Daisies in the Canyon (8 page)

Abby took a deep breath and straightened up, glad that Shiloh had offered to take the first day. Then Bonnie had Tuesday, which meant Abby would be cooking Wednesday and Saturday. She should serve chili pies both days.

But you won’t.
The voice in her head sounded a lot like her mother’s.

No, she wouldn’t. Her mother had taught her to shoot a gun, change oil, and fix a flat and a million other things, including cooking.

“Thank you, Mama,” she mumbled under her breath on the way back to the kitchen.

“Who are you talking to?” Cooper asked.

“The voice in my head,” she answered. “I’ll put out the rest of the leftovers. The table is set. Y’all drinkin’ sweet tea?”

“Yes,” Bonnie and Shiloh answered at the same time.

Rusty nodded. “And, ladies, Cooper and I are leaving for Amarillo right after dinner, so be thinking about what you need for your cooking days.”

“Just so y’all know, on my mornings to cook, I don’t mind dusting or vacuuming or even moppin’ the kitchen floor, but I don’t clean your rooms and I don’t do your laundry. That’s your responsibility on your cookin’ days,” Bonnie said.

Yes, sir, Bonnie would do well in the army and with a little encouragement, she could go far. Abby was reminded of that old movie with Goldie Hawn where she enlisted in the army after a drunken binge. What was that thing called?

She wrinkled her brow, trying to remember and finally blurted out, “
Private Benjamin.
”

“Who?”

“I like that old movie,” Cooper said. “It was one of Grandpa’s favorites. Never knew him to watch much except anything that starred John Wayne and like I said before,
Gone With the Wind
once a year, but he did like that one.”

Bonnie flipped her blonde hair back over her shoulders and suddenly Abby felt downright dowdy. There was Shiloh in a cute little plaid skirt that skimmed her knees, high-heeled dress boots, a dark blue sweater, and big gold hoop earrings. Her makeup was flawless and her hair had been curled that morning. And Bonnie, even in her skin-tight column dress with buttons down the back and those cowboy boots, looked like a French model.

“Are you calling me Private Benjamin because I said I’m not doing your laundry?”

“No, I was thinkin’ you’d do well in the army.” Abby picked a blonde hair from the shoulder of her black turtleneck and carried it to the trash can. She quickly scanned the rest of her shirt to make sure none of Cooper’s hairs had been left behind. When she looked up, he was staring right at her and he winked as if they were thinking the same thing.

“Not me. I’m going to raise cattle, pigs, and chickens and make a garden. I’ve already been out there and checked it out. I’m thinkin’ we should enlarge it by half and put in extra potatoes and maybe some sweet potatoes. I’m here to stay and a bigger garden would cut down on the grocery bills.”

Abby had no doubt that Bonnie believed it at that moment. The determination in her expression said that no one could change her mind and they’d best not even try. But if summer in the canyon was as brutal as Abby imagined it could be, come July Bonnie might even beg Abby to suggest a recruiter.

“Y’all ready to eat?” Cooper asked.

“Soon as I get this list finished,” Shiloh said.

Abby whipped around to see both of her sisters busy writing down things on notepads they’d pulled from their purses. She hadn’t even given a second thought to what she’d cook those two days and there they were handing their lists to Rusty. Crap! She didn’t even have a notepad in her purse. For a woman who’d kept entire companies of soldiers in line, she was sure getting slow about getting her ducks lined up in a pretty row on the ranch.

“I’ll get mine done right after dinner,” she said.

“Should we compare notes so we don’t have the same thing two days in a row?” Shiloh asked.

“Rusty said we eat what’s put before us,” Abby answered. “Don’t y’all go makin’ chili pies. That’s the only thing I know how to cook.”

“I hate chili,” Bonnie said.

“There’s always peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Abby said.

“Steaks are ready. Food is on the table,” Cooper said.

Shiloh raised an eyebrow. “Real plates?”

“It’s Sunday,” Abby said.

“When my granny was living, we had a special meal on Sunday like this. I always looked forward to it after I went to church with her and Grandpa,” Bonnie said.

Cooper nodded. “When my granny was living, we did the same. Invited folks over to dinner after church and enjoyed the fellowship. And she always got her best plates down for that day. So who all was at church? Did I miss anything?”

“Loretta and Jackson invited us to dinner, but I told them you were cooking steaks here,” Rusty said.

