Chapter Nineteen
Martha wiggled around in the big velvet rocking chair to catch more of the fading sunlight on her face. Bonnie sat cross-legged on the floor on one side of the chair with Shiloh on the other side.
“There’s a bed right there. Y’all don’t have to sit on the floor,” Abby said.
“I’ve only conquered sitting in Ezra’s chair in the past few days. I’m not ready to sit on his bed,” Bonnie said.
“Your superstition is showing.” Abby leaned closer to the mirror above the chest of drawers and applied mascara.
“I was raised up in the hollers of Kentucky. Superstition is part of our culture. It will surface real often, so get used to it,” Bonnie answered.
“I thought that belonged to folks in Louisiana,” Abby said.
“They don’t get to claim all the rights. Neither does Kentucky. In my family, it’s put into our DNA long before we’re born,” Shiloh said. “How about you, Abby? You superstitious?”
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure I know what I am anymore.”
“Wonder if Ezra was superstitious?” Bonnie asked. “My mama is, so if he was, I got a double dose.”
“So is my mama. She’ll drive around four city blocks to keep from crossing the same road that a black cat has,” Shiloh said.
“So was my mama. She had lucky numbers and she always read her horoscope, but I’ve slept in that bed every night since we arrived on this ranch and lightning hasn’t struck me. I haven’t even dreamed about Ezra. He hasn’t appeared like a hologram in the corner at night, either. If he had, I wouldn’t be here.” Abby laughed.
Bonnie chuckled. “Changing the subject here. How are things with Cooper?”
“Remember that conversation we had about commitment? I’m scared out of my mind at this point when it comes to Cooper.”
“Cooper is a good man,” Bonnie said.
“I know that. My heart knows that, but there’s a little part of me afraid of getting hurt if . . .” Abby left the sentence hanging.
“Ever hear that song, ‘The Dance,’ that Garth Brooks sang years ago? One of the lines says something about ‘you could have missed the pain, but you’d have had to miss the dance,’?” Bonnie said.
“That makes sense. Life don’t come with promises of rainbows without the rain first. You and Cooper belong together. Don’t be afraid,” Shiloh said.
“Coming from the person who has the same issues I do?” Abby asked.
“Yes, I do and when I find someone, I’m going to come whining to you about it being complicated. Don’t you just love that word? It covers a multitude of stuff. What happened between you and Cooper that you haven’t told us?” Shiloh asked.
“Not the sex part.” Bonnie laughed. “You can keep that part secret, but tell us what happened afterward.”
Abby hesitated as she tried to put into words the feelings she’d had the night before.
“Either get out of the water or dive in. You can’t stand on the shore with your toes in the surf,” Shiloh said.
“My advice is to dive, because if you don’t, you will be miserable your whole life. And,” Bonnie said, “you’ll have to go to church tomorrow and pray for a crop failure with all those seeds, won’t you? I do hope you used protection of some kind.”
Abby’s chest tightened up and she had trouble catching her next breath. She hadn’t even thought of protection. The prescription for her birth control had run out several months ago and since she wasn’t seeing anyone, she hadn’t bothered to see a doctor to get a new one. Shutting her eyes so she could think better, she replayed both times she’d had sex with Cooper.
God Almighty, had the canyon wiped out her ability to think straight or did Cooper get that credit? Not once in all her life had she fallen into bed with someone as quickly as she had with Cooper—or been as irresponsible, either.
Before she could form words to answer Bonnie, someone rapped on the front door. Abby checked the clock beside her bed and saw that Cooper was right on time for their date to go to the Sugar Shack.
“Don’t just sit there. Go let him in,” Bonnie said.
“And have fun,” Shiloh said.
“Why don’t y’all go have some fun tonight, too? You don’t have to have a date to get in the doors at the Sugar Shack.” She fished in her purse for her keys and tossed them at Bonnie. “Take my truck. They might not even let you park a van in the lot at a honky-tonk.”
“Why not?” Shiloh asked.
Bonnie caught them midair. “Because it’s a cowboy place and they might only allow trucks. Don’t argue. She’s offering to loan us her royal chariot tonight.”
“Hey, is there a gorgeous woman in this house who’s promised to dance with this rusty old cowboy tonight?” Cooper’s voice floated down the hall.
“It’s not a royal chariot,” Abby said.
