Daisies in the Canyon

by Brown, Carolyn

  She shook her head. “No, not in a long time.”

  “I really had a good time working with you tonight, but why are you learning to do any of this if you aren’t planning to stick around?” he asked.

  “It’s in case I do decide to stay and become a rancher. I brought Mama’s ashes with me and I want to scatter them somewhere in the canyon before I leave, but I want to do it in the spring when the flowers are blooming. Past spring, Cooper, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she answered. “I want a place, but I want it to be the right place. I want to own property but I don’t even know if I want a ranch or just a big yard with a white picket fence around it. Can’t hurt to learn while I’m thinking about things.”

  “I see,” he said.

  “How could you? You were born and raised right here in the canyon. You’ve got roots so deep that a tornado couldn’t uproot you. How could you understand all these conflicting emotions I’m having?” She turned in the seat to see him better. The moonlight defined half his face; the other half remained in shadow.

  “Don’t underestimate me, Abby. That quickie was as unlike me as it was you. I don’t want you to think I’m a horndog. You don’t want me to think you are loose legged. I vote that we put our mistake behind us and be good neighbors and maybe work on a friendship.” He pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

  “We’re already that. Only a friend and a good neighbor would spend his whole evening helping burn mesquite,” she said. He had no idea that his hands brushing against the side of her face sent quivers of desire to the depths of her insides. Or that sitting this close to him made her want to be more than a neighbor or a friend. But she couldn’t offer more and he didn’t appear to want more, so that’s all she was going to get.

  “Thank you. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner?”

  “Yes, Bonnie is cooking. If she can cook like she does everything else, it should be good.” She reached for the door handle, thankful the dark hid the slight trembling of her hands. “Good night, Cooper.”

  “Good night, Abby. I’m glad we settled this.”

  Chapter Eight

  Abby really wanted to get the hang of plowing down so that she could move on to the next lesson in ranching. That morning she checked everything three times before she fired up the engine. The first and most important thing was to know the machinery. That done, she’d work hard on technique.

  “I can do this,” she declared as she started off with less of a grind than she had the night before.

  Shiloh and Rusty had left her to do her job and gone off to walk the fencerow, tightening up the barbed wire where it sagged and making sure the posts were secure. She tried to keep the furrows straight as she drove from one end of the pasture to the other. Her corners left a lot to be desired, but by the time she’d plowed under all the ashes from the brush fires, the furrows were getting straighter. Pride filled her heart. She hoped Cooper stopped by so she could show him how much she’d improved after just one lesson.

  Speak of the devil—or the cowboy, in this instance—and he shall appear. She looked out ahead of her to see Cooper leaning on the fence separating the two ranches. He waved and her hands got all sweaty inside her work gloves. She jerked them off and tossed them over on the passenger seat. The stocking hat came off next and joined the gloves. Too damn bad she couldn’t remove her boots and socks.

  When she reached the end of the row, he jumped the fence and motioned for her to stop. When she did, he stepped up on the running board and waited for her to roll down the window.

  “How does it look?” she asked.

  “Doing a fine job. Little crooked there on the first run, but it won’t affect the way the wheat or the alfalfa seeds sprout. Rusty said you were going to plow this morning and I was out dropping hay off for my cattle, so I thought I’d stay long enough to make sure you remembered all the gears and basics. Looks like you took to this part of ranchin’ like a duck to water. See you later if I don’t get tied up at the office and have to stay through the noon hour.” He stepped off the running board.

  She shut her eyes so that she couldn’t see him walking away, but it didn’t help one bit. That jittery feeling every time she was around him was still there. She opened them just in time to see him turn around and wave at her.

  She waved back and started plowing again. Like she’d told Bonnie, it was complicated. Everything, it seemed, about her and Cooper was jam-packed full of twists and turns. One minute she thought she could be friends and neighbors with him; the next minute, when he was so close she could have leaned out the window and kissed him, she wanted so much more.

