Abby Joy sank down into a chair and tucked a strand of blond hair back up into her ponytail. Even pregnant, she still had that military posture—back straight as a board, shoulders squared off.
Shiloh, the only dark-haired sister in the trio, headed off to the kitchen. “Got lemonade made?”
“There’s a pitcher in the refrigerator. There’s also cold beers and a bottle of wine. Take your choice,” Bonnie answered.
“Lemonade for me please,” Abby Joy yelled.
Shiloh brought out two tall glasses filled with ice and lemonade. She handed one to Abby Joy and then sat down in a lawn chair on the other side of Bonnie. “Everything sure looks different now than it did last winter when we got here, doesn’t it?”
“Are we talkin’ about Abby Joy’s big old pregnant belly?” Shiloh teased.
“I think she meant the ranch,” Abby Joy shot back. “I thought I’d dropped off the face of the earth into hell when I drove past Silverton that day. This was the most desolate place I’d ever seen, and I’d done tours in Afghanistan. If I hadn’t been so damned hungry, I wouldn’t have even come up here to the house after the funeral, but I heard someone mention food.”
Bonnie laughed out loud. “I was starving too, but I sure didn’t want y’all to know that.”
“Why not?” Shiloh asked.
“I thought you’d look down on me even worse if you thought I was so poor I couldn’t even buy food,” she answered, “but I was.”
Abby Joy took a sip of her drink and nodded. “I looked down the row at y’all at Ezra’s funeral and figured I’d outlast both of you, but I got to admit that I was just a little scared of you, Bonnie. You looked like you could kill us all with that stone-cold stare of yours.”
“I felt the same about y’all, and now you’ve both moved away.” Bonnie drank down part of her beer.
“Yep.” Abby Joy smiled. “I was the smart one. I left when I figured out right quick that love meant more than any money I would get from staying on the ranch.”
“That old bastard Ezra treated all of our mothers like breeding heifers, not wives,” Shiloh chimed in. “I’ve come a long way toward forgiving him, but he’ll never be a father to me.”
Abby Joy shook her head. “He’s more like a sperm donor, isn’t he?”
“That’s kind of the way I feel, so why would I want this ranch?” Bonnie asked. “If he’d done right by us, or any one of us, then the ranch would mean something, but he didn’t, so why shouldn’t I just sell the damned place and get on with my life. I’m not like you two. I didn’t get to settle down and grow up in one place. Mama moved whenever the mood struck her, so I’m used to traveling.”
“You’ve got six months to decide what you want,” Abby Joy said. “Give it some time. Don’t rush into anything, but if you ever do decide you don’t want your name attached to anything that Ezra had, you can come live with me.”
“Are either of you sorry that you left?” Bonnie asked.
“Not me!” Shiloh turned up her glass of lemonade and took several gulps. “I was having second thoughts about staying on the ranch those last few weeks, but Abby Joy can’t have you all the time if you leave. I get you at least half of the year.”
Bonnie smiled. “I’m not stayin’, and I’m probably not moving in with either of you, but I appreciate the offer. I’m going to sell the place and travel. I will come see you real often though. I don’t want us to ever be apart for very long at one time…” Bonnie downed the rest of her beer and stood up. “Getting you two for sisters was definitely the one good thing Ezra did for us.”
Bonnie pulled both her sisters in for a group hug, then stepped back and slapped at a mosquito on her arm. “These damn bugs are horrible this time of year.”
“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” Shiloh joked.
“It’s all that moisture we got in the spring.” Abby Joy pushed up out of her chair and led the way into the kitchen. “Come July, Cooper says that we’ll be begging for rain and even a mosquito or two.”
“Not me.” Shiloh picked up the dirty glasses and the beer bottle and followed her sister. “This canyon grows mosquitoes as big as buzzards. I don’t believe that they’ll all be dead in a month. They’ll be hiding up in the rock formations, and they’ll swoop down on us and suck all our blood out when we’re not looking.”
