Daisies in the Canyon (16 page)

“You go first,” Abby told Bonnie when they were inside. “I’ll get dried off, throw the jackets and socks in the washer, and change into dry clothes. Then I’ll start some dinner. Hamburgers all right with everyone?”

Bonnie padded down the hall in her bare feet. With no makeup and her hair hanging in strings, she looked young enough to be carded at any bar. The only thing old about her was her eyes, and they left no doubt that her life had been the roughest one of the three.

Abby loaded the washer, started it, and headed down the hall to her room, where she stripped naked and dried off. She grabbed a pair of flannel pajama pants from the dresser drawer along with underpants, a bra, and an oversized T-shirt. She dressed in record time and carried a pair of socks to the living room, where she flopped down in Ezra’s chair. Clean, dry clothing had never felt so soft or good.

“So, hamburgers?” she asked Shiloh.

“I’m so hungry, I’ll take a knife and carve a chunk out of that son of a bitch on the porch if we don’t have enough hamburger thawed out,” Shiloh said.

Abby couldn’t hold back the laughter. She wiped at her eyes and said between hiccups, “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. I can see Bonnie doing that, but not you.”

“Oh, sister, you’ve got a lot to learn about me. I’m tough as nails on the inside even if I’m not brave enough to sit in that chair,” Shiloh said.

The conviction in her voice told Abby that she could definitely be a force to be reckoned with even if she hadn’t helped get the vehicles out of the muddy fields.

“We can have ice cream sundaes for dessert and you can make cookies later for our nighttime snacks,” Shiloh said.

“Thank you. I’ll put the burgers in the skillet, so I can make the cookies while they’re cooking. We can eat them warm with the ice cream.” Abby left the chair and padded to the kitchen in her socks.

She peeled an onion, sliced it thin, and laid it on one side of a plate while the burger patties cooked. Then she chopped lettuce and sliced a tomato. When she finished that job she took the pickles, mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup from the refrigerator and set everything on the cabinet. Her stomach growled loudly and she looked at the clock. Two thirty! That meant they had to go back out into the weather in two hours and feed the cows again. And they’d have to use her truck since the work truck was now serving as a barricade.

The cookies were in the oven. The hamburger patties were about done and everything else was ready, so Abby went to the living room and leaned on the back of the sofa. The blaze in the fireplace licked at the logs, consuming them to make heat. Was that what love did? Those flames would fade and die like Ezra’s love for his three wives?

Bonnie came out of the bathroom decked out in mismatched pajama pants and a shirt. She took one look at the chair and, after sucking in a long lungful of air, sat down on it.

“That rain and all that work made you brave enough to sit in Ezra’s chair?” Abby asked.

“Not brave at all,” Bonnie said. “But Ezra is not going to have power over me where this chair is concerned.”

Vivien left the fire and curled up at her feet. Martha stretched to take up the room Vivien left behind.

“Kind of funny how they know which woman they should take up with, isn’t it?” Bonnie rubbed Vivien’s ear between her thumb and forefinger. “Strange thing is that I like this old hound more than I do my mama most days. Don’t get me wrong, I’d fight to the death with anyone who said a word against her, but some days I don’t like her too well.”

“I understand,” Shiloh said.

“You? I thought you had a perfect life with your mama and aunt,” Bonnie said.

“There’s no such thing as perfect. My mama said that when you live with someone twenty-four-seven, you will fight occasionally. It doesn’t matter if it’s a parent-kid relationship or a husband-wife one, because nobody agrees every minute of every day on everything. Take this stupid carpet. I think it should be taken out and some kind of tile put in here,” Abby said.

“We do need new carpet, but it should be a nice neutral color that doesn’t show dirt or dog hair,” Shiloh said.

“I think it should be bright orange to liven up the room,” Bonnie said.

“Point proven,” Abby said at the same time the oven timer dinged. “Cookies are done. Meat should be cooked, so let’s eat.”

Poor sisters! They looked like they were about to cave in. Bonnie had done 90 percent of the actual work, but Shiloh had given it her all and couldn’t be faulted one single bit. Abby had lived in horrible situations for days on end but her sisters hadn’t. They deserved a break.

“I’m doing the feed by myself tonight, ladies. My truck only seats two people. It’s still raining and neither of you are riding in the back and I damn sure don’t want my passenger seat to get wet, either,” she said.

“No argument from me, but why don’t one of us go?” Shiloh asked.

“And get my passenger seat wet? No, thank you,” Abby said.

