Daisies in the Canyon by Carolyn Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

duffel bags inside the suitcases and stored on the closet shelf. Boots were brushed off and set beside the rocking chair so she could put them on first thing in the morning. No fancy purple running shoes for Abby. She ran in combat boots. All she needed before she fell into bed was a quick shower, but first she wanted a breath of fresh air. The house wasn’t too warm, but the walls were closing in on her. She felt Rusty’s presence on the porch before he spoke, which gave her back the confidence that she hadn’t completely lost her skills.
    “Good evening. I was just feeding the dogs,” Rusty said.
    One nosed her hand and she sat down in one of the three rocking chairs and scratched the animal’s ears. “What kind are they and what are their names?”
    “Mongrels mostly. Some Catahoula with some bluetick hound thrown in. Ezra said that their mama was a bluetick over on Lonesome Canyon. That one that you’re petting is Martha. The one with floppy ears beside the food pan is Vivien and that lazy old gal scratching her ribs is Polly,” Rusty said.
    Abby quickly put her hand in her lap. “Are you shittin’ me? Tell me the other two aren’t named after Shiloh and Bonnie’s mamas.”
    “He told me that he named them after his ex-wives and had them spayed before they had any puppies, because he figured all they’d throw would be more bitches. No offense meant. I’m just repeatin’ what he said.”
    “How old are they?”
    “Five or six years old, near as he could remember. Jackson offered to give away the mixed-breed pups and all that was left was females when Ezra got around to making a trip over to Lonesome Canyon to look at them. He took them all and he trained them himself. They’re fine cattle dogs and fair huntin’ critters.”
    “Does Martha take up with everyone?”
    “Pretty much. She’s the friendliest one of the lot, but she’s also the best cow dog of the three. I save her for the last if the other two can’t run a rangy old bull out of the mesquite,” Rusty said.
    “Why?”
    “She goes for the lip and she don’t let go. They know her, and when I turn her loose, believe me, they don’t want what she’s about to bring to the fight. If you’ve a mind to learn ranchin’, then you can start tomorrow. It’s Sunday, so all we’ll do is chores. Other than that Ezra always said it was a day that God made for restin’, so that’s what we do. I’ll be takin’ care of feedin’ chores and I’ll be leaving right after six from that barn out there.” He pointed to the south. “Good night, Abby.”
    He was gone before she could say another word. Martha slipped her big head into Abby’s lap and whined. Abby rubbed the dog’s ears and said, “Next January, your name is changing to Spot or Jane or Fluff Butt, anything but my mother’s name. Ezra might have thought it was funny to name you dogs after his ex-wives, but I don’t see a damn thing amusing in it.”
    Vivien and Polly ignored her, but Martha wagged her tail and whined for more petting. The door opened and Shiloh came out, sat down in a rocking chair, and propped her feet on the porch railing. Her slippers were those oversized things with Tweety Bird’s head on the toes. Martha eyed them for a few seconds before she decided that they weren’t dangerous, then she went straight to Shiloh. Fickle bitch. She didn’t deserve her name and it would be changed. Fluff Butt was looking better by the moment.
    “Wonder what their names are.” Shiloh rubbed the dog from head to tail several times.
    “Martha, Vivien, and Polly. Which one was your mother?” Abby gripped the arms of the rocker so hard that her knuckles ached. Shit fire! She hadn’t meant to ask questions. She didn’t want to get to know either of them.
    “Polly is my mother. She’s still livin’ and you are shittin’ me, right?”
    Abby shook her head. “Rusty just now told me and I don’t think he’d make that up. So your mama’s namesake is the one over there