“You are the queen, the firstborn, which gives you the crown until you jump the barbed-wire fence over onto the Lucky Seven. Right, Bonnie?” Shiloh grinned.
Bonnie dangled the keys in the air. “Yes, ma’am, she does.”
She rolled her eyes at her sisters and made her way to the living room, where Cooper waited with another bouquet of gorgeous daisies. This time they were all yellow with brown centers and arranged in a quart-sized fruit jar with a big blue ribbon tied around the top.
He held them out to her. “For the lovely blonde lady with the blue eyes.”
She took them in one hand and rolled up on her toes to kiss him. “They are beautiful.”
“But you are gorgeous this evening,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” she smiled up at him. It would be easy to fall in love with him, just like she’d said when she was drunk off her ass.
“More flowers. I’m jealous,” Shiloh said as she made her way down the hall.
Bonnie was right behind her and held out a hand. “Give them to me and I’ll put them in your room.”
“Thank you,” Abby said.
Cooper laced his fingers in hers. “We’re off to the Sugar Shack to do some serious dancing.”
“We might see you there in a little while. If you’d give us directions, we would appreciate it,” Bonnie said.
Cooper quickly told them how to get there and then he led Abby outside. The sunset had finished its show for the evening and the stars had popped out. A big lover’s moon rested on top of the chimney-shaped formation as if it were a gazing ball. Too damn bad it couldn’t show her a glimpse of the future.
With his hand holding hers on the console, she should be giddy with excitement at going on the first real date in months, but instead she was thinking of that fear-of-commitment thing.
“You have got to be kidding me. This is the Sugar Shack?” Abby asked when Cooper parked the truck in the lot of the ugliest building she’d ever seen.
“No, ma’am. Up until a couple of years ago it looked like a shack. And then Tiny Lee—that would be the owner of the place—had a customer who couldn’t pay his bill.”
“And he spray-painted the thing with Pepto-Bismol?”
“That’s not paint, darlin’. It’s vinyl siding. The feller who couldn’t pay hung siding for a living. He’d ordered too much for a job, so he was stuck with it. Tiny Lee said he could work off his bill by using it on the Sugar Shack.”
“That is some seriously ugly stuff,” Abby said. “You should have loaned him your pistol so he could shoot the fellow rather than let him put up pink siding on a honky-tonk.”
Cooper chuckled. “He has a pump shotgun up under the bar and he’s not a bit afraid to get it out. Are we ready to let me show you how I can waltz a lovely lady around the dance floor?”
“No, if I’ve got to sit on the sidelines while you dance with a lovely lady, then you can take me back home,” she said.
He leaned across the console, turned her to face him, and kissed her. “There won’t be another lady in that joint who will be able to get me to take my eyes off you, darlin’.”
“Then let’s go dance.”
Dance. Drink a little beer. It was a date, for God’s sake, not a damn proposal. She should enjoy the flirting and the evening, not be wound up tighter than a hooker in the front row of a tent revival. She determined that she would loosen up and enjoy the time with Cooper and most importantly, push all the heavy thoughts out of her mind.
Lord, nothing could go wrong anyway in an ugly pink building called the Sugar Shack. In that she could trust.
Cooper opened the truck door for her and she put her hand in his. “Have I told you that you are one sexy cowboy tonight? I’m sorry that I forgot my pistol.”
“What on earth would you need a pistol for?”
“To shoot all the wild women who try to worm their way between me and you.” She smiled up at him.
“Maybe you could borrow Tiny Lee’s shotgun,” he flirted right back. “I was just thinking that I might need to use it to keep the cowboys away from you.”
He looked like sex on a stick that evening in his tight jeans, polished boots, brown-and-yellow plaid pearl-snap shirt, and the faded denim jacket. She couldn’t wait to get inside to dance with him.
Country music echoed out across the canyon long before they made it to the door. Folks must have been line dancing because Abby could hear “Yee-haw” periodically as Travis sang “T.R.O.U.B.L.E.”
“That’s an old one,” she said. “The way the women are turning around to look at you, I think you might be the trouble who just walked in the door.”
Cooper grabbed her hand and twirled her around right there on the porch. “Tiny Lee keeps a few current ones, but he likes the old stuff best and no one argues with him.”
