Daisies in the Canyon(79)

She stumbled from bedroom to kitchen to find Shiloh cooking and Rusty with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stolen piece of bacon from the platter where Shiloh stacked it up next to the scrambled eggs.

“Where’d you go last night? One minute you and Cooper were all hugged up and the next you were gone. He was an old bear all evening. I finally told him to go home because he was putting a damper on the whole place with his pouting,” Rusty asked.

“He deserved to be in a bad mood.” Bonnie rubbed sleep out of her eyes and went straight for the coffeepot.

“What did he do?”

“Ask him,” Shiloh answered.

“He was a jackass,” Bonnie said.

“Never saw him act like that and I’ve known him since we were kids. What did you do, Abby?” Rusty eyed her carefully.

Rusty turned his gaze on Abby and she felt like those big green eyes of his behind the thick glasses could see straight into her soul. “It’s a long story and I’ll take partial blame for the argument. Neither of us handled it right.”

“She’s fighting a commitment war,” Bonnie said.

Rusty shivered. “That word scares the bejesus out of me.”

“It does most men and women, too, if they are honest,” Shiloh said. “Let’s eat before this gets cold. We’ve got chores to do and church and then we’re all expected at Nona’s for dinner today.”

“Damn! I forgot about that. Maybe Cooper won’t go,” Abby groaned.

Rusty picked up a plate and started loading it up with breakfast food. “Cooper does not turn down home-cooked meals, and you should know that.”

Abby sat down to breakfast and suddenly her mother’s voice was in her head. She shoved crisp bacon in her mouth, but not even the crunch of chewing could make Martha Malloy hush.

You are acting like a child. So you and Cooper had a fight and you are miserable. You think he’s not in the same fix as you? Adults talk things out, girl. They don’t run away from their problems. And remember, you could be pregnant, so you need to talk about that rationally, too.

Bonnie kicked Abby under the table. “You are doing that again.”

“What?” Abby asked.

“Fighting with yourself. You have this look on your face. I reckon we all do when we’re trying to figure out something and our heart tells us one thing and our head is saying something else,” Bonnie answered.

“Do you ever get someone’s voice in your head and you couldn’t knock it out if you hit yourself between the eyes with a sledge-hammer?” Abby asked.

“Oh, yeah. It’s called your conscience and mine usually has my mama’s voice,” Shiloh said.

“And mine has my dad’s.” Rusty nodded.

“Granny’s.” Bonnie shrugged and looked at Abby. “So who are you fighting with this morning?”

“That would be my mother,” Abby answered.

Her mama could give her a sign or maybe talk to God about sending one. She’d appreciate anything at all that would ease the turmoil in her soul.

“And what is she telling you?” Bonnie asked.

“To be honest with myself,” Abby said. That was all she was going to admit until she figured things out. A sign would still be nice.

Rusty changed the subject. “Tomorrow we’ve got more plowing to get done. Right across the field from where Cooper is about to tear up a field and put another crop of winter wheat. Y’all enjoy the day off, because it’s about to get really busy and believe me, come spring, it will be hectic even with all of us working.”

There’s your sign. Martha’s voice came through loud and clear.

Signs should fall from the clouds with a full set of directions, objectives, and side effects. They should definitely not come in vague terms about plowing a field the next day, but that’s all Abby had, so she’d have to figure it out on her own.

Plowing, fence, busy: those three words stuck in her head as she ate breakfast and did her part of the morning work. She’d finished feeding the hogs when it dawned on her. If she didn’t go to church and instead plowed that field for Cooper, maybe it would be an olive branch and then they could sit down and talk rationally about that commitment word.

She left a note on the table telling her sisters that she wouldn’t join them at church that morning and to give her regrets to Loretta and the folks over on Lonesome Canyon. She drove over to the Lucky Seven, picked the keys to the tractor off a nail in the barn, and settled in for half a day’s work.




Cooper looked in the rearview mirror as he drove away from the ranch that morning and noticed a truck that looked a lot like Abby’s pull out onto the road and head toward Claude. But then she’d been on his mind nonstop, in both waking and sleeping time, since the argument at the Sugar Shack. Granted, the whole thing was partially his fault. He’d hoped that she felt the same way about him as he did her, but she’d shot that down with her comment about being branded. Then there was the possible pregnancy and the fact that she might be leaving the canyon for good.

Or maybe it’s not even her truck. How many in this canyon look just like hers?

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He should have taken care of protection or at least asked her if she was on the pill. That part was his fault. He’d behaved like a jackass or worse, like an immature teenager, leaving her sitting on a bar stool like that. He’d caught a glimpse of her leaving and he knew she’d seen the drunk redhead trying to put the make on him. He should have run after her or at least called her the night before.