Daisies in the Canyon (17 page)

“You have my promise,” Bonnie said. “When the wild strawberries are ready, we’ll pick a bunch and I’ll try my hand at making a batch with a strawberry flavor.”

“It’ll be wonshurful,” Abby said.

“What was he thinkin’, spyin’ on us like that? The room is spinning. It’s been years since I’ve been drunk,” Shiloh said. “I’m going to just lie down here and prop my head on the arm of this ugly-as-shit sofa. I’m going to throw it out in the yard for the dogs to sleep on when this ranch belongs to me. And I’m getting a nice neutral brown carpet. I’m not putting orange in here. God, it would look like a cheap hippie place.”

“Well, thank you so much. Just for that smart-ass remark, I’ll buy bright orange carpet for the whole place when the ranch is mine. And then I’ll buy baby-pink leather furniture and paint all the walls turquoise,” Bonnie said.

“Are you trying to make us puke?” Abby groaned.

“If you throw up, you clean up. I’ve done enough cleaning up after Mama in my lifetime. I’m not takin’ on you two to raise at this late date.”

“Oh, hush. I’m going to be here when both of y’all are long gone. Listen to that damned old bull wailing about his harem bein’ gone,” Shiloh giggled.

Abby reached for the lever to throw the chair back to a reclining position, but it was gone. “Shit fire! The bull ate the switch.”

Bonnie got up and pulled the lever for her. “That make the room stop spinning?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Now can you do something about those spiders on the ceiling?” Abby asked. “And Shiloh, I don’t know what was in that old codger’s mind about us. I think maybe he drank too much of this shit and it fried his brain cells. But I sure can’t see him raisin’ us three indie . . . pensh—shit, girls. God, Bonnie, get a flyswatter and kill them damn spiders.”

Shiloh threw her hands over her eyes. “I see the spiders. Kill them, Bonnie. I hate spiders. Why would Abby put spiders on the ceiling? It’s just to make us leave so she can have the ranch and this butt-ugly sofa. I bet she plans to have sex with Cooper on it.”

Abby shut her eyes and there were her favorite pictures of Cooper again. She’d have to tell him to stay away from that god-awful moonshine when he got home. That shit would knock even a tough cowboy like him square on his butt. And if that happened, not a single wild seed would get sown, so they wouldn’t need to go to church. Had he asked her to go to church with him next week, or was it to a candy factory? She remembered something about a sugar shack. Surely to goodness the church wasn’t named that. It had to be a candy place. She hoped they sold good chocolate and maybe even peanut butter fudge like her mother used to make.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced loudly. “Bonnie, throw the switch to get me out of this chair, please.”

Thank God for furniture and walls and Bonnie, who performed some kind of magic to get her out of Ezra’s chair. She slowly made her way from doorway to chair, which she missed when she tried to sit down and slid down to the floor.

“Ass okay,” she slurred.

The doorbell rang and she tried to stand up, but the walls kept moving toward her. On the third ring she figured out it was coming from her hip pocket, which meant it was her phone and not the doorbell. She fished it out and dropped it on the seat of the chair.

“Damn slippery little thing. I bet Shiloh greased the sucker down.” Finally she got control of it and answered, “Hello.”

“Did I wake you?” Cooper asked.

“Nope, the bull was ringing the doorbell. Pesky old fart learned a new trick but I’m not going to charge you for it,” she said.

“Are you high or drunk?”

“I. Do. Not. Did. Drugs,” she said emphatically.

“How much of that moonshine did you drink?” Cooper’s voice was so loud that she held the phone out from her ear and scowled at it.

“Don’t holler at me. I can hold my liquor,” she said.

“I wasn’t yelling. I was actually talking low because Rusty is asleep.”

“Bullshit. That’s what’s all over the porch and the roses are gone and I hate roses. Did I tell you that? I do not like roses. Don’t bring me roses when we have sex.”

“Abby, you are drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Do you need glasses? I told you I can hold my liquor.”

