“Who ask you that?”
“My mother.” Develyn touched up her eyelashes with black mascara.
“Mom, did you ever get elected homecoming queen or prom queen or something like that?”
“Why would you ask that?”
Delaney crawled out of bed and spun around in her extra-long pink T-shirt. “I don't know. I think since Brian lost interest in me this summer, I've been feeling ugly. I'm twenty years old. This is me. I can't pretend any more that when I grow up I'll look like my mother. I'm never going to be as cute as you.”
Develyn turned and put her hands on Delaney's shoulders.
“Honey, we will always look different. That's the way God created us. Until the twelve-year-old boys elected me rodeo queen last week, I had never been queen of anything. You've seen my old high school annual. I didn't turn anyone's head with my looks, that's for sure. I was the sassy bulldog who put everyone, especially the boys, in their place.”
“You turned Daddy's head.”
Develyn hugged her daughter. “Yes, honey, I believe I did, for a while. But that's the point. When the Lord leads you to the right man, you will turn his head, and he will think you're the cutest thing on the face of the earth. And you know what?”
“What?”
“You won't give a squat what anyone else thinks. None of us has to be cute for all men, just for that one man.”
“Is that why you fix yourself up so good?”
“Yes,” Develyn laughed. “I never know when that one man will walk into my life.”
The front door of the cabin swung open.
“And there he is. My prince charming.”
“It's obvious that he loves you,” Delaney grinned.
“I know. We have this sort of animal magnetism between us.”
“You make a lovely couple.”
“Thank you, honey.” Develyn strolled to the front door. “Uncle Henry, I told you not to open the front door. If you keep doing that, I will not let you sleep on the porch. Now go on.”
The short brown burro glanced over his shoulder toward the road but didn't budge.
Develyn stepped to the porch edge and shouted, “Leon, you go home right now. I will not have you harassing Uncle Henry.”
Delaney stepped to the doorway.
Cooper Tallon stepped down out of the travel trailer by the corrals. “You need any help, Dev?”
“Morning, Coop,” she called out. “No, I can handle this.” She stepped out in the yard. “Leon,” she shouted, “I will be running Mrs. Tagley's store the next few days. I will not sell you a Little Debbie unless you stop this. Go home!”
A twelve-year-old in camouflage pants and T-shirt crawled out from under Casey's horse trailer. “That ain't fair. Your pony snitched on me.”
“Yes, he did. Leon, you are not allowed in this yard unless I am outside. Is that clear?”
“If I stay out of your place, will you give me a Little Debbie?”
“I will sell you one if you have the money.”
Leon trudged back down the long driveway, then turned. “Why do you make your old man sleep in the trailer?”
“Mr. Tallon is not my ‘old man.’”
“He looks old to me,” Leon shouted, then trudged on out toward the road.
“Sorry about that comment, Coop.”
“Hey, I am old.”
“Mr. Tallon, you are not old.”
“Well, that makes two things I'm not,” he murmured. “I'm headed for Casper. You need anything?”
“I don't think so. I'll be going in myself later to see Mrs. Tagley.”
“I'm going to borrow a truck and skip-loader and clean up that burnt cabin. Are you sure there's nothing more to salvage?”
Develyn stared across the yard to the charred ruins. “I don't think so. Most of it belonged to you. You should be more discreet whom you rent to, Mr. Tallon.”
“I reckon renting to you was the smartest thing I've ever done.”
“Thank you, sir.” Develyn studied the yard, then turned back to the cabin.
She glanced at Delaney. “Where's Casey? I thought she was grooming the horses.”
“While you were in the shower, she and Jackson went down to open the store.”
Develyn raised her eyebrows. “I'd better get down there.”
“Mother, Casey is thirty years old. She doesn't need you to watch her like she was thirteen.”
The long, deep sigh caused Develyn's shoulders to relax. “You're right, Dee. Sometimes I just can't stop being a fifth-grade teacher.”
“I know, Mom.”
“I presume, from your tone, that you're thinking about our discussion about Hunter?”
“Yeah.”
“Dee, to be real honest, I'm troubled by him. There are some puzzling circumstances. But I can't explain why I'm so uneasy.”
“I'm not troubled.”
“Well, I am. But I refuse to treat my beautiful daughter like a twelve-year-old. So the decision is yours.”
“That sounds so good to my ears.”
“That I'll let you make your own decisions?”
“No, the ‘beautiful daughter’ remark.”
“Dee, I've called you pretty all your life.”
“Yes, most all mothers do that. But somehow this summer it means more.”
“I'm headed down to the store to check up on… ”
“Inventory?”
Develyn laughed. “Yes, I'm checking on the inventory of bronze bombshells.”
Develyn gaped over the top of her sunglasses at the brown, large-eared animal that meandered next to her toward Mrs. Tagley's store. “Now, honey, if you stay down at the store today, Leon might try to torment you. If that happens, you just go home, OK?”
