Daisies in the Canyon

by Brown, Carolyn

  “Have you?” Shiloh asked.

  “Couple of times, but it’s been a while.”

  “You might have to show us if that happens,” Abby said.

  Instead of being jealous that her younger sister knew so much more than she did, Abby breathed a sigh of pure, unadulterated relief. Shiloh might throw in the towel after a day like this, but hopefully Bonnie would stick around long enough that Abby could learn from her.

  A deep sense of loss hit Abby in the gut at the idea of Shiloh leaving. It was a new feeling and she analyzed it carefully as they finished up the chores the next hour. It had to be blood calling to blood, because she hadn’t felt that way when she left Haley behind every time she went home from a deployment. Similar and yet very different from the loss of her mother, the feeling still caused her to reach inside her pocket for a miniature candy bar. She brought out a handful and offered Shiloh and Bonnie one.

  “Thank you,” Shiloh smiled.

  “I love plain old chocolate without any nuts or caramel to mess it up,” Bonnie said.

  “I just love candy.” Abby laughed.

  An hour later, Bonnie took the keys from her oldest sister and slid into the driver’s seat. Abby went straight to the hog shed, loaded two big buckets with feed. Pigs were a grunting and snorting lot when they ate or when they knew the food was on the way.

  “The whole bunch of you will look better to me when you are wrapped up in the freezer as pork chops and bacon,” she said as she poured the food into the troughs. Her nose curled at the scent. “You guys could use some heavy-duty deodorant. Shiloh better be glad that I hate chickens. She’d have run the first day we were here if she’d landed a job with y’all.”

  Martha yipped at her feet and she reached down to rub the dog’s ears with her gloved hand. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d go on home after helping us feed the cows.”

  She made a mental note to ask Rusty if Ezra had cured his own pork or if he’d had it done. Maybe there was a smokehouse somewhere on the property. “I bet you Bonnie will know how to process the bacon and hams. She can teach me how to do it, so next year . . .”

  Whoa. She quickly stopped the thought process. When did you start thinking about next year instead of spring and one day at a time?

  Martha wagged her tail and trailed along behind Abby, both of them soaked to the skin when they reached the house, and Abby still hadn’t figured out how she’d even begun to think about staying at the ranch.

  Shiloh was busy putting her clothing in the washer when Abby pushed into the utility room and stopped to drip on a rug. The smell of laundry soap, the sweet scent of shower gel, and warmth met her, but it all quickly disappeared when Martha shook from head to toe. Eau de wet dog blanketed the room.

  “Use this to get her dried off.” Shiloh pitched a towel toward her. “I already took care of Vivien and Polly. Thank goodness I came in the back door and they didn’t do that on the living room carpet. Tile can be wiped up, but I’m not sure I’d ever get the smell out of the carpet.”

  “It would give us a good excuse to get it replaced,” Abby said.

  “But could we ever agree on what color?” A towel was twisted around Shiloh’s head and she wore a thick terry robe, belted at the waist.

  Right then, at that moment, Abby envied her that robe more than anything because it looked so warm. She peeled off her wet, muddy clothing and tossed it in a pile on the floor. Wearing only her bra and underpants, she shivered and headed through the kitchen to the hallway.

  “You can have the washer next,” Shiloh said. “I only brought two pair of old work jeans, so it’s a tough job keeping them clean.”

  Abby stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Me, too.”

  “I tossed what was just wet in the dryer and put my muddy jeans and coat in the washer. I’ll put your stuff in next. This rain is so cold that I feel like I fell into a frozen lake even yet. I’m making hot chocolate and starting a fire. Shall I make three cups? I feel sorry for Bonnie. That little leather jacket is all she’s got.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve got an extra camo jacket. Think she’d like to wear it?” Abby asked.

  “You could ask her. Hey, what’s for dinner?” Shiloh asked.

  Abby had forgotten all about it being her day to cook. “I was planning on meatloaf, but since it took twice as long to get the feeding done in this weather, how about vegetable soup and cornbread and maybe a pan of chocolate chip bar cookies for dessert?”