“Why would I need glasses?”

“To see that I’m not drunk. Did I tell you that the bull rang the doorbell and that I think you are sexy and it would be easy to fall in love with you and good night, Cooper?”

He chuckled. “Good night, Abby.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not. I’m laughing at that bull on the front porch. I think he’s teaching the cows to two-step,” Cooper said.

“You’re the one who is drunk. Bulls can’t dance.” She hit the “End” button, tossed the phone on the chair, and crawled to the bed, but after three tries she gave up trying to get on the bed. She slept on the floor, covered with the spread she’d pulled off the bed sometime in the night when she got cold.

Chapter Thirteen

A
bby’s nose twitched at the smell of bacon and coffee. She opened her eyes slowly, only to focus on the three boxes under her bed.

“Go away, Ezra.” Her mouth felt like someone had made her eat alum.

She pulled the cover over her aching head and shut her eyes. A bull bellowed from right outside her bedroom window and she sat up too fast. The room did a couple of spins, but her stomach did one more past that. She lay back down on the floor, facing away from the boxes. She managed to get to her feet and to the living room, one slow step at a time. Nothing looked like they’d had a wild party the night before, but her head and eyes said otherwise. Shiloh was on the sofa, snoring like a lumberjack, and that rascal of a bull was out there in the yard, calling for his women.

“Calling?” She frowned. Someone had called her on the phone. She remembered thinking it was the bull ringing the doorbell.

“Wake up, ladies.” Bonnie’s voice rang through the kitchen and out into the living room.

Abby cut her eyes around to the sofa, where Shiloh was sprawled out as much as its narrowness allowed. One arm dangled toward the floor. She’d die right there if she could see that granddaddy longlegs spider not six inches from her fingertips.

Bonnie flipped on the light.

Shiloh raised her head, dark hair completely covering her face. She plopped back down with a moan. “Shit! There’s a drum playin’ in my head.”

“That’s called a hangover. I had a headache this morning from just sipping that shit and a little whiskey. I can’t imagine what you two are feeling, but I’ve got the cure. Sit up and take your medicine, ladies,” Bonnie said.

“If I ever look at moonshine again, shoot me,” Abby said.

Bonnie shoved a spoonful of something toward her mouth and she opened up.

“Honey?” Abby asked. “What good is that shit?”

“You will be surprised. Your turn, Shiloh.” Bonnie stepped on the spider and didn’t even mention it when she refilled the same spoon and made Shiloh eat the honey.

“It’s not working,” Abby whined.

“That’s because it’s step one. The next step is strong black coffee and then you are eating eggs. Whatever that shit is in eggs helps break down the alcohol. And after that you will each eat a banana,” Bonnie said.

“Not me. I’m going to crawl to the bathroom and pee and then I’m going to bed,” Shiloh said.

Bonnie raised her voice. “We’ve got chores to do and then we are going to church.”

Abby covered her ears. “Don’t yell anymore. I don’t want to smell pig shit and hear a preacher yell at me. It’s all Ezra’s fault. He shouldn’t have died before he used up all that moonshine.”

Bonnie pulled the covers from Shiloh and tapped Abby on the shoulder. “If you don’t both get on your feet, I will start singing at the top of my lungs, and believe me, I cannot carry a tune. So on your feet and to the table for coffee. When that’s in your stomach, you’ll have scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. Then a banana. After that you could whip a whole passel of grizzly bears.”

“How’d you get so damn smart about hangovers?” Abby held her head all the way to the kitchen, where she melted into a chair and laid her face on the cool wood table.

“When I was about thirteen, I got tired of dealin’ with Mama, so I went to the library and looked up cures for hangovers and toyed with them until I found one that worked. We might not have had money for a hamburger, but I saw to it there was always honey, coffee, eggs, and bananas in the house,” Bonnie said.

“I will puke if I eat a slimy banana,” Shiloh said.

