Daisies in the Canyon(78)

“You look like you are about to explode,” Cooper said.

“What if I don’t want to marry you?”

“You made that clear already. But a child needs two parents.”

“Why? Your grandpa was your only parent and I never had a father.”

“But it wasn’t a perfect situation, was it?” he argued.

“Life isn’t perfect.”

“If I father a child, I will be part of his or her life, Abby.”

“I would not marry you, Cooper. Not for that reason.”

“I’m not surprised one bit.”

“Why?”

“You just told Nona you hoped I didn’t have a branding iron. Where are we headed with this thing, Abby?”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” She put up her hand.

“I need some air and I see your sisters coming in the door. I’ll be back in five minutes.” He left her sitting on the stool and didn’t even speak to Shiloh and Bonnie as he went outside.

“Where’s Cooper going? Did he get a call to go back to the sheriff’s office tonight?” Bonnie hiked a hip on the stool he’d left behind.

“Look. There’s Rusty over there dancing with a woman,” Shiloh said.

“And there’s your cowboy sitting at the table with Nona and Travis.” Bonnie smiled.

“Waylon is not my cowboy.” Shiloh blushed.

Abby had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak. “I need my truck keys. I’m leaving right after I make sure Rusty can give y’all a ride home.”

“Fight?” Shiloh asked.

“Big one.”

Bonnie leaned in closer so she could be heard above the noise of the jukebox. “I’m going home with you, then. You don’t need to be alone. Come on. Shiloh, you can stay and flirt with your cowboy.”

Shiloh’s mouth clamped together in the same firm line that it had the morning the coyote got into her henhouse. “I’m going with you.”

Cooper was standing with a group of cowboys beside a black pickup truck. His back was to the Sugar Shack, but his stance told Abby that he was still angry. Shoulders thrown back, legs slightly apart, arms folded over his broad chest. She didn’t need to see his face to know that a mad spell was sitting firmly on his shoulders. A woman with flaming-red hair pushed her way out of the crowd and plastered herself to his side. In the moonlight, Abby could see one of her hands teasing its way up his inner thigh as she gazed up into his face.

Abby made it to the backseat of the truck before she gave way to the tears.

“Start talkin’,” Bonnie said.

“She can’t talk. She’s cryin’ too hard. They had a fight and now there’s a redhead trying to get his zipper down and she saw it,” Shiloh said.

They were home before Abby’s sobs turned into sniffles. With Bonnie on one side of her patting her shoulder and Shiloh on the other, keeping her supplied with fresh tissues, she was finally able to tell them about the argument.

“Neither one of you is settled in a commitment like you should be. Everything has happened right on the heels of a funeral that unnerved us all,” Shiloh said. “It’s like you got the foundation put up for a house and an earthquake has come and shook it real good. Now what do you do? Shore it up and keep building or stick some dynamite under it and blow it all to smithereens?”

“She don’t need a bunch of mumbo-jumbo therapy shit,” Bonnie said. “She just needs us to be here for her so she can vent. She’ll figure out what she wants to do after the fire dies down from the argument.”

“What I need is a shot of whiskey,” Abby said.

“What you need is moonshine. That would knock you on your ass and tomorrow things will look better, but we don’t have any more,” Shiloh said.

“Whiskey will have to do.” Bonnie started for the kitchen. “Want a beer, Shiloh?”

“I’d love one.”

“I’m so sorry I ruined your night,” Abby said.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Having a sister is more important than dancing in a butt-ugly pink honky-tonk,” Shiloh answered.

“That place was one ugly son of a bitch.” Bonnie put a double shot of whiskey in Abby’s hand and gave Shiloh an open bottle of beer.

Abby took a sip and a weak giggle escaped from her chest. “Anything that damned ugly is sure to stir up trouble. Blame the whole mess tonight on the color pink. I vow to never even eat strawberry ice cream again.”

“That’s the spirit.” Shiloh touched her beer bottle to Abby’s glass. “We shall all three boycott pink from this day forth.”

“Never liked it anyway. It reminds me of Pepto-Bismol and puke,” Bonnie agreed.





Chapter Twenty

Abby’s mama always said things looked much better in daylight than they did in the dark. She was right again. Sunday morning was one of those beautiful days that promises winter won’t last forever and spring is on the way.

The argument was the last thing she’d thought about as the whiskey and tears dulled her senses so she could sleep the night before. It was the first thing she thought about when she awoke that morning. It had been as much her fault as Cooper’s, because she’d run from the problem rather than showing him that she was willing to fight for what they’d built. Now she just had to figure out how to make it right.