  “Sounds wonderful. I’m going to my room and catch up on e-mails. My friends in Arkansas probably think I’ve died,” Shiloh said.

  Abby finished undressing and tossed the pile of wet clothing toward the washing machine. Shiloh had piled her things on top of the dryer, so Abby grabbed them and headed toward her bedroom. She tossed them onto the bed; picked up her shower kit, a pair of pajama pants, an oversized T-shirt, and underwear; and headed toward the bathroom. If she hurried, she could be finished by the time Bonnie arrived. Martha curled up in the rocking chair and shut her eyes.

  “Kind of nice being in out of the rain, isn’t it, old girl?” Abby said. “You just stay right there. You don’t need to protect me in the shower.”

  She could have let the water beat down on her back for an hour, but the minute she felt warm blood flowing through her veins instead of ice water she turned off the faucets and threw back the curtain. Steam had fogged the mirror and hung above her head like smoke in a cheap honky-tonk. It felt so good that she would have sat down on the edge of the tub and soaked more of it in, but she heard Bonnie talking out in the hallway. Abby hurriedly threw a towel around her body and motioned Bonnie inside when she stepped out into the hallway.

  “I left the steam,” she said.

  Bonnie smiled. “Milk is strained and in the refrigerator. Poor old cow probably thought my hands had been dipped in ice water. I hope this is the last of winter.”

  “Shiloh is building a fire and making us all a cup of good hot chocolate. I’m making vegetable soup for dinner. You’ll feel better in a little bit.”

  “Thank God we don’t have to go back out until evening,” Bonnie said.

  Abby found Shiloh curled up on one end of the sofa with a quilt thrown over her legs. She wore a pair of dark blue knit pajamas printed with bright red high-heeled shoes and had a book in her hands.

  Martha, Vivien, and Polly were sprawled out in front of the fireplace. Abby eyed the old, worn leather recliner. No one had touched Ezra’s chair since they’d first arrived. It was just a chair, for heaven’s sake.

  Shiloh drew her legs up to make room. “You can sit here beside me. Your chocolate is right there on the end table.”

  Abby shook her head. “No, I’m sitting in this chair.”

  “You are a braver woman than I am. I’ve avoided that chair because it smelled like smoke until I used a whole bottle of leather cleaner on it last week and then sprayed underneath it with disinfectant. At least that’s the story I kept telling myself until now. I’m actually afraid the chair will make me more like him.”

  Abby picked up the plush throw from the back of the chair and plopped down before she lost her courage. “It’s just a chair.”

  “Maybe it is to you, but you’ve fought wars. I haven’t. Do you ever fear that you’ll be the kind of parent that would turn your back on your child like Ezra did?” Shiloh asked.

  “It scares the shit out of me,” Abby said.

  “Me, too,” Shiloh said. “And that fear gives me severe commitment issues. I get close to a man, then I create a problem so either he breaks up with me or else he gets angry and that gives me reason to break it off with him.”

  “Never thought of it like that, but I guess I’m in the same boat with you.”

  “Not a very pleasant boat, is it?” Shiloh said.

  “No, but at least we know why we are the way we are,” A
bby said.

  “Why we are what?” Bonnie joined them, worming her way through the dogs until she could pull the extra rocking chair up to the fire and hold her hands out to warm them. Her chambray shirt was faded and her flannel pajama pants were two sizes too big. “Lord, I hate bein’ wet and cold both. A nice summer rain with a sexy cowboy under a big old cottonwood tree can be nice. But feeding cows in mud and milking in a cold barn is miserable. Now what was it that we were talkin’ about?”

  “Afraid of commitment. Afraid we’ll be sorry mothers,” Shiloh said.

  “I just figured that all came from my mama, but I guess I got a double dose with the Ezra genes,” she said. “So y’all have the same feelings.”

  Both Shiloh and Abby nodded.

  Martha and Polly sat up at the same time, growling and eyes darting around the room. Vivien slowly went into a crouch and did a belly crawl across the floor.

