Daisies in the Canyon(26)

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 flashed 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?”