“What about the driver’s seat?” Bonnie asked.

“I intend to take that quilt you are using and pad it really well,” she told Shiloh.

“If I don’t have to go back out there, you are welcome to it. There’s a brand-new shower curtain still in the package in the linen closet. You could put it down first and then the quilt,” Shiloh answered.

“I’ll get all the towels washed up and put away after dinner,” Bonnie said.

“I know where Ezra hid the whiskey and tequila. I’ll have drinks ready when you get back,” Shiloh said.

Abby nodded. “I’ll be ready for a dry towel and a drink.”

“Hamburgers have never looked so good,” Bonnie smiled.

She still had an hour after dinner to go to her room, sit in the old gold rocking chair, and relax. She leaned her head back and had dozed off when she heard Bonnie and Shiloh arguing.

“What?” she asked.

Bonnie was in front of the fireplace, arms folded over her chest, glaring at Shiloh. Her book had been tossed to the end of the sofa and Shiloh was firing back dirty looks at Bonnie.

“I think we should call Rusty,” Shiloh said.

“I don’t. We took care of the problem. It’s our ranch anyway,” Bonnie shot back.

“Not for a year,” Abby told them.

Their mean looks took a ninety-degree turn and landed on Abby.

“You are going to cast the deciding vote. Yes if we call him. No if we don’t,” Shiloh said.

“I don’t give a shit either way.” Abby would love to hear Cooper’s voice, but she really could care less whether they told Rusty about the stampede or not.

Bonnie shifted her gaze back to Shiloh. “You’re just wanting to brag that we took care of it on our own.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Abby fished her phone from her pajama pants and dialed Rusty’s number. She hit the button for speakerphone and laid the phone on the coffee table.

“Hello to you. Is it still raining?” Rusty asked.

“Cats and dogs and baby elephants,” Abby said.

“Well, sunshine is on the way. We’ve outrun it and I heard on the radio that it’s moving out of the canyon in the next couple of hours. Everything going all right?”

“We’ve got it under control. This is on speakerphone and we’re all here,” she answered.

“Good. Coop wants to talk to you, so I’ll put this one on speaker, too.”

“Hey, it’s come a real toad strangler, hasn’t it?” Cooper said.

“Something like that. Y’all got the prisoner delivered?”

“Just now did and now we’re on the way to the hotel.”

“So you can go drinkin’ and flirtin’ with the pretty ladies?” she asked.

“We’re both exhausted. We’ve decided to buy a six-pack of beer and a pizza and watch hotel movies in between naps,” Cooper said. “What have y’all been doin’ all afternoon? Paintin’ your fingernails and readin’ romance books?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, but it hasn’t involved pizza and naps,” she said.

“Okay, now you’ve got my curiosity workin’ double time. What did you do?” Cooper asked.

“Well, there was a stampede and we had to put most of the cows back where they belonged, and then we had a busted-up fence and then there was a big old bull lyin’ up on the porch like he owned it, so the dogs had to come in the house,” Shiloh said. “And tell Rusty that his four-wheelers look like shit.”

Cooper chuckled. “And then the aliens landed in their flat little spacecraft and carried you all away to examine your brains. I know it’s been raining like hell up there and y’all couldn’t even get out of the house, so don’t spin yarns to me.”

“The real story is that we laid up in front of the television, got drunk on Ezra’s moonshine we found hidden in the pantry, and painted our toenails, just like you said,” Abby said.

“Are you mad? You sound angry,” Cooper asked.

“Just how drunk are y’all to call me with a cock-and-bull story like this?” Rusty asked.

“Nope, just hurt that you don’t believe our story. I was going to ask you to show me how to fix barbed-wire fence, but now I don’t have to. Bonnie gave us a lesson and I can do it underwater,” Abby answered. “Hell, I might join the navy so I can be a SEAL when I leave the canyon.”

Cooper laughed again. “See you tomorrow. Don’t forget we’re going to the Sugar Shack on Saturday night.”

“Come rain, shine, or snow, we—as in Abby, Shiloh, and I—are going to Amarillo tomorrow for dinner and to shop. If we’re not back by evening, Rusty, the cows and feeding belong to you,” Bonnie said.

Rusty laughed. “Your hangover should be gone by evening, but I’ll take care of things for you since you want to get away from the ranch. Maybe you’ll all be gone for good.”

“Not in your wildest dreams,” Shiloh said.

“And you can get the bull off the porch if he’s still there when you get here,” Bonnie said.

