Katherine appeared at the window. “Hand this down to Develyn.”
Develyn took the Styrofoam cup. “Thank you very much.”
“Marvin, you heard her. We need to go back to the highway.”
“Two-Shoes, we are going on the Bridger Trail. I can feel it in my bones.”
“All I can feel is a migraine coming on,” Katherine said. “I'm going back to take a nap.”
“Follow this road, then turn right just past the first creek?”
“Turn left,” Develyn corrected.
“Got it. We're a comin', ol' Gabe, we're a-comin'.”
The giant travel home lurched forward in a swirl of thin, yellow dust.
“You know what I'm thinking, Uncle Henry? There are worse things than being forty-five and single. My life seems quite sane and peaceful.” She took a sip. “Two-Shoes Katie knows how to make a good latte.”
Develyn spied the white Ford pickup the minute she turned up the long dirt driveway to the cabin.
Hunter Burke? What's he doing here at this time of the day? What's he doing here at all? She said she had a date tonight. It is not night.
Develyn tried to pace herself but refrained from jogging.
Why aren't they on the porch? Where is he? If he's in the cabin, this is going to stop, and it's going to stop right now. I don't know this man. Delaney doesn't know him.
She shoved open the unpainted wooden door. “Delaney?”
The shadows of the cluttered room came into focus. “Dee, where are you?”
Develyn breezed through the cabin and back out the front door.
“Delaney?”
She stomped to the white pickup. They had better not be in that truck. I don't see them, but that doesn't mean … She jerked open the front door on the passenger side, then the extended cab door. When she did, a handgun tumbled to the dirt beside her feet.
She stared at it, glanced around at the empty yard, then picked up the gun. A 38 special? When she shoved it in behind the seat, she noticed several rifles.
Are those hunting guns? How would I know what's a hunting gun? Everyone in Wyoming has some kind of gun in their rig.
She eased the door closed and walked back toward the cabin. “Delaney!”
The voice was distant. “Out here, Mom!”
Develyn scurried to the pasture. Hunter Burke and Delaney stood next to My Maria.
“Your mare got tangled in some wire, Mrs. Worrell. I just stopped to get the wire loose,” Hunter called out.
“She did?”
Delaney and Hunt strolled back toward the gate.
“It was lucky that Hunt came along when he did,” Delaney said.
“Yes, well, thank you, Hunter. I appreciate that.”
He tipped his hat that revealed no tan line on the forehead. “No problem, Mrs. Worrell. I was on my way to …”
“To see your friend, Billy?”
“Yep.”
“Don't let us keep you.”
“Mother.”
“Honey, I know you and Casey need to go to town. You'll want to change clothes.”
“I will?”
“You walk Hunter to his truck. I'll see what you have that's clean.”
“Everything's clean. We just bought all new clothes, remember?”
“Oh, good, that should make it easy. Thanks again, Hunter.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He tipped his hat and sauntered to the white Ford truck.
From the cabin window, Develyn could see Delaney leaning through the open window.
I don't understand this, Lord. Why am I so paranoid about Hunter? It's as if there's a bear prowling outside, and I want to pull my baby to safety.
Develyn felt a deep release when Hunter drove away and Delaney started for the cabin.
“You were rude, Mother. I have plenty of time to get to the doctor.”
“I'm sorry for that. And I'm sorry about the clothing remark. I shouldn't have said that. I wouldn't go to the doctor in denim shorts and a tank top with my belly button showing, but you can wear whatever you want.”
“Mother, you wouldn't wear anything that exposed your belly button.”
“Probably not, but I'm from a different generation.” Maybe a different world.
“You know what, Mother? I've never seen your belly button.”
“Nonsense.”
“No, really, you always wear one-piece bathing suits. I do not know what my own mother's belly button looks like.”
“Honey, you know me. I'm not comfortable wearing clothes like that.”
“I didn't say you had to wear hip-huggers and short shirts. It just dawned on me that I have never seen your belly button.”
Develyn chewed on her tongue, then sighed. She untucked her blouse and yanked it up a few inches. “There!”
Delaney giggled. “Wow, I can't believe you did that.”
Develyn felt her face redden. “Neither can I.”
“You have a cute belly button, Mom.”
“Thank you. I've never considered a belly button cute.”
“You ought to pierce it and wear a ring.”
“Absolutely not. There's no way I'm going to pierce anything else. Not my belly button, not my nose, not my eyebrow, not my anything. The ears were bad enough, but no more.”
“Why don't you just come right out and say what you think, Mom? No reason to beat around the bush,” Delaney laughed.
Develyn hugged her daughter. “I've never been one to keep my opinions to myself. How about you? What do you have pierced, besides your ears?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Probably not,” Develyn said. “Just tell me that you didn't pierce your…”
“I didn't.”
“Good.”
“Of course you didn't ask me about the tattoo.”
“What tattoo?”
“The rose one.”
“Do I want to know where it is?”
“No.”
“Let's change the subject.”