“We met several people,” Shiloh said.

Bonnie continued. “Nona and Travis and a cowboy named Waylon that sure was cute.”

“I’ll tell him you said that next time I see him. Did he tell you that his spread is out there across the road from y’all?”

“He did,” Shiloh said.

Rusty passed the big bowl full of potatoes to Cooper, who handed them to Abby, their hands touching in the transfer. The instant hot sparks let her know that the sex had not ended the attraction one bit. If anything, it had intensified the sparks. She sent the bowl on down the table to Shiloh and tried to focus on the steak on her plate.

Rusty picked up the bread and sent it around. “He’s bitten off a chunk, trying to run that ranch by himself until spring when he can bring in a couple of hired hands. He needs a good woman to help him run the place.”

“What about you, Cooper? Do you need a good woman?” Bonnie asked.

Cooper picked up his fork and knife, cut off a piece of steak, and held it in the air while he answered, “Jackson beat my time. I’ve always loved redheads since the first time I laid eyes on Loretta. If I can’t have her, I might just be an old bachelor.”

“Isn’t she older than you?” Bonnie asked.

Cooper popped the bite of steak into his mouth and opened up his foil-wrapped potato and shoved butter and sour cream inside while he chewed. “By about ten years, but I didn’t care. I was eight and she and Jackson were both eighteen. That was the year she got pregnant with Nona and they got married.”

Abby quickly did the math in her head. “More than twenty years between their two kids and not any between?”

Rusty shook his head. “She and Jackson got crossways when Nona was about three or four. I don’t remember much about it since I was just a little kid then, too, but my mama talked about it. Loretta took Nona to Oklahoma and divorced Jackson. Then, last summer, Nona got it in her head she wasn’t going to finish college—that she was going to learn ranching from her daddy.” He paused to take a bite of steak, then went on with the story. “So here came Loretta, like a class-five tornado. If y’all had been here a couple of weeks ago, you could have gone to their wedding. It was Ezra’s last time to get out in public.”

“When is she due?” Shiloh asked. “She looked like she could drop that baby in church this morning.”

“It’s twin girls due sometime in the early spring,” Cooper said.

“Ezra said it’s in the water down here in the canyon. If a man drinks it, all he’s going to throw is girl babies,” Rusty chuckled.

“What about when you add tea and sugar? Does that make a difference?” Abby asked.

“Wouldn’t know, but it sure wouldn’t hurt for us to keep that in mind, Coop.” Rusty’s light green eyes twinkled behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

“Wonder if a little bit of Jack Daniel’s would make a girl baby all sassy and hard to get along with?” Cooper bumped his elbow against Abby’s arm.

“Probably that’s how you get twins.” Immediately she wondered if her mother had shared a shot with Ezra the night that she was conceived. A glance at Shiloh and then one at Bonnie convinced her that most likely all three of Ezra’s wives had done a little sipping with him. Hell, that might be what it took for the women to crawl into bed with that man.

Stop it! You read your mama’s letter the day she died, so admit that she loved Ezra and stop making excuses.

“Loretta told Ezra that it was his white lightning that caused the twins, and with her temper in the mix already, poor old Jackson sure doesn’t need twin daughters with extra sass thrown in,” Rusty said.

“Oh? So where did Ezra get white lightning and what’s that got to do with Loretta and her twins?” Shiloh put two heaping spoonfuls of corn casserole on her plate.

“She came here one time to talk to him for advice and he gave her a glass full of his moonshine. He said he cured her of her problems and she agreed with him, but at Nona’s wedding she told him it was the white lightning that caused her to get pregnant. He made it up next to the canyon walls every year—mostly just enough for himself and to share with someone he liked, but that wasn’t often.”

“I kinda doubt that was the whole cause Loretta got pregnant.” Abby laughed and it felt good. The only time she’d sat around a family dinner table in the past twelve years had been when she came home for short visits to take care of business. Her favorite part of the visits had been sitting around the table either at Haley’s house or at her parents’ place with old folks and kids all talking at once.

“Ezra made ’shine? Was it any good?” Bonnie asked.

“The best,” Cooper said.

“You might change your mind if you had some of mine.” She smiled.

“You do a little sideline business, do you?” Rusty asked.

“Have in the past. Mama’s granddad taught me the particulars before he passed on. At sixteen, I was making a fine apple pie. Good ’shine should have a little flavor, or else it’s nothing more than white lightnin’. A woman is known in the holler by her secret ’shine. Mine was apple pie. My granny’s had a little taste of peach.”

