Daisies in the Canyon(62)

“It is what it is. Today it’s pity. I wonder what these other folks saw in this canyon. It doesn’t have a lot to recommend it.”

“It’s home,” he said.

“I guess it is at that.”

He tucked a fist under her chin and lowered his face to hers. Their cold lips met in a kiss right there in the cemetery under a scrub oak tree that had shaded part of the cemetery for years.

Crazy, insane thoughts chased through her mind. No one should think about fertilizer when a handsome, sexy cowboy was kissing her. But that’s exactly what came to Abby’s mind. With each kiss, each touch, and every glance, it was as if she really was putting down roots in the canyon. Perhaps that meant everything he did was like the root stimulator her mother used on the petunias in the flower boxes at the café. If so, maybe growing roots wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

Several long, lingering kisses later, he pulled away. They were both panting by now and she forgot about anything but the ache down deep that wanted so much more than kisses.

He gripped her hand in his and led her out of the cemetery. “I’m walking you home now, Abby.”

“And then I’ll drive you home,” she said.

“I can hop the fence and be there in a few minutes. Besides, as hot as I am right now, I need the cooldown time,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

Had she really been making out like a teenager? And in the cemetery? A slow burn started at the base of her neck and crept around to her cheeks.

Keeping her hand tight in his, he walked her right up to the door, with Martha tagging along behind them. He kissed her and whispered, “Good night, Abby. Thank you for taking care of the cattle, the bull, and the fence. And please make Chinese food on one of your days to cook this week.”

“It’s a promise,” she whispered.

He let go of her hand and she felt empty, as if someone had torn all her new little roots out of the ground. She wanted to reach out and tell him to come inside with her, even if only for a cup of coffee, so she could reclaim the feeling, but he was jogging toward the barn. She watched until he was completely out of sight before she went inside.

Martha rushed in ahead of her and curled up in front of the fireplace with Vivien and Polly.

“Where have you been?” Bonnie looked up from the sofa.

“The cemetery.”

Shiloh picked up the remote and put the television on mute. “Was that Cooper on the porch with you?”

Abby dragged one of the wooden rocking chairs across the floor so it was close enough she could prop her boots on the coffee table and then sat down. But she was far too antsy to prop her feet. She set the chair into motion with her foot. The constant movement rested her frazzled nerves a little bit. “It was Cooper, and I figured out something about those boxes under our beds while I was at the cemetery.”

“I’d rather hear about Cooper and if he kisses good. Cemeteries give me the creeps,” Bonnie said.

“What’d you figure out?” Shiloh asked.

Abby told them her theory about why Ezra had kept such close tabs on them.

“Wow!” Shiloh whispered.

“The old shit! If it had been me who’d had a son, he wouldn’t have even looked at my boy,” Bonnie said.

“What makes you think that?” Abby asked.

“Because he would have liked me the least.”

Shiloh shook her head. “I don’t think so. He would have been proud of you, Bonnie. You know more about ranchin’ than either of us and he would have respected that.”

“And you are a lady, so he would have liked you,” Abby told Shiloh.

“And you are so smart, Shiloh.”

“But you, Abby, you are the one who showed him that a woman can be anything she wants, including a soldier. No, Bonnie, I think in his own way, he was probably proud of all of us. Not that he would ever admit it,” Shiloh said.

“Maybe so, but it’s damn sad that he gave up knowing us and waited for a grandson that never came along,” Abby said.





Chapter Fifteen

Cooper hadn’t shown up for dinner either Monday or Tuesday. At first Abby was antsy, but by Wednesday she was bitchy. Just when she thought she was putting a couple of roots down, Madam Fate created a virtual tornado that tore everything up. She was glad she was cooking that day so she could be alone. Neither Shiloh or Bonnie needed to have to deal with her bad mood.

Damn that sheriff business that kept him at the courthouse both days and today he had a prisoner escort from Silverton to Lubbock. It was less than a hundred miles, but it would take all morning and part of the afternoon by the time the paperwork was done.

Abby and her sisters had set up a pattern that first week. The living room and dusting belonged to Shiloh on Monday. Cleaning the kitchen and utility room was Bonnie’s job on Tuesday and the bathrooms were Abby’s on Wednesday.

With all her jobs completed, and an hour left before the rest of the crew came home for dinner, she was bored. She’d called Haley earlier but she was in class all day. Both her sisters were repairing the corral so they could bring up the cattle next week to be vaccinated and tagged. After dinner she’d be out there with them, slinging a hammer and tearing away rotted boards, learning still another ranchin’ job. She only hoped her mood softened by then.