Page 1 of Texas Glory
CHAPTER
ONE
May, 1881
Dreams. Gossamer images that most people carried with them into their sleep, but for Dallas Leigh, they were the incentive that woke him before dawn, the impetus that pushed him toward midnight.
Dreams were the stepping stones to glory.
By pursuing them, he had attained a level of success that exceeded most men’s reach and acquired all that he had set out to gain: Land, cattle, and wealth beyond his highest expectations.
Yet, desperation gnawed at him like a starving dog that had just discovered a buried bone, and as he gazed at the stars that blanketed the velvety sky, he felt as though he had achieved nothing.
He was a man with a solitary dream that remained untouched, the one that had served as the guiding beacon for every goal that he had fulfilled. Without the realization of his greatest desire, his other accomplishments meant little, and he feared that they might mean nothing at all—if he never gained a son with whom to share them.
The lingering warmth of the parched earth seeped through his backside as he worked the ridge of his spine into a comfortable position against the gnarled and crooked post that served as one of a thousand anchors for his barbed-wire fence.
He hated the fencing with a passion, but he knew it was destined to become essential to every rancher’s survival in the same manner that the railroad had wended its way into their lives. Workers continued to lay the tracks that brought more people farther west. The days of knowing one’s neighbor and where his land ended and a man’s own land began were dwindling. The barbed wire cut through the questions, marked a man’s domain, and left no doubts as to his ownership.
Unfortunately, it was an aspect of the future that only a few men could envision, and those blinded by the traditions of the past were determined that the barbed wire would not stand.
Dallas Leigh intended to make damn sure that it did.
“Dallas?” The hoarse whisper momentarily silenced the nightly serenade of the crickets, frogs, and katydids.
He glanced at his youngest brother, who was stretched along the ground, his arms folded beneath his dark head, his tall, lanky body running the length of the fence. “What?”
“How long we gonna stay?” Austin asked.
“All night if we have to.”
“What makes you think they’ll come?”
“Full moon. The McQueen brothers like to do their thieving and destroying by the light of a full moon.”
“I don’t know how you can be sure that they’re gonna cut the wire right here,” Austin said, exasperation laced through his youthful voice. At twenty-one, he had little patience when it came to waiting for the next moment.
“I don’t know where they will cut it, but if you shut your mouth, we’ll hear the tinny sound of the cut traveling along the wire, and we’ll know in which direction to ride. Just close your eyes and imagine that you’re listening for that first twang to come from your violin when you slap your bow on it.”
“I don’t slap my bow onto anything. I place it on the strings as gently as I’d touch my fingers to a woman’s soft cheek or press my lips against her warm mouth. Then I stroke it slow and long, the way I’d stroke—”
“Will you shut up?” a deeper voice growled.
Dallas didn’t need to lean forward to see the disgruntled expression he knew he’d find on Houston’s face. His middle brother was the only one among them to have a wife, and Dallas imagined right now he’d rather be curled up in bed with her nestled against his side. He appreciated the fact that Houston was guarding the fence instead.
Austin snickered. “You’re just aggravated ’cuz you ain’t home doing your own stroking.”
“Watch your mouth, boy,” Houston warned. “You’re gonna cross into dangerous territory if you bring my wife into this conversation.”
“You know I wouldn’t say nothing bad about Amelia. I just figure you’d rather be at home making another baby instead of sittin’ out here waitin’ on something that might not happen.”
“We’ve already made another baby,” Houston said, pride and a great deal of affection reflected in his voice.
Dallas shot forward so he could see his brother’s face limned by the moonlight. Despite the heavy scarring on the left side of his face and the black eye patch that hid the worst of it, Houston looked to be a man who had realized every dream he’d ever dared to hope for. Dallas sometimes envied him that contentment, especially since he’d accomplished it all by stealing Dallas’s wife from him.
“When did this happen?” Dallas asked.
Houston tugged on the brim of his hat. “Hell, I don’t know. Sometime in the last month or so, I reckon. Amelia just told me tonight before I rode out.”