“No, you won’t. Here’s the coffee and two aspirin for each of you. I’ll get the eggs ready.”

“You are not my boss. I’m not going to church,” Shiloh said.

“Yes, you are, because afterward we are going to Amarillo for dinner, shopping, and maybe even a trip to the Walmart beauty shop for our hair and a mani-pedi, if they have them. Believe me, by the time church is over, you are going to be ravenous. And would you look at your fingernails? Waylon won’t look twice at you with fingernails like that. And Abby, Cooper is not going to bed with a woman who has straw for hair,” Bonnie said.

Abby popped the pills in her mouth and washed them down with coffee. “Now she thinks she’s our damn therapist.”

Shiloh’s chin quivered. “Are my nails really that bad?”

Abby leaned back to get a better look and nodded. “They are.”

Shiloh’s hands went up to cover her eyes. “Well, your hair looks like hell.”

“No fighting this morning. Eat and then we’re doing our ranchin’ business and then we’re going to Amarillo. Besides I’ve never had the money to blow on a mani-pedi and I want one,” Bonnie said.

“Let’s skip church,” Abby said.

“No, ma’am,” Bonnie answered.

Shiloh held her hands out in front of her face. “Never had a mani-pedi?”

“No, I had to buy eggs, bananas, coffee, and honey, remember. I wasn’t spoiled bitches like you two,” Bonnie said.

“We can’t go in my truck. There’s only room for two and don’t call me a spoiled bitch. I’ve never been spoiled a day in my life,” Abby said.

“Well, my poor old truck got me here on a prayer and four bald tires, so Shiloh, your van will have to take us,” Bonnie said.

Abby wasn’t going to argue. If her head would stop pounding, she’d let the bellowing bull in the yard drive them to town.

The congregation was already singing the first song when the Malloy sisters entered the church. They slid into the first place with room for three people and Shiloh picked the last hymnbook from the pocket on the pew in front of them. She looked over at an elderly woman’s book to find the number and flipped pages until she located the right place.

Abby held her hands in her lap to keep from slapping them over her ears to blot out the loud singing. Did everyone have to sing at the top of their lungs? Couldn’t they be quieter? It was a church, for goodness’ sake, not a rock concert. Every single piano note reverberated in her head, bouncing off aching brain cells like thunder in the canyon. It even felt like the pew was shaking.

God was punishing her for drinking Ezra’s moonshine or maybe for mixing it with Tennessee bourbon, because he’d chased all the clouds away that morning and brought out bright—ultrabright—sunshine.

Bonnie elbowed her in the ribs. “Take off those sunglasses. You are in the house of God and that’s rude.”

Abby put them in her lap and her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Would lightning rain down upon the church if she opened her phone discreetly to see if some catastrophe had happened on the ranch? They had, after all, left it completely unmanned and that damn bull might have decided to tear the porch down looking for his harem.

She slipped her hand in her pocket and laid the phone on the cushion between her thigh and the end of the pew. Very carefully, she touched the screen and brought up the messages from Rusty and Cooper.

Why didn’t Bonnie make
them
come to church?
she wondered and then remembered that they’d taken a road trip with a prisoner. They’d be home today and they could take care of the bull roaming around the house, bawling for his lady friends.

Bull. Doorbell. Phone. It came back to her in a flash. Holy shit! Had she really told Cooper that she could fall in love with him?

She checked the messages, hoping that she had not said those words out loud.

On our way home. Can’t wait to see you. I do believe Ezra’s moonshine melted your wings last night.
That was from Cooper.

From Rusty:
Call me!

She sent one back to Cooper:
In church. Hangover. Moonshine is made in hell.

And one to Rusty:
Later!

Bonnie elbowed her again. “Turn that off.”

When did that little shit become the boss? Just because she could almost cure a hangover, that didn’t make her God. Abby shut it off and shoved it back into her pocket.