Was the fact that her half-sisters had figured out love meant more to them than the ranch the sign she was looking for? Abby Joy had given up her right to the place when she married Cooper Wilson, a cowboy rancher whose land was right next to the Malloy Ranch. Shiloh had married Waylon Stephens, the cowboy who owned the ranch across the road from the Malloy place, just a few weeks ago. From what Bonnie could see, neither of her sisters had a single regret for the decision they’d made.
But finding love and settling down wasn’t the right thing for Bonnie. She was born to fly, not grow roots in the canyon, and by the time New Year’s Day rolled around, she would spread her wings and take off. Maybe she’d start with going to Florida or California to see the ocean. She loved bringing up the site for a little hotel in the panhandle of Florida and listening to the sound of the ocean waves.
“Wouldn’t it be something, after everything is said and done, if Rusty bought this place when I sell it?” Bonnie picked up the pitcher of lemonade and a platter of cookies and carried them to the living room.
“Wouldn’t it be poetic justice if all Rusty’s children were all daughters?” Shiloh plopped down on the sofa and picked up two cookies.
“Serve Ezra right for throwing away his own daughters.” Abby Joy eased down into a rocking chair and reached for a cookie. “Y’all ever wonder why he brought us back anyway. He didn’t want us when we were born because we weren’t boys, so why would he even give us a chance to inherit his ranch?”
At least once a week, the sisters had an evening at one place or another, and tonight was Bonnie’s turn. She might be the one who’d showed up at the ranch six months before with her things crammed into plastic bags, but she knew how to be a good hostess.
Shiloh raised her glass. “To all of us for not killing each other, like Ezra probably wanted.”
“Hear, hear!” Bonnie said as all three sisters clinked their glasses together.
* * *
Rusty Dawson stopped at the small cemetery on the way home from his weekly poker game with several of the area ranchers. That night Cooper, Waylon, and Jackson Bailey had been over at Cooper’s place, and they’d all four played until almost midnight. Rusty had walked away five dollars richer, which was unusual for him. Usually, he was at least a dollar or two in the hole when the last hand was played.
He sat down on a bench that faced Ezra’s grave and stared at the inscription on the tombstone for a long time. By the light of the moon, it was just obscure dark lines. So much had happened in the six months since the man died and his daughters had showed up at the ranch. Pictures from the day of the funeral flashed through his mind. Abby Joy had arrived just seconds before the graveside service began. She’d shown up in full camouflage and combat boots, and she’d snapped to attention and nodded smartly when it was her turn to walk past the casket. He’d always wondered if maybe she was showing Ezra that she was every bit as brave and tough as any son he might’ve produced. Shiloh was already there, of course. She looked like she’d just walked away from a line dance in a bar like the Sugar Shack up on the other end of the Canyon—pearl snap shirt that hugged her curves, starched jeans, Tony Lama boots, and a black Stetson hat.
Bonnie, the youngest of the sisters, had put a little extra beat in his heart from the first time he laid eyes on her. She drove up in an old rattletrap of a truck with duct tape holding the passenger-side window together, tires so bald that he was amazed she hadn’t had a blowout on the trip and rusted-out fenders. She was wearing tight jeans, a leather jacket, and some kind of lace-up boots. A fake diamond sparkled on the side of her nose. He figured anyone with such a sassy attitude would surely be the one who
inherited the place, and he was beginning to believe he’d been right.
You just going to lay down, roll over, and let her have it, or are you going to fight for what I meant for you to have? Ezra’s voice was so clean in Rusty’s head that he whipped around to see if the old guy’s ghost haunted the cemetery. If you want the ranch, run her off it and take it for your own. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.
At first, Rusty had hoped the sisters would all hate each other and disappear so that he could mourn for his old friend and boss in private. But they had all three moved right in and dug in their heels for what looked like was going to be the duration.
“You shouldn’t have sent them away, Ezra. They’ve all got your traits, and I mean more than just your blue eyes. They’re determined and hardworking and don’t mind speakin’ their minds. Bonnie is the only one left now.” Rusty removed his glasses, rubbed at his tired, burning eyes, and shook his head. “But you’re right. It’s time I gave Bonnie a run for her money. That ranch is the only real home I’ve known. And I love this canyon. I couldn’t stand seeing her sell it to some strangers, after all my years of hard work. If she’s still here at Christmas, by damn, it won’t be because I didn’t try.”