  “It’s just thunder and it’s a long way off,” Shiloh said.

  Martha barked loudly and Polly ran to the back door. Vivien put her paws on the doorknob and whined.

  “What’s gotten into them? It thundered . . . oh, my God! Why is the house shaking?” Shiloh covered her ears.

  “It’s an earthquake in the middle of a rainstorm,” Abby yelled.

  Bonnie shook her head and rushed to the kitchen window overlooking the backyard. “That’s not an earthquake. It’s a stampede. They just broke down the back fence and here they come. They’re splittin’ around the house, so that should slow them down.”

  Shiloh and Abby raced to the window. Three women watched a black sea of cattle break when they saw a house in front of them. The ground trembled beneath so many hooves and the thundering got louder the closer they got. The fence hadn’t even slowed them down. They’d come right through it and they didn’t come to a screeching halt until they reached the back porch.

  “Whew. For a minute there I thought they might plow right through the window,” Bonnie said. “Y’all okay?”

  “That was wild. It was like a car wreck. I couldn’t take my eyes off it but I knew I should run for cover,” Shiloh answered.

  Abby just nodded in agreement. A dozen thoughts went through her mind, beginning with hoping that Bonnie knew how to repair fences and herd cattle in hard rain.

  “Abby?” Bonnie asked.

  “We’ve got lightning, rain, and scared cows,” Shiloh groaned.

  “The key word is we. We might not know everything about runnin’ a ranch, but if we stick together, we can take care of this.” Abby’s tone sounded a hell of a lot more confident than she felt, but she had faith in her sisters.

  In a few minutes the yard was completely full of bawling cattle stomping over every blade of grass and breaking down all the rosebushes. Their rolling eyes and heaving sides said they were still spooked, but one section of fence was all that was destroyed . . . if the yard and flowers weren’t counted.

  “I bet there’s fifty head out there and best I can see, they’ve all got the Lucky Seven brand.”

  “What happened?” Shiloh asked.

  Bonnie took a deep breath. “Scared me, I’ll admit it. I don’t know for sure, but my guess would be that a streak of lightning spooked the shit out of them and caused a stampede. They’re not our cows, girls. They belong to the Lucky Seven, which means there’s a busted barbed-wire fence between our property and Cooper’s. So much for staying in the house. We’ve got to round them up and get them back on his side of the fence.”

  “Shit! Shit! Shit! My coat isn’t near dry and Abby’s is still soppin’ wet,” Shiloh said.

  “That must’ve scared you.” Abby finally smiled. “I haven’t heard you cuss like that before.”

  “Yes, it scared me, and it’s days like this I want to pack my bags and head back to Arkansas,” she said.

  Bonnie started for her room. “I guess these dogs will get to show us how good they are. Thank God I know how to mend a barbed-wire fence. I’ll get the things from the tack room and we’ll herd cattle with the truck and the dogs.”

  “And Rusty’s four-wheelers,” Abby said.

  “He didn’t say we couldn’t use them. Keys are on the rack,” Bonnie said.

  “I have no idea how to drive a four-wheeler,” Shiloh said.

  “Then you can drive the truck,” Abby told her. “We can get this done in a couple of hours and still have the afternoon to rest.”

  The dogs did a fine job of herding the cows back through the broken fence, but then the cattle decided to veer off seven ways to Sunday. Shiloh kept the biggest part of the herd moving across the pasture toward the fence a mile away with the help of Martha on one side and the other two dogs on the other.

  Bonnie rode one of the four-wheelers on the west side of the main herd, cussing loud enough to blister the hides of any heifers that strayed.

  Abby manned her post on the east side and the area behind the truck with enough swearing to earn her a thumbs-up from Bonnie a couple of times. Using the torn-up ground as a guide to drive them toward where she hoped they’d find the broken fence, Shiloh drove with the window down, screaming at the cows as loud as both her sisters.

  They were making progress until the truck got stuck in the mud about halfway across the pasture. Shiloh turned off the engine, motioned toward her sisters to keep moving, and started herding cows on foot.