Delaney pulled her hair back. “Why were you so rude to Hunt?”
“Honey, I told you. He makes me nervous. There's something about him …”
“You too?”
“No, I get a feeling inside that…”
“I know. There's a cool mystery about him. Sort of like a young James Bond, right?”
“What?”
“Oh, my word, are you jealous of me, Mother? Do you like him too? Well, he likes me better, and you just can't handle that.”
“That's absurd. I think…”
“This is a first. I made my mother jealous over some man.”
“This conversation is turning bizarre.”
“You are really jealous. Do you know how good that makes me feel?”
“Dee, that is not what I meant. I assure you, I am not…”
“Of course not, Mother. It would be too embarrassing to admit. I understand that. I have a hard time admitting all the times I was jealous of you.”
“Of me?”
“This might be the most wonderful day of my life!” Delaney declared.
And when you get the doctor's report, it could be the most devastating.
Develyn was standing next to Jackson Hill when Casey and Delaney drove off to Riverton.
“What's the schedule now?” he asked.
“I'm going to have an orange Popsicle. Would you like one?”
“No, thank you. But I do want to look at the picture.”
“What picture?”
“Of this guy named Hunter who says he knows me but never stops by when I'm around.”
“Oh, yes, I left Coop's camera in Mrs. Tagley's living room yesterday. Get me two double-A batteries.”
Develyn started into the store, but Jackson paused.
“What are the rules here? Am I allowed in the store at
the same time you are?”
Develyn glanced at Jackson's thin, strong face.
“I must be about the most controlling person you ever met. I'm sorry for being so bossy. You can come and go in the store as you like, whether it's me or Casey or whoever. I can't believe I told you two some of those things.”
“You're a lot like my mother.”
“Yes, it's the schoolteacher mind-set, no doubt.”
They stood behind the counter inside the store as Dev fumbled to install the new batteries. “OK, let me turn it on. Here.”
“That's cute,” Jackson grinned. “Hunter looks a lot like Cooper Tallon.”
“That's the wrong picture.”
Develyn pressed the silver button again.
“There. Do you know this guy?”
“It's David.”
“No, his name is Hunter Burke.”
Jackson studied the picture closer. “No, it's David Vincent.”
“Who's David Vincent?”
“A guy I went to high school with. He graduated two years behind me.”
“Are you sure it's him?”
“Oh, it's David.”
“I wonder why he changed his name?”
“I don't know. I haven't seen him since he went back east to college. He had a full ride to Yale.”
“Hunter had a full scholarship to Yale?”
“I heard he got his master's at the University of Paris.”
“This is not the same guy,” Develyn insisted. “What did he major in?”
“History. Last I heard he was doing research at some big museum in New England.”
“This is definitely not the same guy.”
“I haven't seen him in eight years. If that's not David, I don't know who it is.”
“I don't believe this Hunter graduated from Yale.”
“Then there's no reason to tell you that I graduated summa cum laude with a degree in philosophy from Harvard?”
“You did? Jackson, that's…that's wonderful.”
“No, I didn't. But for a second you believed it. That's my point. You believed it about me but not about him. How do you know the guy who calls himself Hunter Burke didn't graduate from Yale?”
“A point well taken, Mr. Hill. No more stereotypes. But the next time he stops by, I want you around to visit with him.”
“Maybe he got that job up in Cody.”
“What job?”
“Assistant curator. My mom knows his mother, and she said David applied for some important job at the museum in Cody.”
“Wait a minute. You mean to tell me the man hanging around my daughter, the one who stashes gas and bullets out at Coop's springs, the one who showed up mysteriously when we had a flat tire, this guy is a Yale graduate and a museum curator?”
“Does it change your opinion of him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he still creepy?”
“Yes, but now he's a highly intelligent creep.”
Jackson leaned against the counter. “What do we do now, wait for the lines of customers to flood in? I'll be the bag boy; you can be the cashier.”
“I'm going to get my orange Popsicle and eat it outside.”
He followed her out the door. “Casey said watching you eat a Popsicle is quite an event.”
Develyn plopped down on the bench and tugged off the wrapper. “Oh, she did? Well, I do know how to enjoy every lick. Most people are rank amateurs.”
“You don't have to just lick it. You can bite right into it. That way it doesn't spill on your shirt.”
“I would have thought a man who graduated summa summa summa from Harvard would know better than that.”
“I was sick the spring they had the confectionary consumption class,” he laughed. “Perhaps you can school me.”
“Always happy to enlighten those still dwelling in darkness. What you need to do is take long licks. You put your tongue at the base, near the stick, and lick all the way to the top.”
“You never bite it?”
“Never. It kills the taste. You might as well chew an ice cube. And no matter what, you never, ever break it. There is only one Popsicle in a bag, not two.”
“But there are two sticks.”
“Look at the bag. What does it say?”
“Popsicle.”
“Precisely. It does not say Popsicles. For full flavor and texture, the two sticks must remain in the ice until the last possible moment.”
