Page 107 of Texas Glory
Rawley squirmed. “Ain’t got no way to pay for it.”
“What happened to that dollar I gave you?”
“I buried it. They built a hotel on top of it. Didn’t know they were gonna do that till it was too late.”
Mr. Leigh rubbed his mustache. “That must be why the hotel is such a success. Maybe we ought to change the name to the Lucky Dollar Hotel.”
Rawley shrugged.
“Go on and eat, boy. You made my wife smile. That’s worth more than a dollar to me.”
Cautiously, Rawley brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth. Normally he ate whatever his pa left behind, which usually wasn’t much. He’d never had his own bowl before. His own food. His mouth and belly wanted him to eat fast, but he forced himself to eat slow, to pretend he had his own food every night and could eat as much as he wanted.
When he finished eating, Mr. Leigh made him take a bath and put on some of Austin’s old clothes. He told Rawley that Austin had been eight years old when he’d worn the clothes. Since the clothes fit him, Rawley wondered if that meant he was eight years old. He wondered if it meant that he’d grow to be as tall as Austin.
Because he knew he couldn’t outrun or outfight Mr. Leigh, Rawley followed him back up the stairs to the room where he had been earlier, where the doctor had looked at him. Mr. Leigh stopped and held something toward Rawley.
“Do you know what this is?” Mr. Leigh asked.
“A key.’”
“Do you know what it’s used for?”
“You lock the door so I can’t get out.”
Mr. Leigh walked into the room and inserted the key in a hole on the other side of the door. “From now on, this is going to be your room. You close the door and turn the key so no one can come in this room unless you want them to.”
“Not even you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Not even me. Give you my word.”
Mr. Leigh walked out of the room and closed the door. Rawley shoved the key farther into the hole and turned it. He heard the echo of a click.
He waited and listened hard. He heard Mr. Leigh’s boots hitting the floor of the hallway. He heard them on the stairs. Then he heard them not at all.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, guiding him. He walked to the bed, removed his boots, and crawled beneath the blankets.
They smelled clean and fresh, just like he did, and crackled beneath him.
He stared at the door for the longest time, at the shadow of the key in the lock. When his eyes drifted closed, for the first time in his life, he slept without fear.
Dallas walked through the swinging wooden doors of the saloon. The scent of freshly poured whiskey and stale cigarette smoke assailed his nostrils.
Come Saturday night, he wouldn’t be able to walk through the saloon without bumping into someone, but tonight only the dregs of his town were here.
Several men played cards at a table. A man sat alone at a corner table nursing a whiskey. Another man stood at the bar, his arms folded across the top.
“Come on, barkeep, give me a whiskey,” he said, his voice raspy.
“I don’t sell liquor on credit,” Beau said as he dried a glass, then held it up so the candles in his chandelier could dance over the glass. “Why don’t you head on home, Cooper?”
“ ’Cuz I ain’t drunk enough.”
Dallas strode to the bar and slapped a coin on the counter. “Whiskey.”
Beau set a glass in front of him and poured a long drink, then walked to the other end of the bar. Cooper’s black gaze darted to the glass. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips.
“Wouldn’t consider buying me a drink, would ya?”