“I sure will and I’ll shoo all those aliens away, too,” Cooper said. “Y’all might want to stop drinkin’ now, or you are going to hurt tomorrow. Good night, ladies.”

Abby picked up the phone and shoved it back in her pocket.

“Well, we’ve told him,” Shiloh said.

“And a hell of a lot of good it did. Neither one of them believed us,” Bonnie said.

“They will tomorrow. I’m going to go stretch out on my bed and get a twenty-minute power nap. You both going to be here when I come back?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bonnie said.

Shiloh picked up her book. “Wild horses couldn’t drive me away.”

“Good,” Abby said.

Martha followed her into the bedroom and settled down on the rocking chair. Abby plopped down on the bed and pulled the side of the spread up over her feet, but instead of falling asleep instantly, the back of her eyelids became a never-ending slideshow, all of Cooper. There he was at the funeral, jumping over the barbed-wire fence, feeding her pecan pie, sitting beside her in the truck on the way to Silverton. And the one that she settled on at the end of the show was the one of his naked backside that Sunday when they’d had sex.

“Dammit,” she said without opening her eyes. “Not a bad picture in the whole lot.”

Chapter Twelve

W
e
have half a bottle of tequila, a full bottle of Jack Daniel’s, three beers, and whatever the hell is in this pint jar. If we open it, it’ll be like we’re inviting Ezra to the party.” Shiloh set it all in the middle of the kitchen table.

“Do we need to take a vote?” Bonnie asked.

“If Ezra wants to come to our party, I’ll even let him have his chair. I bet he won’t stay long when we all tell him exactly how we feel,” Abby said.

A deep-throated mooing sounded right outside the kitchen window.

“The bull has spoken. We will toast the three of us getting through this day with Ezra’s stump liquor. Women doing a tough job and drinking his liquor. I’d say he won’t even show his face,” Bonnie said.

Shiloh twisted the ring from the jar and set it beside the rest of their meager bar. “Maybe the bull was calling out to his heifers rather than expressing an opinion.”

It started as a chuckle, grew into a giggle, and exploded into laughter, with Abby wiping tears with the tail of her dark brown T-shirt.

“What the hell is so funny?” Shiloh frowned.

“Think about it. The rangy old bull calling out to his heifers. Ezra leaving half a pint of moonshine and naming his bitches after his ex-wives. Was he calling out to his women like that lonesome old bull?”

“I still don’t think it’s that funny, but then after what I found under my bed this afternoon, I’m not sure anything is funny,” Bonnie said.

“Three boxes with your initials on the ends?” Shiloh asked.

Bonnie nodded. “Kind of creepy, isn’t it? How’d you know about it?”

Abby felt their gazes turn to her. Suddenly, the moonshine and the lonesome old bull were not humorous. A chill that had nothing to do with the north wind whistling around outside on a moonless night chased down her spine.

“I found the same thing under my bed,” she said. “I suppose that’s why Rusty more or less assigned our rooms when we first got here.”

“Seems like a year ago, doesn’t it?” Bonnie whispered.

“How did going through those things make y’all feel?” Abby asked.

Shiloh poured whiskey into three glasses. “Angry, violated in a strange sense of the word, and empty at the same time.” She threw hers back like an old cowboy in a Western movie.

Bonnie picked up the whiskey and sipped it. “Just mad as hell. He knew what was happening to me and he didn’t give a shit. This drink is my one for the night. I’ve lived with it my whole life and seen what it can do to a woman. I’ll see to it you two make it from living room to your bedrooms, but I do not clean up if you get sick.”

Shiloh went to the refrigerator and brought out a two-liter bottle of Coke. She poured a couple of fingers of whiskey into a glass, added ice, and filled it with the Coke. “At first I was mad at Mama for sending him all those things. I called her and pitched a bitchin’ fit. She listened for a couple of minutes and when she finally figured out what I was sayin’, she was every bit as angry as I was.”

Abby didn’t mix good Jack Daniel’s with anything, not water, not Coke, and she didn’t throw it back. She sipped it, letting each tiny mouthful lie on her tongue for a few seconds before she swallowed. “Did you call your mama, Bonnie?”

She shook her head. “Mama is complicated. Sometimes I like her better drunk than sober. At least she’s not a mean drunk and she is a mean sober person. I lived with her right up until I left Kentucky—the bills had to be paid and someone had to put food on the table for her.”

“Who does that now?” Shiloh asked.