  “Where in the hell is a burst of thunder when we need it?” Abby yelled over her shoulder at her sister.

  Shiloh, bless her heart, looked miserable with her hair hanging in her face. Abby was glad she couldn’t see herself, because she probably looked even worse.

  As if answering her prayers, lightning sliced through the rain, hit a mesquite tree dead-on and set it on fire. The blaze didn’t last long, but the crack of the hit echoed through the canyon like a kid yelling down into a deep well. Then the thunder rolled right over their heads. The lead bull rolled his eyes and doubled his speed, the cows following right behind him. At the fence line, he tried to turn and go back the other way, but Martha nipped his heels and made him keep going.

  “Good dog,” Abby said.

  That’s when the front tire of the four-wheeler hit a gopher hole. The engine stalled out and Abby went flying over the handlebars to land in a nice mushy pile of cow shit. Instinctively, she tried to get rid of it by wiping her hand on the leg of her pants but all that did was smear it. Shiloh ran over to make sure she was all right, only to slip in the mud and go sliding a good five feet on her belly before coming to rest at the four-wheeler’s back tire. When Abby extended her clean hand to help her up, she took it, but the ground was so greasy that Abby lost her footing again. One minute she was looking at her sister, trying her damnedest to keep from laughing; the next she was staring up at gray skies with rain beating down on her face and a black cow the size of a barn running toward them.

  At the last minute, Martha got between them and the cow and steered her off in the opposite direction. Abby’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. Her pulse throbbed behind her eyes and the cows were breaking from the herd faster than Bonnie could take care of it on her own.

  “Help me get this damn thing pushed out of the hole and you can ride on the back with me. You’re not doing a bit of good out there on foot anyway,” Abby said.

  “If y’all are through horsin’ around, I could use some help,” Bonnie yelled.

  Abby couldn’t believe her eyes when Shiloh flipped her off.

  Lightning took out another mesquite tree and the rain came down even harder. It slowed the herd down, but kept them together better than before. The dogs were able to keep the rest of them headed toward Cooper’s fence and the four-wheelers on each side deterred any straying.

  They marched right through the busted fence and huddled up not far into the Lucky Seven property like a bunch of football players on Friday night. Bonnie pulled ou
t a roll of barbed wire, a pair of cutters, and a stretcher from the saddlebag on the back of the four-wheeler and headed for the fence.

  She barked orders and Abby and Shiloh followed them without arguing. “Y’all keep the cows from coming back through or any of ours from going over into Cooper’s pasture while I get the first strand up. Then y’all can help me with the last two strands.”

  Abby was sure glad that Bonnie knew something about everything because she didn’t know jack shit about how to fix a barbed-wire fence. She could probably blow one up, but putting one back together was a whole different ball game.

  At the end of the repair job, Abby had a barbed-wire scratch on her wrist, her camo jacket was torn, and she was standing ankle-deep in water. Bonnie had a scratch across her cheek where the barbed wire had popped back and bit her and Abby’s loaned jacket had a long slit down one arm. Shiloh’s jeans had a tear in the thigh with a red bloodstain outlining it and the tennis shoes she wore were completely covered in cold water.

  “If we don’t have pneumonia or gangrene tomorrow morning, it will be a miracle . . . oh, no! No! No! No!” Abby stomped, sending a splash all the way to Bonnie’s eyes.

  Bonnie wiped at her eyes and pushed limp strands of soaking-wet hair behind her ears. “What the hell? If there is another damn Lucky Seven cow on Malloy land, Cooper can take care of it later.”

  “Look. I’m counting at least four head of Malloy cows over there and we’ve already fixed the fence.” Abby pointed.

  “So much for Rusty and Cooper not knowing that we had trouble.” Shiloh brushed fresh blood from her leg and wiped her hand on the seat of her jeans.

  “I’m not cutting this fence. Cooper and Rusty can take a cattle trailer over there later and get them,” Bonnie said.

  “Let’s go get that truck unstuck and go home,” Abby said.

  “Let’s just go home and forget the truck,” Shiloh said.