Ms. Worrell, it's 8:00 a.m. You've been up for three hours, been riding, and now you 're hiking down a dirt road talking to a burro. It's windy yet hot, and there isn't a person in sight. You are in the middle of Wyoming, and the first day of school is less than two weeks away. This can't be real. I'm sure it's a green chile frozen burrito that I got at the mini-mart on my way home, and I'll wake up in Crawfordsville with a really bad stomachache and two naughty cats.
Well, one naughty cat.
The alarm will ring, and I'll…
She stopped.
See? There it is…
“My cell phone?”
“Hi, Devy, where are you right now?”
“Lil'! I'm on a dirt road in the middle of Wyoming.”
“Are you sitting down?”
“On the dirt road? Of course not.”
“Is there anyone with you?”
“Uncle Henry.”
“Burros don't count as anyone.”
“Don't tell Uncle Henry that. What is this all about?” Develyn shoved her sunglasses on top of her head. “Lily Martin, did you get married?”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean, not yet?”
“Well, I was asked.”
“Oh my, really? Oh, wow. Yes Honey! I'm so excited I could… ”
“Well, don't do it in the middle of the road. You didn't ask what I said back to him.”
“You said yes, of course.”
“No, I didn't.”
“You turned him down?”
“No. I said I would have to get my sons' approval and… ”
“They approve, don't they?”
“Yes, they do and …”
“So when's the date?”
“Would you let me finish? I told him he'd also have to have the approval of Ms. Develyn Worrell.”
“Me?”
“You'd do the same, wouldn't you?”
Ask for Lily's approval before I said yes ?
“Wouldn't you?” Lily pressed.
“Oh, yes. I would want your opinion, that's for sure.”
“So I want you to give us your blessing.”
“I approve, I approve,” Develyn giggled.
“You haven't met him.”
“Lil, you've been happier this summer than anytime I've ever known you. I hear it in your voice every time I talk to you. I want you to be this happy the rest of your life.”
“Sweetie, for the first time in years, I think that dream might come true, but I want you to meet him first.”
“I'll be home in a week.”
“I know. I thought we might speed that up a little.”
“How? Aren't you in Wisconsin with Bart, Terri, and the kids?”
“We're in Denver, Dev.”
“What? Denver? We?”
“I told you to sit down. Stewart and I are in Denver. We're going to rent a car and drive up and see you.”
“Today?”
“Is it a bad time?”
“Lil', it's a wonderful time. I just can't believe it.”
“When we get to Casper, I'll phone, and you can tell us how to find your dirt-road town.”
“Lil, this is so great. I could kiss…”
“Which cowboy?”
“Uncle Henry.”
“Girl, you've been in the wilderness too long.”
“Lily, I've been wandering in the wilderness most of my life. But you are the one who is about to cross the Jordan. Are you actually going to stay a few days?”
“Four days, if that's alright. I know you are crowded in Argenta. We'll stay at the Holiday Inn Express in Casper.”
“You already made arrangements?”
“One room on the third floor and the other on the second floor, Mama.”
“Oh, good. I don't need three daughters to watch over.”
“How are the other two?”
“One is back in the cabin trying to decide if she loves me or hates me.”
“And the bronze countess?”
Develyn glanced at Mrs. Tagley's store. “She's cozy on the front porch of the store with Jackson Hill, and they are…oh, my!”
“Dev?”
“I've got to go, Lil. Call me from Casper.”
“Stewart says we might spend some time in Cheyenne, so it could be late.”
“Call me anytime. This is so exciting!”
“Me coming to see you, or what's happening on the porch?”
“Both.”
Jackson Hill rose from his knees and lounged next to the wagon seat on the covered porch.
“Did you lose something?” Develyn asked.
“Look!” Casey pointed to the bench.
Develyn scanned the collage of carved initials.
“There…inside the heart!” Casey grinned.
“Oh, J. H. plus C.C.R? Does that mean Jackson loves Credence Clearwater Revival?”
Casey stuck out her tongue.
“How's the store?”
“It wasn't what I expected at all,” Jackson said.
“Disorganized?”
“Just the opposite. Mrs. Tagley has charts under the counter about what products should be on each shelf, how many should be there, and what her wholesale price is. It's incredible record keeping. This might be the easiest store in Wyoming to run.”
“Good for her.” Develyn led them into the store's main room. “She once told me that she writes everything down so she won't worry about forgetting things. She's quite a lady for being ninety-four.”
“Her records show she's getting a delivery in the morning from the wholesale outfit in Casper,” Jackson explained. “There won't be enough money in the till to pay for it. What do you think we should do?”
Develyn tapped the counter with her fingers like a snare drumroll. “I'll ask Mrs. Tagley this afternoon.”
A loud bray from the yard bought all three back to the front door.
“Your watch-burro is having problems,” Casey said.
“I'm sure it's Leon. He's decided to torment Uncle Henry. I'll take him back to the cabin and put him in the corrals with Coop's horses.”
“Leon?” Jackson grinned.
“Hmmm, I'm tempted. I'm sure you two can take care of the store for a while by yourselves.”
“Oh, no more hovering over me?”
“Nope, you're on your own, girl.”
“I didn't mind you treating me that way.”
“I mind. I need to learn to be different.”
