”
“Stewart had meetings in Washington, D.C. Something about Supreme Court guidelines or something.”
“Has he proposed?”
“No, but I did.”
“What?” Dev choked. “You asked him to marry you?”
“No, I proposed that we go to Chicago for the weekend.”
“You what?” A pickup down on the dirt road bounced toward the corrals. She spied a hand wave. She waved back.
“We'll stay at my sister's place.”
“Which one?”
“Nancy.”
“OK, that works. She's more strict than my mother.”
“How is your mother?” Lily pressed.
“She and David decided to go to Florence before they come home.”
“How's his arm?”
“In a cast, but Mother is determined that shouldn't slow them down. What about school?”
“Guess who they hired to replace Barbara in first grade?”
“Who?”
“Tammy Givens.”
“Tammy? But she…”
“She was in your fifth-grade class. Yes, I know, Ms. Worrell. That was sixteen years ago. She's been teaching in Ethiopia.”
“We're getting old.”
“One of us has been old for quite a while, honey.”
“I've got to go.” Develyn tugged on the shoulder of the ill-fitting dress. “I'm headed to Casper to buy some clothes for the needy.”
“You get a new wardrobe out of this?”
“Of course.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Don't even think of it.”
When Develyn entered the cabin, Casey was by the stove. “How do you like our outfits?”
Delaney stepped out of the tiny bathroom, combing her long, light brown hair.
“Towel skirts and Cooper's T-shirts. Dee looks ready for the beach.”
“How about me?” Casey asked.
“With the cowboy boots, you look...uh…”
“Like a homeless refugee?”
“The thought did come to mind.”
“We'll anxiously await your return with some clothes,” Casey added.
“I don't know why I'm the one who has to go to town looking like this.”
“Simple. You're the only one of us who can fit into Grandma Tallon's clothing,” Delaney said.
Develyn looked down at her musty dress. “I feel like I'm in some separatist sect.” She let out a slow sigh. “That wasn't very kind. People have the freedom to wear anything they want.”
“In that case,” Delaney giggled, “Casey and I will go with you dressed in towels and T-shirts.”
“No you won't. You won't even go to the door looking like that.”
“We want to see what we can find to salvage from the cabin,” Casey said.
“Then use safety pins on those towels.”
Casey grinned. “Yes, Mother.”
“I'm glad she treats you that way too,” Delaney said. “Now I know it's not just me.”
“Dee, your mama treats every living creature like a fifth-grader. That's the way the Lord made her.”
“Even the cowboys?”
“Especially the cowboys.”
“I've been here for twelve hours and haven't even met a single cowboy.”
Casey put her arm around Delaney. “Sure you did; you met Cooper Tallon.”
“Yes, but he's older than my mother.”
“Oh, you want a young, eligible cowboy?”
Delaney rubbed her round nose. “It would be nice to at least meet one.”
“Casey, isn't a certain swarthy cowboy coming over to see his bronze bombshell tonight?”
Casey strutted over to Delaney Worrell. “Yes, and if she gets within ten feet of Jackson Hill, I'll shove horseshoe nails under her dainty little pink toenails.”
Delaney looked down at her toes. “Does he have a friend?”
“While you are out, look for poor Uncle Henry. He must have run off with the explosion. I can't find him anywhere,” Develyn said.
“You worried about your boy?”
“It's the first time in eight weeks that he hasn't met me at the front door.”
“I thought wild burros were supposed to stray,” Delaney said.
“Oh, Uncle Henry is not an ordinary burro,” Casey laughed. “He's your mama's baby!”
Develyn peered over the top of her dark glasses at the man in the gray wool suit. His tie was crooked. “I don't understand this at all,” she snapped.
“Just routine security precautions. We'll only d
etain you for a moment.”
“Routine? You bring all your customers into the back room and interrogate them?”
“We asked you to leave the store and you refused.”
Develyn noticed the cobwebs in the corner of the ceiling. “I came here to buy several hundred dollars worth of clothing. I spent two hours picking it all out, and you won't let me charge it on my credit card. Then you ask me to leave the store without my goods.”
“We won't let you charge it on this credit card. Did you ever tell us your real name?” he questioned.
“You have my credit card, my driver's license, and my wallet. What do I have to do to convince you?”
“Look, lady…”
“I'm Ms. Develyn Worrell.”
“Whatever. You came in here wearing an old musty dress and tennies looking like a homeless person. You spent $703.46 on clothing and makeup. You filled two shopping carts.…”
“Two-and-a-half”
“Then gave us a credit card and a driver's license …”
“And my picture is on the driver's license.”
“This isn't you, lady.”
“That's why I need to replace the clothing and makeup I lost in the fire. So I can look like her...I mean me. I've lost some weight since that picture was taken.”
“You are much older than she is.”
“What's the birth date on the license?”
“Let me see…”
“December 10, 1959. I will be forty-six years old next December,” Develyn snapped.
“The gal in this picture don't look forty-six. She looks younger.”
“I was having a good hair day.”
“You don't look forty-six. You look older.”
“I am not having a good day.”
The man tossed the item down on the desk. “Well, it might get worse.”
“How can that possibly happen?”
“I called the police.”
Develyn felt her back stiffen. “I committed a crime?”
“You can just leave now, if you'd like.”
“Not without my purchases.”
“We've dealt with you gypsies before.”
Develyn bit her lip. “I'm trying not to get angry. I'm trying to talk myself out of filing a lawsuit for harassment. But you are pressing my patience.”
“Look, lady, you don't match the picture. The credit card company says the credit card was issued to some woman in Indiana, but never used. You said you are staying in Argenta, but no one in this store has ever heard of Argenta, Wyoming. And when we called the sheriff's office, they said no structure fires were reported in the past two weeks west of Casper.”
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 48