Bonnie smiled. “I’m not stayin’, and I’m probably not moving in with either of you, but I appreciate the offer. I’m going to sell the place and travel. I will come see you real often though. I don’t want us to ever be apart for very long at one time…” Bonnie downed the rest of her beer and stood up. “Getting you two for sisters was definitely the one good thing Ezra did for us.”
Bonnie pulled both her sisters in for a group hug, then stepped back and slapped at a mosquito on her arm. “These damn bugs are horrible this time of year.”
“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” Shiloh joked.
“It’s all that moisture we got in the spring.” Abby Joy pushed up out of her chair and led the way into the kitchen. “Come July, Cooper says that we’ll be begging for rain and even a mosquito or two.”
“Not me.” Shiloh picked up the dirty glasses and the beer bottle and followed her sister. “This canyon grows mosquitoes as big as buzzards. I don’t believe that they’ll all be dead in a month. They’ll be hiding up in the rock formations, and they’ll swoop down on us and suck all our blood out when we’re not looking.”
Was the fact that her half-sisters had figured out love meant more to them than the ranch the sign she was looking for? Abby Joy had given up her right to the place when she married Cooper Wilson, a cowboy rancher whose land was right next to the Malloy Ranch. Shiloh had married Waylon Stephens, the cowboy who owned the ranch across the road from the Malloy place, just a few weeks ago. From what Bonnie could see, neither of her sisters had a single regret for the decision they’d made.
But finding love and settling down wasn’t the right thing for Bonnie. She was born to fly, not grow roots in the canyon, and by the time New Year’s Day rolled around, she would spread her wings and take off. Maybe she’d start with going to Florida or California to see the ocean. She loved bringing up the site for a little hotel in the panhandle of Florida and listening to the sound of the ocean waves.
“Wouldn’t it be something, after everything is said and done, if Rusty bought this place when I sell it?” Bonnie picked up the pitcher of lemonade and a platter of cookies and carried them to the living room.
“Wouldn’t it be poetic justice if all Rusty’s children were all daughters?” Shiloh plopped down on the sofa and picked up two cookies.
“Serve Ezra right for throwing away his own daughters.” Abby Joy eased down into a rocking chair and reached for a cookie. “Y’all ever wonder why he brought us back anyway. He didn’t want us when we were born because we weren’t boys, so why would he even give us a chance to inherit his ranch?”
At least once a week, the sisters had an evening at one place or another, and tonight was Bonnie’s turn. She might be the one who’d showed up at the ranch six months before with her things crammed into plastic bags, but she knew how to be a good hostess.
Shiloh raised her glass. “To all of us for not killing each other, like Ezra probably wanted.”
“Hear, hear!” Bonnie said as all three sisters clinked their glasses together.
* * *
Rusty Dawson stopped at the small cemetery on the way home from his weekly poker game with several of the area ranchers. That night Cooper, Waylon, and Jackson Bailey had been over at Cooper’s place, and they’d all four played until almost midnight. Rusty had walked away five dollars richer, which was unusual for him. Usually, he was at least a dollar or two in the hole when the last hand was played.
He sat down on a bench that faced Ezra’s grave and stared at the inscription on the tombstone for a long time. By the light of the moon, it was just obscure dark lines. So much had happened in the six months since the man died and his daughters had showed up at the ranch. Pictures from the day of the funeral flashed through his mind. Abby Joy had arrived just seconds before the graveside service began. She’d shown up in full camouflage and combat boots, and she’d snapped to attention and nodded smartly when it was her turn to walk past the casket. He’d always wondered if maybe she was showing Ezra that she was every bit as brave and tough as any son he might’ve produced. Shiloh was already there, of course. She looked like she’d just walked away from a line dance in a bar like the Sugar Shack up on the other end of the Canyon—pearl snap shirt that hugged her curves, starched jeans, Tony Lama boots, and a black Stetson hat.
Bonnie, the youngest of the sisters, had put a little extra beat in his heart from the first time he laid eyes on her. She drove up in an old rattletrap of a truck with duct tape holding the passenger-side window together, tires so bald that he was amazed she hadn’t had a blowout on the trip and rusted-out fenders. She was wearing tight jeans, a leather jacket, and some kind of lace-up boots. A fake diamond sparkled on the side of her nose. He figured anyone with such a sassy attitude would surely be the one who inherited the place, and he was beginning to believe he’d been right.
You just going to lay down, roll over, and let her have it, or are you going to fight for what I meant for you to have? Ezra’s voice was so clean in Rusty’s head that he whipped around to see if the old guy’s ghost haunted the cemetery. If you want the ranch, run her off it and take it for your own. Anything worth having is worth fighting for.
At first, Rusty had hoped the sisters would all hate each other and disappear so that he could mourn for his old friend and boss in private. But they had all three moved right in and dug in their heels for what looked like was going to be the duration.
“You shouldn’t have sent them away, Ezra. They’ve all got your traits, and I mean more than just your blue eyes. They’re determined and hardworking and don’t mind speakin’ their minds. Bonnie is the only one left now.” Rusty removed his glasses, rubbed at his tired, burning eyes, and shook his head. “But you’re right. It’s time I gave Bonnie a run for her money. That ranch is the only real home I’ve known. And I love this canyon. I couldn’t stand seeing her sell it to some strangers, after all my years of hard work. If she’s still here at Christmas, by damn, it won’t be because I didn’t try.”
An owl hooted off in the distance and a coyote answered it. Crickets and tree frogs had set up a chorus all around him. He found himself feeling angry with Ezra for the first time—after all, the old guy had promised him the ranch. He was trying to put his feelings into words when Martha, one of the three dogs that lived on the ranch, cold nosed him on the hand. He jumped a good foot up off the bench and came back down with a thud. His glasses flew off and landed at the base of the tombstone. He retrieved them, blew the dust away from the lenses, and then put them back on.
“Dammit!” he muttered as he scratched the dog’s ears. “You scared the crap out of me. Come on, you can ride up to the house with me.”
The dog jumped into the truck as soon as Rusty opened the truck door. She rode in the passenger seat until he reached the house, and then licked him across the face as she bounded across his lap, hopped out of the vehicle, and ran to the porch.
“I thought she might have come to meet you,” Bonnie said from the shadows. “Did you win or lose tonight?”
“Came away five dollars richer.” Rusty joined her on the swing. “Couple more nights winnin’ like this, and I’ll have the money saved up to buy a square foot of this place when you sell it.”