  Cooper was getting out of the sheriff’s car when Rusty parked the work truck in the backyard. Cooper threw up a hand in a wave and headed for the front porch at the same time Rusty, Shiloh, and Abby went for the back one. They all met in the kitchen, where Bonnie was putting the final touches on dinner.

  “I’m hungry,” Shiloh said.

  The house smelled wonderful, like ginger and ham and fried potatoes with onions. Abby’s stomach growled loudly and she looked up to see Cooper smiling.

  “Driving a tractor all morning is rougher work than it looks, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “And I forgot to load my pockets with snacks, so I hope Bonnie made a ton of food.”

  “Y’all get washed up and I’ll put it on the table,” Bonnie said.

  Rusty headed for the bathroom.

  Shiloh raised an eyebrow at Abby. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure, I’ll take the kitchen sink,” Abby said.

  “Kitchen sink is big enough for two, don’t you think?” Cooper asked when the others had disappeared.

  “Probably for four since it’s a double sink,” Bonnie answered.

  Abby squirted a small amount of liquid soap in her hands and rubbed them together. Cooper did the same, his side plastered against hers just like the last time they’d washed their hands together. He hip butted her to one side. She came back with her own hip and he chuckled.

  “Bonnie, she’s not playing fair,” he tattled.

  “You kids best behave or you won’t get dessert.”

  Abby flipped water at him before she dried her hands. “What’s for dessert? Maybe it’s not good enough to be nice for.”

  Bonnie pointed toward the bar. Abby squealed. “Hot damn! That’s pecan pie. What kind of cake is it? Doesn’t look like chocolate.”

  “It’s gingerbread and there’s warm lemon sauce to go on top.”

  “And I thought you were just a country girl who only knew how to make beans and potatoes,” Abby said.

  Bonnie’s giggle sounded as high-pitched as a little girl’s. It didn’t match the gravel in her voice or the look in her blue eyes that said she’d seen far more than anyone ever should. “A pot of beans in our house was a delicacy, darlin’.”

  “Ours, too. Mama made them in the slow cooker, but they weren’t as good as the ones that simmered all morning on the stove, like these,” Abby admitted.

  “Do I smell something with ginger?” Rusty appeared in the doorway with his nose in the air.

  “It’s gingerbread with lemon sauce,” Cooper answered. “I’m glad I didn’t have to give up dinner with y’all like I thought I would.”

  “Why?” Rusty asked.

  “Had a call that a rancher out between Silverton and Goodnight thought some kids were trying to run a meth lab out at the back of his property. My deputy and I went out there, but all we found was beer bottles and signs of lots of parties,” Cooper said.

  As he talked, Abby scanned him from boot tips to pretty brown eyes, spending an extra second or two on his belt buckle. She was tired of apologizing to the voice in her head for wishing that his lips were on hers again or that his hands were splayed out on her back. Fiery heat put high color in her cheeks. She hoped everyone thought it was a combination
of the cold wind outside and the hot kitchen inside rather than her scorching thoughts about Cooper.

  Friends, her inner voice reminded her.

  With benefits? she argued.

  Don’t start something you can’t finish.

  “Abby, did you get that plowing down to an art?” Cooper dried his hands on the end of the same towel she used.

  “Workin’ on gettin’ used to it. Don’t know that I’m learnin’ to enjoy it yet,” she said.

  “Okay, folks, sit down and let’s get started. Noon hour is sixty minutes,” Bonnie said.

  They took their chairs and started passing food around from one to the other. Since Cooper sat right next to Abby, every time he handed off a bowl or platter to her, their arms bumped against each other or their hands brushed. It was both misery and exciting at the same time every time a fresh new jolt shot through her.

  “I’m feelin’ bad about comin’ here for dinner, so I’m goin’ to make y’all a deal. I’ll provide dinner on Sunday. Either steaks right here when you get home from church since that’s the only thing I can cook, or else I’ll take the whole bunch of you out to dinner up in Silverton at the little diner there,” Cooper said.