A second bray scurried Develyn out on the porch. “Leon, what did you throw at Uncle Henry?”
The dark-haired boy gawked from behind the tree. “A carrot. I thought he looked hungry.”
“Uncle Henry does not eat carrots.”
“Sure he does, look at him.”
The burro licked a dusty carrot off the dirt and began to munch on it.
“Baby, don't put that dirty thing in your mouth!” She dashed over to the startled burro.
“What are you doing now, Ms. Worrell?” Casey called out from the porch.
“Uncle Henry …”
“He's acting like an animal. You don't want him to be a fifth-grader, too, do you?”
Develyn folded her arms and ground her teeth. “You're right, Casey, Uncle Henry can eat anything he wants. But I am going to lead him home and put him in the corrals.”
An off-key trumpet blasted, and Leon scampered back toward his grandmother's.
Develyn scooped up three dirty carrots and hiked back toward the cabin.
Lord, this is a lot harder than it looks. How do you do it? How do you give all us sinful, rebellious people so much freedom? I have a tough time letting a wild burro eat carrots off the dirt. Or allowing a thirty-year-old woman spend time alone with anyone she wants. How do you sit back and let us do so many questionable things?
Uncle Henry snapped his teeth. She gave him another carrot.
“Perhaps I haven't been giving you a very balanced diet. I'm not sure I've had one either. Some things will be nice to return to. But then, I don't eat well at home either.” She stared at the carrots. “No, honey, I'm not going to eat one of your dirty treats. There is no telling where it came from.”
The rumble of a vehicle behind her caused Develyn and Uncle Henry to scoot over to the side of the dirt road. A huge motor home towing a horse trailer and sporting Kansas license plates pulled up beside them. The tinted, electronic window yawned open. A man with a buckskin shirt and raccoon fur hat leaned out.
“Howdy, ma'am. Do you speak English?”
Develyn studied his sunburned face, then glanced at the heavyset woman wearing a calico dress and bonnet. I have never been asked that in my life. “Yes, I do.”
“Oh, good. I'm Mean Missouri River Marvin, and this mountain mama is Two-Shoes Katie.”
The woman in calico rolled her eyes. “I'm Katherine.”
“Is this the trail to the rendezvous?” he asked.
“Which rendezvous are you talking about?”
“The Mountain Man rendezvous and black powder shoot.”
“Where is it held?”
“On Rawhide Creek at the base of Carter Mountain,” he said.
“I'm not familiar with those places.”
“It's on the Pitchfork Ranch,” Katherine explained.
“Two-Shoes Katie, I told you we weren't going to call it that,” the man scolded.
“Marvin, I told you not to call me Two-Shoes until we got to the rendezvous. Until then, I'm an accountant's wife from Topeka.”
“Never mind Two-Shoes. She's peeved because she spent yesterday out in the sun gathering genuine buffalo chips.”
Develyn glanced over at the lady. “Really?”
“That part is true. Mr. Everything Authentic insisted we spend the day gathering genuine buffalo chips. The man at the Buffalo ranch thought we were crazy, of course.”
“We'll be the only ones at the rendezvous with genuine buffalo chips,” he bo
asted.
Develyn swiped her blonde bangs off her forehead. “Well, the Pitchfork Ranch is west of Meeteetse. Go back out to Highway 20, drive up through Thermopolis, then follow the signs. I think you'll turn west right near the creek. That should get you in the neighborhood.”
Katherine stood, then pointed to the back of the motor home. “Well, we aren't there yet, and I want some coffee.” She glanced out at Develyn. “Would you like a latte?”
“I would love one, if you have some half-and-half. You have an espresso machine?”
“Yes, it helps me keep in touch with reality. You can call me Katie, but leave off the Two-Shoes.”
“I'm Develyn.”
“Ah-hah! Devil Woman, that's…”
“Marvin!” his wife snapped.
He winced when the pointed elbow clipped his shoulder. “Anyway, I can't take the highway. We want to follow Ol' Gabe's trail.”
“Old Gabe?” Develyn asked.
“Jim Bridger.”
“You're looking for the Bridger Trail?”
“Yep.”
“If you continue east along the railroad tracks, this road will turn north. The first dry gulch you cross will have a narrow trail high on the north rim. That path is said to be part of the Bridger Trail.”
“Can I drive the motor home down it?”
“I don't think so. There isn't any road.”
“I can drive this sucker across any terrain.”
“You can't drive an ATV down it, let alone a motor home. I would guess that even Uncle Henry would have trouble in places. Besides, the trail is washed out after…”
“Can I hire your Uncle Henry to act as scout?”
She pointed to the donkey. “Uncle Henry is my burro.”
“How much you want for him?”
“He's not for sale.”
“I'll rent him. Give you five hundred dollars for two weeks. He can lead the way down the Bridger Trail.”
“He's not for rent either. I didn't say he knew the trail, just that it wasn't much wider than him in places. You'll need to go back to the highway.”
“I didn't drive all the way out here from Topeka just to cruise down a blacktop road. No, ma'am, this is an authentic rendezvous. I'm following Bridger's trail wherever I can.”
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 60