She felt as out of place as a hooker on the front row of a tent revival, anyway. For one thing, it had been years since she’d been in a church. For another, it had been nearly a year since she’d worn anything other than jeans or a uniform and the long skirt felt confining. Shoes with heels weren’t as comfortable as her combat boots and the bright blue sweater itched. She had nicked her knee twice shaving that morning. Now her legs looked like she’d run through brambles, but at least the long skirt covered most of that.

She fidgeted with the collar of the sweater when the preacher started his sermon about forgiveness. She’d rather forget Ezra than forgive him, especially after all that stuff under her bed.

Her headache slowly faded as she let her mind drift back to the ranch. It wasn’t nearly as desolate as it had seemed when she’d first arrived. Bonnie wasn’t quite the brazen hussy that she’d thought her to be at first either, nor was Shiloh a prissy bitch. In the worst-case scenario, she could possibly run the ranch with them—as long as nobody ever brought out another jar of moonshine.

The sermon wound down on a louder note than it began, but by then Abby’s head had settled down and she was hungry. Bonnie was right. She could probably put a buffet out of business. She reached into her pocket, but she’d forgotten her normal stash of candy. Damn that moonshine.

“Hungry?” Bonnie asked the minute the last amen was said.

“Starving,” Abby answered.

“I had my heart set on Italian, but I can’t make it to Amarillo. Rusty mentioned that little diner in Claude. Let’s go get a burger or a chicken-fried steak or something really fattening,” Shiloh said.

“Where’s the cowboy she’s eyeballing?” Abby whispered to Bonnie.

Bonnie nodded toward the back of the church. “The one in the green shirt. Dark hair, blue eyes, brooding look.”

“I see him. He is one delicious hunk, isn’t he?”

“Stop it,” Shiloh hissed.

“Not my type. Too serious for me,” Bonnie said as they moved out into the center aisle.

“What’s his name?” Abby asked.

“Waylon. He’s a cousin to Nona’s husband,” Bonnie said.

“Hey, ladies. Where’s Rusty this morning?” Loretta and Nona made their way from the other side of the church to talk to them.

“He went with Cooper to deliver a prisoner somewhere,” Bonnie said. “Good morning.”

“I need my sunglasses,” Abby said.

“They got into Ezra’s moonshine last night,” Bonnie whispered.

Nona gasped. “Sweet Jesus.”

“What do you know about Ezra’s moonshine?” Loretta looked down at her short, blonde-haired daughter.

“Enough to know I don’t want to try it a second time.” Nona smiled and stuck out her hand toward Abby. “I’m Nona. You must be Abby, the oldest one of Ezra’s girls. Y’all should come to Lonesome Canyon for lunch today.”

“We are going to Amarillo to get our nails and hair done and do some shopping. You should come with us,” Shiloh said.

“I’d love to, but the in-laws are here for the day.” Nona tilted her head toward the other side of the church. “Maybe next time.”

“Sure thing. Come on by the ranch this next week if you have time,” Shiloh said.

“And y’all have an open invitation to come to Sunday dinner or come visit at Lonesome Canyon, too,” Loretta said.

“Thank you,” Bonnie said and nudged Abby.

“I’m sorry. This hangover is a bit—bitter sucker.” She smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you, Nona. Like Shiloh said, come on over and see us or come around about dinnertime any day of the week.”

Abby turned her phone back on while they walked from the church to Shiloh’s van. She had two more messages from Cooper. The first one said:
Did the aliens come get the bull last night?

The second one said:
Home by three.

There was another one from Rusty that said:
Will take care of evening chores. Have fun in town.

She slipped her phone back in her pocket. “How far did you say it was to that café?”

“It’s at the top of the north end of the canyon. Not very far,” Bonnie said.

“You can get there in about twenty minutes,” a voice said behind them.

They all turned at once.

“Hello, I’m Waylon Stephens. I met these two last week.” A man stuck out his hand toward Abby. “You must be Ezra’s other daughter. I can tell by the eyes.”