  “Deal!” Abby stuck out her hand.

  That way she’d cook on Wednesday and Saturday every week. Her days would be set and she’d never have to interrupt her Sunday sleep-in mornings to plan a meal.

  “Deal,” Bonnie agreed. “Abby can shake for all of us since you are closest to Cooper.”

  His hand engulfed hers and held a moment longer than necessary, even for a hearty shake. So she was special in his eyes now. He had to be crazy as an outhouse rat if he wanted to take friendship to a new level. Ezra was her father. That should tell him she’d make a lousy spouse and a horrible parent.

  Cooper dropped her hand and smiled. “This is really good cookin’, Miz Bonnie. You ever think of puttin’ in a café of your own?”

  “Hell, no!” Bonnie said quickly. “I can cook and I don’t mind doin’ it, but I damn sure don’t want to cook every day.”

  “You want to make some extra money and cook for my poker night this Friday night?” Cooper asked.

  Bonnie shook her head. “No, thank you. Pour up some chips and dip and put out the stuff for them to make sandwiches.”

  “So we’re still on for poker and at your place later this week?” Rusty asked.

  “Seven sharp,” Cooper answered.

  “Waylon and Travis?” Rusty asked.

  Cooper nodded. “And Jackson if he can drag himself away from Loretta. I swear he’s so happy about those twin girls, it’s unreal.”

  “I could bring the leftover gingerbread to the poker game,” Rusty said.

  “Like hell you will,” Abby declared. “If we don’t get to play cards with the boys, then the boys don’t get our gingerbread.”

  “Y’all play poker?” Cooper asked.

  Bonnie giggled.

  “What?” Shiloh asked.

  “I would bet dollars to cow patties that she’s played before and that she’s damn good at it. She might own your ranch and maybe even your boots before the night was over if you played with her,” Abby said.

  Bonnie beamed. “I’m not that good.”

  “We’ll take y’all on Saturday night, right here at this table,” Rusty said.

  “I’ll bring the dessert for that night,” Abby said.

  Cooper laid a hand on her shoulder and their eyes locked across the space between them. “I thought Frito pies was all you knew how to cook.”

  “I know how to open a container of ice cream, squirt caramel sauce on it, add a dollop of whipped cream, and put a cherry on top.” Abby smiled sweetly.

  He quickly removed his hand and cleared his throat. “Saturday night it is. Seven o’clock unless I have an emergency. You ladies best go on and bring your Friday paychecks. You can just sign the backs when I win them from you. Rusty, did you tell them why Ezra’s land is set so far back off the road?”

  Rusty put a thick slab of ham on his plate and passed the ham to Cooper. “Story has it that Ezra and Jackson’s grandpa got into a poker game. They were the only two left and Ezra thought he had a good hand, so he bet half his ranch on the win. Grandpa Bailey put up half of his, which was a damn sight more acreage than Ezra had. Ezra spread out a straight flush and figured he’d just landed half of Lonesome Canyon. Grandpa Bailey had a royal flush and gave Ezra a choice. Front half or back half of Malloy Ranch. Ezra chose the back half because it was better land and had the house and the family cemetery on it. Grandpa Bailey gave him the easement if he kept up the road, so he could get back here to his ranch.”

  “And story has it that was the last time Ezra played cards. If you got his card-playin’ genes, y’all might do well to leave the poker to the big dogs,” Cooper said.

  “Maybe none of us got our poker faces from Ezra. Maybe we got them from our mamas,” Shiloh said.

  “Or our maternal grandpas,” Bonnie piped up.

  Everyone looked at Abby, who shrugged. “Who said I have poker sense? I just offered to bring dessert, not wipe out the whole lot of you.”

  “That one will bear watching,” Bonnie said.

  “I agree,” Cooper nodded. “Fantastic dinner, Miz Bonnie. I still think that you and Shiloh could put a restaurant in either Claude or Silverton and make a fine living.”