An owl hooted off in the distance and a coyote answered it. Crickets and tree frogs had set up a chorus all around him. He found himself feeling angry with Ezra for the first time—after all, the old guy had promised him the ranch. He was trying to put his feelings into words when Martha, one of the three dogs that lived on the ranch, cold nosed him on the hand. He jumped a good foot up off the bench and came back down with a thud. His glasses flew off and landed at the base of the tombstone. He retrieved them, blew the dust away from the lenses, and then put them back on.
“Dammit!” he muttered as he scratched the dog’s ears. “You scared the crap out of me. Come on, you can ride up to the house with me.”
The dog jumped into the truck as soon as Rusty opened the truck door. She rode in the passenger seat until he reached the house, and then licked him across the face as she bounded across his lap, hopped out of the vehicle, and ran to the porch.
“I thought she might have come to meet you,” Bonnie said from the shadows. “Did you win or lose tonight?”
“Came away five dollars richer.” Rusty joined her on the swing. “Couple more nights winnin’ like this, and I’ll have the money saved up to buy a square foot of this place when you sell it.”
“Who told you that I’m selling out when I inherit the ranch?” She frowned.
“Of all y’all, you are the one who’d never make a rancher. You’re the hardest working of the three and you soaked up what I’ve taught you, but I can see it in your eyes…” He took a deep breath.
“You can’t see anything in my eyes,” she argued. “I’m the best damn poker player among all of us. Get out the cards, and I’ll prove it to you.”
“No, thanks. I’m going to hold on to the five bucks I won tonight,” Rusty said. “But, honey, you’ll light a shuck out of here so fast at the end of this year that your sisters will wonder if you were ever even here. You never intended on staying any longer than you have to.”
“Bullshit!” Bonnie smarted off. “You don’t know me at all, and it would take more than six months to figure out a damn thing about me. I’ll tell you this much, though, when and if I do sell this ranch, you better have more than five dollars in your pocket.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been saving for a few years, and I’ve got good credit.”
Bonnie glared at him for several seconds and then smiled. “Maybe I won’t sell it at all. It will be mine to do with whatever I damn well please, and since it adjoins Abby Joy’s place, and is right across the road from Shiloh’s, I may divide it between the two of them.”
Let Mr. Smarty-Cowboy roll that idea around in his brain. Bonnie had no intentions of doing such a thing, but if Rusty wanted to play hard ball, she’d get out the bat and catcher’s mitt.
“I’ll talk to Cooper and Waylon, and buy it from them,” Rusty said.
“I may look like I don’t know anything to you, but, honey, I do know how to hire a lawyer that will put it in writing that my sisters can’t sell it to anyone, and especially not you.” She flashed an even meaner look at him.
Rusty grinned and smiled at her in a condescending way that she’d never seen before. “I figure you’ll be gone long before you have to make those decisions. I’ve seen the antsy in you lately. You won’t last six more months. I’m going to bed. You better be up early in the morning. We’re going to be in the hay field when the sun comes up. With the spring rain we had, it looks like it might be a good one.”
“Not me.” She yawned. “Ezra’s rules said that I don’t have to do one thing but be here. I get a paycheck every week whether I lift a finger or not. Remember what the will said? So tomorrow morning I plan to sleep in as long as I want, and then maybe do my toenails. Oh, and you can get your own breakfast, too. I’ll have a bowl of cereal when I decide to get up.”
Chapter Two
Ezra hadn’t believed in spending money on what he called frivolous things, so the old ranch house did not have central heat and air. A fireplace provided warmth in the winter, and a couple of window units worked well enough to keep the temperature out of the triple digits in the summer. The small bunkhouse where Rusty stayed was about the same, but it only had one window unit, and it only cooled his bedroom.