“That sounds like a very messy way to eat a Popsicle.”
“Oh, it is a dull, boring lad who chooses function over flavor. How terribly sad to be thirty-two years old and never savor the exquisite yet delicate delight of the juice from an orange Popsicle.”
“I was culturally deprived.”
“And your mother a teacher? Oh, don't tell me she never taught you how to eat peanut M&Ms?”
“I don't suppose you pop them in your mouth and chew them up?”
“Oh, my heart. How could you suggest such a thing? No, my poor, wretched friend, you gently let the hard candy shell dissolve on the top of your tongue, rolling it over and over so you will hit the milk chocolate all at once. Then you let it sit on your tongue and slowly dissolve its cocoa bean juices. Finally, when the peanut is as naked as a baby's bottom, you reward yourself by crushing it between your teeth.”
“I won't even ask what you do with an artichoke.”
“Oh, heavens, I don't have enough time to teach you that. In some midwest colleges, you can major in artichokes.”
Jackson flopped down on the bench beside her. “You don't exactly fit the stereotype of a fifth-grade teacher. You are a really funny lady.”
“You know what, Jackson? I would never have launched into that tirade in Indiana. I have an image to uphold. But out here I get to relax and cut loose. I like it. I don't like being serious all the time.”
“Can we be serious for just a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Ms. Worrell, I'd like to ask your permission to marry Casey.”
Develyn patted his knee. “You don't need my permission.”
“Casey wanted me to ask you. And I wanted to. You see, Casey wants to get married, and I want to marry her. But I'd surely like a third opinion on the matter. What kind of husband does she need, Ms. Worrell?”
“She needs a man who is strong yet gentle. But also very patient, someone with slow hands. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Is that because of what happened when she was younger?”
“Yes, it is. Did she tell you?”
“She said you would tell me because it made her hurt too bad to have to tell it herself. Was she abused when she was a little girl?”
“Casey was raped by three men when she was about fifteen.”
He sat straight up and slammed his fist into his knee. “Did they get arrested?”
“No, Casey was on her own, and there was no one to stand up for her. She was too humiliated to get a physical exam. She is one tough girl, Jackson. I can't think of anyone else I would rather have with me in some dark alley in Chicago. But she needs to be treated with extra tenderness in some areas.”
“I think I figured that part out.”
“She can be cocky, almost arrogant, aggressive; but inside she's scared of being hurt. Not physically. I'm convinced she'd take on the devil himself face-to-face, but she is scared of being emotionally hurt. Right now she is so scared that she might lose you.”
“Lose me?”
“She loves you, Jackson, and wants you more than anything she has ever wanted.”
“I love her, too, Ms. Worrell. What worries me most is what if I'm not the best she can do? What if there is someone better for her, and here I am trying to squeeze into her life?”
“She is a bold, fearless woman. She will go anywhere and do anything with you. She holds little regar
d for material possessions. Jackson Hill, you won't need much to support her at the level to which she is accustomed. But she will need continual assurance of your love. Her bravado is grand, but her self-esteem is low. Be patient.”
“Sort of like you eating that dripping Popsicle?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Then you give us your permission?”
“You know I'm not related to Casey. But you two have my unreserved blessing to get married.”
“I have one more request. Since Casey doesn't have any family, she's adopted you as a surrogate mom. Would it be alright if I adopt you as a surrogate mother-in-law?”
“Only if you promise never to tell any of those horrible mother-in-law jokes, no matter how true they might be.”
“That's a promise.”
“If I'm the mother-in-law, you have to bring the kids to see me so I get to babysit.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“Yes, I am. Now, when will this wedding take place? Casey hints about waiting until next June, but somehow I just don't believe her.”
“We have to get the jobs thing settled,” he reported. “I can't support a wife on a wrangler's pay.”
“What kind of job are you looking for?”
“It doesn't matter. I want to pay the bills and have lots of time to be happy. I've been chasing dreams my whole life with education, with rodeo, with ranch work…Casey is the first dream I've ever caught and the only one that matters. I'd love to be my own boss, but there aren't a lot of positions out there for a Harvard grad, summa cum laude in philosophy.”
Develyn laughed and shook her head. “You can't fool me again, Mr. Hill.” She noticed a drop of orange splash on the porch and leaned over for a long lick. “Let me guess. You graduated from junior college as a secondary education major, took a few classes at the University of Wyoming, then dropped out to be a big rodeo star. How close did I come?”
“You missed it by six hundred miles.”
“Six hundred?”
“That's the distance between the University of Wyoming in Laramie and Montana State in Bozeman. But you are right about the major. Do all teachers' kids end up education majors?”
“Mainly those who admire their parents.”
“Is Delaney an education major?”
“She was, but she changed it to communications after her freshman year. That was the first of many changes. Jackson, did you ever consider finishing college and getting your teaching degree?”
Stephen Bly's Horse Dreams Trilogy: Memories of a Dirt Road, the Mustang Breaker, Wish I'd Known You Tears Ago Page 61