Bonnie shrugged and went to the refrigerator to pull out the sweet tea. “Like I said, it’s complicated, but everyone has to learn to take care of themselves at some time in their life.”

“Tough love,” Abby said.

“You should know all about that. Haven’t you been on your own since you were eighteen?” Shiloh asked.

“I have. I joined the army right out of high school and was in training school when I got the news Mama was gone. So I went home, took care of things just like she asked, leased out the doughnut shop for ten years, and rented a storage unit. I only missed a week of my schooling and the army let me make it up when I got back rather than making me start all over. I was nineteen a few weeks later. Couldn’t even buy a drink or rent a car legally and I was on my own.”

“Enough melancholy. I shoved the boxes back under my bed. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but tonight we’re celebrating. We have run this ranch for one day all by ourselves and we did a damn fine job of it.” Shiloh raised her glass and the other two touched theirs to it, making a clinking sound in the quiet room.

“To the fastest learners in the state of Texas,” Abby said.

“To the Malloy daisies.” Bonnie smiled.

“Daisies?” Shiloh asked.

“Ezra must have thought about us as daisies or he wouldn’t have told Rusty to give them to us to put in his casket,” Bonnie said.

“I don’t want to be a daisy. I want to be a rose,” Shiloh said.

“Well, I want to be a bloomin’ cactus, like what blooms in the desert,” Bonnie said.

They looked at Abby.

One shoulder raised in a semishrug. “I like daisies. They’re my favorite flower—but not the kind we pitched in the casket. I like the wild ones. They are hardy and free spirits.”

Bonnie said, “I’ll be a daisy, even if I do prefer those pretty, bright-colored blooms on cactus plants.”

“I was a wild and free daisy today out there in the rain, chasing cows and mud wrestling with Abby,” Shiloh said.

Abby laughed. “I’ve finished my drink so hand me that moonshine and we’ll see how free my spirit can get tonight.”

Shiloh slid the pint jar across the table to Abby. “Sowing wild oats on Saturday night means you have to go to church tomorrow morning.”

She picked it up and carried it to the living room. “Sowing wild oats does not have anything to do with whiskey, tequila, or moonshine.”

“Why?” Bonnie followed Abby.

“Why what? That it doesn’t have to do with liquor or why don’t I have to go to church?”

Bonnie sat down on the end of the sofa and set her glass on the coffee table. “Both, and where are the dogs?”

“I put them outside in their pens and I’m sure they are disappointed that they have to be in their doghouses rather than by the fire, but they won’t leave that damned bull alone even from inside the house,” Shiloh answered.

“What’s wrong with the liquor?” Abby poured two fingers into her empty glass. “I’m just drinking, not sowing wild oats. Sowing means seed . . . think, Bonnie.”

“Oh! If that’s the reason, then I don’t expect none of us need to go to church, because we haven’t had time to sow wild oats this week,” Bonnie said.

“Abby did.” Shiloh joined them with another Jack and Coke in her glass.

“When?” Bonnie asked.

“I do not kiss and tell.” Abby immediately wished she could cram the words back into her mouth. God Almighty, what was wrong with her? She couldn’t be drunk on that little bit of liquor.

“Aha!” Shiloh pointed. “Was it good?”

“Curled my toes.” Abby turned up the moonshine. Sweet Jesus, that shit had some kick and a hell of a lot of fire. It burned all the way from throat to gut and hopefully scalded her vocal cords so she couldn’t talk.

“Tell us more,” Bonnie said. “We want details.”

“I won’t tell any more than that. This is some potent shit, girls. You’ve got to at least taste it. It’s got kick like vodka and for moonshine, it don’t taste bad. I think I got a hint of peaches.”

Bonnie headed back to the kitchen and returned with a red plastic cup. “I’m the ’shine expert. Let me have a taste.”

Abby could hold her liquor. Hell, she’d put lots of big strong soldiers under the table, but that ’shine put a fuzzy halo around everything. The little diamond stuck on Bonnie’s nose was twice as big as normal.

“And it sparkles like what floats around my head when Cooper kisses me,” she muttered.

“What was that about kisses?” Shiloh asked. “One more drink and you’ll be giving us a play-by-play of what happened when you fell into bed with Cooper.”

“We’re not talkin’ about men tonight and it wasn’t in a bed,” Abby answered. “I’ve never done drugs, but I swear this must be the way they make you feel.”

Shiloh tossed back what she had in her glass and gasped. “Dammit! That stuff really is pure fire.” She fanned her mouth with her hand.

