Daisies in the Canyon(53)

“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.

“You have my promise,” Bonnie said. “When the wild strawberries are ready, we’ll pick a bunch and I’ll try my hand at making a batch with a strawberry flavor.”

“It’ll be wonshurful,” Abby said.

“What was he thinkin’, spyin’ on us like that? The room is spinning. It’s been years since I’ve been drunk,” Shiloh said. “I’m going to just lie down here and prop my head on the arm of this ugly-as-shit sofa. I’m going to throw it out in the yard for the dogs to sleep on when this ranch belongs to me. And I’m getting a nice neutral brown carpet. I’m not putting orange in here. God, it would look like a cheap hippie place.”

“Well, thank you so much. Just for that smart-ass remark, I’ll buy bright orange carpet for the whole place when the ranch is mine. And then I’ll buy baby-pink leather furniture and paint all the walls turquoise,” Bonnie said.

“Are you trying to make us puke?” Abby groaned.

“If you throw up, you clean up. I’ve done enough cleaning up after Mama in my lifetime. I’m not takin’ on you two to raise at this late date.”

“Oh, hush. I’m going to be here when both of y’all are long gone. Listen to that damned old bull wailing about his harem bein’ gone,” Shiloh giggled.

Abby reached for the lever to throw the chair back to a reclining position, but it was gone. “Shit fire! The bull ate the switch.”

Bonnie got up and pulled the lever for her. “That make the room stop spinning?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. Now can you do something about those spiders on the ceiling?” Abby asked. “And Shiloh, I don’t know what was in that old codger’s mind about us. I think maybe he drank too much of this shit and it fried his brain cells. But I sure can’t see him raisin’ us three indie . . . pensh—shit, girls. God, Bonnie, get a flyswatter and kill them damn spiders.”

Shiloh threw her hands over her eyes. “I see the spiders. Kill them, Bonnie. I hate spiders. Why would Abby put spiders on the ceiling? It’s just to make us leave so she can have the ranch and this butt-ugly sofa. I bet she plans to have sex with Cooper on it.”

Abby shut her eyes and there were her favorite pictures of Cooper again. She’d have to tell him to stay away from that god-awful moonshine when he got home. That shit would knock even a tough cowboy like him square on his butt. And if that happened, not a single wild seed would get sown, so they wouldn’t need to go to church. Had he asked her to go to church with him next week, or was it to a candy factory? She remembered something about a sugar shack. Surely to goodness the church wasn’t named that. It had to be a candy place. She hoped they sold good chocolate and maybe even peanut butter fudge like her mother used to make.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced loudly. “Bonnie, throw the switch to get me out of this chair, please.”

Thank God for furniture and walls and Bonnie, who performed some kind of magic to get her out of Ezra’s chair. She slowly made her way from doorway to chair, which she missed when she tried to sit down and slid down to the floor.

“Ass okay,” she slurred.

The doorbell rang and she tried to stand up, but the walls kept moving toward her. On the third ring she figured out it was coming from her hip pocket, which meant it was her phone and not the doorbell. She fished it out and dropped it on the seat of the chair.

“Damn slippery little thing. I bet Shiloh greased the sucker down.” Finally she got control of it and answered, “Hello.”

“Did I wake you?” Cooper asked.

“Nope, the bull was ringing the doorbell. Pesky old fart learned a new trick but I’m not going to charge you for it,” she said.

“Are you high or drunk?”

“I. Do. Not. Did. Drugs,” she said emphatically.

“How much of that moonshine did you drink?” Cooper’s voice was so loud that she held the phone out from her ear and scowled at it.

“Don’t holler at me. I can hold my liquor,” she said.

“I wasn’t yelling. I was actually talking low because Rusty is asleep.”

“Bullshit. That’s what’s all over the porch and the roses are gone and I hate roses. Did I tell you that? I do not like roses. Don’t bring me roses when we have sex.”

“Abby, you are drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Do you need glasses? I told you I can hold my liquor.”

“Why would I need glasses?”

“To see that I’m not drunk. Did I tell you that the bull rang the doorbell and that I think you are sexy and it would be easy to fall in love with you and good night, Cooper?”

He chuckled. “Good night, Abby.”