He paced the floor from the living room with bunk beds lining three of the walls, to the kitchen, through his bedroom, going from hot to cool several times. He was so angry with himself for letting Bonnie get under his skin. If her mother was anything at all like her then he couldn’t blame Ezra for sending her away. Damned women—all of the species anyway—and damn Ezra for not letting him have the ranch like he’d said he would.
You want it, work for it. Ezra’s gruff old voice popped back into his head.
“I did,” Rusty growled.
Rusty hadn’t grown up in the lap of luxury. He’d worked hard for everything he ever had. He’d gone into foster care when he was so little that he didn’t even remember his parents. He was told that they both went to prison on drug charges and had died before he was in school. He ran away from the last one when he was fourteen, lied about his age, and got a job on a ranch. He’d been doing that kind of work ever since. Ezra had lured him away from Jackson Bailey after Rusty had been working over at the Lonesome Canyon Ranch a couple of years.
“We even had central air and heat in the bunkhouse over there, but Ezra paid better, and he hinted that since he didn’t have a son to leave his ranch to, that I would inherit this place someday.” He opened the ancient and rusted refrigerator and took out a gallon of milk.
He poured a glassful and continued to talk to himself. “Ezra demanded more hours out of me, but I didn’t mind the work, since I was getting a paycheck and got plenty of food, and I had the run of the bunkhouse. He even let me decide who to hire for summer help, and…” He sighed. “Malloy Ranch would be mine when Ezra passed on.”
He stared out the kitchen window after he finished drinking his milk. A huge moon hung in the sky right over the bunkhouse. Stars danced around it, and a few clouds shifted from one side to the other, blocking out a little light some of the time. All three dogs had rushed inside the second they had the opportunity, and Martha nosed his bare foot.
“One of you should stay at the house and protect Bonnie,” he scolded them and then laughed. “Though she’s tough enough that she don’t need anyone to take care of her. What do you think, Vivien? Can she chew up railroad spikes and spit out staples? That’s what Ezra said about her mama.” He stooped down and scratched the ears of the part Catahoula dog that had been named for Bonnie’s mother. The dog yipped and went to stretch out on the cool hardwood floor with Martha right behind her. Polly, the dog named for Shiloh’s mother, stuck around begging for doggy treats.
“Lot of help you are,” Rusty muttered a
s he gave her a Milk-Bone.
* * *
When the alarm went off the next morning, he rolled over to see three sets of eyes peering up at him over the side of the bed. “How’d it get to be morning so quick?”
All the dogs turned around and raced toward the door. He pushed back the covers and hurried across the large living room to let them out. In another week, there would be ten hired hands living here, mostly teenage boys he’d have to shake out of the bunk beds lining the walls every morning. When the boys arrived, the dogs would be perfectly happy to sleep outside.
Rusty dressed in work jeans, a faded chambray shirt that he left open at the throat, a faded T-shirt showing underneath, and a pair of tan work boots. He made himself a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, poured a thermos full of coffee and filled a large cooler with sweet tea and ice. Then he put together three bologna sandwiches and shoved them into a plastic bag.
When he reached the field that morning, the sun was just rising over the eastern crest of the canyon.
“Sunrise Ranch,” he muttered. “I’m going to own this ranch if I have to mortgage my soul and all three of those dogs to get it, and I’m going to rename the place Sunrise Ranch. It has a good ring to it, and Ezra can just weep and moan about it. He should’ve done right by me.”
Don’t you dare change the name of this place. Ezra’s gruff old voice scolded him. It started off as Malloy Ranch back at Texas statehood days, and by damn, it will stay that way until the crack of doom.
Rusty knotted his hands into fists. He’d worked hard for Ezra, had given him an honest day’s work for what he got paid. Ezra was dead. He could name the ranch whatever he pleased. When Ezra got sick and barely had the energy to go from his recliner to the kitchen, Rusty had run both the ranch and the house for the old guy. Then a week or so before he died, he’d called in the lawyer and changed his will. Rusty had been disappointed, but Ezra assured him that his daughters were like their worthless mothers and wouldn’t last a week on the ranch.
Cowboy Strong - Includes a bonus novella Page 26