Daisies in the Canyon(65)

Here she wouldn’t have a single distraction and she could make up her mind, once and for all, about her future.




The sun was setting when Cooper finally finished his work in Lubbock and stopped in at Fuzzy’s Tacos for a couple of fish tacos. It had taken a hell of a lot longer than he’d expected, but he’d gotten a late start and then there had been an accident that held up traffic for a solid hour. Then there was the transfer paperwork.

He’d tried to call Abby a couple of times but it went straight to voice mail. He figured she’d left her phone in the bedroom and couldn’t hear it, so he sent a couple of text messages.

The waitress was a tall redhead with brilliant green eyes and the way she winked and smiled, he had no doubt that she would give him her phone number if he asked. The woman was exactly his type, including the green eyes and sassy attitude. Two weeks ago he would have flirted with the lady, but he missed Abby, plain and simple.

He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. His vibrating phone said he had a text message. Hoping it was from Abby, he hurriedly unbuttoned his pocket to get at it, but the picture that came up was Rusty.

Come by the bunkhouse when you get home.

Cooper replied: At Fuzzy’s eating tacos. What’s up?

The reply: We need to talk in person. See you in a couple of hours.





Chapter Sixteen

Abby opened the door with a key card, tossed it on the top of the television stand, dropped her duffel bag on a chair, and stretched out on the bed.

“Talk to me, Mama,” she said, offering free access to her conscience.

Not tonight. You don’t believe in fate or omens. And you are not superstitious, remember?

That was it. There were no more voices inside her head that cold, blustery evening. Nothing to help her decide if she should go back to Galveston, walk into the recruiting office, and reenlist. She had thirty days to put her name on the line and not lose any of her rank, and she could request a duty station. Hawaii might be nice after the past few days.

When her eyes grew heavy, she removed her boots and pulled the side of the duvet up over her body and went to sleep. It was a deep sleep that produced a dream that played like a miniseries, lasting all night. In the first part, they were young and he was chasing her through a field of wild daisies. She giggled like a little girl, her blonde hair flying behind her as she ran through the soft red dirt in her bare feet. In the second scene, they were at his house at the Lucky Seven, alone and working the ranch with him teaching her something new every day. In the third part, there were children, but were they her children? A little dark-haired girl watched her from a window in the house and a B-2 bomber plane flew overhead.

She awoke with a start and sat up in bed, trembling, sweating, and a lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she swallowed. She looked up into the pitch-black darkness.

“What are you telling me? That I’d be a horrible mother?”

She went to the bathroom, washed her face, removed all her clothing except for her underwear, and this time turned down the bed and slipped between the cool sheets. The dream picked up where it had left off. The little girl in the window waved and Abby waved back. In a minute she ran out the front door and into Abby’s arms. In the fourth part of the dream, she and Cooper had gray in their hair. They were walking hand in hand across a plowed field.

She awoke at four thirty in the morning, made a pot of coffee, and paced back and forth while it dripped. The hotel cup was one of those paper kinds without a sleeve so she’d take a sip, set it down, make a trip from the door to the window and then take another sip on her way back across the floor.

“Why couldn’t it be clear? All of it? I came for answers and all I get is more questions,” she asked the blank screen on the television as she passed it.

She flung the curtains open and looked out at the darkness. “You are going to have to spell it out to me, Mama. I dreamed about Cooper. Does that mean I’m not supposed to reenlist?”

Nothing. Not a damn thing. No voices in her head. Not even a shooting star. She made another trip across the floor and drank some more coffee.

She shook her fist at the moon that time. “I hate for things to be unsettled.”

Falling back into the chair beside the window, she threw her hand over her eyes and the pieces began to fall together. She was supposed to stay at the ranch until spring, when she would scatter her mother’s ashes somewhere symbolic. She was not supposed to reenlist and the part about Cooper, well, that was always going to be a day at a time. Some things were hers to know and brought a modicum of peace. Others, evidently, were not—and Cooper fell into the latter part.

She dressed, picked up her duffel bag and room key, and checked out of the motel.




Cooper tried to watch a movie on television, but he couldn’t stay focused enough to keep up with the story line. He picked up a mystery book, but that couldn’t keep his attention either. He made a trip to the refrigerator and stared at the contents for five minutes before he realized he couldn’t eat if he wanted to. Finally, he poured a double shot of whiskey and carried it to the living room. He sipped it slowly and picked up his phone to call Abby to ask her to rethink leaving for good. But she needed to make the decision on her own. If anyone influenced her, she might have regrets later. Still, it was a long restless night of dozing a few minutes on the sofa and awakening to check the time. Then falling back asleep only to wake again in fifteen or twenty minutes.