“I’ve got a jar down in the bunkhouse. Ezra’s instructions were to open it up and share it with whoever is still here one year from his death. If no one is, then me and Coop will share it to celebrate my ranch bein’ right next to his,” Rusty said.

“Darlin’ you’d best get out more than two red plastic cups when you open that jar, because I’ll be here and it could be these other two won’t give up and run away,” Bonnie said. “Maybe we’ll put in a couple of rows of corn in our garden. I like to work with my own homegrown corn. You didn’t tear down the still, did you?”

Rusty shook his head. “It’s still back there in an old huntin’ cabin built right into the canyon wall.”

“Good.” Bonnie flashed him a brilliant smile.

“Bonnie inherited Ezra’s ’shine ability. What did you get, Abby?” Cooper asked.

“His stubbornness,” she said quickly then wished she could cram the words back into her mouth. She should have said that she got nothing from him because she sure didn’t want to have even one tiny cell in her body like Ezra Malloy.

“And you?” Rusty looked over at Shiloh.

She pushed her dark hair over her shoulder. “Mama said that I had his temper and his blue eyes. ‘His mean blue eyes’ is what she actually said.”

“I haven’t seen that,” Rusty said.

“You haven’t crossed me.”

On the outside Shiloh was the quietest one of the three, but evidently there was a fair amount of grit on the inside. That meant she would most likely fight for her place on Malloy Ranch.

“Shit,” Abby huffed.

“What was that?” Cooper asked.

“Thinking out loud,” she said.

“Ezra did that. He said
shit
under his breath a dozen times a day when something didn’t go the way he wanted,” Rusty said. “A part of him will live on with y’all here.”

All three sisters looked at each other and rolled their pretty blue eyes toward the ceiling. They could read each other’s minds in that moment, because they were all thinking the exact same thing. Each of them wanted their own ranch, but they sure didn’t want to be compared to the man who’d made it a possibility.

Chapter Six

T
he wind whipped Abby’s hair around her face to the point that she was spending more time pushing it back than throwing hay off the back of the truck for Bonnie and Shiloh to cut loose and kick around for the cows. She finally bent at the waist and gathered it up in a high ponytail with her fingertips, then secured it with the rubber band she found in her pants pocket.

Bonnie slapped a cow on the flank to get her to move to one side. That girl had spunk. Yes, she did. She hadn’t shown fear of anything since she got there and she spoke her mind. Shiloh was a different story. She’d been reserved, but she reminded Abby of a lit stick of dynamite.

“Hey, Rusty,” Abby called out above the whistling wind, “how much does that big round bale machinery cost?”

“Anywhere from three to ten thousand dollars would be about right. We could probably pick up a really good used one for five thousand,” he said.

“And how much does a round bale weigh?” she asked.

“From a thousand to twelve hundred pounds.”

“That means we could bring two out here in the winter once a day, right?”

He opened the truck door and stepped out. “You’d need a spear to attach to the front of the tractor, which would be another five hundred or so, but yes, that’s right. The other thing about the big bales is that you don’t have to hire haulers to get it from the pasture to the barn. You can just line them up against a fencerow and they’re waiting there for you when you need them.”

“I’m buying that stuff next January when these other two sell out to me,” she said.

“It ain’t happenin’, woman.” Shiloh’s cold blue eyes could have frozen her on the spot.

“We’ll have to make small bales this year and believe me, you’ll want the machinery for the big ones after a long, hot summer of hauling hay,” Rusty said.

“I wouldn’t think this red dirt would produce anything but cactus and wildflowers,” Abby said.

“You’ll be amazed what happens with a little irrigation. There’s a shallow creek that weaves its way over here so the water doesn’t cost us anything. Most of it’s over on Lonesome Canyon, but a nice wide loop comes through Malloy Ranch. That’s it, ladies. Time to take care of the pigs, milkin’, and chickens and then Shiloh can go to the house until after dinner and you other two are with me,” he said. “Don’t forget your gloves.”

Abby could hear the truck coming before she could see it. When the vehicle stopped on the other side of the fence, Sheriff Cooper Wilson crawled out, shook the legs of his trousers down over his boot tops, and waved.

“What is he doing here?” Abby asked.

“I called him,” Rusty said.