Bonnie sipped it slowly. “Not bad. My peach has more body, a hint of cinnamon and brown sugar, and less grit, but this would knock you on your ass just the same if you had very much of it. Here, Abby, you can have the rest of mine.”

Abby’s hand reached for it as if she had no control. That time it didn’t burn as badly as the first but she had to concentrate to keep her wits about her. “Shit! That’s some good stuff.”

“This is at least a hundred and ninety proof and eight ounces will knock a seasoned drinker on their ass. You’d best not have any more or we’ll be throwin’ daisies on your casket in the mornin’,” Bonnie said.

“Then get me a little bit of whiskey to cool down my throat,” Abby said. “And why would this be worse than whiskey or too much wine?”

“A direct result of the floor coming up to meet your head when you stand up too fast. You’ve both had enough ’shine,” Bonnie said.

“Bring the jar to me. I can drink as much as Abby any day of the week,” Shiloh said.

“You’ll be sorry, but if you want it, you can have it. Remember what I told you about cleaning up after yourselves,” Bonnie said. “And if I’m bartending, you’ve both got to tell me a story.”

“About what?” Abby tried to focus on the fireplace, but the flames wouldn’t be still. They moved out of the fireplace and danced across the floor. Damn, but they were scorching when they reached her feet. She tossed the throw from her legs onto the floor and looked around for her dog. Why wasn’t Martha in the house? Shiloh had put her in the pen. She didn’t belong out there in the rain; she should be in the house, not in an old cold doghouse made of scrap metal and used wood. Martha was a sophisticated dog who knew how to herd cattle. If she got pneumonia, Abby was going to beat the shit out of Shiloh.

Remember not to throw whiskey on that throw if the blaze catches it on fire
, she thought.
Lord, I’m drunk, and I’ve only had the equivalent of three drinks. Maybe I shouldn’t drink any more. What do you think, Mama? You’re usually in my head bitchin’ at me when I drink. Where are you tonight?

Bonnie handed Abby a glass with a finger of whiskey in the bottom and then put a glass with the rest of the ’shine in Shiloh’s outstretched hand. “Which one of you is going first?”

“First with what? Oh, we have to tell you a story, right?” Shiloh turned up the moonshine and sipped it. “You’re right, Abby, it kind of makes me glow from the inside out.”

“Sounds like a personality drug.” Bonnie laughed.

“I’ll go first,” Shiloh said. “A story. Let’s see, which story. Does it have to be true?”

“The bartender has changed her mind. Tell me if you ever fantasize about how your life would have been different if you’d been raised right here,” Bonnie said.

Shiloh sipped again. “Yes, I do, but I can’t imagine having Ezra as a father. Lord, can you see him if I came in wearing a strapless prom dress that was cut up to my hip on the side?”

Abby slowly shook her head from side to side.

“What are you thinking?” Bonnie asked. “You are definitely disagreeing with the voices in your head about something.”

“This shit isn’t so bad after the first initial burn. I was thinking about the look on Ezra’s face if I’d told him I was joining the army the week after graduation,” Abby said.

Bonnie curled up on the end of the sofa, the throw from the floor over her legs.

“What about you?” Shiloh asked.

“I like to imagine his expression when I told him that it was past time for me to go on birth control. With his views . . . hey, now I’m wondering if y’all’s mamas were virgins. I can’t imagine my mama being one, not as wild as she was,” Bonnie said.

Abby tilted her head to one side. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Thinking about her mother’s sex life gave her the willies. Or maybe it was the combination of such thoughts added to the moonshine.

“What are you snarling your nose about?” Bonnie asked.

“What you just said about our mamas. Y’all know that Ezra thought we’d take the money and run, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t know that. I think he wanted us to know each other,” Shiloh said.

“He wanted us to fight and bicker and disagree about everything,” Bonnie said. “But we’re getting our revenge on him by working together.”

“The sober one tells it like it is.” Abby reached across the recliner arm and patted her on the shoulder.

“I hope he’s miserable. At least part of me does. The other part is glad that he made this decision.” Shiloh slurred the last word and tried to say it right three times before she gave up. She finished off the ’shine in one last gulp. “Are you sure that’s all of it? We could go down to the bunkhouse and steal the jar that Rusty says he’s savin’ for the year anniversary of Ezra’s death.”

“Bonnie, darlin’, you will have to make a batch before the second anniversary of our dear papa’s death so we can celebrate again.” Abby’s speech was even worse to her ears than Shiloh’s.