Daisies in the Canyon

by Brown, Carolyn

  “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.

  Her eyes popped open so quick that the room was a blur until she could get things into focus. Bonnie bumped her knee under the table and when she glanced across the table, the insolent little shit winked as if she could read her mind.

  Abby felt a blush starting on the nape of her neck. She downed half a glass of sweet tea trying to cool down from the inside, but be damned if Cooper’s leg didn’t touch hers under the table. She inhaled deeply, mentally tore down her Glock and reassembled it four times before she got control. Not once in all her life had a man affected her like Cooper Wilson. Not even the blue-eyed boy who’d been her first love while she was in high school. Or any of the military guys, and she’d always been a sucker for a man in a uniform.

  “Save room for dessert,” Shiloh said. “I made iced brownies, but I didn’t know if everyone liked chocolate, so I put together an apple pie, too. Figured if we didn’t eat it for dinner, we’d have it for supper and as a bedtime snack.”

  “I like both,” Rusty said.

  “Me, too.” Cooper nodded.

  “Lord, I’m going to have to take up jogging with Abby if we keep eating like this,” Bonnie said.

  “I’m not runnin’ anymore. I figure as hard as we work, it’s as good as any workout program,” Abby said. “I’m having ice cream on both my brownie and my apple pie. I could never choose between those two desserts.”

  Shiloh smiled. “Well, thank you, Abby. There’s plenty for everyone to have both. I cut the pie into six pieces and the brownies into a dozen.”

  “You done good on these dinner rolls, Shiloh. You’ll have to teach me how to make them. Last time I tried, Abby could have used them as weapons of mass destruction,” Bonnie said.

  “It’s in the technique, not the recipe. Maybe next Sunday we’ll make up a batch for cinnamon rolls just for practice.”

  It was probably too late in the game for either of those women to be her sisters, but they could be her friends. She’d always made friends at every base she’d been assigned to. In the military a soldier needed friends to have his or her back. Sometimes when she left, she kept in touch with the people she’d known, but most of the time in the transitory world she’d occupied for twelve years, she’d simply moved on. This could be the latter. When the year was up, they might send a Christmas card occasionally or even call once in a while for the first year, but they’d move on. Still, it would make the year a lot more pleasant if they were friends.

  Were they both struggling as much as she was? Shiloh had reached out to her, but Abby was the oldest, so she should have made the first gesture. And she should have made Bonnie feel comfortable enough that she didn’t feel threatened.

  Ezra had caused all of this by pitting them against each other. The smart thing to do if she wanted to thwart him was simply to work at getting along with her sisters. That would make the old fart turn over in his grave and start digging his way up out of that cemetery.

  Even if we all three stick around, it doesn’t mean everything will be rosy and peachy, the voice said.

  Her mama had told her often, especially after a big argument, that anytime two people live together every hour of every day there will be disagreements. It didn’t matter if it was a mother/daughter, girlfriend/boyfriend, or friend/friend relationship. Hollywood made millions off that very thing, because it was real life.

  Friends like Rusty and Cooper? she asked herself as she listened to them talking about how much more hay Malloy Ranch would produce with the acreage they were clearing. In that moment she decided that she wanted to be more than Christmas-card friends with her sisters. She wanted a friendship with them like Rusty and Cooper had with each other.

  Bonnie reached for the bread basket. “Wouldn’t it be great if that mesquite we’re uprootin’ could be used for something other than firewood?”

  “If it could, we’d all be rich,” Abby said.

  “Now if that didn’t sound just like Ezra,” Rusty chuckled.

  Abby bristled, then relaxed. She couldn’t run from her heritage. She didn’t have to like it, but it was there forever as surely as the blonde hair she’d gotten from her mother. She glanced sideways at Cooper and for the first time in her life wished she had been born with flaming-red hair and had grown up to be a tall woman.

  Chapter Seven

  A bonfire was a bonfire, whether it was on the beach or on the backside of a ranch in a deep canyon. To Abby that meant s’mores and hot dogs. Since there were no hot dogs, buns, or relish in the house, that left s’mores and she had the makings for those in her snack suitcase: chocolate bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers. Sometimes she had roasted a marshmallow over a candle to make one for herself when she was in Afghanistan.

  Bonnie drove the tractor that afternoon and did a fine job of uprooting the mesquite trees. Shiloh, Rusty, and Abby took on the business of cleaning up the debris left behind and tossing it onto the two huge brush piles.

  “Are we going to set fire to both of these things this evening?” Shiloh asked.

  Rusty motioned for Abby to help him with a big limb. “Yes, we are. When Bonnie gets finished with those trees over by the wall of the canyon, we’ll remove the front blade and add a tiller to the back. One of you is going to plow two widths around the whole area. That way the fire won’t get loose and jump the fence onto the Lucky Seven.”

  “Why wasn’t this land cleared before now?” Abby asked.

  “Not enough help. Ezra was a tight old fart. Until that last two months, he didn’t want help and he damn sure wasn’t paying anyone but me. Even then, he bitched about writing my paycheck every single week,” Rusty said.

  “So it wasn’t a happy relationship?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. We understood each other.” Rusty flashe
d one of his rare bright smiles. “Ezra bitched and I bitched back. He was the grandpa I never had and I loved the old shit, even if he was cantankerous, opinionated, and determined, just like his three daughters. And both of you can stop shooting dirty looks at me. You can like it or not, but it’s the truth. Every one of you is like him in one way or the other, but all of you got his temper and his determination.”

  “Hey, I’m glad you didn’t start without me,” Cooper yelled from the other side of the barbed-wire fence.

  Abby spun around just in time to see him put a hand on one of the fence posts and clear the wire by several inches when he jumped over it. He’d changed into a stained work coat and faded jeans that fit tightly over his butt.

  Her heart pitched in an extra beat when he got close enough she could see his face clearly beneath his black cowboy hat. He removed his coat and went right to work. The sleeves of his brown-and-yellow plaid flannel shirt strained at the seams when he picked up one of the biggest logs on the ground. She remembered well the way she’d felt when he slipped those arms around her waist—excited, protected, safe—even when they were tumbling off the sofa . . .

  God, she needed a bite of chocolate or a butterscotch candy, but her pockets were empty. The s’mores makings were in a bag in the front seat of the truck, but she couldn’t dip into those.

  Suddenly, the only noise was the chirping of a few birds going to roost and a lonesome old coyote howling in the far distance. The tractor had stopped and Bonnie bailed out, went to the front, and started messing with the attachment in the front.

  “Okay, time to change the blade to the plow. Pay attention,” Rusty said.

  “Will we be tested?” Shiloh asked.

  “No test, but you only get one lesson, so learn it well,” Rusty said.

  “Yes, sir.” Abby saluted smartly.

  “You do that again and I won’t teach you jack shit,” Rusty said.

  “Why?” Bonnie took a step forward.

  “Because she’s being insolent just like Ezra, and believe me that was one of the things I didn’t like about him. I hated it when he talked down to me,” Rusty said. “Understand?”