“In sheriff’s capacity?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes,” Rusty answered.

Abby fiddled with a small plastic bag in her pocket, took out a lemon drop, and popped it into her mouth. Oh, yes, she was definitely suckin’ on the bitter to get to the sweet. Hauling tree limbs and sticks to a brush pile was not her idea of learning how to ranch and take care of cattle, but there wasn’t a way in hell she was going to let Bonnie get ahead of her.

She’d been so proud of herself that morning—she’d gone all of thirty minutes without even thinking about Cooper, and now there he was. She looked like warmed-over sin on Sunday morning and he was all sexy in that starched uniform and the distressed leather jacket.

Cooper stopped at the barbed-wire fence and propped his elbows on a wood post. “Looks like y’all got a good runnin’ start. So how do you women like ranchin’ today?”

“I’ve cleared land before,” Bonnie said.

“It’s all work. What are you doing here?” Abby couldn’t get the memories out of her mind—the way his hands felt on her body, his lips on hers, or the way his eyelashes lay on his cheekbones when his eyes fluttered shut. It had been a wild, crazy mistake and couldn’t happen again. And yet she wanted the thrill of his kisses and his body next to hers again and again. Subconsciously, she’d hoped a one-time stand would take him out of her mind; it hadn’t. Consciously, she’d known it would be awkward; it wasn’t. He acted like it had never happened, standing there with his legs slightly spread and leaning on the fence post.

I told you not to shit in your nest
, her inner voice reminded her.

“Earth to Abby,” Cooper said.

“What?”

“You asked what I was doing here. I was talking, but you were a million miles away.” Cooper pointed at the brush pile. “Rusty called and wanted an opinion about burning this pile of brush. It’s polite to call the neighbor if you’re about to set fire to something this close to his ranch.”

“Fire?” Bonnie asked.

That single word caused Abby to remember the heat of his hands as they roamed over her body, the warmth of those few minutes of afterglow, and the way her heart raced every time his hand touched hers.

“Hey.” Cooper reached across the fence and touched her on the arm. “Are you okay?”

“I was just wondering why we needed to burn all this,” she said a little too quickly. Hopefully, he didn’t feel the delicious little shiver his hand had caused to flutter through her whole body.

Rusty sat down on the biggest log in the pile and nodded toward the brush pile. “It would take years for this to rot and go back to dirt. We’ll start the burn after dinner and it should be down to embers by evening. There’ll be four of us keeping it from spreading and the wind is still so it shouldn’t spark, Cooper.”

“I’ll come on back and help after I get off work, barring any catastrophic thing at the courthouse,” Cooper said.

“I’d appreciate all the help you want to give.” Rusty checked the time on his cell phone. “Hey, it looks like it’s dinnertime. Shiloh was putting a roast in the oven when we left. You might as well come on up to the house and eat with us, Coop.”

“I never turn down a home-cooked meal and it is my lunch hour. See you in a few minutes.” Cooper jumped the fence the same way he had before and Abby bit down so hard on the lemon drop that it shattered in her mouth.

You’ve tasted the fruit of the evil tree and it was pretty damn fine, but now you have to leave it alone
, the voice in her head said. “Hush,” Abby said aloud.

“Are you talking to me?” Bonnie asked.

“I was arguing with the voices in my head,” Abby said.

“Happens to me all the time. You know what Jerry Clower said about that?”

Abby frowned. “Who?”

“The comedian Jerry Clower?”

“Yes, I do. He said that if you’re arguing with yourself, then you’re about to mess up,” Abby said.

“That’s right. Listen to the voices. They’re probably smarter than you think you are,” Bonnie said.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought my grandparents were old-fashioned and downright mean to me, but believe me, when I listen to the memories in my head, they steer me right,” she said.

“And did they tell you to leave Kentucky and come to Texas?” Abby removed her gloves and followed Bonnie toward the truck.

“Damn straight, and they tell me every night not to let you run me off,” Bonnie said.

“Me? What about Shiloh?”

Bonnie shrugged. “She don’t intimidate the hell out of me like you do.”

Abby crawled up in the back of the truck and backed up to the cab before sitting down. She wasn’t about to tell Bonnie that she intimidated her, too.

If there was a pothole in the path back to the house, Rusty went out of his way to hit the damn thing. By the time he parked in the backyard, Abby was ready to tear down the blasted vehicle and change the shocks herself. She bailed out of the bed of the truck and saw the sheriff’s car sitting in the front yard.