“Hey, Coop, that don’t look a thing like the redhead you brought in here last night,” the enormous man behind the bar yelled.
“Who was the redhead?” she asked.
“Tiny’s teasing. I was with you eating ice cream on my front porch, remember,” Cooper said.
Tiny Lee motioned them toward the bar. “You bring her on over here and introduce her proper, or else I’ll get the gun out and chase your sorry ass out of my honky-tonk.”
Cooper draped his arm around Abby’s shoulder and led her to the bar. “Tiny Lee, this is Abby Malloy. Abby, meet Tiny Lee, the owner of this fine establishment.”
Tiny Lee extended a hand as big as a ham with fingers like sausages across the bar and shook hands with Abby. “Truth is, Miz Abby, that I’m glad to see Coop with a woman. He’s been runnin’ single too long. And any kid of Ezra’s is welcome in my bar. He was a salty old bastard, but he was honest and paid his bills. He could dance the boot leather off half the women in the canyon without breakin’ a sweat.”
“Thank you,” Abby said.
“First drink is on the house. What will it be? You have to belong to Martha, the first wife, because you look just like her. What’s the other two girls look like?”
“Coors, longneck in the bottle,” she said. “Shiloh and Bonnie seem to look like their mamas, but I understand we all got Ezra’s blue eyes and stubborn streak.”
“God save the canyon.” Tiny Lee rolled his eyes as he wiped the chilly water from a beer and set it on the counter. “And what are you drinkin’, Coop?”
“The same,” he said.
Tiny Lee leaned over the bar and whispered. “He’s a good man, but if you want a man with a steady income who’ll appreciate you, then you need to flirt with me.”
“I’ll remember that.” Abby grinned.
“I see an empty table. Let’s go claim it and then hit the dance floor. And Tiny Lee, you stop trying to beat my time or I’ll take your sorry old ass into the county jail for serving beer to minors,” Cooper said.
Tiny Lee threw back his head and laughed. A man that size should have laughed like a biker or a trucker, but his laughter was as high-pitched as a little girl’s.
Cooper took Abby’s hand and wove his way through the people until they were at an empty table for four. Before they could set their beers down, Nona, Travis, and Waylon joined them. Nona counted chairs and sat down in Travis’s lap.
“Abby, it’s good to see you again. Where’s the other two sisters?”
“Shiloh and Bonnie might be along in a little while. Nice to see you all again,” Abby said. “This cowboy right here has promised me a bunch of dances. Miz Nona, you are welcome to my chair.”
“I kind of like the one I have right here. A cowboy that promises a woman a bunch of dances means he’s gettin’ the brand heated up,” Nona said.
“I hope not,” Abby said.
Luke Bryan’s voice singing “Drunk on You” came through the jukebox and Cooper had not been lying when he said he could dance. But something was wrong. He was executing a fine fast two-step, but he wouldn’t look at her.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Yes, we do. You go first,” he said.
“We need to talk about protection,” she said.
“I can’t hear you over the music. Did you say election?”
She raised her voice. “Protection.”
“As in a bodyguard or as in mosquito spray or . . .”
The song ended at the same time she blurted out in a loud voice, “As in sex.”
The whole bar went quiet and she could hear Tiny Lee’s girly giggles in the background. Thank goodness no one made a comment, and the next song on the jukebox brought the people onto the floor for a noisy line dance. Her face turned scarlet and she threw her hand up to her mouth.
“Shit!” she muttered.
Cooper picked up her hand and led to the far end of the bar. He twirled the stools around so that they were facing each other, dropped her hand, and stared at her without looking into her eyes. She’d seen amusement, laughter, and a multitude of other emotions in Cooper’s dark brown eyes, but never the anger that flashed right then. With only a little imagination she could see steam coming out his ears.
“I assumed you were on the pill,” he said.
She shook her head. “Prescription ran out a couple of months ago. I knew I was getting out of the service, so I didn’t get another one.”
“Then you could possibly be . . .” The sentence trailed off.
She nodded. “But not likely. I should have been . . .”
He put a finger over her lips. “I would marry you, Abby.”
She didn’t want a man to marry her because she was pregnant and she damn sure didn’t want to marry one who was so mad he couldn’t even look at her. Her mother had raised a child alone and she could do it, too. Today’s world didn’t tar and feather a woman for getting pregnant before she was married.
“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.