  “Haven’t got time,” Shiloh said. “I’ve got a ranch to run.”

  “And I done told you, I’m not interested,” Bonnie said.

  Abby felt eyes on her again as she reached for a second helping of ham. “What? I’m hungry. It takes a lot of food to make enough energy to work like we do.”

  “Chili pie for real? Twice a week?” Rusty said.

  “It’s kind of like poker, Rusty. Sometimes you’ll get a good hand. Sometimes it’ll be a real bitch. Pass the cucumber salad, please. We didn’t get much of this kind of fresh stuff where I’ve been for three years.”

  “What was your job over there?” Shiloh asked.

  “I commanded a company of soldiers. Only two people on base were higher ranked than I was.”

  “Wow! Now that would be a dream job, to get to command men and make them do what you said,” Bonnie said.

  “It was male and female soldiers,” Abby said.

  “I guess I just normally think of soldiers as men.”

  “Times have changed,” Abby said.

  Cooper cocked his head to one side. “Did you ever make decisions that you regretted later?”

  “Of course,” she said. The little girl in the window of that building came back to haunt her. In an instant her life was wiped out, but she would live forever in Abby’s mind and in her dreams.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost. We should change the subject,” Shiloh said. “I’m ready for dessert. I’ll bring it to the table if Bonnie will clean off a spot for it.”

  “I’ll help Bonnie,” Rusty said.

  Cooper’s hand rested on her shoulder again. “Sorry if I brought up bad memories,” he whispered.

  The warmth of his touch was welcome and almost put the little girl’s dark eyes out of her mind. He squeezed gently and she managed a weak smile.

  “Sometimes they appear at the craziest times,” she said.

  “Who wants which dessert?” Bonnie asked.

  “I’d like gingerbread with lemon sauce. Mama used to make a gingerbread doughnut with a lemon-flavored glaze. I always begged her to save me one for an after-school snack. But I want pecan pie, too, and I’m too full for both. Bring me the gingerbread because I want it more,” Abby said.

  “I want a piece of each,” Cooper said. “I’ll share a bite of my pie with Abby so she can have a little bit.”

  Bonnie put two pie plates in front of Cooper. One held the pie, the other the gingerbread.


  Abby glanced over at him and a big bite of pecan pie was heading straight for her mouth. There was nothing to do but open up. Eating from the same fork was almost too intimate.

  “Well?” Bonnie asked.

  “Heavenly,” Abby said.

  “Taste the gingerbread now and tell me which is best,” Bonnie said.

  Abby made sure there was plenty of lemon sauce on the bite she put into her mouth and nodded, giving Bonnie a thumbs-up sign. “Fantastic.”

  Neither dessert affected her like sharing a simple dessert fork with Cooper. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach and she could scarcely keep the smile off her face. No one wanted to see gingerbread or pecans in her teeth, though, and she didn’t want to explain why she was grinning like a Cheshire cat during dessert.

  “Really good,” Rusty said. “You could make both of these for the poker party.”

  “Nope. Abby is making dessert that night. She already volunteered,” Bonnie said.

  Chapter Nine

  A coconut crème cake chilled in the refrigerator along with a banana pudding. Abby would have made tiramisu, but she’d forgotten to put ladyfingers on her list when Rusty went to the store. If someone didn’t like coconut or bananas, then they could have ice cream for dessert. The lasagna was ready to pop into the oven and homemade Italian bread was rising on the back of the stove with a towel over it. Salad makings were ready to toss together at the last minute.

  She shouldn’t have made a big deal about not knowing how to make anything but chili pie, but dammit, she hadn’t planned on cooking for a family when she left Galveston. It felt as if she was losing control, being told to cook two days a week and to clean while she had the half day off from the ranch work to boot. And Abby did not like the feeling that loss of control brought into her heart and soul.

  With the last load of laundry in the washer, she was ready to tackle the bathroom. It didn’t look too messy at first glance, but neither had the communal ladies’ room in the barracks in basic.