Maybe that was the trick to the whole mistake—think of him as the sheriff and not as Cooper, the man who’d created such turmoil in her heart and life.

She’d pulled the stocking hat off and stuffed it into her jacket pocket. Now her hair was a mess, her face was dirty from piling up the twigs and limbs that had gotten past the blade on the front end of the tractor, and her pocket was empty of candy. That was enough to put any woman in a foul mood.

“Well, Mama, what would you tell me to do right now?” she whispered.

The voice in her head giggled.

The table was set for four, but Shiloh added another setting with a smile when Rusty told her that Cooper was joining them. She was dressed in cute little designer jeans and a Western shirt that she’d tied at the waist, showing an inch of taut belly when she reached for the salt and pepper. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head and she wore white socks on her feet.

Abby went to the sink to wash her hands. “What have you done all day besides put a good meal on the table?”

“Cooked. Cleaned the living room and did my laundry. I figure we can each take a room that we are responsible for keeping clean. I’ll do the living room. You and Bonnie can fight over the kitchen and the bathroom. Oh, and talked to my mama. Have you called your mother since you’ve been here?” Shiloh asked.

“My mother died twelve years ago. I was eighteen and had just finished basic training,” Abby answered softly.

Shiloh laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I don’t know what I’d do without my mother. She’s been my support system my whole life—she and her sister, my aunt Audrey.”

“Thank you.” Abby’s hand went up to cover Shiloh’s. “Mama was mine until I lost her.”

The temperature felt like it rose by ten degrees when Cooper joined them in the kitchen. Abby wished she had one of those church fans with Jesus and the little lamb on one side and a funeral home advertisement on the other. Cooper smiled. “Smells good in here. Roast is one of my favorite meals. Mind if I join you, Abby? I need to wash up, too.”

“Ranks right up there next to pinto beans and ham, right?” Rusty said.

“That’s what I’ve got planned for tomorrow.” Bonnie smiled. “You should come back then, Cooper.”

“Well, thank you, Miz Bonnie. I’d be honored.” Cooper’s hip was plastered against Abby’s. His hands were with hers in the sink and they tangled up together as they rinsed the soap from them. Everything went so quiet that she feared her thoughts were sitting above her head in a bubble like in cartoons.

“What? Why is everyone looking at me?” she asked.

“What’s on the Wednesday menu? We were talking about food,” Rusty said.

“Frito pie.” She flashed a brilliant smile. “If you like it I’ll make extra, Cooper.”

“Why don’t we just issue a standing invitation, Coop,” Rusty said. “Anytime you can get away, you are welcome here. There’s three cooks, even if one says she can’t make anything but Frito pie.”

“Thank you, Rusty. I’ll try to make it by real often. A bachelor does appreciate good home cookin’,” Cooper said.

Did you hear that?
the voice shouted at Abby.
He said
bachelor
and he was staring at you when he said it. He’s content with his life and this wasn’t his first one-time stand.

“So are you one of those self-proclaimed bachelor-for-life-type men?” Bonnie asked.

“Are you about to ask him out?” Rusty teased.

“Not me. He’s not my type,” Bonnie answered.

“Ouch! What is your type?” Cooper asked.

“I’m not real sure what is, but I know what ain’t, and that’s a lawman,” Bonnie said. “Now let’s set down. Shiloh has done too much work for us to let it go cold.”

Dinner was served on the table, family style. Shiloh had arranged the roast beautifully with the carrots and potatoes surrounding it. The gravy boat had a matching plate under it for passing ease and to catch the drip. Rolls were in a napkin-lined basket. Leave it to Shiloh to do everything up all pretty. Lord, it had been years since Abby had been responsible for putting a full meal on the table. And now she had to compete with pretty plates and gravy boats?

“If you decide to leave this ranch, I’ll hire you to take care of my house and cook for me,” Cooper said.

Instant jealousy washed over Abby. If there had been a mirror in the kitchen she would have seen a lime-green face when she looked into it. If she hadn’t been so hungry and if roast wasn’t on her list of top ten favorite meals, she would have gone to her room and eaten dinner out of her candy drawer. She shut her eyes to get everything in perspective. Then Cooper’s arm brushed against hers as he reached for another helping of roast and there was another burst of warmth, making her all oozy inside.